door. Father Domenic was
just finishing breakfast. Sister Daniela stood in the foyer while the
housekeeper checked to see if he was busy. When she was finally led into the
dining room, he had just finished his coffee.
“What can I do for you, Novice?”
“I’m here for Sister Angela. She asked
me to look up some information in the church records.”
The priest stiffened when he heard the
nun’s name. Then he rolled his eyes. “And what does she want to find out?”
Sister Daniela did not hesitate. She was
not nervous—unaware there might be reason to be. “It concerns Bernardo, Father.
She said you would know.”
“Yes, well it’s rather dusty down there.
I’m not sure it’ll be easy to find. I’m going over there right now,” he said, pushing
away from the table and reaching for his coat. “Mrs. Torrisi, I’ll be in the
sacristy if anyone calls. Follow me, Novice Daniela. We’ll see what we can find.”
*
At the bottom of the stairs, the front
of the basement looked clean. Father Domenic went ahead and turned on the lights.
Ironing boards and washing machines sat beside an old furnace. In the corner
under the window stood a small wood stove the altar ladies sometimes used for
heat. A closed door interrupted the eclipsed wall at the far end. The novice wondered
where the opening led. Was there a passage under the church? She imagined a
procession of heretics being
herded toward the piazza for execution.
“We need a new light bulb over there,”
the priest noted.
In the darkest corner at the farthest
end of the same wall, Sister Daniela could just make out a pile of furniture. “What
are those?”
“Flagpoles, candlesticks, things we use
for holy days.” The novice tripped over a small credence table that had been
pulled out of the pile. “What’s this?”
“Watch out. The table’s broken with a
missing a leg. I don’t know why it ended up down here.”
Sister Daniela thought it would make a
perfect nightstand for her bedroom. Perhaps she would ask about it later.
“This room back here used to be an office,”
Father Domenic explained, opening the door to her fantasy. “But now it’s just
storage. I don’t think anyone’s keeping it organized.”
A cloud of dust billowed from the box he
kicked.
“How many boxes are there?” she asked.
“They go back at least two to two-and-a-half
centuries, although the old ones aren’t as intact. We don’t move them because
they would probably fall apart,” he said. “But look here. They are
labeled—that’s a start. I hope the records inside are the same as those noted
on the labels.”
“I’ll work on this now, Father. Please
go back to your own duties. It wouldn’t do for both of us to get dirty.”
As soon as he left, Sister Daniela began
to regret being alone. The clanging of the hot water heater and other creaks
and moans in the ancient church scared her. Checking her pockets, she
found it. Mother Vicaress Annemarie would not let her chew gum in the school,
but it would relax her a bit now. She popped a couple of sticks into her mouth.
She must have labored an hour before she
finally found the right label, and then another two hours to drag the box closer
to the light and leaf through all the records. But she had it, small packet
that it was. Examining some of the others around it, she found nothing out of
place.
Removing three envelopes, she walked to
the bottom of the steps and sat down. Carefully lifting the documents out of
the first, she recorded the contents.
Birth Certificate for Sandro Tosone
Baptismal Certificate for Sandro Tosone
Confirmation Certificate for Sandro
Tosone
Sliding the papers back into the envelope,
she dumped out the next, consisting of the same three papers for Sophia Dosso.
This envelope also contained a fourth—a marriage certificate verifying that
Sophia Dosso had married a Thomaso Giambellino. Again she refilled the envelope
and turned the third over. Three papers fell out, face
just finishing breakfast. Sister Daniela stood in the foyer while the
housekeeper checked to see if he was busy. When she was finally led into the
dining room, he had just finished his coffee.
“What can I do for you, Novice?”
“I’m here for Sister Angela. She asked
me to look up some information in the church records.”
The priest stiffened when he heard the
nun’s name. Then he rolled his eyes. “And what does she want to find out?”
Sister Daniela did not hesitate. She was
not nervous—unaware there might be reason to be. “It concerns Bernardo, Father.
She said you would know.”
“Yes, well it’s rather dusty down there.
I’m not sure it’ll be easy to find. I’m going over there right now,” he said, pushing
away from the table and reaching for his coat. “Mrs. Torrisi, I’ll be in the
sacristy if anyone calls. Follow me, Novice Daniela. We’ll see what we can find.”
*
At the bottom of the stairs, the front
of the basement looked clean. Father Domenic went ahead and turned on the lights.
Ironing boards and washing machines sat beside an old furnace. In the corner
under the window stood a small wood stove the altar ladies sometimes used for
heat. A closed door interrupted the eclipsed wall at the far end. The novice wondered
where the opening led. Was there a passage under the church? She imagined a
procession of heretics being
herded toward the piazza for execution.
“We need a new light bulb over there,”
the priest noted.
In the darkest corner at the farthest
end of the same wall, Sister Daniela could just make out a pile of furniture. “What
are those?”
“Flagpoles, candlesticks, things we use
for holy days.” The novice tripped over a small credence table that had been
pulled out of the pile. “What’s this?”
“Watch out. The table’s broken with a
missing a leg. I don’t know why it ended up down here.”
Sister Daniela thought it would make a
perfect nightstand for her bedroom. Perhaps she would ask about it later.
“This room back here used to be an office,”
Father Domenic explained, opening the door to her fantasy. “But now it’s just
storage. I don’t think anyone’s keeping it organized.”
A cloud of dust billowed from the box he
kicked.
“How many boxes are there?” she asked.
“They go back at least two to two-and-a-half
centuries, although the old ones aren’t as intact. We don’t move them because
they would probably fall apart,” he said. “But look here. They are
labeled—that’s a start. I hope the records inside are the same as those noted
on the labels.”
“I’ll work on this now, Father. Please
go back to your own duties. It wouldn’t do for both of us to get dirty.”
As soon as he left, Sister Daniela began
to regret being alone. The clanging of the hot water heater and other creaks
and moans in the ancient church scared her. Checking her pockets, she
found it. Mother Vicaress Annemarie would not let her chew gum in the school,
but it would relax her a bit now. She popped a couple of sticks into her mouth.
She must have labored an hour before she
finally found the right label, and then another two hours to drag the box closer
to the light and leaf through all the records. But she had it, small packet
that it was. Examining some of the others around it, she found nothing out of
place.
Removing three envelopes, she walked to
the bottom of the steps and sat down. Carefully lifting the documents out of
the first, she recorded the contents.
Birth Certificate for Sandro Tosone
Baptismal Certificate for Sandro Tosone
Confirmation Certificate for Sandro
Tosone
Sliding the papers back into the envelope,
she dumped out the next, consisting of the same three papers for Sophia Dosso.
This envelope also contained a fourth—a marriage certificate verifying that
Sophia Dosso had married a Thomaso Giambellino. Again she refilled the envelope
and turned the third over. Three papers fell out, face
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