Chapter 9

There was a knock at the office door and Carlo looked up from his paper work. He took a glance at the clock and shook his head, setting down his pen.

"Where's the time?" he murmured and opened the door. He was surprised when a young man stepped into his office.

Carlo sat down behind his desk again; the man remained in the doorway. A silence spread across the room.

"Well. . ." said the man finally.

"Well. . ." Carlo replied, looking impatienctly. "Come in and sit down already."

The man did as Carlo commanded. Then he started speaking, his voice craven.

"I am Roberto Rigucio. I called you yesterday in order to plan the details for my daughter's baptism. You told me to come here today."

"No." Carlo looked convinced, then puzzled and started searching a pile of paper notes. "Are you sure I told you to come here today?" he asked.

"Absolutely, signore."

"Well, you need a candle, a white dress, maybe godfather and godmother and a special baptism saying. Maybe you can call me next week when you got all this." Carlo suggested and turned again to his paper work.

"But, signore. . . The baptism is on sunday. This sunday."

Carlo suddenly got up and walked across the room. He didn't say anything for a while. Looking out of the window, he began to speak forcefully now.

"Do I look like God himself?"

The man spluttered something, not knowing what to reply. He was obviously not prepared for a fight with an angry priest. Then Carlo pointed to his desk.

"Does this look like I have time? I am in over my head with work. This sunday you say? Let me tell you something, this sunday there won't be service at all. I have to go over to the residential home for the elderly to shrive them, bless them and spend time with them. Do you think I will manage every resident on sunday? Most certainly not. And those people are old, they could be dead on monday already and your little daughter is young and I don't think that God would be angry with her if she got baptised one week later. So, would you please be so kind and leave me alone. I'll call you next week. Thank you."

The man hesitated but stood up and sneaked out of the office.

The loneliness Carlo felt after the man had left didn't last for long. A furious Claudio Moreno flounced into the office without knocking.

"With all due respect, father, it can't go on like that!" he said

"What do you mean?" Carlo asked without looking up.

"It's the way you act toward people. Signore Rigucio was enraged. He thinks about going to a different priest. Signore Ventresca, our community is a very small one, we can't afford to lose more members."

"Then they should learn to respect that I am busy cleaning after your last priest because he obviously was a nice man, but he disregarded the paperwork." he replied, his green eyes glistening with anger.

Claudia Morena took a deep breath and sat down in front of Carlo's desk. He folded his hands and sighed.

"I used to work a lot for our last priest. But I'm turning 60 this month, I'm getting old and I have a lot of things to take care of. That's why I had another idea. . ."

Carlo pretended not to listen, but he became curious now.

"I wrote the Vatican to ask for some help." Signore Moreno said.

Suddenly Carlo looked up, when he spoke his voice sounded even more furious.

"You did what?"

"The Vatican sent a group of nuns. They will arrive in the evening." the man explained.

"How dare you? Behind my back. . ."

"Because you are obviously incapable." he said more commanding than he had expected. Signore Moreno lowered his voice. "Don't get me wrong, I think you are a really good priest. But I feel you are overstrained with all the work. Let the nuns help you and we'll all be happier."

"Yeah." Carlo answered, hiding his anger.

When Claudia Moreno had left, Carlo stepped out of his office to get some fresh air. He felt betrayed but on the other hand he wondered why Signore Moreno thought he was unable to do his job. It was true, he was not really in good spirits. But was it so obvious?

As for the nuns Carlo hoped they would stay out of his business. He knew that too many cooks only spoil the broth.

A small bus drove up and a grim looking woman stepped out. A group of ten nuns followed her.

There it goes. . . Carlo thought and went toward the nuns.

When the last woman left the car it seemed that his heart missed a beat. The nun he saw now was very familiar to him. . .