Harrison again looked at Hannah. There appeared to be more concern than hurt in her expression now. She reached out her hand and gently placed it on Harrison’s arm. The gentle touch was reassuring to him and he nodded his thankfulness to her. “We don’t need to talk about that now,” said Hannah in a tender voice. Again, Harrison was at a loss for words and nodded. He thought to himself that there was no sense in trying to explain to this charming, sensitive woman who had moxie what he did not understand himself.
They quietly finished their salad aware of each other yet not violating each other’s personal and emotional space. Hannah knew that what she had said had struck a nerve, a deep nerve. It was not important to her now why that was. She sensed that she would find out some day what lay below the surface of this intricate man.
Paolo returned to the table with their main course. Hannah politely complimented the owner on the taste of his house salad. ‘A fine blend of seasonings’ she thought. Harrison reinforced the sentiment and said, “As always, Paolo.” “Grazie,” uttered the proud man before leaving the table. Hannah and Harrison began eating their main course. “This is wonderful,” Hannah said excitedly after consuming several mouthfuls. Harrison agreed and commented, “You know, for all the times that I’ve been here, the rich taste of the sauce never changes.”
“How long have you known Paolo?” Hannah asked. “Almost as long as I’ve known the Pontiff,” was Harrison’s reply. He continued, “Actually, Josetta introduced me to Paolo and the Casa di Pasta about—well, I guess it would be about twelve years ago. Josetta was a priest from one of Italy’s local regions at St. Maria Goretti parish. I was on special assignment at the time and much younger. Communism was a more severe threat back then than it is now. The covert operation in which I participated took an unsuspecting turn. We were betrayed and my colleague was killed. I was severely wounded. I wasn’t sure where I was going or who to trust when I came upon this small church. “St. Maria Goretti?” Hannah interjected. “Yes,” replied Harrison. “And the man that helped you was Joseph Josetta?” surmised Hannah. “Yes, except that was not his name at the time. His birth name was Josepha Modesta…Father Josepha Modesta. He was, and still is, a fearless man of God. Josetta helped me and he was well aware that he put his own life very much at risk. He sheltered me in his church and sent one of his parishioners to find the local doctor. Meanwhile, Josetta did what he could to clean my wounds and stem the tide of infection. He told me that this was nothing new for him as he often observed his father provide similar acts of benevolence in war-torn Italy during World War II.”
“I bet the Pontiff has helped you out of trouble many times since then,” smiled Hannah. “Trouble, always” mused Harrison thinking of his holy friend. “Well, obviously you pulled through since you are here,” noted Hannah. “I pulled through only because Josetta risked his life for mine—a stranger to him. The one who betrayed our operation got word that the local doctor was summoned to the church to treat ‘gun wounds.’ He had a very good hunch that I was the wounded man.”
“This Judas came to the church?” asked Hannah realizing that she played on the identified betrayer of Jesus. “Not only did he come to the church, he came even before the doctor arrived. Josetta was treating me in the small vestibule of the church. What struck me at the time was Josetta’s street smartness. You’d think a man in his line of work would be ‘brain smart’ and ‘street stupid.’ Josetta knew that I was still in danger and the fact that I escaped was a mistake that would not be overlooked. Once he dressed my wounds as best as he could, he took me through a hidden stairway under one of the pews. The crude stairs led downward under the church to burial vaults for the local priests and nuns. This burial place was not public knowledge. Josetta believed I would be safest there. He asked me to remain quiet and that he would return once the doctor had arrived. Josetta feared the worse and indicated he’d do his best to wash away the blood stains on the church floor and on himself.”
Hannah’s interest intensified as she peered deeper into Harrison’s eyes. He continued his story: “I could hear muzzled sounds coming from above and echoing in the silent vacuum. In the solitude, the cold dampness of the burial grounds began permeating my aching body. The pain of my wounds surfaced as my adrenalin slowed following the care provided by Josetta. He patched me up the best he could, but the tide of blood continued oozing from my wounds.”
Harrison stopped momentarily and winced as if he again was feeling the pain of long ago as it occurred then. Hannah leaned forward and gently stroked his hand. Harrison sighed at the touch of the beautiful woman. He continued, “I did not realize everything that was unfolding above me or how grave was the situation. What I tell you now was what emerged based on what Josetta told me and what I experienced.” Harrison’s attention was drawn briefly to the tender stimulation at the hands of Hannah. He regained his focus and continued, “Josetta had just completed washing away the bloodstains on himself and the church floor when two strangers entered the sanctuary. They did not approach the padre at first, but they began walking up and down the aisle glancing between the rustic pews. The bulges in their jackets did not go unnoticed by Josetta. He knew that they did not come to his church to pray, but rather they came looking for their prey.”
Harrison’s recounting was interrupted by Paolo who observed much food still on their plates: “The food… You don’t like?” Hannah and Harrison said together, “The food is wonderful. Grande!” “Ah, grazie” said the restaurateur. In a desire to justify why she still had much food on her plate, Hannah offered, “Harrison was just telling me about the time he first met Pope Josetta.” “Josetta,” said Paolo softly and with respect. He then made the sign of the cross by touching his right hand to his forehead, to his chest, to his left shoulder and then to his right shoulder. Paolo pulled a crucifix from inside his shirt; one blessed by Josetta, and kissed it reverently.
Upon paying his respect to the Pontiff, Paolo said to Harrison, “You owe much to Josetta—he gets you out of trouble, yes?” “Out of trouble, always” mused Harrison for the third time today. Paolo looked inquisitively at his old friend. Harrison waved his hand as if to say ‘never mind’ and then said, “Si, Paolo, Josetta has done much for me.” Harrison’s remarks brought an approving and knowing smile to the owner’s face. At that, Paolo said, “Mi scusi” and left the couple’s table.
Hannah was anxious for Harrison to continue his life story. “So?” she asked innocently. There was a pause before Harrison retorted, “So what?” Hannah simply stared at Harrison and he got the message. Harrison took a deep breath and commented, “Maybe we should take a moment to finish our food before it all becomes cold.” A furrow developed on Hannah’s forehead as she gazed intently at Harrison. She said in a loud voice, “Food! Food! How can you think of food at a time like this?” “Because I’m hungry” was the storyteller’s honest reply.
Hannah did not appear as amused as he did to his response, honest or not. Harrison decided that it was best to comply and recalled, “The men in the church were growing