Page 9 of No Stone Unturned

I shook my head because I couldn’t understand what he was saying, until I realized he was speaking in Italian. His voice had seemed happy at first, but now he sounded concerned. He spoke a bit longer and then hung up. He sat on the edge of the bed with his back toward me. I sat up and crawled across the bed, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Slash, who was it?”

“Giorgio.”

I’d met Slash’s younger brother in Papua New Guinea a few months ago. He was handsome, like a younger version of Slash with wavy dark hair, olive complexion, a square jaw and buff physique.

“Is everything okay?”

“He’s getting married.”

“That’s great.” I paused, considering. “Right?”

“Right.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Except there’s a problem.”

I swung my feet over the side of the bed to sit beside him. He’d leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, still holding the phone. “What kind of problem?”

“He’s been denied his request to get married in the church.”

“Why?”

“That’s the thing, he doesn’t know. He wants to get married in Sperlonga, but says the church has denied his marriage petition. Apparently the denial comes from Rome. He wants me to look into it.”

I took a blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it around our shoulders. I could sense his distress and confusion on behalf of his younger brother. “Why would the church block his marriage? Can they do that?”

“Not legally.” Slash straightened and slid an arm around my waist beneath the blanket, pulling me closer. I liked our close connection, the physical affection he showed me so easily. “You don’t have to get married in the church, but most people do. The church can block anyone they want from getting married, and for a variety of reasons. The priest might decide they’re not ready to make a lasting commitment. There might be legal or moral issues, too, but those are usually decided by the parish priest at the local level. Only a supreme authority in the church can forbid a marriage in the church. Apparently in this case, this directive came from Rome, and they didn’t give Gio a reason for the denial. Even the parish priest is mystified.”

“That’s just weird.”

“Exactly. Gio submitted a formal protest, but that takes time. They want the wedding to happen soon. His fiancée, Vitoria, is pregnant.”

“Oh. Maybe that’s why they can’t get married in the church?” I wondered how Slash’s grandmother, Nonna, would feel about the child being conceived out of wedlock.

“No. That decision would be handled at the parish level. It would not involve Rome. A denial from Rome is extremely unusual.”

I had to take his word on that, so I considered the implication here. “You’re worried this is connected to the things that have been happening to you. The firecrackers, the note saying they know who you are, the Bible verse, and the instructions to come home.”

“Si,” he said quietly.

“So, what’s happening to you, and now your family, must somehow be connected. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make some calls. It’s almost five o’clock in the morning here, which makes it about eleven o’clock in Rome. I’ll see if I can find out what’s going on.”

I shifted on the bed so that I faced him. His dark hair was tousled from sleep, but his brown eyes were alert and assessing. “Where will you start?”

“Where else?” He looked at me. “Father Armando.”

Chapter Eight

Slash

Lexi went back to sleep, but he was done for the night, so he headed down to the kitchen with his phone in his hand. After drinking a glass of water, he picked up the phone and tapped on the number for Father Armando’s office. It would be morning in Rome by now, and he hoped to catch the priest in the office. He didn’t have any expectations he would be put through immediately. As the Archbishop of Genoa, as well as the Vatican’s newest cardinal, Father Armando was an important and busy man. He was also the closest thing to a father Slash had ever had, as much as a Catholic priest could fill such a role.

As expected, a clerk answered the phone in Italian. Slash requested to speak with Father Armando, then provided his name and waited patiently as he was put on hold, imagining the priest’s face in his mind.

Spiritual advisor, teacher and supporter, Father Armando had played many significant roles in his life, including the most important one. Father Armando had been the person to find him, abandoned as an infant, in a basket under the church organ. Their bond had started at that moment and had somehow held and strengthened over the years.

He leaned back in his chair and rolled his neck. It had felt good to speak Italian. While he considered himself fully fluent in English, Italian was his first language, and the language of his heart. In addition to Italian and English, he also had a pretty good command of French, German and Latin. Not that anyone spoke Latin these days except during mass, but he considered it a useful language just the same.

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