Page 75 of No Stone Unturned

“Why?”

“Well, he said your name could be interpreted as ‘caramichael’ or ‘my dearest angel Michael,’ since Michael was, of course, God’s number one archangel. The bishop said he couldn’t possibly be upset about having a lovely angel drop into his lap. Besides, who else could destroy a cross in a single swipe besides an archangel? Anyway, since it was all in the name of helping people, you are completely forgiven, and dare I say, burned into the psyche of the Bishop of Salerno forever.”

I stared at him incredulously. “What? That’s...completely nuts.”

Slash chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. He was totally enjoying this. “Trust me,” he said. “He’s never going to forget his littlecaramichael. My best guess is you will be often in his prayers, especially now that you’ve proven to be an actual angel by saving all those people in front of the cathedral.”

Just as Slash finished, the bishop joined us. He took my hand and kissed it. “So, Miss Carmichael, we finally meet.” He spoke perfect English without the slightest trace of an accent. I was starting to get a complex about being unilingual.

“Well, technically, we already met,” I said. “Sort of.” My whole face burned, and Slash looked like he was trying not to laugh. I wished I were anywhere but there.

“You and your fiancé are the talk of Salerno today,” the bishop said. “You’re truly a gift given to us by God. Thank you.”

“It was nothing really,” I said, growing increasingly uncomfortable. “Anyone could have done it.”

The bishop leaned over, lowering his voice. “But they didn’t, did they? You were the chosen ones. You are both as humble as you are courageous. I shall pray often for you.”

“Oh, well, thanks, I guess.” I hoped that was appropriate thing to say.

Slash saved me from further conversation by engaging the bishop in Italian. The mayor chatted with me a bit more while the photographer ran around snapping more photos, asking us to pose together until I was one thin thread from losing it.

At that exact moment, the mayor motioned for Slash, Salvi and me to join her near her desk. The photographer gave her a thumbs-up, so she began to speak.

“I know it’s not much, but I would like to present the three of you with this token of our appreciation.” She opened up a small blue box and pulled out a medal that was nestled there against blue velvet.

My eyes widened as she approached me first, slipping the medal over my head. “This civic medal is an honor bestowed upon you in a gesture of Salerno’s deep appreciation. We cannot thank you enough for your kind and courageous act. Please know that Salerno is now, and forever, your adopted home.”

She presented Salvi and Slash with their medals, too, and the photographer snapped a dozen more pictures of us.

“We are deeply honored,” Slash said, pressing the medal against his chest with his bandaged hand. “Thank you for your recognition.”

After another minute of small talk, we were finally released. We said our goodbyes and headed toward the door. Near the exit, I noticed a large framed photo on the wall and I screeched to a halt.

“Hey, that looks like Father Armando.” It appeared to be an official Vatican portrait. The priest was dressed in a black cassock with scarlet piping and buttons, a red sash, a zucchetto and a pectoral cross on a chain.

Slash stepped closer and examined the photo. “It is.”

Mayor Colella spoke over our shoulders. “Oh, yes. Father Emilio Armando is a distinguished citizen of Salerno. He’s the Archbishop of Genoa, and more recently, he was named a cardinal. He attended Salerno’sSeminario Vescovile di Teggiano,one of Italy’s most prestigious seminaries, and became friends with our current pope there. If you’ll indulge me in a moment of bragging, Salerno has nurtured many important Italians throughout history.”

“It certainly has,” Slash said.

The mayor herself escorted us from the building. As soon as we were alone, I put a hand on Slash’s arm. “Did you know Father Armando was from Salerno?”

He slid on his sunglasses. “I did not.”

“That’s where he met the pope. You should ask him about it sometime.”

“I will. Apparently there’s a lot I don’t know about Father Armando.”

There it was again, that hard, inflexible tone which I knew was his way of hiding the hurt the relationship was causing him. Since I didn’t know the full story of what’d happened between them, I had no idea how they were ever going to get past that or if it were even possible. But I hoped for both their sakes, they did.

He opened the car door for me and I climbed in. “Now, however, we have more urgent business to attend to,” he said.

“Manuel de Rosa.” I fastened my seat belt with difficulty because of the bandage. “He’s next, right?”

The muscles in his jaw flexed and tightened, the only indication of his inner tension. “Si.” Slash slipped on his sunglasses and put the key in the ignition. “It’s time to finally meet him.”

Chapter Forty

---