Page 99 of No Stone Unturned

They both looked at me. I sat there frozen, surprised that Slash had so casually mentioned he would call the pope personally to tell him about our engagement, and wondering if I was supposed to stand up, curtsey or do something else. Instead, I held out my engagement ring. Better that everyone look at that instead of me.

“It was Slash’s grandmother’s,” I explained.

I guess it was an okay thing to do because the pope asked me to come closer. I rose and walked over to him. He took my hand, inspecting the ring with great interest. “Congratulations to both of you. It’s a lovely ring. A circle is an unbreakable symbol of unity. You two together will be strong in life.”

He made the sign of the cross over my hand. “May your union be among the most blessed of God.” A smile touched his lips as he looked directly at me. “You do understand I’m anticipating a large Catholic family, Ms. Carmichael.”

I froze, struggling with a response—of which there was none appropriate—when the pope laughed. “I am sincerely happy for you both.”

I returned to my seat, embarrassed by his comment, which had apparently amused Slash, because he was grinning, too.

Then, to my utter astonishment, and apparently Slash’s as well, the pope stood without the use of his cane and strode over to the French windows. He walked perfectly, without difficulty or shuffle. He looked out the window, standing tall and strong, at the exact spot where he greeted the faithful in St. Peter’s Square most Sundays and on special occasions.

“You can walk,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Slash shot me a warning glance, but it was too late. The words had been said. I clapped a hand over my mouth, wishing I owned duct tape to keep my mouth shut at all times.

The pope turned around from the window, his expression reflective, and perhaps slightly amused. “I can. Are you surprised?”

He directed the question to me. I looked over at Slash, but he didn’t attempt to speak on my behalf. He seemed as stunned as I was. I considered my answer carefully before speaking. “You’re...acting.”

“Let’s just say that I may be exaggerating my weakness. Oh, I’m ill, but my immediate situation is not as dire as the Vatican press...or others...might be so inclined to believe.”

“But why disguise that you are healthier than you appear?” I asked.

He considered a moment and then returned to the window where he looked out at the people below. “It’s not a simple or easy rationale, but I believe it’s what I must do. If you will bear with me for a moment, I will explain. When a pope dies, God guides the church leadership in the selection of the next Holy Father, which is the purpose of the conclave. Unfortunately, if you look back over the church’s history, the cardinals haven’t always listened to God’s will when selecting the next pope. For many flawed and undeniably human reasons, cardinals have selected popes for the wrong reasons, reasons that had devastating consequences for our followers, and diverted the church from its true mission—loving one another, lifting up the poor and disenfranchised, and taking care of all of God’s children. Obviously, I will not have a voice in selecting the next pope. However, there is yet an important role for me to play. Too often in the past, popes have overlooked their leadership responsibilities in preparing the church for their departure. They’ve failed to mentor and encourage those cardinals who seem to have God’s special blessing and wisdom—qualities that would make them an ideal candidate. Likewise, they often fail to discern and counsel those who would seek the papacy for prideful or selfish reasons. I will not be a pope who fails to prepare the church for my death. When I was a young cardinal, I realized it was easier to discern the intentions of those more focused on their own good than of others, as it corroborated the belief in their own superiority. As I am truly declining, though not as fast as I may appear to be, this allows me to better identify those who would jockey for my position, and thus need to be counseled, versus those who would humbly accept the papacy if it were offered to them.”

I took a minute to digest all of this. I couldn’t begin to fathom the pressure and difficulty of his position and the responsibilities he held on his shoulders yet, his words about discerning the intentions of the cardinals suddenly made sense in the context of Slash’s and my presence.

I looked up at him, understanding dawning. “You already know what’s happened to Slash...what’s going on with Cardinal Lazo and what’s happened to us. You were the one who set this whole thing in motion.” Part of me was shocked, while another part of me was impressed, thinking he had the brain of a hacker.

The pope leaned against the corner of his desk. “Yes, and no. I provided the fertile soil from which honest, or dishonest, actions might spring. I, unfortunately, didn’t know that both of you would be brought into this. Now that you have, it confirms that my actions were guided by a higher power. God works through us always and shows us the way.”

“What does that mean?” I murmured.

I didn’t realize I’d spoken aloud until the pope answered. “It means God has chosen both of you for his work. I see it now, and I am deeply humbled by that knowledge. I am convinced that your presence here is divine intervention.” He turned to look at Slash. “Now, Nicolo, we shall see it through, shan’t we?”

He glanced at Slash and a look of understanding passed between them. “We shall,” Slash responded.

“Good. Now, it is my great honor to announce to you that later today I will formally canonize the two candidates for sainthood. Cristian Descantes, thefirstSavior of Salerno, and Sister Ana-Paula Núnez, the Mother of Maldonado. You are the first to know.” He held up his hands. “Pray for us, o Holy Mother of God.”

“May we be worthy of the promises of Christ,” Slash murmured in response.

I bowed my head respectfully and waited.

The pope walked over to Slash and gently rested a hand on the top of his head. “There remains, however, one more important matter between us, Nicolo, and it involves forgiveness. Yours. You must not be afraid of the vulnerability of living in forgiveness. In our violent world, largely abandoned by people of good intention, we must never stop asking for and receiving forgiveness. Those of us who bear the extraordinary weight of the present and future of this churchmustcontinue to live in forgiveness while praying for guidance and strength. It is not an easy task. Do you understand, my son?”

“I do.” Slash kept his head lowered.

“Good.” The pope watched him, a contemplative look on his face. “One of my favorite quotes came from one of my predecessors, Saint John Paul the Great. He often said, ‘Thanks to the healing power of love, even the most wounded heart can experience a liberating encounter with forgiveness.’ So, I ask you to forgive yourself and those who have hurt you. That is an order from your pope.”

Slash left the chair and knelt on the floor, taking the pope’s hand and kissing the ring. “Thank you for your guidance, Holy Father.”

Now the pope glanced at me. “And for you, Miss Carmichael, there is a matter I wish to discuss.”

“Me?” I pointed at myself and then looked over my shoulder, as if another Lexi Carmichael might magically appear. I couldn’t begin to fathom what the pope could possibly want to discuss with me. Unless it was family planning. In that case, I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

He approached me, putting one hand on my shoulder, the other pushing aside the Salerno medal and gently holding the crucifix between his fingers.

---