Il Pane Della Vita (3 page)

“Ah, then sit back
and enjoy yourself, Sister. We’re beginning to hit the foothills.”

An hour and a half later,
houses began to appear through the trees.

The road narrowed
, and the trees disappeared. Belmonte drove onto a brick road with stores and offices on each side. “We’re nearly there, Sister. I need some coffee. May I get you some?”

“Yes. I
should get out and stretch my legs. I promise I’ll stay in sight of the car.” She crossed the road to look at a space between the stone buildings.
Such a quaint little village.
A steep, forested hillside ascended closely behind the buildings. Peeking over the railing, she saw a bubbling brook enter a pipe under the road. She glanced back across the thoroughfare and discovered a similar railing between two buildings on the other side. Waiting for a car to pass, she traversed the road once more. Behind tree branches, she viewed a panorama of the valley. The late afternoon sun gave it a golden glow.
How perfect
, she thought.
This scene might even be more beautiful than Montriano. And the smell… The leafy trees are so sweet and fresh.

Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned to see Belmonte with their coffees.

“This one is for you, Sister. There’s a table a few hundred meters up the highway. I can carry it for you, if you would like.”

“I was just admiring the beautiful view.”

“The monastery is just a few kilometers farther along this road.”

“Then my visit should provide me with a good rest.”

The two strolled up the hill where more stores appeared. They sat at a picnic table and enjoyed their coffees.

“I see that there’
s a store with terracotta tiles just across the street,” said Sister Angela. “Maybe you should visit now. It might be closed after you drop me off.”

“Oh
, but I mustn’t take too long. I have to have you at Santo Velo by dinnertime.”

She tossed her paper cup into a ne
arby trashcan. “Then let’s go shopping now.”

Belmonte caressed the bag on the seat beside him as he turned right at a small wooden si
gn and followed the narrow road that snaked up the side of the mountain. Not a kilometer farther, the trees opened up to reveal an unimposing building.

“Is this it?

The yellow plaster was framed in brown. The building in front of them was not as old as she imagined. It was rustic.

“It looks smaller than I
envisioned,” she said.

“
The building goes back a ways.”

“
You have been here before, Mr. Belmonte?”

“Yes, a few times. The bishop
visits on occasion.”

He slowed the car. “
The monastery sits on the edge of a plateau. From there, the slope becomes steep, but it won’t fall. There are beautiful gardens where you can sit and contemplate inside the front doors.

“I’d get out, but it
looks like someone has come to the front door to greet us.”

Belmonte dro
ve forward until they could look up a few steps to a wide portico in front of the entry. A small fountain sat in the center.

“Ah,
Sister Angela, we’re so glad to see you. I’m Father Rafaello. I am afraid we’re sitting down to dinner in about fifteen minutes. If you let me show you to your room, you may have a few moments to freshen up.”

Belmonte
handed her suitcase to the abbot. “Thank you for keeping me company, Sister. I’ll pick you up in a couple of weeks. Enjoy your stay.”

“Than
k you, Mr. Belmonte. I’ll keep Father Sergio informed about when to send you.”

The entry hall of the main building was grand
. It circled a courtyard of bright flowers and bronze statues. Mosaics and paintings decorated the walls opposite the garden. She gazed up the through the roof and watched a few clouds dot the bright blue sky. The abbot set the suitcase on the walkway.

“I must tell you, Sister, that none of us has seen the
eremo
since the accident. The brothers will probably try to wheedle information from you about what happened up there. We know nothing.”

“In an era of mobiles, pcs, and smart
thingamajigs, I’m surprised you haven’t heard anything.”

“Although we do have one phone
—mine, the rest of the brothers don’t have any. The computer in the office doesn’t connect to the Internet. People who come in here to work must pledge not to mention news from the outside. It interferes with prayers and contemplation.”

“But I’
m expected to communicate with Father Sergio. How do I do that if I cannot access the outside world?”

“I thought of that. There’
s a connection in some of the guestrooms. I’ll put you in one of those. I only ask that when you come downstairs to eat, please don’t inform them about outside news.” He raised his eyes to the ceiling in thought. “And one other rule—no guests in the rooms.”