Every Breath You Take (55 page)

“As I was saying a moment ago,” Mitchell replied with a grin, “your uncle is a man of surprising perception as well as an excellent judge of character.”

Father Mackey was not so confident of that. In fact, he had serious misgivings about the wisdom of Father Donovan’s willingness to support Kate’s marriage to Mitchell. He stood up, started to leave, then turned back. Father Donovan was leaning against his desk, smiling with satisfaction at the outcome of his phone call, when be he noticed the young priest’s worried expression. “You look troubled, Robert. What’s wrong?”

“I just don’t see how you can feel any confidence about marrying two people who only knew each other a few days and who have the kind of unpleasant history they have.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Father Donovan contemplated his reply for a moment, and then he said, “I’m going to answer that with the same question I posed once to Mitchell: How is it possible that two people who knew each other only a few days could end up being so agonizingly disappointed in each other that neither of them was able to forget about it after almost three years?”

“There could be psychological undercurrents, unresolved parental issues; who knows what the answer is?”

“
I
know what the answer is,” Father Donovan said with certainty. “The answer is that when they were together during those few days, those two people loved each other so much that neither one of them could come to terms with the suffering they inadvertently inflicted on each other later.”

“You could be right, I suppose. But even so, a man and a woman—”

“Please don’t quote to me from another book on the sanctity of marriage that you read in the seminary. In fact, I want you to read a book that may actually help you grasp the spiritual reality that can exist between couples who truly love each other. You won’t find it on the usual reading lists.”

“I’ll be happy to read whatever you suggest. What’s the title?”

“It’s called
The Prophet
by Kahlil Gibran.”

Father Mackey looked dubious but willing. He walked over to Father Donovan’s desk and wrote down the book’s title and the name of the author on a piece of paper. Then he stopped and stared, openmouthed, at
the older priest. “Didn’t we excommunicate Gibran a century ago?”

Father Donovan shrugged. “Yes, and we excommunicated Galileo, too, for daring to claim that God’s earth actually circled the sun and not the reverse. Just look who’s laughing now.”

A
NY WEDDING WAS A SOURCE OF CURIOSITY AND A REASON
for celebration in the village near Florence where Mitchell had lived with the Callioroso family. Mitchell had chosen this village to be married in because he said it was the place of his innocence, his childhood.

On the day of Mitchell and Kate’s wedding, the back of the small church was occupied by several local people who simply enjoyed weddings. These individuals did not recognize Matthew Farrell and his wife, or Stavros and Alex Konstantatos, but they had an unexpected thrill when they saw the famous American film star who escorted his wife, Julie, up the aisle. They had a second thrill when he walked past them again on his way to escort a tiny, elderly woman who smiled proudly on her way to her seat at the front of the church.

The front of the church, where the invited guests were seated, was occupied by people who were very special to Mitchell and Kate, including Holly and the Callioroso family. It was exactly the kind of small, intimate wedding that Kate and Mitchell both wanted.

The day before, Mitchell had dutifully gone for confession to Father Lorenzo. He emerged from the church with a bemused expression on his face and joined Kate, who was waiting for him on a bench in the village’s square. “How did it go?” she’d teased him, linking her arm through his.

“Actually,” Mitchell replied, “I had the feeling Father
Lorenzo may have been a little disappointed in my lack of imagination. Although, considering how many Our Fathers and Hail Marys I have to say as penance, I think he may have been impressed with my tenacity.”

“How many Our Fathers and Hail Marys did he give you as penance?”

“If I start praying right away, there’s a chance I may be on time for our wedding.”

Kate had burst out laughing.

Now, as she stood in front of the altar, with Father Lorenzo and her uncle both officiating and Mitchell smiling into her eyes, she felt truly blessed. She said her vows clearly and proudly. Mitchell said his vows the same way, answering in Italian for the benefit of the Callioroso family, while Father Donovan looked on approvingly. His expression faltered, however, near the end of the ceremony when Mitchell was asked if he promised to love, honor, and cherish Kate.

Instead of replying
“Lo giuro,”
Mitchell replied,
“Con ogni respiro che prendo.”

For a brief moment, Father Donovan wondered if Mitchell’s answer had been perhaps a little indefinite, but Father Lorenzo looked very gratified, which allayed Father Donovan’s concerns.

At the reception after the ceremony, however, Father Donovan sought out Father Lorenzo, who was bilingual and who was chatting with the American guests. “Father Lorenzo,” Father Donovan said, “what did Mitchell say when you asked him if he promised to love, honor, and cherish Kate?”

The Americans were obviously as curious as he was, because they turned attentively to hear Father Lorenzo’s reply.

“When I asked Mitchell if he promised to love, honor, and cherish Kate, Mitchell did not merely say ‘I do.’ Instead, he replied, ‘With every breath I take.’”

Like all the women in the group, Kate found her eyes misted with tears when Father Lorenzo said that, but Kate had already known at the altar what Mitchell was saying. It was the same phrase he’d had inscribed inside her wedding band.