“Do you speak English?” Miriam asked, most likely for Sofia’s benefit.
He smiled again. “A little,” he said. “How can I help you?” He spoke with a heavy accent.
Sofia told him her usual story, that she was looking for her great-uncle with whom the family had lost touch years ago and that there were indications he might have joined a Benedictine monastery.
The abbot listened attentively, his face kind but serious. He asked them to follow him and led them to the foyer at the entrance where they had been before. The monk guarding the entrance greeted them respectfully. The abbot said a few words to him Sofia didn’t understand. She and Miriam followed the abbot to the next room, which looked like an office with a desk and a couple of chairs. The abbot sat behind a desk and motioned Sofia and Miriam to sit in the chairs opposite him. Sofia glanced at the small and almost bare office—it was empty aside from the desk, chairs, and a filing cabinet. There were no pictures or any decorations on the walls. This couldn’t be the abbot’s regular office, could it? Surely, he had something a little more elegant. After all he was the abbot. Then again, this was monastic life.
When they were seated, the abbot looked at Sofia. “Why is your great-uncle not in touch with you?”
“It’s a long story,” Sofia said. She had been prepared for questions and decided to be honest but not give away everything. While she talked, the abbot gave her his full attention.
After she stopped, the abbot nodded briefly, looked down at his large hands, folded together on his desk, then lifted his eyes.
“I have a photo of him,” Sofia said. She showed him a picture, not the one she had brought with her from California, but a more recent one Miriam had taken of him.
The abbot studied the photo. “You said Danilo Pedrotti is his name?”
Sofia and Miriam glanced at each other, then Sofia nodded, hoping this was the name he would have used in the monastery. There was something in the abbot’s eyes, however, a mixture of kindness, strength, and warning, yes warning. No use lying to me, they seemed to say.
“That’s the name he goes by in Italy, it seems,” she said. “His real name is Angelo Segantino.”
The abbot didn’t act surprised or shocked. “Bene,” he said, then faced Sofia and Miriam. “Angelo made a confession.” He didn’t explain what the confession consisted of.
Sofia’s heart pounded in her chest. Joy flooded her. “So you know him?”
“He is an oblate of the Benedictine order,” the abbot said. Seeing the clueless expression on her face, he explained. “He is a lay monk. He does not live in the monastery but he attends prayers and mass. He is supposed to live in the spirit of St. Benedict.”
“Do you know where he is?” Sofia asked.
“He works in a town about two hours from here, in Rivalta. He also works with youngsters who are troubled. He teaches them sports among other things, soccer mainly.”
“Does he live there as well?” Miriam asked.
“I cannot give you his address without consulting with him first. It is a privacy matter. I am sorry.” He lifted his hands in an apologetic gesture. “But if you tell me where I can contact you, I will let him know that his family is looking for him. He can get in touch with you.”
Sofia was disappointed. She had come so close to finding him. What if he didn’t want to get in touch with the family? She took a deep breath. “It’s very important that he contacts me or Miriam. We need to find him. The police in the United States are looking for him. He may be a witness in a murder investigation.”
The abbot looked at her startled. This was obviously news to him. “I shall talk to him. I shall let him know his family is looking for him, and I shall make sure he contacts you. We cannot have something like this unresolved.”
Sofia took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
Miriam gave the abbot her address and phone number. They shook hands with the abbot who accompanied them to the gate. Miriam and Sofia got into their car and drove away. When Sofia looked back, she saw the abbot still standing at the gate, a figure in black, guarding the walls of the abbey, this place of peace and tranquility.
Sofia, however, felt less than tranquil and Miriam seemed to be excited as well. “Dan … Angelo, a monk, at least a lay monk. So he went through with it.” After a short pause. “Well, then again, in a way it makes sense. He was trying to turn his life around and perhaps religion and the monastery have helped him.”
Sofia nodded. “I just hope he will get in touch with us.”
“You know, I think I might know where he lives,” Miriam said. Sofia looked at her surprised. Miriam’s eyes showed a spark of excitement.
Chapter 26
“When Angelo and I were dating, we used to go hiking a lot,” Miriam said as she was driving back to Moretta. “One of our favorite hikes was to a cottage near Rivalta where he now works. He mentioned several times that he loved that cottage and would love to rent it. Perhaps he did. Why not find out?”
“I’m all for it,” Sofia said.
“Let’s do it.” Miriam glanced at her watch. “We should wait until tomorrow. It’s too late for today. We’ll drive to Rivalta tomorrow morning, pack a picnic, and hike up to the cottage. It’s a fairly easy hike of about an hour. The scenery is quite beautiful and if we don’t find him, at least we’ll have a nice outing.”
“Sounds perfect. Do you think my shoes are okay for it?” Sofia was wearing athletic shoes.
Miriam glanced at her feet. “They should be fine. It’s uphill but not too steep.”
“Good, I need the exercise,” Sofia said. “I haven’t done much walking on this trip.”
At Miriam’s, Sofia asked herself if she should call Nicholas again and tell him about the latest developments. Since Angelo was known to the monastery under his real name, she didn’t even have to tell him about his false Italian name now. She glanced at the phone but then decided to wait until tomorrow evening. Perhaps she would even be able to give him the good news that she had met Angelo, that he was okay. If he was okay. According to the abbot, Angelo was working with young people, helping them. Whatever he had done in the past, he seemed to be on the right path now. But what if his past was a life of crime? What if he had killed his friend? Sofia had never quite believed it.
“What are you thinking about?” Miriam asked. She had started to prepare dinner while Sofia was standing at the window in the kitchen, staring outside.
Sofia shook her head. “Just wondering what’s going to happen tomorrow.” She turned around. “Let me help you, please.”
“You can set the table. The plates and glasses are over there. She pointed at the kitchen cabinet. Sofia took out plates, cutlery, and glasses and put them on the table. Miriam’s kitchen had a small dining area, a nook with a table and two benches next to a window. Sofia loved the small house. It was lovingly decorated with all kinds of handicrafts, mainly from Italy. Some of the photos on the mantelpiece above the fireplace were from New York as Miriam explained.
They had a dinner of minestrone and a mixed salad as well as a glass of red wine. After dinner, they relaxed with dessert, a piece of homemade chocolate cake and a cup of espresso.
“You know I think you should put your car in my garage,” Miriam suggested. “Get it off the street.”
“Good idea,” Sofia said. “If you don’t mind. But what about your car?”
“It’s out in the driveway most of the time anyway. I don’t bother putting it in the garage. I’ll move it, so you can put yours inside.”
Outside, it was dark, and there were just a couple of streetlights on Miriam’s street. Sofia walked the two blocks to her car, nervously scanning the darkness. When she arrived at her car, she exhaled deeply, realizing that she had held her breath. No blue Honda or suspicious-looking person, thank God. She started the car, drove back and parked it in the garage.
“I think the creep is gone,” Sofia said. “At least I didn’t see anybody.”
They went to bed at t
en o’clock, wanting to get an early start the following day.
The next morning they got up while it was still dark. After showering and a quick breakfast, they grabbed their backpacks, each filled with a water bottle, sandwiches, fruit, and a lightweight rain jacket in case the weather changed. They loaded the stuff into Miriam’s car.
As they were driving away, Miriam noticed Sofia turning around, staring back. “What’s the matter?” she asked and glanced through her rearview mirror. At the crossing, she turned right toward the main road leading toward Rivalta.
“Nothing, I think,” Sofia said. “I just saw a car and thought it might be the blue Honda, but nobody seems to be after us.”
“He must have left. Your car is off the road. Whoever followed you probably thinks you’re gone.” Miriam glanced once more at her rearview mirror.
“You’re probably right.” Sofia said.
After about two hours, they saw the sign for Rivalta. The town was small, mainly made up of houses with natural stone walls, a church, a school, and a building that looked like it could be the city hall. Miriam parked the car in the central parking lot.
“Let’s have some tea or coffee before we begin the hike,” she said. “Mainly to use the restrooms. There won’t be one for about an hour, or longer if Angelo is not there.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sofia motioned at a cafeteria with iron tables and chairs outside. They sat down. A young waiter with tousled hair and sleepy eyes came to their table. He suppressed a yawn and asked for their order. A few minutes later, he brought their cappuccino and croissants.
After the snack and using the restroom, they shouldered their backpacks and walked through the small town. At the edge, a natural path led up the slope through a meadow toward the forest. Before entering the woods, they turned back and admired the view of the town and the mountains in the background. The woods were a mixture of dark and light green trees. In the distance majestic mountains rose, the tops covered in snow.
“I didn’t even realize how beautiful the Piedmont is.” Sofia said. “I’ve been concentrating so much on Tuscany, which is gorgeous of course, but I’m discovering many other beautiful places in Italy.”
“Oh, yes. I love Tuscany, too,” Miriam agreed. “But I do prefer this somewhat wilder and less touristy landscape here.”
“Oh, no, the blue Honda again,” Sofia said.
“Where?” Miriam stared at the town below.
“In the parking lot,” Sofia whispered. “Let me see … about three cars to the left of ours.”
She talked in a normal tone again, probably realizing that people that far away couldn’t hear her.
Miriam narrowed her eyes and scanned the parking lot. She saw the blue car but couldn’t make out the brand. “It is a blue car, but I don’t know if it’s a Honda. Could also be a Toyota or … I don’t know, Sofia. Are you sure, it’s your Honda?”
Sofia shook her head. “No, I’m not sure. I’m probably seeing ghosts. Even if it was a blue Honda, it could be a different one.”
“That’s what I mean. There are lots of blue Hondas around here. Besides, we are too far away. They can’t see us. Let’s just go.”
Miriam went ahead and Sofia followed. Before they entered the forest, Miriam looked back again. The car seemed to still be there but she didn’t see anybody in the parking lot.
There weren’t any further scares or surprises during the rest of the hike. They walked mainly in silence, enjoying the beautiful landscape. Miriam thought back to the time she hiked up the hill with Danilo. A feeling of nostalgia filled her. Would they find him? She knew it was a shot in the dark. They knew he worked somewhere in Rivalta but he could be living anywhere. It was probably wishful thinking on her part to find him in his favorite cottage. She tried not to get discouraged.
After a few more turns and a last hike up a steep hill, they stopped and looked back over the valley. Down below was the village, tiny now. They sat on a flat granite plate at the side of the path, sipping water.
“How would Angelo get back to town from here?” Sofia asked.
“There’s a road leading up here. It’s not very good, lots of potholes. I just thought the hike would be more enjoyable.” Miriam gave a wistful smile. “Or I’m simply going down memory lane, since this was our favorite outing.”
Sofia laughed and put her arm around her. “It is a beautiful hike. I just hope we find out something.”
“We’re almost there.” Miriam picked up her backpack and began to walk toward the last bend in the road. Once they turned the corner, she stopped. “There it is.”
They admired the scenery around them. “Now I know why you guys loved this place,” Sofia said.
The cottage, a stone house with walls made of irregular and differently colored stones and with a stone roof, stood next to two pine trees. Behind it was the forest. The house had a small front yard with a vegetable garden. On one side of the cottage, a huge red bougainvillea climbed and hugged the wall, covering half of the roof. An old, somewhat battered car was parked next to the house underneath a birch tree.
“Somebody must live here,” Miriam said. “But I don’t recognize the car.” Disappointment washed over her, but didn’t drown all her hope. “He could’ve bought a different car,” she said.
“Well, let’s check it out.” Sofia began to walk toward the gate.
“Wait.” Miriam grabbed her arm. The door to the cottage had opened.
PART FOUR: ANGELO
Chapter 27
A man stepped outside and Sofia inhaled sharply. She recognized the features. He was tall, not as tall as Grandpa Martin, somewhat more solidly built but still trim. His curly hair was almost all white. He sported a short but full gray beard. He wore jeans and a red-and-black checkered work shirt. From where she stood she didn’t see his face clearly enough, but he looked about Martin’s age, although he was ten years younger. He began to walk toward the car, then looked in their direction, stopped short, and stared at them.
“Danilo?” Miriam said. She began to walk toward him and Sofia followed. “Or should I say, Angelo?”
Angelo continued to stare, his dark sharp eyes narrowed. His face was wrinkled, worn with care and worries, most likely. “Miriam? What are you doing here?”
“Well, hello to you, too,” Miriam said, her voice gruff.
The two women had reached the front yard and entered. Angelo was walking toward them, his face one big question mark. He now faced Sofia.
“Hello, Uncle Angelo,” she said.
“Who are you?” The tone was friendly, but he measured her with a scowl.
“I am Sofia Segantino, your great-niece by marriage. Nicholas is my husband.”
“Nicholas … my God.” He looked and scanned the area. “Are you alone?”
They nodded.
“Well you better come inside.” Angelo opened the door to the cottage again.
They stepped into a modest, austere but tidy living room. The sitting area in front of a fireplace consisted of a sofa, covered by a patchwork quilt, two easy chairs and a coffee table. On the mantelpiece above the fireplace stood a few framed photos. In another corner was a sturdy-looking dining table with a few chairs. On one of the walls hung a sepia picture of a monk, St. Benedict, perhaps. Through an open door Sofia saw a small kitchen. Another door standing ajar led into what must have been the bedroom.
“Please sit.” Angelo pointed at the easy chairs and the sofa. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee or tea?”
“We have some sandwiches for a picnic. May we share them with you?” Sofia asked.
“Thank you, perhaps later.” Angelo glanced at Sofia, his eyes more gentle now.
“Coffee sounds good,” Miriam said. “And I guess I’ll call you Angelo from now on.” There was a bitter tone in her voice.
“I’m sorry, Miriam. I didn’t mean to lie to you.”
“Well, you did lie. You obviously didn’t trust me enough to tell me who you really are.” Her voice tremb
led.
Sofia was getting worried that the two would end up having an argument, but Angelo shook his head. “I felt I had no choice. Knowing me, the real me, would’ve put you in danger as well.”
“We always have a choice … Angelo,” Miriam said. “But that can wait. There are more important things now. Sofia came all the way from California to find you.”
Angelo faced Sofia. “How is the family? How is Martin … Maria … Robert and the rest?”
“They’re fine,” Sofia assured him. “Everybody is healthy. And they all miss you very much.”
“I’ll make the coffee while you tell him,” Miriam said. “Is that okay?”
Angelo nodded. “The coffee is in the cabinet above the sink. The pot is on the stove. I can make it.”
“That’s okay. You just listen.” Miriam got up and went into the kitchen.
Angelo gave a quick smile as he watched Miriam, then faced Sofia again. “How in heaven did you find me?”
Sofia told him about her and Nicholas’s trip to New York and the envelope postmarked in Bardonico. She explained she was traveling to Tuscany anyway and hoped to be able to find something about his whereabouts. “It turned out easier than I expected. I met Don Ambrosio in Bardonico, showed him an old photo of you and he recognized you. But he also said that the man in the picture was a Danilo Pedrotti.”
Angelo shook his head. “I knew one day it would catch up with me. How is Don Ambrosio?”
“He’s fine. He too wants to know how you are. And he showed me another envelope of a letter you sent him with the rental check. It was mailed in Moretta. So I drove to Moretta and happened to run into Miriam.” Sofia lifted her hands. “The rest is history.”
“My God, you are quite the detective.” Angelo seemed impressed. “But why did you want to find me? Why all of a sudden after twenty years, my family wants to find me?”
“Well, you obviously didn’t want to be found. I mean you disappeared and left no forwarding address.”
Finding Angelo (The Wine Lover's Daughter, Book 2) Page 11
