The Priest, The Ghost and The Love

Chapter - 3 The Other End

Maya knew she did not belong in this chamber, yet it did not make her feel any less welcome. And it was the grace of the man whose room was at the end of the passageway she had discovered a few hours ago. The wooden furniture that shone under the dim light of the table lamp presented the room with a warmth that did not feel foreign to her. It was exactly how she liked it. Despite not having a posh or even decent first impression in front of the Camerlengo, he did not humiliate or embarrassed her. Instead, he had discerned her distress and tried to lighten up the mood by cracking a few jokes in between sipping his tea. Maya was awed by the lengths he went to indicate that she should not feel any discomfiture. The two of them had a fairly ordinary conversation while the young woman sat in the office of the Priest, yet it was far from dull. Maya closely observed Father Patrick; every moment he made radiated the idiosyncrasy he had been raised with. Patrick McKenna was a man of the absolute class whose mannerisms were the finest and whose company Maya was enjoying despite her heart reminding her not to grow fond of it for this will most probably be the only time they would be meeting. Her heart reminded her of the harsh truth whenever she started enjoying herself a little. The writer had accepted the presumption that the Camerlengo would most probably get this door permanently sealed first thing in the morning. The thought raged a tsunami against the small boat of hope for the moments she spent here in the Camerlengo's camber, she felt accepted. No one stared at her because of the different colour of her skin or because she was wearing something not everyone here was accustomed to seeing, nor was any man trying to woo her. The fearless Patrick McKenna was evidently not bothered by their differences, instead, he appeared rather intrigued by her.

The young woman was drowning in her thoughts about the man sitting in front of her. She knew him but then again, who didn't? But to her, he was more than a mere celebrity - he was an angel. An angel to whom she owed a lot. So deep in her thoughts that she failed to acknowledge the question Father had put forward. She could see his lips moving softly, but her mind failed to register what he said. Pulling herself out of her ocean of thoughts, she heard the silky voice of Patrick McKenna addressing her -

"So, Miss Deol, I never asked but where is your house?"

"Oh, it's in Italy. Actually, my house is near the border of Italy and the Vatican." Replied Maya as she took the last sip of her tea. Unlike what she had anticipated, the writer had consumed quite a few servings of the hot beverage despite not having a fondness for it.

"Italy... It's baffling how I have resided in this chamber for the past seven years but never once did it come to me that there could be a tunnel leading to Italy right in front of my eyes." Patrick voiced his amazement at this newfound discovery as he placed the china on the table kept beside the armchair. Leaning forward, the Priest fixed his guest with an expecting look as he searched for the right words to be spoken. After a moment of silence, which was killing Maya, she could foresee that the Camerlengo wanted to make a request, but she was oblivious to what that request could be. Finally, after a few minutes, he spoke -

"Can I make a small request to you Miss Deol?"

"For sure, Father," Maya said, nodding her head.

"I feel curious. I desire to see the other end of the passageway and I would love it if you could lead the way. But only if you want to and you do not have any problem with it." Said Patrick as he fixed her with expecting eyes.

"Please don't embarrass me by requesting Father, it would be my pleasure to show you my house." The innocence in the Priest's request forced a smile on Maya's lips, who was amazed by the humbleness of the man to whom the whole Vatican bowed. Maya's affirmative response gleamed Father Patrick's handsome face as he stood up from his armchair. The young woman, too, gently placed her saucer on the oak wood table and joined the Priest, who had made his way toward the open door and was intently scanning the dark tunnel as far his eyes could see. She stood there beside him as a warm feeling crept inside her heart as she saw the thrill of adventure in his eyes. This was not how she had imagined him, and she was glad he was not the personification of the man of her imagination. The photographs in the newspapers did not do this breathtaking man any justice. Father Patrick McKenna was far more dashing in reality than he appeared in those newspapers, and his looks were almost distracting for Maya. One thing she never expected him to be was such soft-spoken. She had expected the saviour of the Vatican City to be a man with a commanding voice and intimidating demeanour, but she did not feel intimidated even when he stood towering over her.