Devil at the Vatican (BL)

Chapter 14

When it was time for Elio to make his grand departure, his father walked him out. It hit Elio just then that he never got to spend time alone with the old man. Outside of the staff, no one else lived here but him. Though he had no true relationship with Elio outside of his genes, he behaved fondly towards him during his tumultuous stay.

Outside was another hot summer day where the sky was clear and bright blue, and the birds sang a bit louder than usual. It was as if nothing in the world were changing. The beauties of summer could care less about his woes.

Wearing a fine three-piece wool suit with a matching waistcoat and brown button shoes, Elio looked like the guest of someone who lived in that grand mansion instead of in a sharecropper's house down the valley. Everything was expensive and brand new. The suitcases were heavy, packed full of anything he would need.

It took some time to convince Cecil that a flat cap was the preferred hat over a gaudier top hat. They seemed to forget that, while biracial, he was still a Negro. Walking around with a showy top hat in these parts would draw attention, especially since he was in the company of an Asian priest and two white priests.

Father Marcel was already inside the carriage when it pulled up to the front of the house. Elio was grateful for this, as it limited his view of the front gardens where he thoroughly violated Marvin. Cecil loaded the carriage with his luggage.

Elio stood before his father, realizing how short the man was compared to him. Oliver raised a shaky, wrinkled hand, and patted Elio's shoulder.

"Make haste in your recovery, my dear boy," he said.

"Did you love my mother?" Elio asked him. Out of all the questions he had for this man, this particular one decided to make itself known.

Oliver blinked a few times. His eyes roamed Elio's face as if looking for an answer, or maybe a memory. "I will be frank with you... I did not. But I found great comfort with her."

Those searching eyes moved from the house and back to Elio. Saul was standing in the doorway now, wringing his hat with wide eyes.

"I'm here with your mama, boy," Saul explained. "Thought I should see you off in her place."

Tears welled in Elio's eyes and he did his best to blink them away. Saul sauntered down the stairs, coming to a stop equal distance between the two men.

"Comfort," Elio said, bringing his attention back to Oliver. "What do you mean?"

Saul stepped in front of Elio, blocking his view of the old man. "No use meddling in grown-folk business. The past between your mother and Mr. Ellsworth remains between them. You know this man is your pappy and that's all you need to know. Now, you best get on so you can return all the sooner."

"I'm speaking to my father," Elio snapped quickly.

"I'm your father," Saul countered just as quick. His voice held the thunder of a man unmoved. "I raised you. Get your ass in that carriage, boy."

Elio moved to look at Oliver, whose face was the same as it always was. Only at that moment did Elio realize Oliver was quite strange. None of this seemed to really bother him. Oliver also knew of this witchcraft and held no true fear towards it.

Saul was right, though. He raised Elio as his own son, never bearing any of his own with Sophia. With a solemn nod, Elio climbed into the carriage and sat beside Father Marcel, who watched the entire exchange with disinterest.

"You take care of yourself, okay?" Saul said from the doorway. Sadness hung heavy in his voice now, cooked together with a gentle dose of worry. He left after this, not daring to even look back.