The Communion

Gray areas of morality.

After spending most of his life in America, don Santo, widowed and childless, decided to return to his birth village in Sicily, more to escape an unbearable loneliness than to plant new roots in his native soil. In his early seventies, with a slim body worn by years of hard physical work, he sought to spend the remaining days God would grant him in peaceful harmony with nature and with his neighbors. Don Santo had inherited an old farm shack with an adjoining small plot of land at the outskirts of the village. He settled there and enjoyed a quiet life at little cost, being a man of modest needs and simple taste.

Don Santo’s small house consisted of a main floor and a basement. From the outside it looked more like a barn than a home. The roof was covered with discolored red tiles and the original white plaster over the exterior walls had turned into a sad grey. A wooden door battered by the unkindness of nature gave access to a small room that served as kitchen, living room and dining room. To the right, a door led to the only bedroom, which had just enough space for the old double bed used by his parents, two wooden chairs placed at the sides of the bed, and a small armoire. The bathroom occupied half of the balcony.

The small plot of land around the house was a physical and spiritual tonic for don Santo. He normally got up early in the morning and went out to inspect the garden and wish a good growing day to each vegetable in the season. With trees and shrubs, don Santo established a more direct contact, often touching their trunk and branches with a caressing hand as he passed by. He repeated this routine three times a day as if visiting convalescing friends. During each visit, he congratulated himself openly for the results of his work and offered a word of praise and encouragement to vegetables, bushes, and trees. He whispered for fear of being heard by a neighbor who might spread doubts about his sanity among village folks.

Don Santo was a practicing Catholic. Every Sunday morning he woke up early, took his weekly shower, shaved, and put on the only suit he owned and the “new shoes” he bought just before leaving the US for exclusive use on Sundays and religious holidays. Dressed up to show his respect for the Lord, the Virgin Mary, and the Saints, don Santo started his long walk to Saint Nicholas’ church, situated half a kilometer from his house on a sloping old cobblestone road. The Sunday Mass gave him the weekly opportunity to chat with the priest and the parishioners and strengthen his relationship with God and his fellow man. The conversation always turned to the weather and the garden.

“This year we have had great gardening weather,” one parishioner said. “Your tomato plants must be growing by the hour.”

“I cannot complain,” don Santo responded with pride. “I cannot complain.”

“Keep an eye on them, don Santo,” another parishioner joked. “I may show up and steal them when they are ripe.”

Frugal with himself, don Santo was generous with God. The members of the committees collecting funds for various religious feasts never missed knocking at his door, always repeating the same sentences: “Don Santo, here we come again to bring you the blessings of (and they would mention the name of the Saint) for your generosity.” Don Santo would also repeat his standard reply: “I am honored to contribute to the feast of (repeating the name of the Saint), who bestows many blessings on us all.” In a short time, don Santo became well known and well respected in the village for his mild temperament, his religious fervor, and his generosity.

After a couple of years, this idyllic life was suddenly interrupted by a trivial accident. One morning, while performing his usual inspection of the garden, don Santo saw a rabbit munching on the very lettuce he had chosen for his Sunday salad. Infuriated by the impudence of the irreverent rodent, don Santo chased it with the stick he used for support during his inspections of the garden. As he tried to hit the rabbit with the stick, he overextended his reach, lost his balance, and fell on the ground. Don Santo remained on the ground for a few minutes, his body stretched and still like a corpse, being observed by the rabbit, which was waiting for the old man’s departure to resume his meal. He tried to get up, but was stopped by an acute pain in his right leg. Aware that he might have broken his leg, he slithered to the house like a snake. He phoned the medical clinic for help before hauling himself to bed.

The doctor confirmed a fracture of the bone on his right leg and ordered don Santo to stay in bed, returning a couple hours later to place a cast on his leg. Don Santo remained in bed for a few days and received the help of a nurse. He hired one of the parishioners to bring him his daily meals and do house cleaning, and some neighbors provided occasional company. As soon as he was able to walk on crutches, don Santo thanked everyone and hinted that he was now capable of taking care of himself.

The fall had interrupted don Santo’s religious routine. He could still watch the daily mass on television, but was unable to go to church and receive Communion. This grave consequence of the fall was also recognized by the members of the Eucharistic Committee, a group of village women in charge of delivering the Body of Christ to young and old who were unable to attend Mass. At one of their meetings the task of bringing the Communion to don Santo was assigned to Giorgina, a single woman in her late thirties. She was rather timid and soft spoken, and lived with her parents not too far from don Santo’s place.

Sunday morning, after the committee meeting that followed the Mass, Giorgina started the rounds of her clients, leaving don Santo for last. He was well prepared for the occasion. Dressed in his Sunday clothes as if he was going to Mass, he wanted to show his gratitude to Giorgina by placing on top of the table cloth embroidered by his mother, two cups of coffee and some cookies left over from visits during his convalescence. He stood waiting for her in front of the kitchen window from the time he heard the church bells announcing the end of Mass. When Giorgina knocked at the door, don Santo opened it immediately.

Giorgina entered the room timidly saying, “Good morning don Santo, I have come to bring you the Holy Communion.”

Don Santo thanked her and offered her coffee and cookies before taking Communion. She had prepared herself for a quick delivery of the Communion but did not dare refuse don Santo’s invitation for fear of offending the old man and concern that he might complain to the priest. Reluctantly, she sat at the corner of the kitchen table closest to the exit door, partly resting on the chair, and ready to escape at any moment. It was a short visit. Giorgina drank her cup of coffee in haste, quickly chewed a single cookie, and hurriedly administered the Eucharist to a kneeling don Santo, lying that she was in hurry to serve other bedridden parishioners.

“Thank you very much for your kindness and generosity, don Santo,” she said as she quickly approached the exit door. “I will be back next week at the same time.”

Don Santo was still on his knees as he watched her silhouette disappear through the front door. He tried to reply with a “thank you, see you next Sunday,” but she disappeared before he could speak the first two words.

Don Santo replayed in his mind Sunday’s home service several times a day throughout the week. The accident in the garden had initially expanded his social life through many friendly visits while bedridden. As his conditions improved, those visits dwindled and eventually were discontinued altogether. Often confined within the walls of those two rooms and limited in his garden activities, don Santo began to feel the heavy weight of loneliness; the very loneliness he had tried to escape with his return to his native village. Giorgina’s visit became for him more than the simple service of distributing the Eucharist. As he re-played those images in his mind, he began to believe that Giorgina had been sent to him by Divine Providence.

“I have been faithful and generous to God and now in my moment of need He has rewarded me,” he uttered, just loud enough to ensure God heard his voice.

With eager anticipation for Giorgina’s visit, the following Sunday don Santo adorned the kitchen table with a bouquet of flowers he had gathered in his garden and complemented the coffee with fresh sweets ordered for delivery that morning.

This extravagant presentation disquieted Giorgina. Raised in a family of devout Catholics, she had often been warned against the evil designs of vile men. Taught to be always on guard, she was wary of don Santo’s extravagance and fearful that he may be seeking more than a spiritual service. She resumed her composure after the initial shock and sat at the table as she had done the previous Sunday but remained silent.

After a few seconds of embarrassing silence, don Santo took courage and, turning to Giorgina, said, “I picked these flowers in my garden just this morning; under normal health conditions I would have brought them to church and placed them on the altar of the Madonna, but as you know, signorina, I can no longer make that long walk.” He paused briefly to give Giorgina the opportunity to respond. When she remained silent, he continued. “So, I decided to put them in a vase and place them on the kitchen table in honor of the Eucharist that you will administer.”

Giorgina, reassured by knowing that the flowers were not for her, felt comfortable enough to reply. “You have really beautiful flowers in your garden, don Santo; if you like, I can take them to church and place them on the altar in your name.”

Don Santo was pleased with this suggestion. Having reached an agreement on the flowers, the old man and the young woman resumed their Sunday visit, enjoying the coffee and the sweets before the religious function.

Back home, Giorgina was still perturbed by the morning’s events. She did not really believe don Santo’s explanation about his table arrangements. Nobody else offers me anything. Why is he making such a show?

She could accept his explanation about the flowers, but the coffee and fresh pastries were decidedly not for God or the Virgin Mary.

Then, a scary thought hit her. What if don Santo is seeking a young wife?

She needed to talk to someone. The first person that came to mind was the priest, but she quickly rejected the idea, believing he would simply reprimand her for having impure thoughts. Talking to her mother would be counterproductive; she would be happy if don Santo proposed to Giorgina and would press her to offer him some encouragement. Desperate, Giorgina settled on another member of the Eucharistic Committee.

The woman was married, in her late fifties, and known in the village as Margheritona in reference to the large dimensions of her body. She lived with her husband in a small house and both survived by cultivating two pieces of land they had inherited. Their daughter was married and lived in an apartment complex a few kilometers down the road, on the way to the sea. Margheritona would have liked to buy an apartment in the same complex in order to live near her daughter and help raise her children, but lacked the financial means to realize that dream.

Margheritona listened to Giorgina’s tale without batting an eye. She occasionally signaled her attention with a simple expression of “aha, aha,” while her brain shifted into high gear in search of a satisfactory solution to her colleague’s dilemma. When Giorgina stopped talking, Margheritona had her answer ready.

“I understand your predicament perfectly,” she began. “After spending many years with a husband, one knows exactly how men behave. Don Santo is a good person, but suffers from loneliness. He has not had the company of a woman for several years. It’s natural that, finding himself in the presence of an attractive young woman like you, he would feel rejuvenated.”

Giorgina beamed at that compliment, but soon resumed her serious expression when she pictured the eyes of the old men fixed on her body. Margheritona continued her monologue. “Don’t worry. I am a pro in these matters. I will take care of the old man. Starting next Sunday, I will administer the Eucharist to don Santo.”

Next Sunday morning, don Santo went through his routine of dressing in his Sunday clothes, wearing the “new” shoes and setting the kitchen table with flowers, coffee and fresh sweets. He left the door unlocked, and when he heard a knock, he exclaimed, “Come in Giorgina, the door is open.” He was taken by surprise when the door opened and revealed the wide body of Margheritona.

Don Santo quickly recovered from the shock and, turning to her, said, "Please sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee and some sweets.”

Margheritona was already seated before don Santo had completed his invitation. As he watched Margheritona wash down the sweets with coffee, don Santo kept wondering why they had changed the Communion server.

“What happened to Giorgina? Is she sick?”

“No, she is fine,” replied Margheritona casually. “Sometimes we take turns.” She continued, between sips of coffee. “Don Santo, you embarrass me. You prepared a feast; are you trying to seduce me?”

Don Santo blushed and tried to defend himself. “I do the same thing every Sunday, it has become a habit.”

Margheritona laughed and tried to make him feel at ease again. “Don Santo, you take me too seriously. I was just joking.”

They completed the food tasting part of their meeting without further conversation. Then Margheritona began making preparations for the religious ceremony, asking with a commanding voice, “Don Santo, how did Giorgina give you the Communion?”

“Well, let me see,” he replied timidly, “I would kneel here in front of the table, open my mouth, stick out my tongue and she would administer the Eucharist while saying a few words.”

“That’s not enough for me,” replied Margheritona, “We need more prayers. You say your prayers before going to bed, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” responded don Santo, bewildered by her questions.

“Well, the evening prayers are recited kneeling in front of the bed. We must go to the bedroom.” And without waiting for directions, she marched into the bedroom, followed by don Santo who walked slowly like a dog on a leash.

When they reached the front of the bed, Margheritona ordered him to kneel and administered the Communion. Then she knelt herself and prayed with him, making sure to get close enough that he could feel the softness of her body. When the religious function came to an end, Margheritona got up and started walking towards the door. But before leaving, she turned to the old man.

“Don Santo, while I was kneeling, I was very close to you; my God, you are skin and bones. This is not a healthy situation. We must do something about it. Let’s talk again next Sunday.” And with these words she left the house while don Santo remained standing in front of door, still stunned by the events of that morning. He was transfixed on her large body, following her movements until she disappeared around the corner.

The following Sunday morning, don Santo and Margheritona prepared themselves for their weekly visit following the steps that were becoming a tradition: preparation of the kitchen table, small talk while they enjoyed a cup of coffee and some sweets, administration of the Eucharist and final prayers. This time, however, Margheritona was eager to resume the discussion about don Santo’s health. After praising the quality of the sweets, which she routinely devoured, Margheritona turned directly to the subject at heart.

“Don Santo, as I mentioned last Sunday, you have become skin and bones and I am concerned about your health. This condition is not caused by starvation because everyone knows that you are neither poor nor a miser. Your house is full of all kinds of food, not to mention your garden.”

Don Santo agreed with her. “I know, donna Margherita, I even have a good appetite and eat three good meals a day.”

“Yes, yes,” said Margheritona, who did not want to be interrupted. She was eager to get to her final point. “I am sure there must be another reason. I have experience in these matters, you know, and have reflected on your situation. Your real problem is that you need the company of a good woman.” At this point she stopped to observe don Santo’s reaction.

The old man blushed and then whispered, “It’s true that one feels the need for company sometimes. It’s not pleasant to be alone day and night.”

Before he could continue Margheritona interjected. “Precisely what I say, my dear don Santo. Loneliness is a terrible thing�"particularly at night.” She looked him straight in his eyes as she pronounced the word night. “Your body is rebelling against this inhuman treatment and does not digest properly the food you eat. You can eat as much as want, but you will be wasting your money because without the company of a good woman you will remain skin and bones and will waste away.”

She paused again to prepare the bewildered don Santo for her final words of wisdom. She moved her chair next to that of the old man, placed her arm on his shoulder so he could feel her bosom, and whispered in his ear. “Dear don Santo, do you know what I mean? You need the company of a good woman who will take care of you like a wife would.”

Don Santo was astonished that Margheritona would offer such explicit advice. He started to figure out the direction of her reasoning but tried to conceal his thoughts for fear of an embarrassing misunderstanding. He was cautious but probing in his reply, and weighed each word as he spoke.

“Donna Margherita, you know that I am a widower already at an advanced age. I have no intention of marrying again.” Then added, after a brief pause and a sigh, “Besides, who would marry an old man like me anyway?”

Margheritona reassured him, this time stroking his shoulder with her hand, “Who is talking about marriage, don Santo? Your physical health requires the appropriate treatment occasionally; one does not need a wife for that.”

This statement cleared up any remaining doubts in don Santo’s mind. Emboldened by her frankness, he pushed the argument a bit further.

 “It’s easy for you to say these things because it is not your problem. Do you think it’s easy to find what you have suggested, especially for someone of my age?”

The two exchanged glances and realized they reached a common understanding, but were not sure whether they should press on with more details at this time.

Margheritona, satisfied with the progress made during that visit, glanced at her watch and exclaimed, “How time flies when one is in good company. I am already late. I have to run. I wish you a good week, don Santo.” Before the old man could muster a response she was out the door.

At the beginning of the next visit, the atmosphere was tense as both of them knew they had reached a crucial point in their explorations. They wanted to go immediately to the desired subject without the exchange of banalities, but were held back by a sudden sense of modesty. They ate the sweets and drank the coffee without uttering a word, avoiding visual contact. At that point, Margheritona decided to break the ice.

“Dear don Santo,” she started, “I reflected long and hard about what you said last week. You are right, it’s not easy to find a good woman who can help you with your predicament in the manner I have suggested. I considered many possible candidates in the village, but could not find a suitable one for you.” She paused and glanced at his face which could not hide an expression of disappointment. I am adamant that you have a right to your physical and emotional well-being. It is not right that you should suffer because God, in his infinite wisdom, took away your wife. I think helping you in this moment of need is an act of Christian Charity.”

Don Santo listened quietly but with extreme attention to every word uttered by Margheritona, anxiously awaiting the final sentence, trying not to reveal his hope.

“Yes, donna Margherita, I would need a Devine intervention.”

“God works through his faithful servants, dear don Santo. I have been faithful to the Lord all my life and have always been at His service. In your case, I hear His calling. Since there is no one else, it is my Christian duty to offer myself for this special service, if it does not displease you.”

A deafening silence followed her words. She knew she had taken a bold step, but she was convinced that don Santo would never have mustered the courage to make the request. Don Santo deeply hoped for that offer but feared even giving a hint. He spent the entire week thinking about various possibilities, repeating arguments and counterarguments while pacing the length of the kitchen as body and soul were engaged in a painful struggle. His wife was the first woman he knew, and he was faithful to her and her memory. Besides, Margheritona was a married woman. Still, he was made of flesh and blood. Taking courage, he shared his inner debate with her.

“Dear donna Margherita,” he replied bashfully, “I have held you in great esteem from the very first day we met. You are a beautiful woman and have a noble heart; I am very grateful for your generous offer. Knowing that you are a woman of faith, I am worried about the effect of your generosity on your conscience. You are a married woman and marriage imposes certain restrictions.”

Margheritona had anticipated that question.

“Dear don Santo, only a decent man like you would place the well-being of others ahead of his own. It is precisely because I am married that I can offer my help. As a single woman I could never think about such a thing; God save us from such immorality! But I have been married for nearly forty years and my daughter is also married. At this point in my life, I am entitled to some latitude in judging the manner in which I can help my fellow men. I did not make my offer lightly or for gain or personal pleasure. I am making a sacrifice as a servant of God to help restore the health of another faithful believer.”

Don Santo seemed reassured by Margheritona’s argument, but was still concerned about her husband’s reaction. A skinny old man like him could not risk the ire of a husky younger man.

“What will your husband say?”

“My husband has nothing to do with this,” replied Margheritona. “Between the two of us, nothing will change. I will take care of his needs as I have always done. This is a personal affair between you and me and must remain so.”

Don Santo sensed a touch of reproach in Margheritona’s voice and did not want to raise further issues, but was compelled by his conscience to ask one final question.

“What will happen to our souls after we die?” His voice trembled.

“Dear don Santo, it seems that we have twin souls. I asked the very same question myself. I must admit that there is no easy answer. One must always focus on the eternal life even when one does works of charity, as it would be in this case. But please, answer this question: according to you is it a sin for a woman of faith to help a man of faith solve a serious health problem?”

Don Santo was stunned by the logical consistency of Margheritona’s argument and the last cloud of doubt in his mind was blown away.

“Your faith is profound, donna Margherita. I cannot find any valid objections to your reasoning.” He breathed a sigh of relief.

Margheritona understood that don Santo was finally ready to accept her help and stepped back a bit, saying, “Dear don Santo, my conscience is clean, but I want your conscience to be as clean as mine. There is no need to rush. Think about it and we will discuss it again next week.”

They proceeded with the religious service, which was shortened when Margheritona indicated the prayers following the Communion were no longer needed.

With his conscience appeased by Margheritona’s convincing theological arguments, don Santo spent the entire week counting the hours until the next encounter. Still, he had one more major decision to make. His injured leg was almost healed and sooner or later he would have acquired the capacity to walk to church again. The doctor himself had intimated during his last visit that he would be like new in a month’s time at most. What would he do then? Without the excuse of bringing the Eucharist to don Santo, how could Margheritona explain her visits? What would the village folks say? A married woman who visits an old man for no apparent reason at all! The only solution was to convince everyone, including the doctor, that his leg, though officially healed, still gave him so much pain and trouble that he could not make the long walk to church, especially on that sloping and unevenly-paved road.

Don Santo complained about his persistent pain to the doctor and convinced him to order an elastic band so he could move around the house and the garden with minimum discomfort. From that day on, don Santo advertised his ailment publicly by walking with a limp and always using a wooden stick for support.

At next Sunday’s visit, both don Santo and Margheritona appeared more relaxed. Margheritona sat down to enjoy the coffee and sweets at her leisure while don Santo’s eyes wandered to her bosom. Knowing she had don Santo under her full control, Margheritona was in no rush to proceed with the service she had offered and felt free to engage in small talk. Meanwhile, Don Santo was anxious to experience the effects of Margheritona’s cure and directed his conversation to that theme.

“Dear donna Margherita, I have a small question left about our arrangement: when will you help me, before or after the Communion?”

Margheritona replied casually, as if the details were of no importance to her, “Since you have so many scruples, I think it would be better after. This way, today’s Communion will clean your sins of last week and you will have a full week to pray for the sins that you will make during the coming week.”

She got up and proceeded to the bedroom followed by don Santo who walked slowly and almost on tiptoe as if he were afraid to make noise and be caught doing a misdeed.

Don Santo was extremely happy with the new arrangements. Although there was no increase in his body mass, he felt rejuvenated and wanted to express his gratitude to Margheritona in a concrete way. Giving her material presents, such as dresses or shoes would have advertised their relationship. It was better to offer some cash, but he was afraid she might be offended. The offer of cash had to be handled with the utmost discretion. The following Sunday, don Santo took a white envelope, stuffed it with a generous amount of cash, and placed it on the kitchen table where it could easily be seen.

At the end of the health service, don Santo turned to his friend and said, “Dear donna Margherita, you know how thankful I am for your help with my health conditions and I want to express my gratitude to you in a concrete manner. I left an envelope on the table for you, and I hope you are not offended. I know you do your service out of Christian charity, and my small token of appreciation is also offered in the same spirit.”

Margheritona had already seen the envelope and guessed its contents and purpose. She took it, tried to guess the amount by its weight, and then responded in a jovial manner. “Dear don Santo, you are a very kind person and I thank you for your generosity. As a child I was taught a good Christian woman should always accept presents offered with sincerity of heart.”

With this brief exchange, the weekly tradition of the white envelope on the kitchen table was established. Margheritona opened a bank account located outside the village and deposited the contents of the white envelope on the occasion of her visits to her daughter.

This relationship of mutual benefit lasted for several years during which time there was a noticeable improvement in don Santo's agility and in the size of Margheritona’s bank account. Although he was voluntarily confined to his house, don Santo wanted to maintain his good standing with the community of faithful in the village and compensated for his absence from religious functions by increasing his financial contributions to the various celebrations. As time went by, the two friends also noticed an improvement in their reputation among the village folks. Don Santo was praised for his generosity while Margheritona was admired for her faithfulness to the Eucharistic Committee.

One Sunday morning, while Margheritona was administering her health service, don Santo gave out a sigh and a faint cry, a mix of pleasure and pain, and so ended his life on earth.

Margheritona noticed immediately that her friend had become immobile. She got up from the bed, took his pulse, and said in a soft voice, “Poor don Santo, I think he is gone. At least he died in a moment of happiness.”

Calmly, she straightened herself up, dressed don Santo in his Sunday clothes and his “new” shoes, laid him on the bed, and called the medical clinic.

The news of don Santo’s sudden death spread quickly throughout the village. Since she had been the only witness, Margheritona was obligated to provide all the details of the tragic event, and she did so with gusto.

“It seemed like a miraculous death,” she said to all who gathered around delighting in each word. “Almost as a gift for his life as a man of faith. He was kneeling by the kitchen table with his eyes directed at the painting of the Madonna, wearing his good clothes as usual.”

She paused and looked around to heighten the tension among the listeners.

 “All of a sudden, while his eyes were fixed on the painting and his lips were reciting the Communion prayers, he gave up a sigh of happiness, and then stopped breathing.”

She paused again to let the listeners capture the full image of that moment.

 “Imagine, although he was dead, he did not fall on the ground. Instead, he remained still kneeling with his head and elbows resting on the kitchen table.”

She paused to give the listeners a break.

“This was definitely a miraculous death,” they exclaimed in unison. “Maybe he will now do some miracles for us.”

They continued asking more questions. “And you, donna Margherita, what did you do? Weren’t you afraid? I would have died of shock.”

Here, Margheritona had the opportunity to emphasize the strength of her faith. “What fear! I felt honored to be a witness to such a miraculous event. Such a privilege is not given to everyone, you know.”

“It’s true,” one of her listeners replied. “One needs extraordinary faith to be able to witness such events. What did you do next?”

“When I saw that he was no longer moving, I took him in my arms�"you know, he was quite heavy, though he looked so skinny�"took him to the bedroom, and laid him on the bed, crossing his arms to place him in a Christian position. Finally, I called the doctor, but remained in the bedroom next to him, praying that his soul would be sent directly to heaven.”

With the repetition of this story throughout the village, don Santo’s reputation rose almost to the level of adoration.

Don Santo’s funeral resembled the procession of one of the village’s venerated Saints. The coffin, which was carried on the shoulders of six young men, was followed by the village band, the priest accompanied by the members of the Eucharistic Committee, and the entire village population who used this occasion to recount the miraculous death of don Santo. A couple of weeks after the interment, the priest and Margheritona were invited to the office of the local notary to witness the reading of don Santo’s will. They sat in the small room listening with trepidation as the notary read the instructions left by don Santo for the disposal of his estate.

“I bequeath my house and adjoining land to the church of St. Nicholas. The money in the bank goes to the priest to help him continue his efforts at strengthening the faith of our village population. To donna Margherita, pious woman, I leave my most treasured possessions, with my eternal gratitude: the painting of the Madonna, the cross that hangs above the bed, and the rosary.”

The priest was surprised by don Santo’s generosity and decided to show his gratitude in a concrete and lasting manner. He convened a meeting of the Eucharistic Committee and other selected active parish members to determine the nature of the recognition. At the end it was decided to place a tombstone with the following inscription: “Here rests the body of Santo Alifante, champion of the faith, who left this world through miraculous intervention.”

Margheritona uttered a sigh of relief when the lawyer ended his reading of their will. Don Santo had shown understanding and discretion to the last minute and had preserved her reputation in the village.

Six months later, Margheritona’s daughter invited both parents for a Sunday lunch. After the meal, Margheritona addressed her husband.

“Honey,” she said with an unusually sweet voice, “I have a surprise for you,” and she guided him towards the door of the adjacent apartment. She opened the door and exclaimed with the pride of a woman who had gained a major achievement.

“This is our new apartment.”

Her husband remained silent for a minute, unsure whether she was joking.

“You must have a rich uncle in America who died and did not forget you.”

“Nobody from my family went to America,” replied Margheritona, annoyed with her husband’s lack of recognition of her achievement.

“Then you must have a rich uncle in the village,” he joked.

“All I got from my rich uncle was a small wooden cross and a chain of rosary beads,” replied angrily Margheritona, who understood her husband’s jab. “This apartment was acquired with my sweat and my thrift, you ungrateful bum! It is a gift from Heaven to an honest woman who loves God and her neighbors.”

A few months later, while sitting on her new rocking chair in the balcony of her new apartment, holding her youngest granddaughter on her lap, Margheritona was overwhelmed by an intense feeling of gratitude. She glanced at the blue sky in the direction of the village where she had spent most of her life and turned her glace toward the side of the hill where don Santo’s house now laid empty. Then she turned to the young girl and said in a comforting voice, “Angelina, my darling, don’t ever forget to thank God when you wake up in the morning and every night before you go to bed.”