14
DAYS PASSED IN FRUSTRATION. As angry as Father Gaetano had been with the boys that night, he also felt he had failed them. Whatever lessons he intended to teach in catechism, he had not succeeded. He had begun to believe he might be reaching them, thought it was healthy that they were both enjoying the Bible stories and openly discussing the relationship between God and mankind. But the idea that one or more of the boys had snuck into his bedroom and stashed Pagliaccio there in order to incriminate Sebastiano, and then—no doubt it had been the same boys—had snatched an armload of the puppets from the classroom and stayed up after hours, sneaking around …
He knew he ought to let it go. They were children. The occasional bit of mischief was to be expected. It was normal, even something to be encouraged in small doses so that they could develop a sense of independence. But for them to have lied so blatantly when they had been caught in the act, and then for Enrico to speak so flippantly about free will … the boys might as well have spit on his shoes.
Now, on a cold and blustery Saturday afternoon, the sky outside the windows was a gray reminder that despite the Mediterranean climate, even Sicily could feel winter now and again. Father Gaetano sat in the former rectory’s office working on the latest puppet for Monday morning’s catechism lesson. Sebastiano had not been invited to help him with this transformation. The puppet had been one half of an ugly, garish Punch and Judy duo, but Father Gaetano had other plans for it.
His hand had never been the steadiest, but this afternoon he held the small paintbrush firmly and nary a drop of paint stained his sweater. Work on the puppets always required a delicate touch, but never so much as today. The facial expression had to be exactly right and the hair had to be fine and gleaming. He had not trusted himself with the construction of the wings and had recruited Sister Rosalia to help. The nuns all said she was the finest seamstress in the convent, and her work had been even better than promised.
If he still felt any anger, it was toward himself, but his frustration was great. How could he get them to understand the enormity of God’s love? Enrico’s snide remark about free will echoed in his mind. God’s message to mankind was one of hope, but the gift of free will did not come without expectations. He was the Father of Creation, and like any loving parent, allowed His children freedom even as He offered His guidance. Sometimes His guidance was not so gentle, but always, He tended His flock with love.
Father Gaetano held his breath as he added just the right angle to the new puppet’s left eye. When he finished, he realized that the work was complete. Setting down the brush, he gazed a moment at the figure in his hands, a thing both beautiful and terrible.
The orphans needed to learn about free will, and about the consequences of their choices. If there was any character in the church’s teachings who could provide such a lesson, it would be this one, but now that he had made it, the puppet troubled him.
He didn’t even like to hold it.