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.
"Shall we?" The writer asked as she turned on her flashlight and took a cautious step inside the tunnel. "Be careful Father, it's really dark in here." She added.
Patrick followed her lead, taking every step with caution. The passageway was narrow and had some sharp turns, gladly for him, his companion was aware of those turns, which appeared like dead ends at first glance. While he followed her obediently, his companion constantly made sure that he was behind her. As the Priest followed her, he for the first time noticed that she was well dressed despite the late hours of the day. The navy-blue blouse, which was covered in dust, complimented her bronze skin, and so did the black skirt that flowed down from her waist and ended just below her knees. Despite the stilettoes that she was wearing, Maya barely managed to reach Father McKenna's shoulder. Despite it not being her fault, Maya kept apologizing for the layers of dust and cobwebs that were raining on them. The walk back to her house felt short as it came to an end sooner than she had anticipated, as the light from her living room fell upon them. The sight of those unopen boxes sent a wave of regret down Maya's body as she realized her house was in no condition to host a guest - especially not the heroic Camerlengo. Sighing heavily, the writer pushed the thoughts away as she stepped into her house. Welcoming in the Priest, Maya pushed a few boxes out of the way so that it would be easy for Father McKenna to reach the couch where he could make himself comfortable.
Patrick entered the house and was taken aback by the number of unpacked boxes lying around. It was evident it hadn't been long since she had shifted into this house. But what amazed him was not the unpacked boxes, but the walls, every inch of it was covered with photographs. Not every picture had her, in fact, she was missing from more than half of those photographs. Those still faces were happy, but most importantly, Maya appeared happy with them. Though not having spent much time with the woman, Patrick sensed the eternal sadness that her heart was in. Even when she smiled her deep eyes were drowned with pain. The young woman tried to mask it, but her attempts failed penuriously.
"So, Miss Deol are you from Italy?" Patrick's soothing voice echoed in the large drawing hall as he navigated his way through the uncountable boxes lying in his way.
"Actually I am not Father. I shifted her from India." Replied Maya as she stood near the secret door to welcome her guest in.
"I assume it hadn't been long since you shifted here." Commented the Priest, who carefully made his towards the spot, which was surprisingly not covered with cardboard boxes. His tone was laced with mirth, which caught Maya off guard, who expecting such jollity from a man of his status- but then again, he was just a man, wasn't he?
"Apologies, I am aware that this house is a mess and I am the one solely responsible for this but I suppose things are demanding a change." Said the young woman in a defeated manner for she felt genuinely embarrassed, not because of Father but because she realized she was being unreasonably stubborn. A week was a long period, and Mr Moretti was keen to help her, and she was the one to refuse that sweet old man because her stupid heart was not ready to accept this significant change. The thoughts now seemed imbecilic.
"I guess I need to get some work done." Maya as passed her guest an embarrassed smile. But the statement was much more than a joke - it was a promise she was making to herself. A promise, to accept that things are not going to be of her liking, and she was supposed to make the best of it herself because she knew she was alone. "Please make yourself comfortable Father McKenna. And let me find something for us in this mess." The young woman continued as she went to the kitchen, which she had managed to set up and started looking for something she could serve the Camerlengo. Patrick on the other hand was not convinced that he should sit while Maya tried her best to be a good host to him. So the Priest followed his companion into the kitchen which took her by surprise.
"The cartons didn't seem to like me much." Commented the man as he saw the confused look on his host's face.
Maya, on the other hand, was baffled, for she didn't know what she was supposed to serve the Priest. Serving the Camerlengo some cheesy nachos did not seem like a nice idea to her, so she kept scanning the half-open cartons of snacks that were lying around when her eyes fell upon the box of cannoli she had picked up from Mr Russo's bakery while returning home. A childlike smile gleamed on her face as she very enthusiastically picked up the box and started placing them on the ceramic plate. Of course, she was not insane enough to put the whole box in front of Father McKenna as she ordinarily would have done if it was anyone else. To complement the sweet serving of cannoli, Maya poured some freshly brewed coffee into a cup with a lightsaber printed on it which was far more normal than her favourite stormtrooper cup, which she kept for herself. Maya wondered what the Camerlengo would be thinking about her – a strange woman who was crazy enough to enter a secret tunnel on her own and who had the audacity to serve the Pope's advisor cannoli.
"You seem distracted." The modulated voice of Father Patrick fell into her ears, breaking her chain of thoughts. Looking up at him, her gaze met that of the Priest who stood on the other side of the counter, his ocean-blue eyes looking down at her with curiousness.
"Well, you can say I never thought I would be hosting the Camerlengo, that too when my house was a mess." Sighed Maya as she placed the funny-looking cups on the tray. She couldn't help but chuckle at her own situation, it was an awkward position to be in, yet she was enjoying it. "I am aware that this surely isn't the type of hospitality you are accustomed to, so forgive me if you can." The young woman spoke as she struggled to balance the tray and a large box of cheese puffs that she was trying to balance on her left arm. Seeing the young woman struggling, Patrick stepped in and very gently took the tray of refreshments from his companion.
"This evening had been as adventurous for you as it had been for me." Father McKenna reassured her with a smile. The two of them made their way toward the couch, which felt like crossing a maze among the numerous cartons.
Sinking on the couch, Maya waited for the Priest to treat himself to the refreshments she was able to find, but her guest was intrigued more by the scenery that the window of her drawing room offered. The Camerlengo was awestruck by the beauty of the small hillside town where she resided. The calmness of this small town was comforting to Patrick, who could never experience such tranquillity in the Vatican. The lady, who was comfortably seated on her couch, saw the visible awe on the Father's face, which infused a warm feeling in her heart. Taking his cup with her, Maya walked toward him near her window. Handing Father McKenna his cup, she stood beside him, looking in awe at her town, tracing his gaze, which led her to see the beautiful town she lived in, wondering how different it appeared when she wasn't so homesick. It felt pleasing not to live in the past but embrace what was in front of her, and right now, it was the beautiful town of Italy and a handsome man who was not supposed to be in this equation, yet here he was. For a long moment, the two of them stood beside each other in complete silence, not wanting to meddle their minds with words. The only sound that could be heard was of them taking bites of the cannoli and sipping their coffees. After the long moments of silence, Maya heard the sound of the footsteps of the Priest, who was no longer standing by her side. Instead, he was glancing at the framed shots she had hung before discovering the passageway. The awe faded from his eyes as his gaze shifted from one photograph to the other. Sadness took over his captivating eyes as he looked at the sunny faces in those still pictures. The happiness of a family was never his, Patrick had no regrets about not having a father, but when the little lad lost his mother, something died inside him. The innocence and naivety that he was supposed to carry a little longer in his life died in his arms as he cried over the dead body of his mother. It wasn't like the young Priest didn't like growing up with the archbishop, for he showered him with all the love and care he could have asked for. Never having someone in your life is far different from getting someone snatched away from you by merciless death. It distances you from everyone, creating an invisible wall around you that no one can penetrate. His host Maya, on other hand, had everyone he wished for – a loving family, which was evident from the photographs and the homesickness she felt on staying away from them.
"There aren't many people who have a place in my heart but I can never imagine my life without them." A voice fell in his ears, forcing him to tear his gaze away from the photos to his host who had made her way towards him. On her lips was a sad smile - a smile that wrenched his heart for a reason he couldn't decipher. To lighten up the mood, Patrick spoke –
"You sure are brave to wander off into some secret cave to find out what's on the other end."
"It was either finding out what was on the other end or dying for me. Curiosity always kills me. Mummy always said it will get me into trouble someday but it doesn't matter if it is worth it." Maya mumbled in between the bits of her cannoli. Her fingers pointed at the photo of a middle-aged woman. The old woman was graced with beauty by the gods, and it did not fade away with age. Maya's mother was beautiful even when fine lines of ageing covered her face, and her lustrous black hairs were all grey.
"But with all seriousness, what if instead of discovering me you would have crossed paths with a killer or someone who could harm you on the other side?" Asked Father Patrick, his voice laced with concern for the boldness she displayed, was laced with ignorance.
"The thought came to me and in that case it was simple – he would have killed me or worse he would have tortured me before I would have died from the pain." Answered the young woman with a chuckle. She stopped dead as the last words left her lips. For a moment it felt to the Camerlengo as if she was paralyzed but to his comfort, she moved almost in a frantic manner as she hastily placed the cup in her by the mantle and almost sprinted towards the room in the back, while Patrick was left staring. His host returned sooner than anticipated with an old-looking dairy on which she was scribbling something in a rushed manner. The young man waited patiently for her to finish her task which appeared to be important to her. After a short-lived moment of awkwardness, the torn diary was placed on the coffee table, and the writer was back to her normal self again. As she returned to reality, Maya realized that the Camerlengo had fixed her with a baffled look, and she did not blame him. Although the plot idea that came to her felt intriguing enough to be written down, she shouldn't have acted so weirdly.
"You must be wondering how weird a person can be?" Nervously chuckled Maya as she tried hard not to feel embarrassed yet again. It was momentous how she had managed to embarrass herself so many times in the span of a short evening.
"No, but what I was actually wondering is that what did you write in that?" Spoke Patrick as he pointed towards the diary which was threatening to fall apart if touched another time.
"Oh, nothing important, just something that came to me. I have a habit of noting down whatever plot ideas that comes to me. Many times it also helps me with my work." Answered Maya.
"So, you are a writer."
"Not exactly, I am a ghostwriter." Told the young lady, but the look she received was enough to tell her that the Camerlengo was clearly not versed in what her profession was. And so, she decided to explain it to the Priest. "Basically, I do write, but the plot is not mine and despite technically being the writer my name is not printed on the cover of the book." She told him. Her explanation did not clarify her job to the Camerlengo, so she decided to enunciate further as she pulled out a book from the bookcase that was placed against the east wall.
"So, this book's story is not the creation of my mind but a book is created only when an author is able to formulate his ideas into words. Some people can think the unthinkable but lack the ability to give it a form of a book and that is where I step into the equation. The author sends me the ideas in the form of a manuscript and it is my job to make it into an interesting novel to be read by millions." Maya's words fell into Patrick's ears, who was intrigued by the profession he was unknown of until now. The writer handed him the book she had picked for him to have a look at.
'The Transparent Portrait'
Patrick read the title above, which was printed with the name - Joshua Hepburn.
"Joshua was not able to make a coherent story with his ideas and so, the publishing house that I use to previously work for, asked me to complete the story for him." Maya added. Her statement left the Camerlengo baffled.
"I have read this book." Whispered Patrick in disbelief. "So, it was you who did all the work but the credit went to this Joshua?" The Priest asked in disbelief. The naivety with which he asked the question was similar to that of a child in disbelief at the fact that his mother's name is not momma.
"That would be unfaithful of me if I were to agree to your statement, Father. Although my name was not on the cover, but they compensated me well with the salary they paid me. And I like it this way." Maya addressed the Priest. Father McKenna listened to her, trying his very best to understand her point of view, and to some extent, he did fathom her, yet a large part of it was a mystery to him. She was not after fame, and it was a rare sight in this world of feigning hoaxes that they were living in.
The next few hours went by as the two of them conversed, losing the track of time. But was less of a conversation because it was mostly Patrick asking Maya about her profession and the books she had worked on. The writer found it prudent to show the Priest her work instead of telling him about it. In front of the Camerlengo was placed a collection of ten books, each had a different name printed on it yet all had something in common - Maya was the ghostwriter for every one of them. Patrick had not expected such rich bibliography from this young woman.
The clock chimed twelve sooner than expected, and an unpleased look took over both their faces. A disappointed frown escaped both their lips in unison as they looked at the clock.
"I suppose I must take my leave now." Spoke Patrick as he stood from the couch, they had seated themselves on to carry on their conversation. Maya passed him a smile as she handed him the torch for his journey back and the books he had shown great interest in. Although the Priest wanted to read them all, but he was hesitant to ask the woman for lending him those books for a few days. And so, was gone the Priest who looked like a knight in shining armour despite wearing a raven cassock. He had a dreamy aura about him which was intoxicating. Maya was mesmerized by his oceanic blue eyes, and his silky voice was something she could never deny to. But she was not supposed to feel that way for anyone – especially not for this man. To divert her mind from the thoughts of the handsome Camerlengo and to cope with her insomnia, Maya decided to unpack the boxes and make her house look like a home. The task she had undertaken was tiresome, but she refused to give up this time.
*
Father Patrick McKenna, who was comfortably resting in his bed, could not help but think about the young woman with whom he shared a passageway. She most certainly was not like anyone he had crossed paths with. She had the courage to wander into an unknown passageway, yet she was afraid of serving him street food. She had certain quirks, and he liked them, but what he was impressed by the most was how she treated him – just like a normal person and not a hero everyone hailed him to be. Maya was cautious around him but not restrained, and at moments he felt he saw who she truly was. The young Priest liked her company, and he liked her.