The Last Confession

Father Luca Moretti was encased in silence as though it were a garment, that wrapped him around like a second robe. The memory of Morning prayers lingered and the cold stone walls of the chapel were still fragranced with the old incense. Luca was accustomed to quietness. It was during his silence he prayed, it was during silence he served. This silence was a bit different though. Heavy. Expectant. Down the corridor a knock sounded--three sharp raps. Unusual. People did not visit after sunset, still less the private apartments of the monks. Luca wrinkled up his brows. He laid down his pen, the scripture lying before him half done, and arose to open the door. There was a tall man standing on the threshold in black, with sunglasses on. He was more of a soldier rather than a business man despite the well dressed suit and the polished shoes. You are Father Luca Moretti? said the man. Luca slowly nodded and his heart was already prepared with whatever it may be. There is a gentleman who wants special care of you. He’s dying. He has commended the Sacrament of Confession to you and by name you.” The fingers of Luca curled on his sides. Who is he? Doubtful the man stopped. It was Don Alessandro Moretti. The name hurt Luca like a jolt on the chest. It must not be. Alessandro Moretti. His father. One of the ghosts Luca had hidden under years of discipline and prayer. You are mistaken, I believe, Luca replied very low, and taking a step back. and that man is--” “Alive. But barely.” The voice of the man was steady. And waiting he is. The journey was a long silent one. However, Luca sat on the car window and they were navigating the streets of Rome and the city was tinted with gold because of the setting sun. When they drove into a lonely estate enclosed by black iron gates and an ivy-covered wall, a small part of him wished he could jump off the car and start running. Don Alessandro Moretti. His mother had spoken his name like like a curse--and never in full. She’d called him “the devil in silk” before her voice cracked into silence.Luca had last seen him when he was six years old, a shadow with a silver ring and a kiss he never asked for. He did not come back. The gates of the house came open in darkness. There was the stench and stink of affluence. Luca was taken upstairs and the nurse indicated her head in a gesture to Luca. “He’s lucid. Majority of the time, she answered, in low tones. Still I would not be too free. Don Moretti does not ask unless it matters.” It was a dark room with the curtains drawn shut. There were soft beeps coming out of machines next to the bed. And there on white sheets the devil lay. But he did not look in the slightest way like the stories. The tattered but formerly proud body of Alessandro Moretti had been wasted, the skin pale, the lips dry and cracked. Ah, but his eyes! .. they were the same. Sharp. Silver. Watching. Luca was in the doorway and it seemed he had stopped, his collar suddenly suffocating him. The man rasped, smirking sort of a smile. “You grew up.” God really answers prayer. Luca took a step, disregarding the shaking of his legs. It is about confession. Not reconciliation.” Alessandro laughed,--then hacked, doubling up. “Good. I would not even seek forgiveness from my son. This is not why you are here”. “Then why?” The old man looked up at him, eyes burning with something ancient. “Because I’m going to die, and there are things I need to say to you. Things only a priest—and a son—can hear.” Luca clenched his fists. “I am a priest. I’m not your son.” Alessandro winced not. “Not yet.” He made his confession lasting more than an hour. Luca sat silent, made no reply; scarcely breathed as Alessandro told of sins too fierce to mention. Names. Murders. Deals. Betrayals. Blood on all fingers. Yet all through that Alessandro was turning in a circle about one thing which he had not yet dared to confess. Luca could perceive it. Finally Luca said coldly, you are holding back. The eyes of Alessandro flashed. You have always been a sharp one. It is through her that you get that.” Luca failed to bite the bait. “Say it.” Alessandro drew a deep breath. I had another child. Before I parted with your mother. A son.” Luca sank at heart. I was the cause of his death. Due to my feud with Enzo Romano.” Luca was looking at him. “Another son?” Alessandro turned aside. He was picked up as a message. One by one they sent me his fingers. Then his heart,” A nausea wave passed over Luca. This was not only sin. This was evil. Alessandro looked at him again, and in a whisper. You should be told. I had failed you before.” Luca stood. “We’re done.” The worst is not what you have heard yet. I do not want to. “You will. This story ends with your mother. She died. And what you suppose happened, is not the truth.” Luca froze. What do you mean? The voice of Alessandro became low. You suppose that she died of disease. That is what they told you. She did not. She was killed.” Luca grew cold blooded. Alessandro grumbled, and continued,--I know who issued the order. But you have to come back tomorrow. Luca choked in surprised breath. I am here to get your confession. Not to play games.” It is not a game, Luca. The dark of the room made the silver eyes of Alessandro shine. It is a war. And whether you like it or not you were born into it.” Luca stormed out of the room to see something brush his shoulder down the hall. He moved, palpitating with savage fear. There was a woman, who stood silently. Long brown hair. Crimson lips. Blue eyes, as cold as ice, and full of mysteries. She said gently, I did not suppose you would be here. It was the female that worked at the hospital chapel. Isabella Romano. Offspring of the arch rival of his father.