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“You are wearing it. You honor me deeply. Thank you.”

Thank goodness Slash had told me to put it on. I opened my mouth intending to say “you’re welcome,” but instead I blurted out, “Why did you give it me?”

Slash closed his eyes and I interpreted that to mean one didn’t question the pope. Oops. But I’d done it, so there you have it. I expected the pope to say he was trying to save my nonbeliever soul or something along those lines, but he didn’t.

“This crucifix is very special to me,” he said, still holding the cross nestled in his palm. “It was given to my mother by my father. When he proposed, he was too poor to afford even the most inexpensive of rings. So, he gave her a silver crucifix, something that had been handed down in his family for generations. He added the wooden back himself, made from the heartwood of the oldest tree in his neighborhood. My mother wore it until the day she died. She pressed it into my hand and told me to give it to a worthy woman.”

I looked at him in dismay. “Oh, if I’d known this was such an important family heirloom, I never would have accepted it. I am not the worthiest of women. In fact, I’m not worthy at all... I’m not even Catholic.” I reached for the chain, starting to take it off. “Please, take it back. It belongs in your family.”

His hand closed around mine, preventing me from removing it. “Miss Carmichael, I never question the motives of God. I may not always understand them, but I do not question them. I assure you, I’d been waiting for years to give that crucifix to the right person. It’d been my constant companion for more than three decades. The moment I saw you in that room several months ago, although I’d never spoken a word to you, God moved me to present the cross to you. At the time I did not understand why, but I did not question it. That is not my way. Now you are here and in His grace and wisdom, I finally understand why. As always, I am in awe of His goodness and plan. I assure you, this crucifix belongs to you. You must keep it. Please indulge an old man in this request.”

I looked at Slash who was watching me, but said nothing. Surely he had to be as stunned as I to hear this story. But either he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, tell me what to do. It would be up to me to keep it or not. Still uncertain, I turned my gaze back to the pope. He waited patiently for my answer, which paralyzed me more because I was probably violating every sacred rule in regards to interaction with the pope.

Finally, I managed to connect my brain with my mouth. “I don’t know what to say, Holy Father, except thank you. I’m deeply honored you’ve entrusted me with such an important family heirloom. I will cherish it always.”

This now made me—the Queen of All that is Awkward and Klutzy—the keeper of two precious family heirlooms, one of them from the pope himself. Me! The woman who had her own personal little black cloud. I wasn’t one to question God either, but in the grand scheme of things, this didnotseem like a good idea even if it came from above.

“Now, there is one final matter,” the pope said quietly. He took two steps forward and requested Slash to stand. He withdrew something from beneath his cassock, a small, worn, leather bag the size of his palm. He held it out to Slash.

“Take this to Father Armando and you will get the answers you seek, my child.”

Having said that, he pulled Slash into a hug. Slash hugged him back. I wasn’t sure where this fell on the proper pope protocol chart, but seeing as how the Holy Father had initiated it and no one else was in the room, I figured it was okay.

There was clearly a palpable affection between the two of them. When the pope finally released Slash, the two spoke quietly in Italian for a minute. Slash knelt to kiss the ring again. The pope retrieved his cane, heading for the door. Then he turned and looked at us with a glint in his eyes before slouching and resuming the familiar, old-man shuffle. Slash opened the door for him, and the three priests waiting outside rushed inside to assist him.

The pope held up a hand stopping the priests as he turned to us one more time. “Go with God, my children, and may the mercy and the blessing of His goodness bring you peace and light always.” He blessed both of us with the sign of the cross. “I know you are both destined for great things.”

We exited his study and one of the priests took immediate charge of us, leading us through the maze of rooms and corridors back to the security station at the entrance.

After we had retrieved our phones and passports from security control and walked outside, I asked Slash the question burning on my tongue. “What did he say to you before we left?

Slash slipped on his sunglasses. “He gave me some advice.”

“Which was?”

He put an arm around my shoulder. “He told me to take the peace she offers.”

“Mother Mary?”

He took my hand. “No. You.”

“Me?” I stopped, pointed at myself. “You meanmeme?”

“You.” He continued walking to the car. “And he’s right, and not just because he’s my pope.”

“I’m sensing a pattern here,” I joked, but his face remained serious. I’d left my hat in the car and my head was hot. I shaded my forehead with my hand. “Slash, do you think the pope knows who your father is?”

“I do. I think it’s why he’s sending me to Father Armando with the package, whatever is in it.”

“Are you going to peek?” I sure as heck would have opened that package by the time we walked out of the Vatican. But that was me.

“I don’t know. Maybe. But not now.”

Slash held open my door and I climbed in the car. He came around to his side, getting in and starting the car.

“Does this mean we are heading to Genoa?” I asked my hands on my lap.

“It does. Just not yet. We’ve got other work to do first. I’m going to get us a room here in Rome for now.”