years. “Uncle Francis. You’re back. It’s good to see you again.”
He’d been at the Vatican for meetings for over a week. Her uncle, known in his order as Brother Francis Bruno, was in his early seventies but had the energy of a much younger man. He was THE knight of Malta, officially tasked with keeping the base here in Malta, though the actual order had moved to Rome decades before and now formed one of the smallest principalities in the world. Despite the hefty title of knight, Brother Francis preferred Bermuda shorts, Cuban shirts, and flip-flops. He would say that he could do God’s work while being comfortable. He leaned in and gave her a kiss on each cheek. “And you, darling girl. I’m glad to be back and away from all those Italian fuddy-duddies.”
He was Italian. He was actually a second cousin, but he was so much older she’d always called him uncle. He liked to complain about pretty much all nationalities. For a humanitarian who had worked across the globe, he could be a bit dour. “That’s what you always say. Well, I’m glad I made a double batch of pasta.”
Uncle Francis patted his belly. “You’ve gotten so good at it. What kind of sauce are you making?”
“Bolognese,” she replied, hooking her arm through his as they began to move across the plaza. To her left was St. Anne’s Chapel, a small, deeply peaceful space. She liked to sit there in the afternoons. Somehow no matter how hot it got outside, the chapel always felt cool.
“Ah, Roman’s favorite. Mine as well, though I must admit that I’ve grown fond of your alfredo sauce. Have you been into the shop this week? Anything new I would like?”
Four years before she’d taken another chance and bought a small bookshop that specialized in antique books. Her uncle was always interested in historical texts about his order. “I’ve got a line on the journal of a knight I think you’ll love. Seventeenth century. It was recently found in the archives of a privately held castle in Germany. I managed to snatch it up at auction.”
“Yes, I would like to study it.” He stopped in front of the gates that led from the tourist section of the fort into their residence. It was another one of those places she loved to sit because it was a short tunnel with a couple of stairs that led from the stark, military architecture of the fort into her own personal sanctuary. Well, not merely hers. Ezra lived here, and there were daily workers who kept up the grounds.
“Hey, Mom!”
And then there was the light of her whole life. Her son. He bounded through the gate Ezra opened, his backpack falling to the ground. He looked precious in his school uniform, and her heart clenched as she got to one knee and opened her arms. “Hey, baby.”
She hugged her son and felt that sweetness she always got when she held him pierce through her. He’d started school two years before and every day Ezra walked him to school before either heading to the hospital he served at as a chaplain or coming back to the fort to work with her uncle. Sometimes he spent weeks in Africa with the church on various charities. She always missed him when he was gone. Ezra was good company and a positive influence on her son, who looked more and more like his father as he grew up.
He already had his father’s intelligence.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she whispered.
“Brother, could you take Roman inside and get him his tea?” Ezra asked. “I think Kim made cookies earlier. I smelled something delicious. And I brought some fresh milk in this morning.”
Normally they would all go in and have high tea together. Malta had been owned by the British in the fairly recent past, and the country still held on to some British traditions. She stood up, a little nervous because sending them in alone meant Ezra wanted to talk to her. She ruffled her baby boy’s hair and looked down into Roman’s blue eyes. They were so much like Beck’s staring back at her. “Your uncle is right. There are snickerdoodles waiting for you in the courtyard. I’ve got tea set up there since it’s such a nice day.”
“Well, then yes, I will certainly take him,” her uncle offered because he was never one to turn down a treat. “Come along, young Roman. I will tell you all about my meeting