After dinner, the elderly gathered to chant prayers.
Every weekend, volunteers brought clothes, cups, cakes, and other gifts to the elderly residents without family, but what made them happiest was the arrival of children and pets.
Even though those children were not related to them by blood, the elderly still loved them.
After finishing her day's work, Veronica watched them from the doorway of the activity room. One of them was her grandfather. He looked no different from any other old man, with a Mexican blanket draped over him because he was sensitive to the cold. It was hard to connect him with the villain Uncle Fabio despised and hated.
Uncle Fabio would never forgive him, and he knew that, which was why he had not sought them out.
Yet he had still returned to Venice, the place where he had been born and raised, married, and had children.
"Did you call your mother?" Father Constantine asked.
"Yes," Veronica answered softly. The nursing home was quiet, quiet as a grave.
"Come, pray with us." Constantine held out his hand to Veronica. She took it without hesitation, but instead of leading her to the activity room, Constantine took her to the nursing home's prayer room.
Protestants were unwilling to spend money on ceremonies, but Catholics were generous with it. Even this small convent had a splendid altar. The nuns were already kneeling in a circle, watching Veronica with curious eyes.
Tomorrow, Veronica would take the volunteers' boat back. Tomorrow, the Vatican would also hold Mass. Between the Pope in white and the bishops in red stood an archbishop in purple, a role usually held by the Pope himself.
But because of the Pope's health, someone else needed to preside over the Mass.
Catholic women could not become priests or bishops. Constantine