The Secret of Fatima by Peter J; Tanous

dangling from a restaurant’s awning. It had a dozen outside tables and rows of low hanging multi-colored lanterns, gently swinging in the breeze. As they approached the entrance, they were greeted with music and song, a lively operatic aria from La Traviata . The singer’s energetic gusto compensated for his lack of talent.
    Da Meo Pattaca was a favorite historic tourist restaurant known for its old-fashioned ambiance, strolling gypsy musicians, its food with medieval portions of pasta, and tableside serenades by underemployed opera stars.
    A rotund, grinning waiter, menus in hand, approached with vibrant gesticulations of welcome. Soon they were seated al fresco under a clear sky of stars. A lit candle on the table was flickering as though dancing in the breeze. Kevin noticed Katie wearing the gold-plated bracelet he’d given her years ago. It was without value—except to her. She still wore it. It tugged at his heart.
    In turn, Katie noticed the watch on Kevin’s wrist, the Mickey Mouse watch she’d given him. She pointed to it. “You’re still wearing that?” she asked.
    â€œGiven to me by someone special,” Kevin replied.
    â€œDo you remember the message on the back of it?” Katie asked playfully.
    â€œâ€˜Don’t take yourself too seriously,’” Kevin said. “That admonition hasn’t always been easy.”
    After they’d ordered from an oversized souvenir menu, Kevin asked, “How was Brussels?”
    Katie fidgeted with her phone, answering while reading a text message. “Oh, not bad. I did three depositions, got asked out to dinner twice—declined—and walked around the Grand Place. I’m working for an interesting new client. Worldwide trading company and my firm is racking up the fees!” Finishing with her text message, she felt Kevin put his hand on her phone.
    Katie looked up. “Sorry! That’s it. I promise, no more.”
    â€œIt’s our time, okay? It’s rare enough these days,” Kevin said.
    â€œSo tell me about your Mission Impossible assignment.”
    â€œNot going well,” Kevin responded. “Even though I’m sworn to secrecy, I decided I want to tell you what I’m doing here.”
    â€œTelling me sacred secrets, Kevin? Like old times.”
    Old times? She still had a way of getting to him. Kevin struggled every day with thinking about old times with Katie. Why couldn’t he banish them completely, stop thinking about them? God could be cruel sometimes. Lead us not into temptation .
    Kevin looked at Katie and resisted the temptation to reach for her hand. “For the first time the Church is allowing married Catholics to use birth control.”
    â€œIs that such a bad thing?” asked Katie. She wanted to reach out and touch him.
    â€œLook, Catholics mostly ignore that rule anyway, but the conservative wing of the Church is not going to take this well.”
    Katie shrugged. “Why is that so important?”
    â€œOur problem is that there’s a lunatic branch of the Church that doesn’t tolerate liberal changes like this, and it could put them over the top.”
    â€œSo what’ll they do? Post a nasty message on Facebook? Picket the Vatican?”
    â€œIt’s more serious. This wacky group has threatened life of the pope.”
    â€œYou’re not serious? And if you’re worried, then this is scary, Kevin. I’m worried about you.”
    Kevin smiled. “Thanks. I can take care of myself.”
    â€œAre you sure you know what you’re doing?”
    â€œI’ll be all right,” said Kevin. “I just wanted to let you know what’s going on.”
    A waiter hurried over with a plate balanced in each hand. Kevin’s ossobuco and Katie’s angel hair pasta had arrived.
    â€œAbsolutely delicious,” said Kevin as he dove into the ossobuco, an Italian dish of braised veal shanks with a zesty