As a happy and vibrant woman, Rosita was not into analytical world like her husband. Part of the last night’s conversation between Pascu and Francis covered the Gnostic Gospel and the significance of names like Thomas and Judas, did not register in her mind. She had noticed her brother in law’s mental absence while in conversation with her but then, she too had used such a convenient tool to ignore Miranda’s long descriptions of Parisian cultural events where she had waltz with so- and- so at the Embassy soirée. It did not bother her that in such a casual conversation Francis was absent from the reality. She would simply drop the subject. Last night she had done just that and moved onto the planning of a glorious trip to the famous eatery and a market- Pinheiros in the Praça Benedito Calixto Squaro, near the Paroquia Nossa Senhora do Brasil (Our Lady of Brazil Church)-A Sau Paulo must visit attraction.
 

Miranda and two other friends were going to join her.  Francis may have an adverse reaction in meeting three, spontaneous and vibrant personalities in one encounter did not occur to her at all. Instead, her mind remained locked into the planning the grand finally of the day. She expected from Francis, sufficient Latin and French phrases to pop out seamlessly when she would open up a subject of his Vatican sojourn and his father’s Royal blood relation with the Catalina de Aragón or someone important as Braganza. etc., etc.
 

Francis on the other hand had gone to sleep without an inkling of what his next day was going to be. He only remembered that he was to accompany his sweet Sister-in-Law to Sau Paulo. Based on the fragments of conversions he had with his brother since his arrival, he assumed that there would be a formal meeting with some officials. He expected Pascu to attend it with him since it related to something mentioned about his father leaving something for him. When he came down the steps, he was all-professional in a Navy Blue, Surge Blazer, a clean starched white shirt and a Slate Gray trouser.
With his dark hair, neatly proportionate eyebrows, brown eyes, and an angular jaw, he looked like a Hollywood film star of bygone years. Seeing him in a debonair persona, her heart missed a beat. 

She rushed to him with her usual enthusiasm and a broad smile,
“My handsome brother; you are going to knock Miranda off her feet.” She had already forgotten, he still was an ordained RC priest. She grabbed his hand and gave him a pull. “C’mon, we got to get going.”
“Where are we going Cunhada?” He addressed her in Portuguese.

She protested, “Call me Rosy like all my friends do. Cunhada is too formal.”  He nodded in agreement.

She pulled her fancy B&W sport utility vehicle and began showing all the novelties and gadgets the Germans could think of installing. With an appropriate level of interest that a polite person could muster, he went through that ritual. For all practical purpose, it was of no more value and interest to him than a Badaun Arab would have in a camel taking him across the desert.  Rosy of course was surfing on an adrenal surge. It didn’t take her to get to the Sau Paulo Country club. They parked and seeing her stepping out, Miranda and her companion, Sashimi Tanaka stepped out of her equally expensive fancy two-seater sport car of some European origin. Not knowing what to do, or where he was, Francis just remained seated without making any move to step out of the SUV.

The ritual of hugs and planting kisses, few inches away from each other’s faces took place and then it occurred to Rosy that her companion was not there with her. The embarrassed by the event, the host turned around and gestured him to join them but he was not looking at them. His eyes were fixed in front of his nose and mind was somewhere else only he knew.

“I will get him” Said Miranda and before Rosy could react, quickly reached to the passenger side of the SUV. She grabbed the handle and opened the door. He turned around and looked at her as a child would look at a school Principal on the very first day of school the very first time. The unexpected hint of fear in his eyes stopped Miranda reaching for his arm. Luckily, he recovered and unstrapped himself. He stepped out of the vehicle gently, extended his hand and gave a benign smile of a priest that he was.

That unfrozen Miranda’s nerves and with a gracious and cultivated smile she squeezed his hand and said, “ I am so delighted to meet you sir; been waiting and waiting for all these weeks since you arrived. Heard so much about you and want to hear more when we have you all at our villa soon.”
By then the others joined and they went in the Club’s dining room for the arranged brunch. Surprisingly, after few beers, Francis relaxed and then the sprightly conversation between the three covered many mundane subjects. He answered their questions about the Vatican state, His Holiness and Bishops and Cardinals’ routines. Rosy was directing the flow of conversation and steering it away from the topics like the Amazonian jungle experiences or his Goan birth. Finally, they all piled up in the SUV and set out to Sau Paulo destination.

By the time they reached Pinheiros, it was past one o’clock. They had to return home by four as kids would return by three thirty in the afternoon. Pascu was strict about not letting kids come to an empty home. Rosy was pleased with the performance so far and was delighted to see Miranda for once, did not bring Paris or Madrid in the conversation. Perhaps she was afraid Rosy could inquire about the locality she had claimed to have lived in those cities. There was that risk of being exposed of her lies, just in case Francis knew the posh areas well, as the Priest often get invited by the wealthy lot more, than the poor do.  To minimize the risks, Miranda and her companion took a taxi and went back to the Country Club, leaving the two Menendez to explore the citadel of Brazilian culinary delights.  

As the duo went through the sidewalk café and stalls, they came upon an eatery with a signboard that -Read Calangute Beach Cafe.
Reading that name brought back his childhood memories. Many hours he and his selected few friends, had spent on the beach. It was not far from his Home and local wrestling tournaments were often held on the sand dunes off the cost. He wondered why anyone would name a restaurant in Sau Paulo after a beach in Goa. Perhaps they were from that part of the world. He approached two young men in their twenties and spoke to them in Konkani language of his childhood. He enquired if they were Goans.

Apparently, they did not speak the language but recognized the sound of it. One of the young men made a gesture to wait and called someone in the local Brazilian mixed Portuguese.  Francis understood and spoke the dialect. The young man had called his father to come out from the kitchen to speak with a Konkani man from Goa. An Oldman in his late seventy came out hobbling with a walking stick. He approached Francis and peered in his face. Obviously, the man could see with one eye only as the right eyeglass was darken. After observing his face carefully, he shook his head and said to his sons in their dialect that he did not know the tourist. He began to turn around to go back but then Francis addressed him in the Kokani:
“ Kitere Saiba, tu Panjim che assa? Aaun Punjim cho! (Hay man, are you from Panjim? I am form Panjim).”

Man stopped his retreat and faced Francis again and asked, “ Khay astale re ghar? Father De Melo olakta re?” ("Where was your home? Did you know Father De Melo?").

“ Whay, aaun Mendez Wadicho; Father De Melo aamcho padrey astalo. ("Yes, I am from Mendez Farm. Father De Melo was our family priest.)”

“ Aare, Tu Mariam Menndez che kon lagtare? ("What! You related to Mariam Mendez?). Old man asked.

“ Aaun tiche dhakle Chewdo astale" ("I am her youngest son"). Francis replied.  

Hearing that, the Oldman’s legs buckled under him and if Francis had not caught him, he would have fallen on the ground.

When Francis was heading towards the Goan roadside restaurant, Rosita had stopped at a boutique to examine some merchandise. However, she had watched her ward stopping at the place. By the time she finished her transactions, the events at Calangute Beach Café were taking place and she saw what happened. Rushing to that spot, she saw Francis taking the Oldman inside. Bewildered, Rosita got hold of one of the young men and enquired the Brazilian dialect:

"O que aconteceu com aquele velho? Pode ser que eu posso ajudar; Sou enfermeira no Hospital."("What happened to that Oldman? May be I can help; I am a Nurse in the Hospital.)”

The young man himself was not sure of what had transpired between Francis and their father as they were conversing in their Goan mother tongue. He only described what he saw. Being a nurse, Rosita thought only of a medical crisis and rushed in. When she reached the far end of the corridor past the kitchen, she saw nothing remotely close to any medical emergency. She was beholding a heartwarming scene of reunion between father and son.  At that moment, history of her husband and his clan was unfolding in front of her but she was blissfully ignorant of it. Automatically she assumed that Father Francis ran into his former parish member from Goa or Amazon area.

“What is going on Francis, we must return home, Pascu will be mad as hell if he finds I was not there to receive children at home. Please hurry up.”
Hearing Rosita mentioning Pascu, toothless smile lighten up the Oldman’s face.

 “Pascu is here; in Sau Paulo?” He asked.

Again, Rosita assumed erroneously that the Oldman was their neighbor or acquaintance from the old world. Irritated with Francis ignoring her, she jumped in angrily,

“Would you comeback another time and catch up with your past? We are getting late, we must leave at once.”

With his characteristic calm visage, Francis spoke in Portuguese,

“Please leave me here with our long lost father my Sister-in Law. This is Frank Mendez; your father-in-Law. I will stay with him tonight. You go and tell Pascu the good news.”

Upon hearing that, Rosita felt her legs weakening. She simply grasped for air, sat down on a rickety chair and asked for some water. Her dream of moving into the upper crust of the Brazilian society came crushing  with the thoughts of Frank Mendez, a low life, uncouth, toothless man belonging to the slums of any city of the world, coming home to live with her. A dream world of Charity balls, the Church and the government officials, the cream of the Medical Community and the diplomats adorning her dinner table, began vanishing. She imagined, Miranda declining her invitations for power lunches and making excuses for not returning her phone calls. She hung entangled in a web of imaginary grandeur that she herself had woven ever since they received invitation to join the Sau Paulo Country Club many years ago.

“Are you all right my daughter in law?” Frank Mendez spoke to her in a kind and subdued voice.

Having seen the world of poverty and living a happy go lucky life of a mariner, Frank at once recognized her state of mind. Rosita reminded him of his wife’s state of mind. Mariam, when seeing him arrive on the biannual home leave from the Gulf, almost thirty years ago used to have that fake welcoming mask. Now, in the Sau Paulo’s lower middle class world he was happy. In the mediocrity of Frank’s world, a simple comradery with neighbors and the warmth of friendship- many former marines like him existed. It suited likes of him. He visualized an isolated, sterile life of an unwanted relative living with the walking bodies, obliged to taking care of him out of sense of guilt and not love.  He did not know Francis and his other children had grown despising him and their father, in turn, failing to bond with them. 

Tactfully he said to her,
“I cannot leave this place; my children won’t allow me to do that. I belong to my world and you to yours. Now go and take care of your children.” There was no demand placed on her.
Rosita got up and left the room without saying a word, as if, in a trance. By the thoughts of incoming upheaval, the sharp edge of her vanity -filled mind, seems blunted. Francis on his part had retreated in the frozen Tundra- His sanctuary, where no thoughts existed; only the love for his Master dwelled.