"But my brother works at the factory," Isabella continued, "and we have not heard from him. I'm frightened."

Norberto walked toward the woman. He saw the pain and fear in her eyes as he approached. He forced himself to smile.

"Isabella, I know what you are feeling," he said. "I know because I lost a brother today."

The young woman's eyes registered shock. "Father-"

Norberto's smile remained firm, reassuring. "My dear Adolfo was killed this morning. It is my hope that by going to Madrid I can help the General Superior end whatever is happening in Spain. I want no more brothers to die, no more fathers or sons or husbands." He touched Isabella's cheek. "Can you-will you-be strong for me?"

Isabella touched his hand. Her fingers were trembling and there were tears in her eyes. "I-I did not know about Dolfo," she said softly. "I'm so sorry. I will try to be strong."

"Try to be strong for yourself, not for me," Norberto said. He looked up at the fearful eyes of the young and old. "I need all of you to be strong, to help one another." Then he turned to Grandfather José, who was standing in the crowd along the wall. He asked the old sailor if he would remain at the church as a "caretaker priest" until his return, reading from the Bible and talking to people about their fears. He had come up with the term on the spot and José liked it. Grandfather José bowed his head and accepted gratefully and humbly. Norberto thanked him and then turned to his beloved congregation.

"We face difficult times," he said to the people. "But wherever I may be, whether in San Sebastián or in Madrid, we'll face them together-with faith, hope, and courage."

"Amen, Father," Isabella said in a strong voice.

The congregation echoed her words, as though one great voice were filling the church. Though Norberto was still smiling, tears spilled from his eyes. They weren't tears of sadness but of pride. Here before him was something the generals and politicians would never obtain, however much blood they spilled: the trust and love of good people. Looking at their faces, Norberto told himself that Adolfo had not died in vain. His death had helped to bring the congregation together, to give the people strength.

Norberto left the church amidst the good wishes and prayers of the parishioners. As he stepped into the warm daylight and headed toward the rectory, he could not help but think how amused Adolfo would have been by what had just happened. That it had been he, a disbeliever, and not Norberto who had inspired and unified a frightened congregation.

Norberto wondered if God had provided this sanctifying grace as a means for Adolfo to overcome his mortal sin. The priest had no reason to believe that, no theological precedent. But as this morning had proved, hope was a powerful beacon.