Deer in the Fields of Venice: A novel

By D.M. Zultowski

Father Maurice Lamoreaux is a man of undisputed faith as well as a teacher in the classroom and a follower of the rules. But all three are shaken after his newly graduated student, Cam, shares a secret with him. With trust in hand, Cam's father invites Maurice to accompany them through a tour of Rome, Florence, and Venice since his wife left them with an extra ticket. Maurice claims that his accompaniment is only to support Cam during this period in his life. But Maurice finds the trip becoming more and more about his own life.

While the three sister cities of Italy watch over him, Maurice meets and befriends others in the tour group, including the photographer, Isabelle, who works on pulling him out of the shell he has worked so hard to build around himself. As the journey progresses, as emotions shift, as lives are touched, Maurice realizes that God is not yet finished with him, and there are more mysteries to encounter. Deer in the Fields of Venice invites the reader to tour the parts of Italy that are not seen but lived. It is a story not only about love between persons, but it is a tale of love and thanksgiving for a historical country reminiscent of what the monsignor tells Maurice, "That is why our Lord chose Italy for the center of our faith. Anywhere else, and we would die off from boredom."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638817796

Book preview

Chapter 1

Philadelphia. June. What May could not contain. The city kept her warmth a little longer tonight. Her focus a little closer to her northeast corner, on the houses like mausoleums, the street like a cemetery trail. She embraced tighter around the edges of yesterday and tomorrow while she surrendered tonight into a lasting second into the second hour after sunset, preserving her glow in the quietude of grass-blades cutting into the bottom of the airy pitch.

The last day of school was now a memory to make way for more days, more memories that were already waiting to come this summer. Philadelphia was sure to keep her kids active enough. They will beg her to stay with them as long as summer could keep them warm.

But the sun had gone down for now. Though her down blanket warmth seemed to remain close around them. The grass of this field kept dim by nature, kept safe by a few rays of electric light spanning from their places over the street. Ovals craned over the park to watch where Philadelphia was now blind.

But she was sure to keep her children safe.

She was adored as a mistress for the history she brought to the people who came to her. She was loved as a wife for those who stayed with her. She was respected as a mother for those who moved away. But they all responded to her as if there was nowhere else to give them the same love, the same heart-chamber place as they found while inside her. As if she were always inviting them to come back. As if she still needed them to love her back while she let them think they needed her. She made them to understand this was where they belonged.

Though anything worth loving has at least a moment of hate involved. That is the way with mothers. Their breasts nourish only until their children grow allergic to her milk. But for now, for three months of warmed summer, they belonged completely to her.

The summer gave them back to her breast. And she was ready to give them all they have been asking for. She will watch over them while they glimpsed into the pulse of her beating chest she was so well-known for. She will let her sun shine brighter, warmer for them. She will let them know they were home. And she will never let them go too far.

Though tonight her sun needed to rest.

The blue sky turned to pitch while Philadelphia let her eyes close for a rest to breathe a peaceful sigh so she could once again feel like a mother while she hoped her children were safe. While she knew the children who were finally one year older were finally resting for the first time since the beginning of this year. And their dreams to be fulfilled were the plans they have been holding between conscious and conscience. Waiting for the morning and the inviting sun that remained now hundreds of minutes from them.

It was not just about the students in Philadelphia’s eyes. She also yearned to see the teachers. She had never given up on them while they grew into adulthood. And they seemed to want to return to her warm slumber as well. Focused on the way she sang them to rest, her breaths joined with golden kisses of sunlight, with pearl-tamed embraces under the moon. They seemed to miss those kisses while they missed her embrace. They missed her after they realized they had begun to forget her.

This June night. Her eyes focused on only one teacher. Maurice Lamoreaux. She could easily watch him while his skin seemed to glow like the moon’s milky hue from the contrast of his dark hair blending into the night. He moved in and out of the streetlights’ halos and the natural shadows of the tree-trailed field that was often the place of his solitude. The angle of his nose always pointing him in the right direction which he always made sure to follow. As if his nose were the wind vane of his conscience.

Then his nerves pulled from where they had frayed while he saw the silhouette of the stranger who let him know he was not alone within this abstract shadow.

Maurice stopped.

He stared into the brown-black eyes of the doe staring back at him through the night cuddled between them. Her expression was a stoic blot that was her every response to any situation. As if her nature were set to refuse to let Maurice know how frightened she was of him.

She did not know if she was really in any danger. She did not know what he really was though she had seen plenty like him. Some were passive. Some were aggressive. Her only certainty was that he was there. Though so few came out at night. As if the quiet were too disturbing.

Day was so much more often the right time to walk along this grass.

But Maurice chose tonight. Just because it was an evening in June. And he had three months to appreciate these summer evenings while he did not need to think about the morning. All he had to do was wake up.

June had returned to being important to him. It was when he was reminded of who he was and how that compared to who he set out to be. How that contrasted with who he had become. He would learn his heart while the Magi Academy doors were closed for the last time until September. For now, he will not be their teacher. Now he will only be a memory not even worthy of a rumor. A name whose face will blend into the pages of the textbooks he taught.

And the lessons will be forgotten.

The last dismissal bell had rung. Dismiss everything. There is nothing else you need to know until September.

The doe stared longer at Maurice.

For a moment now he thought she recognized him. As if she had seen him there before. Yes. She remembers. She has seen him stalking along this field. His eyes of earthen hue venting the fire brewing beneath. This was where he ran through his lessons again, imagining how they went with the students. This was where he thought again the thoughts he had and reconsidered so he could say it better next year.

Yes. She knew who he was.

She had heard his name called out. She had seen how he pondered when he heard it. That name he had taken when it was given to him. More than a name. He was a title. More than a title. He was a promise. An oath that the night will not get too dark, that everything will be okay.

No danger.

The doe stilled to a deeper calm while Maurice watched her. Until she seemed to rest enough in her trust of him as he resumed to walk by. She did not need to watch him anymore while the night was quick to accept him. To consume more of who he was to sink under the pitch shadow of the oak tree hanging over him. He thought he could stay there a little longer. To think of nothing more than the single elongated moment surrounding him.

Such solitude is a good place to start thinking. Distractions do not come in so quickly. Here, they are taken away by the simple reality that they do not belong in the mind. They belong to the outside. And he could let them stay there.

Maurice let his thoughts have their way with him. A dimmed sort of daydream he did not care to rouse from.

There was where he belonged. At least for right now. Until his mind followed the rest of his body into the exhaustion already starting, settling at the bottoms of his feet. Shooting upward to swell his ankles. His blood remained still to soak his skin from the inside. Replace the life that seemed to have seeped from his callused soles.

But he still had a bit to walk until he was back in his car. And his eyes were now focused on the path in front of him. Looking down at his feet. Aching along the way. After so much teaching, this was the lesson he needed to learn. The pain he had to go through. A penitential act offered up to the students who had to listen to him since September while they waited for him to dismiss them for the last time, matched with the bell set to signal that summer had finally come.

This was where his silence was broken.

Father Maurice, came a voice from behind him.

He was caught. As if the sun for a split second peeked over from the other side of the world.

Is that you?

Maurice recognized the voice now. The heightened pitch at the last vowel was enough to commit it to one boy. No other student would have let that out so easily. And Maurice stopped the step he was ready to take. His focus still on the ground around his front foot. He wanted to finish his thought that may have been a prayer.

What are you doing here, Father? the voice came closer along with the boy who owned it.

Maurice could smell the cannabis that had clung to his visitor’s clothes. Still fresh from the glass pipe the boy used. That was his reason for being there. Bringing the first evening of summer vacation to a beautiful haze. A green world despite all the graying he had grown used to. No downtime to mourn while getting high. The boy was already where he planned to stay for the summer.

Are you alone here, Father? he asked.

Maurice wanted to go back to being alone. Back to his last thought. What was it? He could not remember now.

You know, Father, I was thinking about something just now, the boy started. He rubbed the night out of his blonde crew cut. He was comfortable where he was now. In front of Father Maurice. You were saying in class today to be careful this summer. You said that it’s really easy to get distracted by the things of the world.

Maurice knew he had to respond now. That’s right, Cam. He realized this conversation was going to be an extension of the lesson he ended hours ago. You’re eighteen, out of high school, on your way to college. I’m sure you have access to a lot of temptations. He could already smell one that had burned its way from being just a temptation.

Cam snickered through a slanted smile. His mind was now picturing other temptations. Ones already picking their spots on the beach. Others waiting at the party he has yet to be invited to. Some were just waiting by the webcam linked to the website he has yet to log in to.

The weed was suddenly the cleanest thing he was ready to put his mouth to.

Do you have something in particular you wanted to talk about, Cam? Maurice was ready to counsel him.

Cam just stared back at his former teacher, ready to have him as a teacher again. His slanted smile still crooked in place. He let it have some time there. Silent in his shadowed stare.

What is it, Cam? Maurice’s voice drawled along his annoyance. He really needed to get back to his thought. He really needed to remember what it was.

Cam stared a breath’s length longer at Maurice. Then, Why do you think temptations like that only happen in the summer?

Maurice stared back at Cam this time while he wondered how the boy could not understand such obvious logic. But Cam’s crooked smile and dizzied daze let Maurice know the depth of his confusion. It was not just the pot that kept him in the dark. The boy was genuinely confused.

Cam, Maurice started, during the summer, I know you boys go down the shore, you start meeting people, and without having any worries about school, your minds are no longer taken up with your studies. Your mind has to go somewhere.

Cam had always seemed distracted from his studies. A daily dreamer. His eyes would focus away from the whiteboard, away from his notebook. He would watch the other side of the window. Or the other side of the classroom. The lesson would become a distant hum while he put his attention where his adolescent mind prescribed to put it. Just for a little while that turned into a while longer. Just so he could be comfortable for that little fraction of the day.

Maurice started again, For the most part, it’s helpful to be in an all-boys school because it keeps the blood flowing to the brain. But in the summer, you boys are let loose into the world, and everything you have learned about the dignity of yourselves and the opposite sex go out the window.

Cam started to be distracted. The same stare as when he had looked out the classroom window. As if by cue, he was gone. Off to the side now. Down into a night as blank as his stare.

Cam, focus, Maurice interjected. He was used to doing so.

Cam shook his head away from his invisible, imagined distraction. Tried to remember where he was. Not because he forgot. He just had to keep his mind on who was in front of him. Though their last class had been dismissed, he still knew Father Maurice as his teacher. That was still a daily reality he would take a while to walk away from. One more thing for him to get used to this summer.

Maurice noticed under the shadow of the boy’s stare the weight that was holding him down. Not only in that spot. But everywhere he had been until that moment. Every time Maurice had seen him, he noticed that weight. And it seemed to grow. Wider. Heavier. Though the boy daily decided to carry it alone. Such a weight had slowed him down throughout the years. Now those high school years had finally come to an end.

Cam, Maurice tried again, is there something we need to talk about?

Cam looked at Maurice again. Slouched, he had to look up this time. He could not figure out how the priest had gotten so tall so suddenly. Then his sight blurred while his eyes were now ready to let go of a little bit of the weight. But still hold on to a little bit of it for now. Just enough to keep some for himself.

The boy whispered against the inside of his throat, Being at an all-boys school doesn’t necessarily cut out all distractions.

Maurice straightened the bottom of his spine. He looked a slant further down toward Cam, added up the facts he was gathering from that one simple statement along with what he had already come to witness about his student.

Has this been a concern of yours for a while? Maurice asked.

A few years, I guess, Cam told him. At least that’s when everyone else started noticing.

Maurice nodded. He had been told to watch Cam, to make sure he was okay. Does he have friends? Who does he sit with in the cafeteria? No and no one. The bullies were working hard on him. But that never seemed so peculiar.

They were just boys. And Cam was a small one.

These years were set up to pass.

Look, Cam—

Father, I know what you’re going to say. The weed had calmed Cam’s nerves enough to loosen his tongue a sharpened tip. The Church teaches that it’s wrong, that it’s a sin, that hell is where I will be with the rest of the homosexuals.

Cam, Maurice cut him off, that’s not at all what I was going to say.

Cam brought himself back down. He felt his weight again. His haze started to clear only a little. Through a hole in the middle of the separating haze, he spoke to Maurice. This time, he spoke as a man to another man. I’m not going to change. The weight pulled a little tighter, seemed centered at the bottoms of his eyes starting to tear. I don’t think I can.

I’m not asking you to, Maurice promised him.

Cam watched what he did not understand. This conversation had run through his imagination so many times. Different reactions. Different outcomes. He did not know what to expect now that Father Maurice actually started to speak.

Come visit me at Holy Redeemer on Monday after the eight o’clock Mass, he said. Can you get there on your own?

Cam nodded. Yes, Father. I can be there. It was his usual Sunday stop after all.

Good. Maurice smiled the welcome that was now reserved for Monday. I’ll see you there.

He stepped away from Cam. And he started walking again to reenter the night that was set to help him disappear.

Cam watched the night folding around Father Maurice.

While neither of them noticed the doe still watching them from the place where she rested. Her eyes now focused on Cam. Her expression the same as before. She too heard his secret. While she lied in the tranquility he was hoping to find.

Chapter 2

"Dóminus vobiscum." Maurice spoke the ancient language that had made him so popular to this elderly congregation. His arms spread to an invisible embrace over them.

The pruned faces spoke their response shallowly higher than a whisper, "Et cum spiritu tuo."

They saw him as a son while they called him Father. And their faces pruned deeper while they smiled at his presence before them.

Maurice waved his hand to bless them under an invisible cross. Then his sacrifice was completed.

His proclamation, "Ite, Missa est."

Wrinkled eyes stretched a dozen teary resurrections to see fully the priest who bothered to learn Latin for them. Not only learn it. Remember it. Speak it. They all spoke the same from their own memories that came with childhood images.

They responded, "Deo grátias."

They were excited to meet with him outside. Excited to shake his hand, to receive his blessing, to kiss his palms. The elderly women certainly did not mind seeing his face this early in the morning. Hearing the Latin and getting to respond to it was enough for them to feel like they were young Catholic girls again, and he was the new priest for them to crush on.

Cam stood behind them all while he waited for them to leave the young wonder-priest alone. He understood that they did not understand that this time after Mass was reserved for him. But he still wanted them to move out of his way. He still had a lot of life to live after his appointment. And he already spent a half-hour of it listening to a language he spent four years learning and never understanding.

Maurice noticed him, and he nodded his eyes to let him know the rest of his attention will soon be there. Only a few more hands to shake, a few more greetings to hear.

Then the last woman who was also the eldest woman in the parish slowly stepped to him, her eyes on the ground with the cane that supported her. She reached out as much as she could. Cold skin like a crinkled sheet over the bones of her fingers and the arthritis of her knuckles.

Maurice took her hand in both of his. He smiled to her his wish for her to have a good rest of her day.

And she smiled back the wide, toothless mouth of an excited child. Then she was back on her way to do so.

Okay, Cam. Maurice stepped closer to him. I have to take my vestments off. Meet me in the rectory office.

Cam kept his head down while he walked back inside. As if he had to be careful of anyone seeing him there. As if they would figure out why. He already felt their eyes looking at him while he sat in the back during Mass. Though they were all looking straight ahead at Father Maurice. But what if somehow their attention was on him? He was so afraid that they knew his whole story. Like how the bullies at school knew. It must have had something to do with the way he walked, the way he talked, the way he moved his hands, the way he danced. He was sure not to go to the prom that would have bid his terror to be a formal event.

Maurice watched him walk inside, watched his stature lower as he got closer to the office. He did not have much time to get himself ready for their meeting before he figured Cam would start thinking about walking out. He was quick to take his vestments off and hang them back up. They did not have be perfect this time.

Cam was already sitting down in the office when Maurice walked in. Even a little relaxed. He always seemed so much more nervous when school was in session. Though Maurice smelled in the park that Cam had found a way to deal with his anxiety.

But that smell was not in the air this morning.

Maurice closed the door behind himself. He wanted to make sure no one could hear what they were here to talk about. Then he sat down for the desk to be between them.

He saw Cam’s eyes looking past him. Not distracted. He was looking at the crucifix hanging above the priest’s head. It was there so the person sitting in the chair where Cam sat now could keep their focus on Jesus whenever their eyes would roll away from what the priest was saying.

So. Father Maurice folded his hands on the cherry-stained wood top of the desk. Let’s start with a prayer. He led Cam through a prayer asking for God to be their guide during their conversation. His words pulling God and Cam to meet in the middle where Maurice hoped to shed light on what they were trying to say to one another.

The prayer sounded simple at first.

But Cam was concerned that if God was leading the conversation, the divine power might not let him say all the things he needed to say. Would God let him curse when he needed to? Would God be offended by the mention of blowjobs?

Cam listened to the rest of the prayer as if Father Maurice were praying directly to him.

Then together, they said, Amen.

Okay. Maurice looked up, opened his eyes. Whenever you’re ready.

Cam started slow. Dragging the sounds from his throat along the length of his tongue. Felt the tension before going all the way past his teeth. He listened to the words his soul seemed to be saying while asking for his own permission along the way while asking for his own pardon. He watched Father Maurice’s face steady to one expression. I’m gay. Cam called himself gay as easily as other boys called him a faggot. He looked back up for Father Maurice’s reaction. Wondered if he offended the priest. Relieved when he realized how difficult that was going to be. Not that it was now a challenge. He just liked knowing he could keep going. "I’ve kind of… Well, I didn’t know. But I suspected. Well, I mean I didn’t suspect. Maurice’s expression remained soft while he took in all that Cam was giving him. Perhaps God would also have the same patience. Perhaps now Cam can talk about blowjobs! But they were only theoretical. The thing is I haven’t had any sexual experiences with guys or girls. But I know what I want. His imagination and internet porn were all he needed to prepare for when the opportunity comes up. I mean if the opportunity comes up. Then he saw Father Maurice’s expression still staring from under his brow. I mean… I’m not saying it’s going to come up. He changed his tone to submit. I won’t do it." He was annoyed that after four years of high school health class, every boy had details and diagrams on getting laid, and he was stuck with a Scripture passage and an imaginary shock collar. He wanted to scream how unfair it was. But he was afraid of the psychosomatic electric pressure he would feel pushed into his throat from the divine.

Maurice waited in silence after the boy stopped talking. Waited for a sure sign that it was now his turn to either say something useful or something so offensive he will never see the boy again.

Okay, Father Maurice started. Number one, congratulations, high school is over. It’s time now to grow up, be a man, and start making your own decisions. And one of those decisions is how do you want to live your life? I’m not going to make that decision for you. He had already spent a year in high school with the boy. He had followed the lesson plan perfectly. There should not have been any gaps left after the last day of senior year. Number two, knowing what you know now about God and the Church, and everything you have learned, how do you think you will now follow God’s will?

Cam looked at the crucifix above Maurice’s head. He figured he already knew what Father wanted to hear. This was the last piece of the final exam.

I guess I can stay chaste, he said. And he cringed at what he heard. Though he had heard it so many times before in Father Maurice’s classroom.

Maurice nodded. Good, he responded. You’ll do all right wherever you go as long as you keep your attention where it needs to be and not worry about any of the things of the world. Remember there are plenty of temptations out there right now.

Cam nodded. I got it. He did not want it.

Maurice smiled again. I know you do. Is everything else going okay with you?

Cam nodded again. Yeah. Could there have been anything else so big to mention? I think so.

He really wanted to get back home. He really did not want his father to find the need to ask him where he went this morning now that school could not be his reason and nothing else could be his excuse. He was now expected to just spend his time in the house in front of the television. Until those few hours he found to be the best time to go into the park for a walk and a puff of his other secret.

Father Maurice walked him to the front door. I have to unlock it for you. And the deadbolt slid for Cam’s exit.

Maurice watched him walk out. Then farther away. The sun lighting the direction he needed to go. Now that Cam’s secret was no longer covered up, there could be freedom for the rest of the day.

Now their lessons were finally over. They were dismissed of one another by one another.

Close the door, came Monsignor’s command. The people of God were good enough to pay for our air conditioning. You don’t have to prove to them that we’re using it.

Maurice refastened the deadbolt for his life to pick up where he left off.

Monsignor was already sitting in the kitchen. His stained smile watching Maurice’s entrance while they both listened to the kettle whistling its morning call. High-pitched. So sure of itself. It wanted to let them know it was there. It was ready for them.

Monsignor poured the water over his teabag. Steam encasing the front of his face so a separate world could exist between himself and his morning blend. Brown pushing out from the leaves inside the translucent paper pyramid like rust dissolving in rain. He watched the water turn. Its purity fade into the flavor of Irish breakfast. The brown collecting first along the bottom of the mug, rising to reach the top edge to blot out all of the morning that was not yet clear. Monsignor will know it is ready to drink when he could no longer see through the browning surface.

He took his first sip, careful not to burn the skin along the divide of his lips. The heat was still stronger than the tea. Then he parted his lips long enough to speak. If you live long enough to get old, make sure it’s worth it. Then he raised the tea in front of his face for a private toast. And a cup of tea in the morning makes waking up well worth it.

Maurice pushed the button for the coffeemaker to start.

How is the morning for you? he asked.

Monsignor arched his neck. Then his back to follow. He looked like a serpent slithering against the desert heat. His mouth gaped to whine out a groan. His eyes rolled up to the ceiling to seek the goal of his arching stretch. He figured he could almost make it up there. Only a little further. Another groan.

Did you sleep funny? Maurice asked him.

Monsignor wrapped himself back down toward the table. If I did, I wasn’t in on the joke when I woke up. His hand crossed over his chest to push his opposite shoulder back. Then he switched to the other side and another groan. Then a satisfied sound seeped through his sealed lips. Mm…

Maurice sat down across from him while he waited for the coffee to brew.

After you get some breakfast in you, I thought we could go over next week’s schedule.

Monsignor waved away Maurice’s words. We don’t have to worry about that right now. A sip. Then he turned back to Maurice. I’ve been a priest for over forty years. If I have to, I can do anything in a pinch. Aaaaah! He rubbed a nerve at the back of his neck. I appreciate your help here at the parish, Maurice. But remember. You’re also on summer vacation.

Maurice nodded down at himself. The idea of a vacation. It never seemed a good fit in his mind. It was not part of the life he trained and studied for. He set out to be a man of God and a man of work. A man doing God’s work. And he did it well.

Do you have anywhere you can go for a while? Maybe a week? Monsignor asked. Maybe you can go to the beach for a bit? He was begging more than he was asking. The problem he had with Maurice at the parish was how quickly people fell in love with his need to do things for them. And they always wondered why Monsignor was not as quick to do the same.

Not really, Maurice told him.

Monsignor took inventory of the thoughts that seemed to be coasting across Maurice’s