Princess Moments
A Prince Comes Home
By Lettie Bugg
Filipe stared across the waters of the bay, barely noticing how their churning waves matched his inner turmoil. Mother was sick. That was what the last missive from his brother had said. Mother is sick but don’t bother coming home. You’re not needed. One part of him wondered how his brother could be so cruel. The other part knew he deserved it. He had always felt superfluous, being the second son. The spare. But he knew that his behavior in the last few years was the real reason Agustin had said he wasn’t needed.
Translation: Filipe wasn’t wanted. He had messed up too badly. He had rejected them, and now they were rejecting him. But oh, how he wished he could just see his family once again. Even if he were only a servant in their household.
Perhaps that was the answer. A servant. They always needed more kitchen staff, considering how the chef chased most away within a few weeks of employment. He could be around his family without them ever knowing he was there. The other staff wouldn’t recognize him as their prince, not with his beard and still-fresh scar across his left eye. The prince they knew was young, clean, and cocky. Far from the gruff and broken man he was now. He could do it. He must do it. He must atone for his mistakes, even if only he and the Lord ever knew he was doing so.
Filipe rose, brushed the sand off, and turned toward the city bus stop. It was time. He was going home.
The twenty-minute taxi ride from the airport to the palace seemed like an eternity. Funny, considering it was coming after a thirteen-hour flight in the cheapest airplane seat. Filipe was exhausted. And yet, there was a little part of him that was exhilarated too. He was so close to home. His veins thrummed either with excitement or fear, he wasn’t quite sure which, but as the taxi came to a stop at the service entrance, he knew one thing deep in his soul: this was the right move. The Lord had opened each door in record time, getting him the job and impressing on a church member to pay for his plane ticket. God’s hand was in this, no doubt about it.
Filipe took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
“Buongiorno, posso aiutarti in qualche modo?” the maid at the door greeted him. Could she help him with something? No, not really. What he truly needed, she couldn’t give.
“I am the new kitchen aid, Nicolai Strossi.”
“Ah, come in. Chef has been fuming about his need for new staff, but the housekeeper, Senora Di Frabbini, will need to see you first to settle the terms of your employment.”
Alarm bells went off in his head. Di Frabbini? It couldn’t be. His brother had sent a letter years ago saying that their aging housekeeper had retired, and her daughter… Giovanna should have been long gone by now. Their entire childhood she had only ever talked of getting out of the palace and into the “mission field.” It was a calling she had had since a young age. He used to make fun of her for it, but since the Lord found him left for dead in a ditch six months ago and turned his life around, he only had admiration for her lifelong faith. He wished he had been more like her growing up. Surely, she had followed that calling to some third world country and it was some other Di Frabbini in the housekeeper’s office now. One who wouldn’t recognize him on the spot.
Giovanna’s mother had been the palace housekeeper and her father the head of security for the king. Both her parents worked long hours so the family had lived at the palace and Giovanna had been raised and educated with the two princes. A companion of sorts. It just couldn’t be her on the other side of the door; but what were the odds that they had replaced one housekeeper with another of the same name? As the maid knocked on the door and waited for entrance, he sent a prayer heavenward.
“Enter,” a feminine voice called through the door.
“Nicolai Strossi, the new kitchen aid, Senora.” The maid gestured him in and he came face to face with the girl who could end his charade before it even began. He watched her eyes grow wide in recognition. She seemed stunned for several seconds before she found her voice and turned to the maid.
“You may leave us, Cecilia, thank you.”
He barely heard the door click shut. “Vanna.” What would her reaction be? Was he about to be thrown out of his own palace? She rushed around the desk and he braced himself for a well-deserved punch, but instead she threw herself into his arms.
“Filipe, you’re home. How we’ve waited for you. But why did the maid think you were the new kitchen aid? This isn’t one of your old pranks, is it?”
He shook his head and swallowed past the lump that formed at her hug. “I needed to come home, but I knew I wouldn’t be welcome. I figured most of the staff wouldn’t recognize me. I never dreamed you’d still be around. What about your mission field?”
She gave a soft smile. “All my life I dreamed of being a missionary ‘out there.’ I thought the only place one could serve was the villages of Africa or the jungles of Columbia. But when you took off… It was a wake-up call for me. The Lord showed me that I was missing the work in my own home. He showed me that this was my mission field. Filipe, I must apologize for something that’s been eating away at me since you left. I’m sorry I never ministered to you the way I should have.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “Vanna. You ministered to me every day. Your Christian lifestyle, the way you lived out your faith, it was a constant witness to me. I’m sorry to say I ignored it and pushed it away, but no more. I can’t begin to tell you what I’ve gone through away from home, but six months ago I finally surrendered to the Lord and gave Him my heart and my allegiance. I am His child now.”
He watched tears well up in his childhood friend’s eyes as she hugged him again. “Welcome home.”
“You said that already.” He gave a laugh.
“The first time was a welcome back to the palace. This time it’s welcome home to God’s family.”
Now he was the one whose eyes were filling up. “Thank you, my friend.”
She took a breath and a step back. “Wait a minute, what did you say about not being welcome?”
He sighed and sat down heavily in the chair in front of her desk. “My family will never welcome me home, Vanna. I’ve made too many mistakes.”
“That’s not true,” she jumped to assure him, but he held up a hand.
“It is true. Agustin has sent messages on and off since I left. The last one informed me of Mother’s illness but told me not to come. He said I’m not needed or wanted.”
She pursed her lips in sympathy. “Agustin was very angry when you left. He felt you abandoned everyone.”
“He had a right to feel that way. I let my selfish sin lead me away from those who loved me, and I regret it deeply.”
“Because you’ve changed.” She took his hand. “Your brother is still hurting, but he loves you. Your parents love you. Don’t let his angry words keep you away.”
“I don’t want to make it harder on the family during this time. They need to focus on Mother. This way I can work in the palace and be close to them without making things difficult.”
“Filipe. Your homecoming will make things better, not worse.” He started to shake his head, but she squeezed his hand and continued. “You know I still have coffee with your mother every week?”
His brows lifted. “Still?” It was a tradition his mother had started when Giovanna was twelve because she said Giovanna spent so much time with boys that she needed someone to teach her how to be a lady.
She nodded. “And every week she tells me how excited she is for when you come home. She’s been waiting all this time. She’s never given up hope. Neither has your father. He keeps your picture on his desk and when people ask about you, he says ‘My Filipe will be home soon. The Lord will bring him back to us.’”
“He says that?”
She nodded. “They’ve been waiting all this time. Won’t you see them?”
Filipe paused outside the door to his parents’ chamber. He couldn’t breathe. The air was lodged in his throat and it wouldn’t move. Was his face turning blue? Any second now he was going to pass out. The edges of his vision were graying out.
A hand touched his wrist, causing the gray to recede. He glanced up and his gaze collided with Giovanna’s. The air escaped his clogged throat and he exhaled.
“Lord,” he whispered. “You brought me here. I asked for an opportunity to be near them, and you’ve brought me all the way to their door. Help me through that door, Lord. Give me strength to face them. Help me make amends, please.”
“Are you ready?” Giovanna asked quietly.
“As I’ll ever be,” Filipe responded shakily.
She nodded and knocked on the door, which was quickly answered by a liveried servant. “Prince Filipe to see his parents,” Giovanna spoke with command.
The servant jumped to attention and opened the door wide to admit them, bowing as Filipe passed by. He barely stopped himself from starting. It had been years since anyone bowed to him. He scanned the room and the first thing his gaze collided with was his brother, and he did not look happy.
Agustin stormed across the room with a thundercloud in his brow. “What are you doing here? I told you not to come.”
Filipe swallowed. “I know, but I—”
“Get out.” His brother pointed at the door. Filipe turned to go. He knew this was a mistake despite Giovanna’s assurances.
“Stop!” A new voice entered the conversation. Even with his back turned, he knew that voice. It was one filled with enough command to lead a nation.
“Father.” He faced his father and bowed. Before Filipe even had time to rise up again, he was embraced.
“My son. My son,” he father cried. “Welcome home.”
Filipe lifted his head and met his father’s tear-filled eyes. His father, crying. It was a sight he had never seen before, and it started his own tears.
“Filipe? Filipe,” his mother’s voice called from the bed where she lay and he rushed to her, enveloping her in his arms.
“Mother. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused.”
“Shh. Shh, my son. That’s all over now. You are home. We shall, as they say, kill the fatted calf.” How his mother loved her references.
Heart at peace for the first time, Filipe looked to the ceiling and smiled. “Thank you, Lord, for bringing me home.”