Gold Cross Necklace

The Gold Cross Necklace is a small crucifix on a finely wrought gold chain, given by Pinta to Creasy for his birthday. More than a valuable keepsake, it carries the history of their growing trust and gives physical form to a conversation about belief that Creasy cannot resolve for himself.

The Birthday Gift

Pinta presents the package during a summer picnic above Lake Maggiore, after explaining that it is her way of thanking Creasy for helping her win the race. He is surprised: he had asked for no fuss and is unused to receiving thanks. As he goes to fetch the hamper, he worries that the present may be expensive or silly and admits inwardly that he does not know how to respond in the expected way. The package remains unopened while Pinta delights in the lunch prepared by Maria.

When the moment comes, Pinta laughs at an exchange about the phrase “Bon appetit,” and Creasy finally unwraps the present. Inside is a small box containing the solid-gold crucifix on its delicate chain. Pinta has bought it herself with money she saved, making the gift an expression not only of gratitude but of her own deliberate effort. Her anticipation as he opens it gives the modest object an emotional weight beyond its material value.

A Gift Shaped by Doubt

The necklace answers a conversation the two had previously shared about religion. Creasy was raised Catholic, but his childhood left him with painful reasons to doubt providence: his mother died of pneumonia when the family could not afford proper care, and his father died a year later after years of drinking. Orphaned, Creasy was taken in by neighbors and put to work in the fields; he ran away at sixteen and joined the Marines the following year. A lifetime of war deepened rather than settled his questions about a God who could allow so many innocent people to die.

Pinta does not resolve those contradictions for him. Her view is simpler: she will believe unless someone proves beyond doubt that faith is nonsense. When Creasy asks how she would know such a thing had been proved, she answers that it would be announced on television. Her lightness does not erase the seriousness of the exchange. The cross joins her untroubled willingness to believe with Creasy’s inability to reconcile suffering and faith, while leaving that difference intact.

A Visible Sign in Daily Life

Later, the small gold crucifix hangs at Creasy’s neck. At the Schembri household, after he has resumed a gentle version of his old Legion exercise routine and taken a cold shower, he finds Laura Schembri in the kitchen before dawn. She explains that she goes to Mass at five each morning to pray for the sinners in her family. Creasy asks her to pray for him too, lightly acknowledging his own sins; Laura’s attention turns serious as she looks at the crucifix.

The object therefore moves from an intimate exchange between Pinta and Creasy into the sight of another person whose religious practice is part of everyday family life. Its presence does not establish that Creasy has become devout. Instead, the necklace makes his uncertain relation to faith visible: he wears the gift even as his questions remain.

Meaning Beyond the Object

The necklace’s significance lies in the gap between what it represents to Pinta and what Creasy can make of it. For her, it is a saved-for birthday present and an affectionate thank-you; for him, it touches memories of deprivation, loss, war, and unresolved doubt. Its physical form keeps the disagreement from becoming abstract: the cross is both a religious emblem and a personal gift from someone who has begun to draw him back toward human connection.

That sign appears in a community where religious practices also take varied, personal forms. Salvu goes to church in Nadur and confesses outrageous imagined sins to The Cowboy to provoke him, while Laura attends early Mass and prays for her family. The Cowboy later regards Nadia Schembri as an enigma because she comes to early Mass each morning but never enters the confessional. Against these distinct practices, Creasy’s necklace marks no simple declaration of belief. It remains a treasured object whose meaning rests in the relationship that gave it to him and in the questions he still carries.