The Christmas Bells of Cavazzale

by Marian Merritt

  I imagine you feel I’ve abandoned you. I haven’t. You have much of me inside of you. You don’t look anything like I did when I was younger, but your mannerisms and your independent streak remind me so much of myself. I so want the best for you. Be strong. Be brave. Be trusting. God has you in the palm of His hand. Let Him guide you. Take the risk with Him. He will not lead you astray.

  I was blessed to have the wonderful family I did. I hope the same for you.

  Love,

  Nonna.

  The hole in Charly’s heart seemed to shrink, but nothing would feel better than a hug from Nonna. Her mind turned to other things. So Pappy had not been Nonna’s type. Hmm, was that God sending her a message about André? She’d seen so much good in André. What was “type” anyway—pigeonholing someone into a category that one thought they belonged in?

  Was it possible André was someone God sent to her?

  She’d pushed away the feelings she had for André because she didn’t want to risk getting hurt again. Why would God send someone to her when she’d turned away from Him? How humbling.

  Nonna always encouraged her to pray. Even in her last letter, she’d reminded Charly of the power of prayer.

  Maybe she should listen. Her past relationship hadn’t revolved around God or prayer. The thought of spending the rest of her life with her ex-boyfriend hadn’t excited her.

  André’s faith excited her. His prayer at Thanksgiving seemed to flow easily. Had he experienced similar feelings toward her?

  She’d made it known she wasn’t interested so many times it was a wonder he still wanted to be her friend.

  Charly’s phone buzzed as she pondered questions that didn’t seem possible just this morning. “Hello.”

  “Charly, it’s Juliette. I think I may have found someone who knows Bianca.”

  ~*~

  André woke with a start. A quick glance at his watch showed he’d had seven and one-half hours of sleep. He jumped out of bed ready to tackle anything. It was 3:45. Had Juliette come home? Was she picking up the girls? He dashed to the bathroom, changed, and attempted to tame his wild-man hair.

  Pedro’s words rushed back like a churning tornado—a real date with Charly. Dare he ask her out? She’d made it pretty clear she wasn’t interested in anything other than being friends. But could they move past that to dating?

  He certainly didn’t want to add to any pain she’d gone through. Maybe it was losing her grandmother. Maybe something else. But he wanted to get to know her. He wanted to know where she was in her walk with the Lord and whether they could ever become something more than friends.

  Once he reached the school, the teacher said the only English word she knew, “Mama.”

  He darted across the square to Charly’s house. When he reached the gate, he pressed the buzzer and prayed she was still home. Even if the girls weren’t with him, he could take Charly out. When she opened the gate, he walked through.

  She waited at the door.

  The sounds of Isabella bickering with Marielle drifted onto the porch.

  “You found them.” Charly smiled. “Come in.”

  He dodged two excited nieces.

  “Uncle André’s here.” Marielle latched onto his thigh and wrapped her legs around his shins.

  “Yay, Parrain. You finally slept.” Isabella repeated her sister’s move.

  With his hitchhikers clinging, he walked into the living room.

  Juliette sat on one of the monstrous orange chairs.

  “So the sleeping beauty has awakened.” Juliette rose and gave André a quick hug. “I went home around two but didn’t have the heart to wake you. So I visited with Charly until it was time to get the girls. She made cookies so we came back here to let you get more sleep.”

  André sat on Charly’s couch. The girls sat next to him.

  Charly brought a small plate filled with cookies. “For you. You get a treat for taking your nap.” She shot him a sly grin. “Feel better?”

  “Yes, like a new man.”

  “I’m glad. You look as if you feel better.” She plopped into the other chair. ”Your sister-in-law came by to deliver some very exciting news. She’s found someone who knows Bianca.”

  He glanced toward Juliette who nodded.

  “That’s great. Who is Bianca?”

  “My Nonna’s best friend. In the journals my Nonna left for me, she related that she and her best friend had words and stopped speaking. Nonna tasked me with trying to find Bianca and apologize.”

  “Ahhh…how can I help?” he said.

  She gave a beautiful smile. “Want to take a trip to Vicenza?”

  “You bet. When?”

  Sedici

  Charly and André sat on the train headed to Vicenza.

  His willingness to help her find Bianca warmed her heart. His kindness came through in every encounter.

  She glanced out the window at the farmhouses and when he leaned over to get a view of the mountains in the distance, her pulse raced from his closeness. His signature musk-and-chocolate scent elevated her pulse rate even higher. She inhaled deeply and let the smell imprint in her memory. It evoked peaceful, calming memories. She studied his profile. Strong jaw line, defined edge of his beard, and ebony silk hair. The desire to run her fingers through those wavy strands surprised her. What was she thinking?

  He turned to face her and when she delved into the dark pools of chocolate that were his eyes, all caution where André Lagneaux was concerned disappeared.

  He sat back, but there was a look in his eye she wasn’t sure she could decipher.

  In Vicenza, they walked the cobbled streets from the train station. After a while, they found the Piazza dei Signori.

  Statues rose above the basilica in the square.

  When they reached the address Juliette had given them, André turned to Charly. “Hopefully, she still lives here.”

  “I’m hoping.” Charly pressed the buzzer at the gate.

  A middle-aged woman came to the door speaking only Italian. Neither Charly nor André spoke Italian, and this woman probably didn’t speak or understand English.

  Charly typed into her phone translator, and then read the words out loud. “Sto cercando Bianca Sartori.”

  She placed her phone next to the woman as she answered in Italian. Based on what the message translated, Bianca lived in Montecello Conte Otto.

  Charly spoke into the translator and asked if she lived at the homestead.

  The woman nodded.

  André pulled a pen from his pocket. “Charly, do you have something to write on? We can get the address.”

  “I’ll type it into my phone. Indirizzo?”

  The woman stared, her face contorted. “Why?”

  “You speak English?”

  The woman lifted her hand and pressed her index finger and thumb together. “A little bit.”

  Charly explained who she was and about Nonna. The woman’s eyes brightened. “Si, Mama’s amica.”

  Charly typed the word into her translator. “Friend. Yes. Si.”

  The woman gave them the address and appeared to bless them.

  Wow, was this a door the Lord opened for her? Nonna would say so. Maybe it was time Charly thought so, too. “I can’t believe we found her. What an awesome blessing.”

  “Yes, a blessing, indeed. Maybe God wants her to know how your nonna felt.”

  “Maybe He does.” She released a small sigh. “And maybe He wants me to know a few things, too.”

  André raised both brows. “Really? Anything you want to talk about?”

  She smiled. “Not yet, but soon.”

  “OK, whenever you’re ready.”

  The compassion in his eyes settled the nervous questions rolling through her mind.

  “So, we have the rest of the day. What would you like to do?”

  A whole day with André. Maybe she could get to know him. “How about we walk around the town. I have a map here and a book. That should be enough.”

  “
I vote we stop at the first coffee shop we find.”

  They headed down the cobbled street and found a coffee shop. Patrons stood or sat and sipped coffee from demitasses. Charly and André joined them.

  After coffee, they were off taking in as much of the ancient city as possible.

  She loved exploring Vicenza with André. As they walked along the Bacchiglione River, he made her laugh with his stories of growing up on the Bayou in Terrebonne Parish and how he and his friends would fish daily.

  They visited the Teatro Olimpico and got a mini history lesson on the works of Andrea Palladio. Apparently, the theatre was his final design. Seeing the great works of architecture with André was so much more fun than if she’d been alone.

  André’s enthusiasm for art, history, and architecture made Charly want to learn more, see more, and enjoy more. She found the day slipping by much faster than she wanted. Charly struggled to keep up with André’s six-foot-three gait. But she wasn’t complaining. She wanted the day to last much longer.

  Mid-afternoon Charly’s stomach growled loud enough for André to hear.

  “Was that you?”

  “Yep, I’m starving.”

  “So am I.” He grabbed her hand. “We passed a place that looks wonderful.”

  He guided her back to the quaint restaurant and didn’t let go of her hand.

  As they walked back to the train station, they passed through the square again. Lights strung from the tower and from each of the buildings bathed the square in a twinkling glow. The soothing strains of a single violin streamed through the square. An elderly man with a gray beard stood on the corner serenading those passing by. It was possibly the most romantic sight she’d ever seen.

  André grasped Charly’s hand again.

  She intertwined her fingers with his and walked hand-in-hand with him back to the train station.

  ~*~

  It was after ten before André returned to Edmond’s house. While exhausted, he hadn’t wanted the day to end. Especially when he’d held Charly’s hand. They sat close together on the way home. The comment she’d made about God wanting her to see things, gave him hope. At least, she believed in God. But could he trust God enough if the possibility existed of getting his heart broken again?

  He dialed his parent’s number and listened through the rings. This would be the second time he’d spoken to them since he arrived. He’d sent his entire family an email several days ago and had not gotten any responses to his suggestion. He knew he asked a lot, but felt that his brother deserved it.

  “Hello,” His father’s voice cut through André’s thoughts.

  “Papa, how are you?” They exchanged greetings and then his father put his mother on the phone.

  “I’m glad you called. I talked to everybody and it’s a go,” she said.

  “That is wonderful, I can’t wait.” André plopped onto the bed.

  “Thanks for letting us know. We would have missed seeing him had we kept our original reservations.” His mother rattled on about her latest recipes and then filled him in on his gallery. Everything was running smoothly. Several paintings had sold. He already knew because he’d kept in touch with his assistant through email.

  After a few more minutes, his mother said she needed to go. Her ladies auxiliary group was having a bake sale and her German chocolate cake needed to get out of the oven.

  “G’bye.” He hung up and curled into his princess bed. Good things were happening. The wonderful day with Charly. His whole family coming to Italy to celebrate Christmas before Edmond deployed. He rested his head on the pillow and smiled as he replayed the day in his mind. Yes, it was a great day. His lids grew heavy and something told him he wouldn’t have any trouble sleeping tonight.

  Diciassette

  The next morning, Charly walked to Cavazzale’s neighboring village, Monticello Conte Otto, to the address she’d gotten from Bianca’s daughter. Her pulsing heartbeat matched her pounding footsteps on the wide sidewalk. What if Bianca didn’t speak English? Charly slid her hand in her pocket to touch her smart phone—the perfect translator. She prayed there would be a phone signal.

  The gate swung opened so she went up the walk, and then knocked on the weathered front door.

  “Sto arrivando,” a gravelly voice echoed from inside.

  Charly tapped her foot in nervous anticipation. Please, Lord. Let her speak English. The letter Nonna left for Bianca was tucked safely in her bag. Would Bianca read the letter?

  It’s not for you to worry about. Do your part.

  The words speared Charly’s heart. It’d been a long time since she’d listened to God’s voice. But there was no mistaking the message and the mission. Her job—to bring this to Bianca. God’s job would be to work in Bianca’s heart.

  The oak door parted and the wrinkled face Charly recognized from the other night stared at her with wide eyes. “Bianca?” Charly attempted a smile, but her quivering lips refused to obey.

  The tiny woman nodded. “Si.”

  “English?”

  She nodded again. “Come in.”

  Charly stepped through the door into a sparsely furnished living room with a worn and faded wooden floor. Bianca pointed to a couch in the corner covered by a dull sheet. “I have been waiting for you.”

  “You know who I am?”

  “Si. You are Conchitta’s granddaughter. I know it. Also, my daughter called to tell me you were coming.”

  “I am.” Charly sat down where Bianca indicated.

  Bianca sat in a chair. Her lips turned slightly at the corners. “I traveled to America to find her.”

  Nonna’s letters indicated her efforts to reconcile with Bianca proved unsuccessful.

  “She tried to find you, too.”

  “I know. I heard when I returned to Italy. Your nonna came to Cavazzale the same time I went to America. It was our last chance to be friends again. It saddens my heart. I have heard she is no longer on this earth.”

  Charly nodded. The heartfelt sentiment in Bianca’s gaze triggered her own sadness. She reached into her bag and retrieved the letter. “Here, I found this in her belongings. She wanted me to give this to you.”

  Bianca lifted the letter from Charly’s extended hand, and then opened it. Quiet tears stained her cheeks. “I missed her very much. She was my favorite friend, you know.”

  “I know. I think she missed you, too.”

  “Do you know what happened between us?” Bianca leaned back in her chair.

  “Something about Nonna and Pappy.”

  “Conchitta assured me that Andrew was not her type. That she could never love someone like him. But the more they spent time together, the more I could see they were in love. He looked at your nonna the way I wanted him to look at me. That was so painful. I blamed Conchitta, but deep down I knew it wasn’t her fault. Andrew loved her and not me.” She inhaled a long breath and exhaled slowly. “So much time wasted. I so deeply regret it. Conchitta tried to tell me the truth but I ignored her. I wanted to marry Andrew so I could live in America and Conchitta knew it. I would never admit it. The last thing she told me was that she made a horrible mistake by saying Andrew was not her type. That type didn’t matter. Only kindness and true love are what counts. It was her way of telling me she knew I looked at Andrew as only a way to get to America.”

  Charly‘s heart filled with relief. Nonna didn’t steal her best friend’s boyfriend. They’d never been together and Bianca never loved her grandfather. Nonna and Pappy were meant to be together. “Bianca, she wanted your forgiveness.”

  Bianca reached across the table and grasped Charly’s hand. “There is nothing to forgive. She did nothing wrong.”

  The moment with Bianca seemed like her time with Nonna. The voice, the accent, and the tender touch warmed her heart in ways she’d missed. Charly felt comfortable enough to tell her about André and her feelings toward him.

  “Sounds to me like you are much like your nonna. Her words are for you. Type means nothing. Look at the
man’s heart. That is where you will find the real man. And true love.”

  Charly smiled and rose from her seat.

  Bianca rose also.

  Charly wrapped her arms around the petite woman. “Thank you, Bianca.”

  “Thank you, Charly, and please, again, come to visit me.”

  “I will.”

  Charly strolled back to Cavazzale with an encouraged heart. She looked forward to seeing the girls this afternoon and seeing their uncle as well.

  ~*~

  André spent as much time as possible with Edmond. And with Charly. They still took the girls out each day after school. On Saturday, he and Edmond took the girls bowling on post while Juliette and Charly went shopping for the coming Christmas celebration. He looked forward to introducing Charly to the rest of his family.

  “Way to go, sweetie.” André tickled Marielle who’d used the ball roller and knocked down all the pins. So far the youngest of the group was winning. He loved it. He helped Isabella line up her bowling ball and shoot it down the alley.

  “Yay, Parrain, I hit the pins.” She pumped her fist while jumping up and down. She and Marielle danced around the ball return while Edmond and André laughed.

  “Hey, bro.” Edmond slid onto the bench next to André. “Thanks for being such a good uncle. My girls adore you.”

  “I think pretty highly of them, too.”

  “I’m sorry about all the stuff from the past when I was a terrible brother and didn’t stay in touch. I miss our having fun together. But you’re happy, and I’m proud of the man you’ve become. I hope you can forgive me.”

  André nodded and swallowed the ball of emotion clogging his throat. “I love you, bro.”

  Edmond hooked his arm around André’s shoulder. “I love you, too.”

  Both girls raced toward André and landed on his lap.

  He and Edmond tickled them until they squealed in laughter.

  André couldn’t wait for next Wednesday. His whole family would arrive to celebrate Christmas before Edmond deployed. His brother would be shocked and ecstatic. But more so, he couldn’t wait to see the surprise on his family’s face when he introduced them to Charly. Especially his mama.