Copyright © 2012 by Anthony R. DiVerniero
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Alice Peck
Copy edited/proof read by Ruth Mullin
Cover design by Duane Stapp
Anthony R. DiVerniero
Author can be reached at [email protected]
ISBN-10: 1480273163
EAN-13: 9781480273160
eBook ISBN: 978-0-9887345-1-7
LCCN-2013902622
DEDICATION
To the memory of my younger brother Bobby
Robert D. DiVerniero
August 14, 1960–August 16, 2012
Gone from this world but never from our hearts
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Spring, 1963
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Epilogue
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Without the brilliant direction of my editor, Alice Peck, this novel would never have been published. Thank you to a wonderful woman with the patience of a saint who allowed me to be creative and steered me on my wonderful and passionate journey of bringing these characters and their story to life.
To Duane Stapp, my cover designer, who continued to blow me away with his designs, thank you for your patience and insight.
To Ruth Mullen, my proofreader and copy editor, who scoured over one hundred thousand words, checking facts and correcting errors—thank you, thank you.
To my friend Christine Little, a big thank you, for reading the first manuscript and prompting me to continue the process of publishing.
To the Italian village of Ottati, where my grandfather was born and whose picture adorns the cover of this novel, I will forever hold the beauty, the stillness, and the character of you in my heart.
To the following people who read the book and gave me their honest opinion, thank you! Thank you!
Toni Jane Pallatto, Lisa Souza, Barbara Radigan, Mary Jean Luppi, David Carano, Peter Parisi, Dale Pearce, Cyndi Nadeau, Kasey and Kortney Kesses, Sherri Lynn Ramos, Mary Jo Pallotto, Marc and Karen Pallotto, Alicia Luciani, Beth DeRosa, Randi Peterson, Lynn Wakefield Testa, Lynn Ferrucci, Steve Kosinski, Mary Connor DeMaio, Maureen Stephens, and Noreen Augliera.
To B&N of North Haven, especially Lisa, Deni, Noelle, Wendy, Brian, and Jean-Marcel, thank you for allowing me to spend my mornings in the café drinking espresso macchiato’s and eating cinnamon scones while I wrote Messenger from God and as I continue to write the sequel. Your friendly faces and kind words are greatly appreciated.
To Eli at Staples, thank you for all the help in printing the manuscripts.
To Mike, Kathy, Mathew, Olivia, Michaela, and my goddaughter Paige Leavitt, thank you for the excitement you showed and the happiness of your family in my life.
To my dear friend Frank Arciuolo, to whom, when we worked together many years ago, I would often say, “let’s go write songs.” Thank you for the wonderful comments even though I knew the book was not your cup of tea—you made my day. One day, my friend, we will retire to our passions—your music and my writing.
To my children Anthony and Dominique, thank you for your support, your love, and your courage. You are the loves of my life—ever entrenched in my heart.
To my family—my mother Lucille, my father Dominic, my sisters Rosalie and Lenore—thank you for your support, inspiration, and love. To my other children—Bryan, Ben, and Gabriella—thank you for being who you are.
They say that behind every great man there is a woman. I am far from a great man and she is definitely not behind me, for no woman should ever be behind a man: she stands beside me, she is a rock in adversity, she is a strength that inspires me, and a driving force that makes all that is bad good. Thank you, Lynn Panico, for being you—my Sydney without the issues.
Neither must you be perturbed when you hear of wars and insurrections. These things are bound to happen first but the end does not follow immediately. He said to them further: Nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom. There will be great earthquakes, plagues, and famines in various places and in the sky fearful omens and great signs…On earth, nations will be in dismay, perplexed by the roaring sea and the waves.
—Luke 21:9-11, 25
In our journey through life, we meet many people.
We walk through the passages of time entangled in the forest of life.
In our journey, we meet both friend and foe.
To know one is a friend
Helps one overcome the foe.
We all end our journey in the same way,
Walking out of the forest of life and into the safe hands of God.
—Paolo DeLaurentis
Spring, 1963
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES had passed. His Father held a cool, wet facecloth in his rugged hand and gently patted his son’s face. Tears trickled from Tony’s eyes as he watched his son approach death’s door.
“What’s his temperature?” Lynn tried not to panic, but her voice betrayed her.
Tony withdrew the thermometer from the boy’s mouth and sat back on the to
ilet seat. He angled the thin glass pipette. His wife continued to try to keep the child cool.
“Shit. You have to call Uncle Doc,” Tony said, his voice filled with trepidation.
“What’s his temperature?” Lynn pleaded again.
“Do we have another thermometer?”
“No, just that one,” Lynn’s voice was frustrated. “What is it, Tony?”
“Almost one hundred and seven. The mercury is all the way at the top. He’s burning up, Lynn.”
Lynn ran to the kitchen and picked up the handset of the white princess phone. A religious calendar with an image of the resurrected Jesus hung on the blue-painted wall. She dialed her uncle’s number. Dr. Joseph Esposito answered the frantic phone call from his sister’s daughter. He listened patiently to the pleas of the crying mother.
“Relax, Lynn. I’m sure he’ll be fine. I’ll be right there. Try to keep Paolo cool and most of all, try to keep calm. I’ll call the ambulance.”
“Okay, the front door is open—we’re in the bathroom. Can you call Uncle Anthony?” Her voice cracked, tears streaked down her face.
“Yes, I’ll call him. But Paolo is not going to die.” Uncle Anthony was the priest in the family. He was called whenever anyone was sick, so he could perform the Last Rites. It was always better to be safe than sorry.
Paolo had shown no signs of being ill; it was sudden and quick. The day before, he had been his feisty self, playing with his friends. It was the first hot day of the season. Soon the trees would blossom—nature’s way of giving birth to new life.
The screened front door swung open, and in rushed Uncle Doc. He ran to the bathroom. What he witnessed would forever change him. Lynn sobbed. Uncle Doc mumbled a prayer that sounded like the Our Father.
Father Anthony came next. “Am I too late?” asked the priest.
Tony shook his head. An ambulance’s siren echoed through the neighborhood as the four adults stood in the small beige bathroom in total silence, staring at the little boy in the tub.
CHAPTER 1
FORTY YEARS LATER, 2003
“MY TALK TODAY…” Paolo paused. He looked left, then right, and noticed the two Secret Service agents, trying to look anonymous. He continued, “…will forever change the way you think, provided you desire to accept what I say. Is there anyone here outside of the faculty who has heard me speak before?” Paolo was astounded when more than half of those gathered raised their hands. “Wow, I am humbled by your presence. In my previous talks, I spoke about the need to give back to society. The need for you,” he spread out his hands to the assembly, “to accept responsibility for your fellow man and to give back to those who need your help. The option of what you choose to do rests deep within your consciousness. I say to all of you,” Paolo paused once again, “look deep within yourselves, trust and rely on the goodness that resides within you.”
Paolo stopped, feeling the eyes of his audience following his every move and gesture. He pointed, and in a voice powerful with intent, he said, “Within each of you is a love so divine in nature, a love that waits to escape your being. The love I speak about is a love meant to be embraced by all humanity. We as a people keep this divine secret dormant for our own personal use. Our own stupidity allows the greed of society to suppress this precious gift and stifle the love within us, a love we keep absent from the world in which we live. I say to you—I challenge you, the future leaders of our world—allow this hidden secret within you to escape. We are a misguided people—life is not about money, possessions, social climbing, being number one. No, my friends, life is about love and how we as a people, as a society, love one another. My mother used to say to me, ‘Treat others the way you wish to be treated.’ What a magnificent way to live your life. In all the speeches I have given until recently, the one essential ingredient I left out was love. You can do all I mentioned, but if you do it without love, you have done it for nothing. For without love, life does not exist.”
Paolo continued to talk about love, the need to forgive, and the relationship between God and man. He gave examples of how to incorporate love in a capitalist society. “Love lies deep within all humankind waiting for its shining moment.”
With heartbreaking vigor, Paolo described the destructive nature of humankind in the absence of love. He gave the attendees the quintessential choice—to accept love over greed, pride, and selfishness. His ending statement: “The unwillingness of man to give love and accept love will be the downfall of all mankind. You,” his voice boomed like a Baptist minister as he made his point to his congregation, “who are going out into the world…can change the deplorable moral attitude of society with a simple act of unconditional love.”
There was a moment of absolute silence in the Providence College auditorium. Then, in an explosion of applause and cheers, the audience rose to its feet.
CHAPTER 2
PAOLO’S BOYHOOD WAS anything but ordinary. Raised in a faith-filled Catholic family, he was the fourth child of Tony and Lynn DeLaurentis. Paolo was unexpected. Not believing in birth control, Lynn became pregnant at the age of thirty-seven. Ten years of making love without getting pregnant came to an end. The parents were shocked and their oldest child, Anthony, was embarrassed at the idea of his parents dancing naked between the sheets.
“I can’t believe Mom is pregnant,” the fifteen-year-old said to his younger brother, Bobby.
“What do you mean?” the thirteen-year-old inquired.
“You know, they still do it.”
“Do it? Do what?”
“You know.” Anthony’s face grimaced.
“Oh, you mean they’re still dancing under the sheets,” Bobby said as he tried to keep a straight face. He was schooled in the ways of the adult world—more so than Anthony.
“Oh my God, Bobby! It’s Mom and Dad.” Anthony turned and walked away in disgust.
Bobby laughed.
Paolo learned early on that being the youngest had its benefits—not having to fend for himself, always being protected and coddled. His sister Veronica treated him as if he were her own child. By the time Paolo was ten years old, Anthony and Bobby shared an apartment and Veronica was in her second year of nursing school.
He grew up with an extraordinary intellect and an uncanny ability to retain knowledge. Early in his life, Paolo showed a capacity for deep thought. He often sat for hours by the backyard swimming pool in a lounge chair—the type with multi-colored strands made of woven plastic—and gazed at the twinkling stars of the night.
“What on earth are you looking at?” his father would ask.
“I’m thinking, Pop…just thinking about Italy. Someday I’m going there and I’ll find out who I am.”
As his dad walked away, Paolo would hear him say, “That child—what a doozie-pots.” What a crazy kid.
On one warm spring night, his homework finished, the fifth-grader sat in the broken-strapped lawn chair. The stars blazed overhead, the smell of approaching summer filled the air. His mind flooded with pictures and scenes of a foreboding future, a picture soon to become a reality. Unnerved, he stood and walked toward the porch. His father sat inside at the table, reading the evening newspaper.
The screen door squeaked shut; a lightning bug glowed in the distance. Tony placed the paper down and looked at his son. “Paolo, are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
Lynn walked through the open sliding glass door; she carried a coffee pot and two mugs. “Paolo, yes, not yeah. What are they teaching you in school?”
“Yes, Mom,” the youngster replied.
She placed mugs labeled Mom and Dad on the red-and-green plaid tablecloth next to the sugar and milk and poured the hot brown liquid. “You do look a little pale. Come here, let me see if you have a temperature.”
Paolo walked the few steps to his mother. Lynn leaned over, placed her cheek against his, then her hand against his forehead. “You’re fine, no fever.”
“Don’t worry, Mom, no high fever like in third grade.”
“God forbid, we don’t need to go through that again,” Tony said. The parents looked at each other.
Tears welled in Lynn’s eyes, and she turned her head. “Yes, we don’t need that excitement again.” She walked back into the house.
Paolo slid one of the brown wooden chairs out from under the table and sat close to his father. “Dad?”
“Yes, son?” Tony took his mug, added two spoonfuls of sugar and some milk to his coffee, and asked, “What is it?”
The young boy fidgeted in his chair, struggling with his words. “Dad, I…I…” Paolo started to stutter.
His father put his hand on Paolo’s forearm. “What is it, Paolo? Are you in trouble?”
Paolo shook his head. “Dad, I have weird dreams.”
“Are they nightmares?”
“No.”
“Well, what do you mean, Paolo?”
“I’m awake when I have them.”
“Oh, I see.” His father leaned forward. “You have daydreams. Nothing to worry about,” he said as he rubbed Paolo’s hair.
“But Dad, they seem so real, as if I’m there.”
“They seem real because you have a vivid imagination. Now go get a deck of cards and we’ll play a couple of hands of war.”
Paolo sat frozen for a moment, not saying a word, his head hung down.
“Paolo, look at me.”
He raised his head and looked into his father’s eyes.
“Daydreams are perfectly normal. Now, go get the cards.”
Paolo pushed the chair back and went into the house.
CHAPTER 3
PAOLO AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING. Both beating his father at cards and their conversation eluded him. He lay in bed and pondered his dream. She floated toward him, her eyes focused on his. Mesmerized, he could not move. She began to speak, but he heard no words. Tranquility engulfed them. Paolo knew he was dreaming; his heart began to race. She touched his face, her hand smooth; she looked in his eyes, her head tilted. Her hand dropped to his chest. He took her hand and placed it within him. She clutched his heart, withdrew her hand; she placed his heart onto hers. Their two hearts beating as one, she kissed him and disappeared. “Wow, what a dream,” he said to himself. Above him, taped to the ceiling, was a poster of Italy.
Messenger From God (The Last Eulogy Series Book 1) Page 1
