“Love is more than a choice. God put people together—whether stranger, foe, or friend—to share with one another all aspects of life. Love is not transient. It’s up to you to keep it alive. Accept each other, as you are, the complete package of human nature. Your life is a life of love only strengthened by your desire to open your heart. You’ll find love everywhere, from the tiniest blade of grass to the largest predator who tries to feed its young.
“The human thought of pride and ego stops love. The choice a person makes can inhibit it. The unwillingness to be vulnerable to love will leave a hole in your heart and soul. Live your life with no regrets. Accept what has occurred in your life, seek forgiveness, and open your heart to love. Love one another and you will be at peace.” Paolo ended his talks by falling asleep or with the simple words “I love you.” The love he had for Sydney was more than passion and desire. It was the love God has for all his people. That love was in his heart for her.
Moments of his life were played back by the cameras of his mind. His life created an illusion within his consciousness. Those memories triggered the senses and the senses triggered the memories. For him, the recollections of Sydney Hill would be with him until the day he died.
Marge was constantly with him. The two became close friends. A bond of love and respect united them. Before that came to be, however, a catharsis had to take place.
Marge was a middle-aged African American woman with the grace, kindness, and love so common to her race—a race stigmatized by society’s opinion.
During their time together, Paolo often apologized to her for the way people treated one another because of their prejudices. The bigotry within humanity hurt him deeply. The pain, the sorrow, the narrow-mindedness of the human race bewildered him. The ache of this evilness overwhelmed his empathic senses. Paolo viewed all people the same, no matter what their race, skin color, nationality, or religion. All of humankind wanted one thing: love. It was a simple equation with a difficult solution, for in order to receive love, you had to give love. “Love exists in all people, inhibited by the social inadequacies of mankind,” he often said.
At first, Marge was appalled and angry. “How dare he apologize to me?” Paolo overheard her say to a colleague. “The white man killed my two brothers, one at the bottom of an elevator shaft and the other bleeding in the street. This honky white man is apologizing to me!”
She kept her anger hidden, buried deep within her, for thirty years. Then one day, Paolo’s room empty except for the two of them, he closed his eyes and touched her arm.
“Marge?”
“Yes, Paolo?”
“I love you.” In a whisper, he continued, “The image of your love surrounds me.”
“It does?”
“Absolutely, you are a child of God. His love surrounds you. Now is the time to forgive.”
“Forgive who, Paolo?”
“You know.”
Marge sat and gazed at the man who sat at God’s doorstep, puzzled. “Who, Paolo?”
“Captain Bobby Sullivan, the police officer who killed your innocent brothers.”
Marge pulled her hand from his as the anger within her began to explode. “How dare you? How do you know?”
“God just told me.”
Then a profound peace came, a sense of guilt swept over her like a thunderstorm that opened the floodgates. She wept, and as she wept, she sensed a hand on her shoulder, and peace once again filled her heart. When she opened her eyes, Paolo was sound asleep. This man who lay before her, Paolo DeLaurentis, was God’s modern-day prophet.
Marge grew up in the south in the era of Rosa Parks. She knew firsthand about prejudice and faith. Because of her faith, she tried to put prejudice behind her. That day she came to realize her own prejudices. She sat by Paolo’s bedside and wept, not in sorrow but in joy, in the knowledge that this man who labored through his pain loved her, not because of the color of her skin but because of who she was inside. Paolo had the gift to love unconditionally. Up until that day, Marge Wentworth Robinson had never kissed a white man, let alone a patient. She knew she would miss Paolo terribly. In the years to come, Marge would fight the prejudice within her own race and all people, not by force but by the example of a man’s love for a woman, Paolo’s love for Sydney.
Paolo slept. As she prepared to leave for the day, she leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.
CHAPTER 76
BY THE END of the fourth week, the tumor had shrunk in size. The frequency of Paolo’s hallucinations decreased. The pain was still present but dulled by narcotics. His passion for Sydney never left him. Paolo continued to dwell upon the true love of his life. There were so many memories of the love they shared. Images and scenes flowed through his brain as though through a movie projector onto a big screen.
Paolo was discharged from the hospital on a Tuesday morning. The day was bright and sunny with a cool breeze. Rio and Giacomo would take him home. He struggled to walk, but he looked forward to his trip to Ottati. Dr. Carr was still reluctant to let him fly.
“Listen, Doc, you know and I know, I’m going to die. You can’t stop it and I sure as hell can’t. So what’s the big deal?” Paolo still had his characteristic gaze, he held the doctor’s eyes.
“You’re right, Paolo. May I make a suggestion?”
“Sure.”
“Take Marge with you.”
“She’s already coming.”
“You’re a smart man, Mr. DeLaurentis.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I hope you have a great life. I have a funny feeling we won’t be seeing each other again.”
“Goodbye, Paolo.” The doctor took a tissue and wiped his eyes.
“Fall allergies, Doctor?”
“Yes, fall allergies.”
The father, son, daughter, and nurse arrived at Oxford airport. Tony stood by the G-V as the car pulled up to the aircraft. Tony had visited Paolo in the hospital, so it wasn’t a shock when his childhood friend stepped out of the car.
“Tony, how are you?” The two friends embraced.
“I’m fine.”
“Wish I could say the same. Lost thirty pounds and look,” Paolo rubbed his almost-bald head. “I look like Mr. Clean.”
“You look great to me.”
‘You’re full of crap. At least I don’t feel too bad, other than an occasional headache. I’m getting my strength back.”
“That’s good. Hi, Rio. Hi, Giacomo.”
“Hi, Tony.” Rio hugged Tony and Giacomo shook his hand.
“This is my friend Marge, who is actually my nurse.”
“Hello, Marge, I’m Tony D.”
“A pleasure to meet you, I’ve read your books.”
“I hope you liked them?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Okay, you two, maybe you can have this conversation later?”
“Hey, a fan…I don’t have many.”
“Sure, after how many books, ten? I think you have fans. Danny and Jim on board?”
“Sorry, Paolo, only Danny and Jayne. Jim had some government business to do.”
“Oh,” Paolo’s voice was sullen. “I’d hoped to see him.”
“He’ll pick you up, I guarantee it.”
“Okay.”
Rio and Giacomo climbed the aircraft stairs. Paolo hugged his friend goodbye. He grabbed the railing and walked up the stairs. Marge was right behind him, her hand on his back keeping him straight and steady. He was met at the top of the stairs by Danny and Jayne.
“I look that bad?”
“No, you look great.”
“Nice try, Jayne.” She hugged him, her eyes wet.
“How are you, Paolo?” Danny offered his hand.
“I’ve been better. Good to see you, Dan. How’s your family?”
“They’re great, thanks for asking. Flight time to Salerno is seven and a half hours, we’ve got great tailwinds.”
“Who is in the right seat?”
“Tim—you’ve met him before.”
�
�Yes, a couple of times. I remember him…a good guy. I’ll come forward once we get airborne and say hi.”
“Sounds good.”
Marge gave Paolo his medication. He fell asleep and awoke just before the plane arrived in Salerno. He looked out the window as they flew between the islands of Corsica and Sardinia. The morning sun glinted on the bay. The aircraft passed over the Amalfi coast on its approach to the airport and taxied to the area reserved for private aircraft.
Still a little groggy, Paolo leaned on Giacomo as he made his way to the door. He held on to the stair railing with his left hand while Giacomo held his right arm. His longtime friend Sergio waited for him.
“Sergio, my God, what a pleasure to see you.” The two friends hugged and gave each other kisses on both cheeks.
“Paolo, it is so good to see you, my friend. How are you feeling?”
“I could be better, but I’m getting stronger every day, which is a good thing. How is the family?”
“They are all fine. When you get settled, we will come over, have dinner.”
“That sounds great. I’d love to see them again.”
Sergio walked over to hug Rio and Giacomo. There were tears in their eyes.
The four stood as the black Mercedes SUV pulled up to the aircraft. A police car followed. The officer opened the door and walked to Sergio to hand him a piece of paper.
“Giacomo, this is for you.”
“What is it, son?” asked Paolo.
“I have to get back to Washington.”
Paolo felt his son’s despair. “It’s okay. I’m not going to die anytime soon. Do what you have to do.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Dad.”
“I know you will, son.” They hugged. A third car arrived and whisked Giacomo away to a waiting military aircraft.
Paolo hugged Jayne and Danny. “Till we meet again, my friends. May your lives be filled with happiness, I love you both.” A tear welled in Paolo’s eyes as he entered the front seat of the SUV. Sergio arranged for a police escort to Ottati.
The car followed the shoreline through Pontecagnano, then past the hotel owned by Sergio’s family. The sea was to the right; the day was crystal clear with the summer haze long gone. The car took a left on 161 and began the hour-long drive to the mountain village of Ottati. As they passed the village of Castel San Lorenzo, Paolo asked the driver to stop at a scenic outlook. The driver radioed ahead to the police escort.
Able to get out of the car on his own, Paolo beckoned Rio and Marge to come with him. They stood on either side in the warm sun. A slight breeze cooled their faces. Paolo pointed across the valley below to the mountains.
“Can you see it, to your left? Castelcivita, Ottati in the center, and Sant’Angelo a Fasanella over there to the right?”
“Yes, I see it, Dad.”
“Paolo, it’s absolutely beautiful! The farms below, the rolling hills…and the mountains. Wow, the mountains.”
“Wait, Marge, till we get to the other side—the view is spectacular. I know of a nice restaurant in Fasanella, we’ll go there for lunch.”
CHAPTER 77
THE SUV ENTERED the commune of Ottati and pulled into the Piazza Umberto. A sense of peace came over Paolo. A man sitting at one of the tables along the fence got up and walked toward the car.
“Paolo DeLaurentis, my old friend, so nice to see you again.”
Paolo stood and took a deep breath. “Sabatino, so nice to see you. You look just like your father.”
“I hope that is good?”
“Yes it is, my friend. This is my daughter Rio and my nurse Marge.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Sabatino gave the customary two-cheek kiss. He embraced Rio a little longer than Paolo would have liked.
“Sabatino, is the house ready?”
“Yes, just the way you left it.”
“Thanks so much.”
“Paolo! Paolo!” A middle-aged, attractive woman walked from the restaurant in the piazza, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.
Paolo turned. “Maria, Maria!” Paolo walked in front of the SUV and hugged the woman.
“How are you feeling? I heard you were sick. I will make you better with my food.”
“I’m sure you will. Maria, this is my daughter Rio and my nurse Marge.”
“So nice to meet you. Come, sit down. I will make you lunch.”
“No thank you, Maria, I have to lie down. I’m tired.”
“I understand, mi amore.” She placed her hand on his face.
“Sabatino, we’ll talk later. I’ll stop by your office.”
“Sure, Paolo. Ciao.”
“Ciao, ciao Maria.”
Paolo pointed to an alley. “My house is right over here. I know you have a lot of questions, Rio. I’ll explain when we get inside.”
“Yes, mi amore,” said Rio, raising her eyebrows.
Her father wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “You will always be mi amore.” The two laughed.
Paolo turned left, walked down three steps, and turned left again.
“Holy crap, Dad, this is beautiful.”
“Wow, Paolo, is this yours?”
“It is for now.” The trio walked to the three-story stone building. The short walkway was lined with potted plants. To the right, another three brown-tiled steps led to a terrace that overlooked the valley and the mountains to the west. Black wrought-iron railings surrounded the three small balconies, their windows shuttered. The interior was simple: a main living room with two couches, a television, and an empty bookcase; large floor-to-ceiling windows provided a panorama of Ottati’s orange-roofed houses and the valley below. A study and master bedroom completed the first floor. The second floor had a large kitchen and dining room with an entrance to the patio. The third floor had three bedrooms. Marge went up to the third floor to unpack.
“So Dad, what’s up? How do these people know you? And this house? I’m kinda puzzled.”
“I’m sure you are. Well, my dear, you’re looking at my hideaway. I haven’t been here in almost four years. I was only able to get here twice. In that short time, I became friends with Maria and Sabatino. I had met their parents when I first came here. I don’t know why but we had a connection. I found peace here, peace from the world. When I bought this house, I believed it would be a great place to retire to. And now, I guess…”
“Please don’t say it, Dad.”
“Okay…a place to live life.”
“Much better. Dad, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, Rio.”
“With your gift, how come you didn’t know you were sick?”
“I really don’t know, honey. The gift has been absent for months.”
“Okay, but why didn’t you know like a year ago?”
Paolo paused. “Life is a journey with a beginning and an end. In the middle of life, we travel a road filled with curves and ups and downs. What would life be if we knew when it was going to end? Life is a mystery. We must travel the road in faith and expectation that God will take us home. If we knew when death would occur, it would take the fun out of life.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Good. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired, so I’m going to take a nap. Go walk about. Take Marge with you and talk to the people—you’ll find that you have a lot in common.”
“Okay, Dad, sleep well.” Rio kissed her father’s cheek.
“Principessa?”
“Yeah, Dad?”
“Dinner at Maria’s place tonight.”
“Ooh, mi amore.” She chuckled and climbed to the third floor.
CHAPTER 78
THE SECOND WEEK of October, on Paolo’s birthday, he had a mild seizure as he sat outside of Maria’s restaurant drinking his morning cup of espresso.
“Dad, do you think we should go home?”
“Why, because I had a seizure?”
“Yes.”
The father and daughter sat out on the patio. Purple vine flow
ers cascaded up the stone wall next to the entrance of the house. The blue sky was dotted with clouds.
“Do you know the name of those flowers?”
“No, and you’re avoiding the subject.”
“I know. Not yet, I want to stay here a little bit longer.”
Marge walked out of the house. “Paolo, it’s time to take your meds.”
“Okay. It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”
“No, Dad, it’s morning.”
“Oh yeah, I was just testing you. I need to take a nap. Don’t forget, we’re having a dinner party in a couple of days. Have we heard from…” He bowed his head as the words slurred.
“Giacomo?”
“Yep.”
“Not yet. Go take a nap, Dad.”
“Yep.”
Marge helped him walk back to the house.
Two days later, Paolo was back to his normal self, making his morning walk to Maria’s for his espresso, having a game of chess with Sabatino in the piazza. He was excited and upbeat. Sergio and his wife were coming for dinner, along with Sabatino, his wife, the mayor, Maria and her husband, and a couple of Paolo’s neighbors. With the help of Rio and Marge, Paolo was going to serve veal Milanese, homemade pasta with tomatoes, fresh mozzarella and basil, and figs drizzled with an aged balsamic vinegar.
The table was set for twelve and colored lights were strung around the terrace. The guests were to arrive at seven. The forecast was clear with a full moon and temperatures in the mid-sixties.
Paolo stood by the railing in the late afternoon, gazing out over the valley below. You would have loved this, Sydney. A tear came to his eye. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a piece of wrinkled, white paper. He unfolded the paper and read the title: “Yellow Rose.”
“Hello, Dad, quite a place you have here.”
Paolo turned. Giacomo stood at the tiled steps. As he crossed the patio to his father, Paolo folded the paper and placed it back in his pants pocket.
Messenger From God (The Last Eulogy Series Book 1) Page 33
