The Christmas Bells of Cavazzale

by Marian Merritt

  Early the next morning, Charly sipped the cappuccino Floriana made for her at Bressan’s, the coffee shop. Today she bought the honey brioche.

  “Miele,” Ernesto slowly pronounced for her. When she repeated the word, he laughed and nodded.

  The door opened.

  “Hello, Charly.”

  His voice sent a wave of unwelcome comfort through her. He evoked feelings she didn’t need. Nonna’s prayer played through her mind. Would the Lord listen to a similar prayer from her? She turned to André. “Good morning.”

  His bloodshot eyes were sporting huge bags under them.

  “No, sleep?”

  “Maybe two hours total.” He moved to the counter.

  Floriana beamed a patient smile toward André.

  “Caffe.”

  “Americano?” she asked.

  “No, Italiano.”

  “Si.” She smiled and pointed toward the table.

  He returned to sit with Charly.

  “Need the full force this morning?”

  “Yep.” He rested his elbows on the table. “I’ve already had some. I left the coffee house across from the church and met several old men who gather there. We shared an espresso together.”

  “So, this is your second espresso for the morning. Happy Thanksgiving, by the way.” She sipped and took a bite of the brioche.

  “Oh, that reminds me, we’re having Thanksgiving dinner at my brother’s house. It’s at three this afternoon. Would you come?”

  Although she’d met his godchild and would love to see the girl again, Charly wasn’t sure about having Thanksgiving dinner with his family—with him. That seemed more personal than just acquaintances. “Hmm.” She met his gaze. “I’m not sure you’ll be awake this afternoon.”

  He looked at his watch. “Wow, it’s been a whole twenty minutes. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about yesterday. I’ll be awake. Those bells during the day won’t let me sleep.”

  A giggle escaped. “I’m sorry. I like the bells.”

  As if on cue, they began to chime.

  ~*~

  André dished a spoonful of rice dressing onto his plate. With his nieces sitting on either side, he served their plates as well.

  “I can’t believe how much they’ve taken to you.” Edmond passed a bowl of mashed potatoes to Juliette.

  “Hey, they know the real deal when they see it.” André smirked and glanced toward Charly across the table.

  Charly snickered. It was obvious she was having fun. She’d even helped Juliette with many of the dishes now adorning the beautifully decorated table.

  Once everyone’s plate was filled, Edmond cleared his throat. “I think it’s time we offer a blessing on this wonderful food.” He shot a look to André. “Brother, would you do the honors?”

  André stole a glance toward Charly. He hadn’t picked up anything about her spiritual life in their conversations. She sent him a smile before he bowed his head.

  “Lord, thank You for this time together with family. We ask that You bless this food and the people who prepared it. Father, I ask that You keep your hand of protection on Edmond and his family throughout his deployment. We look to You for guidance in the direction You would have us go. Amen.”

  “Amen.” Isabella’s shout rang throughout the kitchen. “Miss Charly, you didn’t say amen.”

  “Amen.” Charly’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink.

  The conversation centered on the Christmas festivities planned at the post and at the asilo, the kindergarten school the girls attended.

  “So, Charly tell us what you think of Cavazzale so far,” Juliette urged.

  “I love it. It’s so quaint and charming. I feel like I belong here.” She explained the inherited house from her grandmother.

  “Did you ever find out who the lady at your gate was?” André leaned over and stole a green bean from Isabella’s plate.

  “Parrain.” She pushed out her bottom lip. “That was my favorite green bean.”

  He grinned. “One less bean to eat before you get pie.”

  She giggled and slid another bean onto his plate.

  André took in Charly’s warm smile.

  “I am wondering now if it was my grandmother’s friend, Bianca. She and Nonna hadn’t spoken in years.”

  “I can ask around if you’d like. Many of the moms at the school have family that’s been here for generations. Do you have a last name?” Juliette asked.

  “No. I don’t. Not yet. I’ve been reading my nonna’s diary and she hasn’t mentioned Bianca’s last name.”

  Juliette slid a green bean onto Isabella’s plate while her daughter added one to André’s. “Although Bianca is not an unusual name in this area, I can still ask tomorrow and let you know.”

  “Thanks.” Charly smiled at Juliette. “Also, I’ll be here through the first week of January so if you need anything, you can call me. If I can help, I’d be happy to.”

  “Isn’t that when you’re scheduled to leave as well, bro?” Edmond’s gaze met André’s.

  André nodded. Maybe if he could get a decent night’s sleep he’d be coherent enough to have an intelligent conversation with Charly.

  Marielle, who’d studied Charly throughout the meal and mimicked everything she did, tapped Charly’s arm. “Are you going to marry Uncle André?”

  Quattordici

  All the answers on the tip of Charly’s tongue seemed a bit abrupt to give a three-year-old with bright blue eyes and an infectious smile. She stole a glance at André. His lopsided smirk made her want to kick his shin. He was enjoying this—waiting to see what she’d say.

  “Marielle, honey, let’s get dessert.” Juliette broke the tense moment.

  “Well, we just met and I don’t know him very well.” Charly met her inquisitive gaze and patted her lap. The little girl climbed up. Charly dared another look in André’s direction.

  His smirk turned into a full-on smile. He came over to where they sat and extended his hand to Marielle. “Come with Uncle André and we’ll get some pie and whipped cream for Miss Charly.”

  Marielle slid off Charly’s lap but hooked her fingers through Charly’s. “I want Miss Charly to help.” The child pulled her into the kitchen.

  André followed.

  Isabella bounced out of her chair to go with them.

  André added a dollop of whipped cream onto Marielle’s pie but before he handed her the plate, he ran his fingertip through the mound and swiped cream across her nose. “You’re like Rudolph only with a white nose.”

  “Yay.” She ran into the dining room. “Look at me. I’m Rudolph.”

  “Do me! Do me!” Isabella pushed her nose toward Charly. She plopped a bit of cream on Isabella’s button nose. “There, you’re Rudolph, the white-nosed reindeer.”

  “I’m Rudolph, too!” Isabella squealed as she showed her parents and then turned back to her pie.

  Marielle tried to lick the cream from her nose. “I can’t reach it.”

  André laughed. He cut four more pieces of pie and placed them on plates for Charly to cover with cream. “Our dad was a huge jokester. He did that kind of stuff all the time when we were growing up. We had a fun childhood.” His gaze twinkled.

  “Sounds like it.”

  André gave Edmond and Juliette their plates and then took one from Charly. His kindness and playfulness tugged at something in her heart. He’d grown up in a family more fun than hers. Not that her childhood hadn’t been fun. But her mother was a stickler about keeping things clean and tidy. Including Charly and Savannah.

  After dinner, André and Edmond cleaned the kitchen while Charly and Juliette each read the girls a bedtime story.

  Later, André walked with Charly to her house. Darkness settled over the village and the soft glow of the street lamps cast shadows on the sidewalk.

  “I hope you had a good time today.”

  “Thank you for the invitation. It was perfect. I would have had prosciutto, cheese, and crackers for
dinner.”

  He ran his hand over his belly. “I probably should have had that instead of the massive amounts of food I ate. I keep eating like this, and I’ll leave Italy weighing a whole lot more than when I got here.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  They arrived at her house.

  She slipped the key into the lock opening the gate, and then turned to him. “I enjoyed spending time with the girls. They’re fun to be around.”

  “Even when they ask embarrassing questions?” He arched a brow.

  “Yes, even when they ask questions I can’t truthfully answer.”

  “Oh, so you are going to marry me?” A deep-throated chuckled broke the silence of the night.

  “I meant my truthful answer would have been, ‘no way’.” She laughed. “But that would have sounded a bit cruel. Besides, what would I have to look forward to when you’re already falling asleep when we talk?”

  He placed his hand over his heart and laughed. “You’re killing me, Charly Maynard. What can I do to make it up to you?” His eyes shimmered clear in the soft light of the lamppost.

  Today was filled with love and all the things she’d missed the last few months. She’d been comfortable with his family and the laughter lifted her spirits, made her feel as if she belonged. No expectations, except for Marielle wanting her to marry André. Thinking of Marielle made Charly smile. So precious and innocent. “There is one way you can make it up to me.”

  Both his eyebrows arched. “Really? I’m waiting to hear this one.”

  “I’d like to spend more time with the girls. Can we take them to get pastries after school sometime?”

  “I’m sure they would love that.” His grin morphed into a full-fledged smile.

  A flutter in her heart responded to his smile and the excitement in his eyes. “G’night, André.”

  “G’night, Charly.” He started to leave but turned back. “And thanks for coming today. The girls like you, and I think Edmond and Juliette do, too.”

  A question nagged Charly. Did André like her, too?

  Another movement grabbed her attention as she swung the door open. A small figure scurried around the corner. She rushed into the house and locked the door. Maybe it was time she delved further into Nonna’s diary.

  ~*~

  During the next week, André and Charly took the girls to Bressan’s for cookies each day after school.

  Every evening, André and Edmond sat on the back deck, ignored the chilly night air and reminisced about their childhood.

  And this morning, André sat in the café across from the church. The four men who’d befriended him sat around the corner table. Their new ritual—morning coffee together. An American named Samson who’d moved to Cavazzale when he retired was part of the group and André’s interpreter.

  “So, my friend, another sleepless night?” asked Samson.

  André nodded. “I dropped the girls off at school and Juliette is in Vicenza today with friends. I have the whole house to myself. The perfect time to sleep, but no, I sat there wide awake. And even if by some chance I could fall asleep—”

  As if to mock him, the church bells began clanging. Their chimes sounded loud in the small coffee shop.

  “Those things keep me awake.” André pointed.

  Samson pointed to the bell tower and spoke in Italian to the other men at the table.

  Pedro downed the last of his coffee, placed the cup in the saucer, and then let his wrinkled face stretch into a devious smile. He spoke to Samson but fixed his intense stare on André.

  After a moment, the other two men burst into unbridled laughter. They nodded toward André.

  Once Samson stopped laughing, he turned to André. “Pedro says he knows where the controls are to the bells. He has offered to turn them off today if the rest of us will be his watchmen. He says you are his friend and he is tired of seeing the darkness and, um, the…puffies under your eyes. He also thinks it is time you went on a real date with this girl named Charly you keep rambling about. He wants you to be at your best for a romantic evening out.”

  “Si.” André shook his friend’s hand and laughed while nodding.

  Pedro raised his eyebrows and gave André another one of his devious smiles.

  Alfredo and Dario chugged their coffee, then stood and helped Pedro from his seat.

  André hadn’t seen this side of the trio. They were on a mission—one to let André get a full day’s sleep. Or at least a long nap. The thought gave him a burst of energy. Or was their excitement from the thought of romance between André and Charly? He paid the tab for his friends and helped Pedro to the door.

  They crossed the street and entered the church through the side door.

  Samson peeked around the doorframe. “Clear.”

  Pedro pointed to the back of the church.

  “In there,” Samson whispered. He tapped Alfredo and Dario on the shoulder and gave instructions in Italian.

  Alfredo shuffled to the door and stood guard.

  Dario went to the main door in the back.

  “I will go there.” Samson pointed. “It is where the priest comes in. You stay here and don’t let anyone in.”

  “OK.” André stepped aside.

  Pedro trudged toward a door on the far wall.

  “Come on, come on, you can do this, Pedro.” He’d befriended these men just over a week ago and here they were on this operation to help him get some sleep.

  Pedro reached the door and disappeared inside.

  André wanted to say a prayer of thanks for the men. One day of uninterrupted sleep would make him feel human again. Yet was tampering with church property an unpardonable sin?

  Pedro appeared wearing a grin of pure success. There was a spring in his step and a twinkle in his eyes. He turned to the group and waved them over.

  Would the village people notice the bells weren’t ringing today?

  The group scrambled out of the church. Their delight resembled a group of schoolboys who’d successfully played their first practical joke.

  “Well, my boy, you have managed to bring this group back to the living. I’ve been here for ten years and have never seen them so excited over anything.”

  Each of the men patted André’s back and spoke to him with jovial tones.

  “They said to tell you that they haven’t had that much fun since they were in high school together. They also said for you to get to bed now. You’ve got two hours before the next scheduled ringing. So if you hurry you can get at least two hours of sleep. Dormi bene, André.” Samson joined his friends as they headed back to the coffee shop. They’d probably sit there all day to see what would happen when the bells didn’t ring.

  He rushed to Edmond’s house. And after his nap, maybe it was time he asked Charly out on a real date.

  Quindici

  Charly was typing in the last of the diary entries. What an amazing story. The printed pages were bound in a two-inch binder. It told of the effort her grandfather made to capture the heart of her grandmother. It also told the story of losing a best friend. Charly needed to find Bianca and fulfill Nonna’s last wish.

  Charly‘s mornings were filled with translating Nonna’s diary and her afternoons with taking the girls and André to different shops in Cavazzale for an after-school treat. Their time together felt so comfortable. With a smile, she turned back to her task.

  The last entry stared at her from her computer screen—the final piece to the history puzzle.

  Today Andrew asked me to be his wife. Of course, I said yes. I love him dearly. Such an unlikely man to steal my heart! He is not the type I would have thought I would fall so deeply in love with. But I have and pray that I spend the rest of my life with him. To be his wife is the greatest gift I could have been given. But I know what this will do to my friendship with Bianca. While Andrew and I dated, I believe she thought there was still hope she could capture his heart. If we marry, that hope will be gone for her. She has already told me what she thinks of
me. She hates me and believes I stole her true love. How can I convince her that Andrew never cared for her? How could Andrew? He tried many times but she never believed him. She blames me for stealing him. It hurts terribly to lose my best friend. She was to be my witness. My special day will not be the same without her.

  More entries followed, but the words lacked the clear crisp writing of a steady hand. The date at the top of the page was during Nonna’s final trip to her beloved homeland. The entry was written in English.

  Charly walked into the kitchen and filled her coffee cup. Something seemed different today. It took her a moment to figure it out. She hadn’t heard the bells ringing. Perhaps she’d become accustomed to their sound. She returned to the table to see what Nonna had left to say to her.

  Charly, I know you’re in the Cavazzale house reading this. It warmed my heart to know you would be the new owner of this special place where I have wonderful memories. Bianca and I shared this house for a year. We went everywhere together. Her parents lived on the edge of the village near Montecello Conte Otto. On my last trip there I went to the house only to find it boarded up. Her parents died. Neither Bianca nor her brother had moved back. I asked several people in town but no one knew where they were. Last they heard, Carlo lived in Padua and Bianca in Vicenza. I spent the day in Vicenza and looked through phone records but nothing came up. Find her Charly. Let her know how sorry I am that I destroyed our friendship. Tell her I missed her until the day I died.

  Charly brushed moisture from her cheek. It was as though Nonna sat in the room with her. She flipped the page and realized there was more. Nonna, please give me Bianca’s last name. She couldn’t find her without it.

  Charly, I hope you find the kind of love like I had with your grandfather. He came along when I least expected to find true love. It was God. I know it was. My dear granddaughter, don’t close doors that God opens. Trust Him. I hope your faith is deeper now than it’s ever been. I can’t imagine how many prayers I’ve prayed for you. I’ve asked God to send the right man for you, but mostly that your heart would be open for him when you meet. I’ve prayed that you wouldn’t abandon prayer. It’s powerful and keeps you in touch with the God who loves you dearly. It changes things.