Inside the box was a cellphone with a note:
Call the only number saved, Angel.
Wondering if this was it, I did as I was told. When there was a ringing, I dared to pull the cellphone to my ear. Then heard, “Angel?”
Oh my God… “Isabella?”
She burst into tears. “She’s alive?”
Lightheaded, I fell back into a chair. “Yes. Alive and well. W-What happened? It’s been so long—”
“I only have minutes. When I hang up, destroy that phone.”
I sat up straight. The Suit in me moved front and center. “I’m listening.”
“Lorenzo’s been working with the Marchetti Mafia.”
Holy shit. “His status?”
Even though I knew I should hope he was dead and gone, the sinister side of me wanted him alive so I could kill him.
“Alive, pissed, and out for vengeance.”
“Why?” I want his scrawny neck between my hands, so I can—
She released an evil laugh. “Because I fight fire with fire.” She switched to Italian, “Welcome to the Giordano Mafia, Angelo Bianchi.”
Holy fuck! They formed their own mafia. “What are my orders?”
“Does this mean your vow is still true? We’re no longer going to be small potatoes and sheepherders, my friend. My father is pulling in all connections. Marchettis have many enemies.”
This sounded so messy and deadly, but no Mafia war was going to take me from Scarlett—the woman I loved—the mother of my child. My soul was now and had always been hers.
My eyes slowly lifted to see her next to Sal, staring at me through the glass. “My vow is true.”
“Good. Stay hidden. You are to keep her alive at all costs.”
You don’t have to worry about that. Wait! “How did you find us?”
“Your Faith.”
From under my slightly unbuttoned shirt, I pulled out my cross and stared at it. “No.”
“Yes. While I was in captivity, after Scarlett was born, I dreamt of you with silver wings. I thought you were only from my imagination, but then I met you. A young boy turning into a man. Angel of the Night, I have always known it would be you who would find my daughter. How could I ever chance losing such a gift from God?”
The phone went dead.
In utter disbelief, I slowly stood, staring at my necklace. Isabella Giordano had been tracking me all along.
Peering up to the two other souls on this mountain, I stumbled toward them.
At the glass, I rested my hand in between us, wanting to touch them. Two sets of scared eyes looked back to me as their palms met mine.
No matter what Hell was in store, I would keep them safe. Sal and Scarlett—the two jewels that I kept sheltered in the heart of my chest. That made me a man with a treasure.
In a meadow, in a far-off land, laid the maiden in waiting. She stared at the dark night, her legs now crippled.
“Mamma! Why were her legs crippled?”
Her mature voice rang, “Because the man who had her no longer wanted her to walk.”
“Mamma!” said the scared little girl. “Why would that man not want her to use her legs?”
“Because he wanted to keep her for himself.”
“Did the maiden not want to stay?”
The mother caressed her child’s face. “No, she wanted to be free.”
From under her blanket, the child nervously nodded. “Okay. More please.”
“The cold, dewy grass dampened the maiden’s nightgown—”
The little girl asked, “Was she getting ready to sleep like me?”
With sorrow, the mother replied as her mother had to her when she was so young, “No, she was preparing to die.”
Gasp! “No! But I like the maiden!”
“Yes, as did the bad man. A little too much.”
Chocolate eyes on a tiny face widened as the meaning became clear. “I want to stay away from such a man.”
The mother’s chest loosened. Her daughter was as smart as she was at that age. “That is very wise of you.”
“More, Mamma. More.”
“On the maiden’s last breath, she saw movement in the dark sky—”
“Was it a cloud? Was it a bird?”
The mother smiled, appreciating her daughter wanting more. “It was wings, my sweet. Wings of an angel.” Gasp. “Yes, but not ordinary wings. They were made of steel.” Gasp! “The heavy wings were to strengthen this angel. He needed to be able to carry any weight he was given to hold.”
“Was the maiden fat?”
The mother giggled. “No, but she was hurt and needed much healing. Not only her legs, but her heart.”
“Ohhhhhhhhh.” The little girl grasped her chest.
“The angel flew down to the maiden and stood at her feet. He said, ‘Breathe, dear maiden, for the legs will heal.’”
“The maiden, with her broken heart, no longer believed this was possible, so she said, ‘Angel, my legs will never be the same. I wish to die.’”
“Oh no,” whimpered the child.
“Yes, my sweet. So sad, but that angel spread his wings that were so grand they almost blocked out the sky. He told the maiden, ‘These are what my own broken wings grew into.’”
Gasp! “Like her legs! Her legs could be even better?”
“Yes! Exactly! So, the maiden stared at the marvelous wings, and guess what happened?”
“What? What? Please, tell me!”
“The maiden felt hope.”
A precious little hand covered a gaping mouth. “Hope.”
“Yes. And there is more!” Gasp! “After the angel folded his wings, he knelt at the maiden’s feet. His palm faced the maiden while he asked, ‘Please accept this gift.’”
"A gift? What kind?”
“Love, my sweet. The angel offered her love. And as that love beamed from the angel’s palm, the maiden sighed, feeling all the warmth love offers.”
“Like my blanket.”
“Yes, the maiden was all wrapped up in love that felt like the best blanket in the world.”
“Why did the angel offer his love?”
“That is what the maiden asked! The angel replied, ‘Love heals.’ Still at the maiden’s feet, he told her, ‘Now stand.’”
Desperate to know, the little girl quickly asked, “Did she? Did it work?”
“The maiden did! Her legs had healed, so she stood, and looking down at the kneeling angel, she said, ‘Thank you, Angel, for your gift of love. You have healed me.’ The angel shook his head. ‘No, dear maiden. It was not my love I gifted. It was your own.’”
The little girl laid in her bed, blinking in disbelief. “The maiden healed herself?”
“That’s right! The Angel of the Night reminded the maiden to love herself so that she could find the courage and strength… to stand again.”
Love… What warmth.
As I mentioned in my Warning at the beginning of this novel, writing is such a personal experience for me. As Scarlett found some peace, so did her author. I’m actually crying as I type this. The Man With A Treasure was a beautiful experience and provided some personal healing for me.