Daniela Domenica and the Guarneri di Gesù

By Angela Brown

Award-winning musician and composer Daniela Domenica has been commissioned to write a requiem for the dedication of the Buffalo Catholic Cathedral's pipe organ in which she showcases the Guarneri di Gesù violin. Given to her father as a gesture of gratitude from the Guarneri patriarch, the last violin of its kind is now a priceless family heirloom. But Daniela's best friend and estranged husband are conspiring behind her back to sell it on the black market—for millions of dollars. Can the rugged police detective who's fallen in love with Daniela save her, and the violin, before it's too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781543961072

Angela Brown

Angela D. Brown is the founder of Vertical Worship Creative Arts Ministries. She has been dancing for the Lord since 1991. She currently resides in South Carolina. Originally from Brooklyn, New York, where she developed her creative arts craft while serving in a large church, she relocated to Austin, Texas in 1996 where she led dance ministry for 15 years after she was ordained as Minister. She mentored others in dance while challenging them to surrender their all to the Lord. She hosted annual conferences, leadership and prayer summits, and creative arts concerts drawing people from across the country. In 2010, Angela established an organization called "Vertical Worship Creative Arts Ministries" (VWCAM), of which she was ordained as Pastor in 2012. VWCAM helps believers effectively minister to the world horizontally by aligning themselves with the Lord vertically.

Book preview

Daniela Domenica and the Guarneri di Gesù

Angela Brown

ISBN (Print Edition): 978-1-54396-106-5

ISBN (eBook Edition): 978-1-54396-107-2

© 2019. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Contents

Prologue

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

religion has the power to destroy people

Prologue

Grabbing the pencil from behind her ear, Daniela Domenica erased one of the notes on the manuscript paper in front of her. Pausing for a moment, she feverishly began to scribble again, proclaiming, I can’t wait to hear what happens next!

Putting down the pencil, she began to play and hum Requiem Aeternam.

Her deadline was fast approaching. The Buffalo Philharmonic and St. Joseph Cathedral’s joint performance was to take place in six short months, and she had only just completed writing the first movement.

Still, she closed the piano cover and went to the fridge, looking for that bottle of 1997 Bollinger Blanc Champagne, a purchase made anticipating her fifth wedding anniversary. She pulled it out of the right- hand corner, tucked behind the gallon jar of pickles.

Popping the cork, she filled the champagne flute, a lone glass from the Waterford crystal stemware, which had been a wedding gift from Alison, her best friend and old college roommate. She went back into the great room, glass in hand, approaching the mantel to flick on the gas fireplace. She stopped to gaze upon the photo of her and Alison embracing.

I

W hat does ‘thou shalt not kill’ mean, Mama? seven-year-old Daniela asked as she skipped around the kitchen table.

"It means, tesoro honey, that people should not kill each other. Now—she waved her arms—stop running near the oven. You’ll make the cake go flat."

Earlier in the day, Daniela had stood at the front of her first-grade classroom at St. Peter’s Roman Catholic Elementary School and recited the Ten Commandments. When she was done Mrs. Foster, the teacher with the gentle smile and perfectly arched eyebrows, said, Very good, Daniela. Smiling, Daniela returned to her seat.

Daniela skipped around the kitchen table again, rattling off the Commandments in perfect order. "Ottimo, good job, Daniela’s mother replied impatiently, now go tell Papa it’s time for dinner, go on now."

Yes, Mama. Daniela skipped her way out of the kitchen toward her father’s art studio at the other end of the house. Her mother shook her head. How Daniela loved the sound her black patent leather shoes made as they click-click-clicked against the hardwood floors.

Papa, Daniela announced, skipping right into her father’s studio, "Pronto mangare. Time to eat." Daniela loved showing off her bilingual skills. Papa beamed.

All right, he replied, kissing the top of her head. Tell her I’ll be right there. He picked up a rag to wipe the paint from his right index finger. The painting on the easel before him caught Daniela’s eye. As quickly as she had forgotten that skipping wasn’t permitted near a hot, cake-filled oven, she now forgot that she should tell her mother that her father would be right there.

Papa, she pointed to the girl in the picture, is that me? It was a painting of a little girl wearing a sweet dark blue dress with white polka dots, a dress identical to the one Daniela had worn to Catholic Mass the previous Sunday. The little girl in the portrait had shiny chestnut brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and neatly trimmed bangs; the pulled-back hair had pin curls in it from sleeping in uncomfortable bobby pins the night before. That was the sacrifice little girls made back then to have curls. And the little girl in the painting was wearing Daniela’s dark blue dress with white polka dots, white leotards, and shiny red shoes, she was on the school’s playground swing set, just as Daniela had been many times in the past. Try as she might, her mother could never get Daniela to put on play clothes before running outside and swinging or playing in the neighbor’s play set.

"Si, Daniela, he said, pointing to the painting. That’s my little sweetheart. Now, go, run and tell Mama that I’ll be right there before she yells at both of us," he winked.

Daniela obediently left the studio and skipped back to the kitchen, click-click-clicking all the way.

***

The next morning as the school bell rang Daniela ran into her classroom and approached her teacher’s desk. Mrs. Foster, will you help me memorize the Hail Mary?

If you’ll stay after school this afternoon, Mrs. Foster replied, I’d be happy to work with you, Dani.

Later that afternoon, after school had let out, as Daniela sat at her desk in her Catholic school blue and white plaid uniform, she heard the principal, Sister Mary Gertrude, yelling, Turn around! I said, turn around! And then, though Daniela couldn’t see what was going on in the long, dark hallway of the right wing of the school, she heard two large smacks, followed by wailing. She suspected that Brian Chatham was in trouble again. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t please the nuns. A chubby kid, whose school uniform shorts were always too tight around the waist, he was always sneaking food from the cafeteria. Inevitably, he managed to get caught, much to the chagrin of his mother, whose voice could be heard in that same hallway, apologizing to Sister Mary Gertrude again. I’m so sorry, Sister. I promise you that Brian will be punished when we get home tonight.

Mrs. Chatham, Sister Mary Gertrude responded coldly, one more time, and you leave us no choice but to expel your son.

It was rumored that Brian was on one of those generous anonymous donor scholarships to attend St. Peter’s. His mom had submitted a scholarship application, they said, because she wanted to have him raised in a nice Catholic school away from the neighborhood bullies who mercilessly taunted him to tears. Some of the St. Peter’s moms resented that Brian, whose dad had abandoned him and his mom years before, received a scholarship, giving him the ability to come into our neighborhood school.

Yes, Sister. I promise. Mrs. Chatham said. Right, Brian?

Yes, Sister, Brian whispered sheepishly. I promise. A tear slid down his cheek as his mom dragged him down the hall toward the exit, right ear in hand.

As the Chathams walked across the parking lot several boys were playing a pickup game of basketball n the court adjacent to the school. The one dribbling the ball stopped and elbow ribbed the kid next to him, whispering into his ear. Though Brian couldn’t hear what he was saying he imagined that it was the same old sing-songy insult he’d heard countless times before, Chat ham, fat ham, whatcha’ gonna’ eat today? Chat ham, fat ham, won’t you come out and play? Just then the school bus drove by. Brian looked up to see Daniela staring back through the window.

***

It was one of those rare March days when the temperature soared to eighty. Daniela’s best friend and next-door neighbor, Mindy, was having a birthday party cookout on Friday.

Mama, Daniela yelled excitedly as she jumped off the bus, I’m invited to Mindy’s birthday party. Look. She smiled as she pushed the envelope into her mother’s hands.

Mrs. Domenica opened the envelope. The party, three days away, would fall on the first Friday of Lent. She looked into her daughter’s eyes but then turned away.

Can we go shopping tonight to buy her present?

"Yes, tesoro, let’s do that," Mrs. Domenica replied.

After dinner that evening Daniela was playing in her room. Mr. Domenica approached his wife, who was washing the dishes. Daniela told me about Mindy’s party.

Yes.

What are you going to do?

Tony, you know I can’t let her go.

Yes. He understood. The Domenica family never ate meat on Fridays, especially during Lent.

That evening they bought Mindy a birthday Barbie. It’s so beautiful, Daniela squealed.

When Daniela got off the bus on Thursday Daniela’s mom sat her down at the kitchen table. "Tesoro, do you know what day tomorrow is?"

Yes, Mama. It’s Mindy’s party.

Yes, but it’s also the first Friday of Lent, she continued. And Mindy’s party is a cookout. There will be hot dogs, hamburgers, and sausages at the party. Daniela looked up at her mom.

I’m so sorry, Daniela. We just can’t go. She looked down at her hands and repeated, "I’m sorry, tesoro."

Okay, Daniela whispered.

But I promise I’ll make it up to you. Daniela’s eyes brightened. Why don’t we go out for ice cream tomorrow night. Okay?

But what about her Barbie?

How about if we drop it off to her tomorrow after school?

Okay, Daniela agreed.

***

It was Friday. While Mrs. Domenica washed the dinner dishes Daniela snuck into the backyard and peered through the fence slats to watch as all of her little classmates arrived for the birthday party next door. There were pink and red balloons and she could smell the lighter fluid burn off the charcoal.

Hey. Daniela looked behind her. Brian was peeking through the fence on the other side of her yard. Come here. He motioned.

She walked toward him. What are you doing? she inquired.

Nothing.

No, I mean, what are you doing peering through the fence? You scared me.

Sorry. I was just bored.

Yeah. Me, too.

Hey, look, he said as he pushed the loose wooden fence slat aside.

You shouldn’t do that, she scolded.

He pushed it back in place. I’ve got to go. She ran into the house.

***

"Basta, Daniela, Mrs. Domenica said. Go on now, and get ready for school. This was Mrs. Domenica’s third request of her unusually rambunctious daughter the Monday morning following the party. If she had truly the choice, Daniela would spend the morning in the music room singing silly nonsense songs." She couldn’t help it. Everything was a song with a rhythm.

Mrs. Domenica finished frying up a good-sized chunk of an Italian cold cut for her husband’s lunch. She slipped it between two fresh slices of Italian bread, wrapping the whole thing neatly in foil.

Don’t be so hard on her, Antonio defended. He walked toward his wife.

But when I’m not around anymore, Mrs. Domenica said softly, do you think, do you really think her silly little songs are going to be enough to take care of you? Who’s going to take care of you when I’m gone, Tony? She looked over at him.

Daniela stood outside the kitchen doorway, listening to the same conversation she’d heard countless times before. They always ended the same, too.

That’s enough, he tried keeping his voice down. You’re not going anywhere and I can’t stand when you talk like that. Now stop it. He just shook his head and grabbed his lunch pail. As he walked toward the door Daniela tiptoed back upstairs so as not to get caught listening in. He turned around and shouted up the stairs, Daniela, I’m leaving!

’Bye, Papa! she shouted back. Love you!

Love you, too! He then left for work.

When she got off the bus from school later that afternoon she obediently changed her clothes and ran out into the backyard, standing in front of the loose fence slat. Soon it swung to the left.

Hi, Brian whispered as he poked his head through.

I can’t make it. He backed up. It’s too narrow. You’ll have to come through this way. He motioned.

No.

Come on. It’ll be all right, he reassured her. Anyways, I have something for you.

All right. But just for a minute. She turned to look back at the house. She could see her mom at the kitchen sink.

She pushed through the fence. They stood in front of each other.

Here, he shoved a locket into her hand.

What’s this?

It’s for you. He blushed.

She looked at a necklace glimmering in the late afternoon sun.

Daniela! Daniela’s mom yelled as she opened the sliding door.

I’ve got to go! she yelled as she climbed back through the fence.

Go wash up, her mom said. And tell Papa that it’s almost time for dinner.

Daniela ran up to her room and shoved the locket under her pillow before she went to the bathroom to wash her hands.

The next day during recess Daniela was swinging on the swing set when she heard a commotion at the jungle gym. She squinted and shielded her eyes because of the sun. Brian was on the ground, another boy on top of him. One of the teachers ran over to break it up and escorted both boys into the principal’s office.

That night, after dinner, Daniela went out back again. Brian never came out and he didn’t come to school for the next several days, either.

When he did return to school the following week, he tried to approach her on the playground, but she ran away.

As Mrs. Domenica was stripping the beds that weekend, the locket fell onto the floor. She picked it up and put it into her apron pocket. Where did you get this? she asked Daniela later that day.

A friend, Daniela replied quietly.

Daniela, this is a very expensive necklace. She pressed again. It’s okay. Just tell me.

Daniela told her where she got it. We should return it. His mom is probably looking for it, she surmised.

Yes, Mama, she replied quietly.

Mrs. Domenica phoned Brian’s mom and they made arrangements for the return of the necklace.

***

Don’t be too hard on him, Mrs. Domenica said to Brian’s mom as she handed her the necklace later that evening. They stood there on the stoop. Brian’s mom didn’t invite her in.

If it’s all the same to you, I’ll handle him how I handle him. She stormed inside and slammed the door on Mrs. Domenica.

I’m sorry, Mama.

It’s okay. You did nothing wrong. She shook her head and put the car in gear. I’m only sad for him.

***

The school year came to a close. Brian and Daniela hadn’t spoken since the necklace was returned. Mindy and Daniela were playing in the backyard the weekend before the Fourth of July.

Psst. Mindy looked over. Brian was peering through the broken fence slat. Want to see my cap gun?

Mindy and Daniela looked at each other. They grabbed each other’s hands, then climbed through the fence, following him into the barn behind his trailer. It was dark and musty in there but they didn’t notice.

See, I just put the cap in like this—he pulled the revolving barrel open—then I shoot it like this. He pointed to the wall. POW! Both girls screamed. Brian laughed.

Can I try it? Mindy asked.

Hold it like this, he motioned. Daniela plugged her ears. Another POW!

Daniela could hear her mom calling from a distance. Let’s go, she urged, grabbing Mindy’s arm.

Over the next few days the three of them sneaked away into the old barn and played with Brian’s cap gun. On the third day Mindy started scratching her right arm. What’s that? Brian asked, pointing to small red bumps on her arm. I think I got bit or something, she replied, scratching harder.

When Mindy came home from the doctor’s office the next day with a case of poison ivy she told Daniela that she wasn’t allowed to play outside until it cleared up.

Daniela met up with Brian the next day to let him know. They went into the barn and sat there on the floor, cross-legged. I like you, Brian said.

Daniela got up and ran out. She never went back again.

***

Nearly three years later the Domenica household phone rang. Hello? Daniela’s mom answered. Is this Mrs. Domenica?

Yes.

This is Mrs. Maggio, Dani’s music teacher.

How are you today, Mrs. Maggio?

I’m well. How are you?

Fine. Is everything okay with Daniela?

Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Everything’s just fine. She’s a wonderful student and I enjoy her immensely. As a matter of fact, that’s why I’m calling. She’s such a fine pianist. You must be so proud. As you know, she continued, our spring concert is right around the corner. Dani’s been working on a composition with me and I asked her if it would be all right if the seventh-grade chorus performed it for the concert. But she said that I had to talk with you about it first."

My goodness. Mrs. Domenica smiled. "Si, I mean, yes, yes, of course. That would be wonderful."

She wanted to make sure that you would approve of the extra work this might bring to her busy schedule. I don’t think it will, but you know how Dani wants to be sure that she’s fulfilling all of her requirements. I assured her that we would only do this if it didn’t impact her studies.

Daniela’s mom wiped her eyes.

Mrs. Domenica?

Yes, I’m here. Yes. I think it’s wonderful. Mrs. Maggio, is she working with you on ‘Simple Gifts’? Is that the one?

It sure is. She’s combining it with ‘Holy God, We Praise Thy Name’ and making a round out of it. It’s incredible! It’s a wonderful challenge for the students but they’re very excited that their classmate’s done this and they really want to support her.

What can I do to help?

Your support and encouragement have been wonderful. It’s not every parent who permits their children to take risks. My job would be so much easier if half of our students were like Daniela. Thank you for that, Mrs. Domenica.

She’s a good girl, my Daniela. Thank you.

***

Mr. and Mrs. Domenica sat in the front row at the school’s spring concert. The curtain opened to the seventy-eight members of the seventh-grade choral ensemble. Mrs. Maggio came out, hand in hand with Daniela. The audience applauded. Daniela took her place at the piano bench and Mrs. Maggio lifted her baton for the downbeat. At the completion of the performance of Classical Meets Shaker the audience leaped to their feet. Daniela’s parents beamed.

After the concert Daniela ran into her father’s open arms. As he hugged her, she peered under his arm to see Brian, standing alone.

Brian began to speak but Mrs. Maggio sneaked in front of him to hug Daniela. Brian turned and went away.

***

Ten years older and 130 pounds heavier, eighteen-year-old Brian Chatham tried to check