As part of March's book launch for a writing group in which I take part, I am happy to present an excerpt from the newest novel by Cheryl Colwell, The Proof. It's your chance to read a bit of the book, as well as enter to win some fun prizes. Enjoy!
Shrouded in mystery, a precious relic known as Il Testamento, or The Proof, circulated among the early Christians for centuries. Before their deaths, its guardians hid it from their adversaries, leaving only a crude map of its location. For centuries, it lay in darkness. Until now. Reports of its existence have resurfaced, inciting an ancient rivalry between a ruthless group that seeks to destroy it, and a secret association that lusts for its power. Summoned to Siena by a grandfather he has never met, Gabriel Dolcini is thrust into a dark maze of danger. And into his divine destiny.
Part 6 of 10
The Proof
Cheryl Colwell
Gabe sat in his car on Monday morning.
He had parked in the far corner of the faculty parking lot in case
his resolve failed. How could he face his colleagues? But it would
not be any easier tomorrow. He closed his eyes and took a slow
breath, in and out, then stopped thinking and opened the door.
Entering the building, he looked
straight ahead and focused on getting to his classroom. He shut out
the awkward expressions as he contended with the gauntlet of the,
“I’m so sorry,” comments and, worse, the congratulations from
his peers in the long hallway. Relieved, Gabe realized Howard’s
duties must have detained him elsewhere.
He stepped into his classroom and shut
the door behind him, cringing at his smug attitude over the last
week. His students immediately surrounded him, expressing their
outrage. Their loyalty and courage to speak what others would not eased his bad temper and helped to soothe his wounded spirit.
“You were robbed,” Judy ranted.
He was cheated. But it was over.
“Enough,” Gabe hushed their angry outbursts. “All judges
maintain their own criteria. Sometimes it doesn’t fall in our
favor. So, back to work.”
They drifted back to their canvases,
but Judy stayed near his desk. “I won’t be a part of this. I’ll
paint what I want and thumb my nose at whoever thinks they have the
right to judge it.” Her eyes watered and she swiped at an angry
tear before it trickled down her silky black cheek.
Gabe took her hand in his. “It’s
okay, really. Just a disappointment.” No one could possibly know
how deep this cut. The world was cruel, ripping small, relentless
gashes in tender hearts and tentative hopes. Judy walked to her
canvas, but did not pick up her brush.
He stared through the window at
nothing. Second place did not count for anything in the art world. Or
in life. Even after Angelica died, their father made certain Gabe
knew he would never move into first place. It became unbearable to be
the single focus of the man’s loathing. Gabe blinked away the past
and darted his eyes from student to student. Every one of them had a
story. He needed to buck up.
##
After three days, the sting of
disappointment failed to lessen. With the summer term ending soon,
and nothing to look forward to, Gabe dreaded the boredom headed his
way. He hadn’t touched his current painting since losing the award.
Even his students seemed frustrated
with their projects this afternoon. He frowned at his waning
willingness to help. One of them dawdled with his paintbrush. Gabe
grabbed it and smashed it into a dab of red paint on the student’s
palette. “If you’re gonna paint, paint.”
The startled student jerked awake.
“Yes, Sir.” He took the brush back and created bold strokes that
instantly improved his composition.
“Good.” Gabe grimaced at his
outburst and patted the young man on the shoulder. He walked to his
desk when his cell phone vibrated. “Hello.”
There was a hesitant pause on the other
end. “Uh, Gabe, Carl here.” Carl was the Dean of Faculty at the
university.
“Hi Carl, how are you?” He hoped it
was not another obligatory congratulations call.
“I’m fine, but something disturbing
has come to my attention. I need you to come in today and answer some
questions before this goes any further.”
The tension in Carl’s voice, mixed
with the foreboding message, pinned Gabe to the spot. “May I ask
what this is about?”
“Yes. A complaint has just been filed
against you for misconduct involving a minor. Sonia Sanchez.”
Gabe turned away from his students, his
hand clenching the back of his chair. He whispered, “Don’t
believe a word of it, Carl. Sonia has lived with my mother since she
was emancipated by the state.”
“Do you live there also?”
Heat blasted through him. “No. And it
wouldn’t matter if I did. I don’t get involved with children. You
of all people should know that.”
Carl would not yield. “It’s my job
to investigate complaints regarding faculty. Come in, and I’ll take
your statement.”
Furious, Gabe resisted slamming his
phone on the desk and stuffed it into his pocket instead. Who would
make a complaint like this? His jaw clenched. Howard. It would not be
the first time he pulled a stunt against a fellow professor, and it
would be just like his daughter to embellish what happened at the
restaurant.
An hour later, Gabe paced in Carl’s
office while the Dean explained. “Apparently, someone saw you kiss
Sonia in front of the restaurant where she works and drive away with
her.”
Gabe raked his hair off his forehead
and clarified the situation. He studied Carl’s unyielding face and
shook his head. So much for good deeds.
“I’ve asked Miss Sanchez to come in
this afternoon. I’m sure you realize this could have serious
consequences. I’ll be in touch.” He hesitated. “And Gabe, you
should know this was why you lost the award.”
“WHAT?” Gabe could not believe he
heard right.
“The judges couldn’t risk the bad
press if their winner became embroiled in a sexual misconduct
controversy.”
“How dare they!” Gabe seethed. “No
one asked me. No one said a word.”
“Apparently they were made
aware of it just before the presentation. You would have been
disqualified altogether except for Viola Hudson’s rage. She
convinced them that second place never makes headlines. And she
threatened some kind of lawsuit if they were wrong.”
Too many thoughts bombarded Gabe’s
confused mind to find coherent words to speak.
“Until we get to the bottom of this,
I have to suspend you. There are only a few days left in the summer
term. I’ll get a substitute.”
Gabe stormed out, livid. And scared.
This injustice would not be easily reversed.
Arriving home, he threw open the door
and watched it bounce off the wall. He closed his eyes, shaking his
head at his outburst. Throwing a tantrum was not going to fix his
career, his finances, or this attack on his character.
He slammed into his office chair and
opened the drawer to throw in his keys. His grandfather’s letter
lay on top of an art brochure. Rubbing his forehead, Gabe sighed in
resignation. The only option left was to respond to his grandfather’s
invitation to show his work in Italy. Unless he wanted to stand on
the sidewalk and hawk his paintings to passing tourists.
It had been two months since he had
received the correspondence. He had never replied. Would the old man
still want him? He pulled out the letter and dialed the phone number,
almost hoping there would be no answer.
Someone answered the call on the second
ring. “Dolcini residence.”
##
Two weeks later, Gabe felt resolute
when he stepped into his mother’s house to face her fury. After the
awards debacle, desperation had swamped him, but now he had a
direction. His grandfather’s eagerness for his visit provided the
one bright spot in Gabe’s dismal prospects. The timing proved
uncanny.
He leaned against the kitchen counter
in the house where he grew up. It was a muggy Saturday morning, and
the eastern light shone dimly through a streaked aluminum-framed
window. He caught a glimpse of the ocean down the hillside, too far
away to see its tide ebbing and flowing.
Under the window, outdated turquoise
tiles did their best to be cheerful in a house with a history of
bitterness and loss. Studying his mother’s face, he traced the
ravages of sadness that tugged her features downward. Deep frown
lines obliterated the sweet dimples that once graced her cheeks. Year
after year, his father’s venom had poisoned her. Gabe felt thankful
death had taken the brute first.
Spoken in her native Italian, his
mother’s protective warning made him smile. “Do not do this,
Gabriel.”
He waited for her to finish her tirade
while he sipped coffee from an old cracked cup. His father had
smashed it in one of his fits. Gabe wondered why she had glued it
back together after retrieving the broken pieces from the scarred
wooden floor. Why keep a reminder? He had never understood the
complexity of his parents’ relationship. Now he didn’t need to.
“We have nothing to do with Conte
Dolcini,” she continued. “Your grandfather is a lunatic, trouble.
He marked your grandmother for death by his fascination with tales of
lost treasure—without any regard of how he attracts crazies to our
family.” She ended on a shrill note, “He is not safe.”
Gabe set the mug down. He took her
hands and leaned to kiss her on the forehead. Her four-foot, ten-inch
frame stood a foot below him. She had always made him feel taller
than he was. Around his father, he had always felt he was trying to
break the forty-eight-inch mark.
“Mama, this is the next step in my
career. Conte Dolcini knows the best families in Siena, and they are
anxious to meet me and see my work. It’s perfect timing for him to
invite me.”
“You speak Italian like an Americano.
You will embarrass yourself.”
He laughed. Her attempt to dissuade him
was futile. “True, I understand better than I speak, but I managed
just fine the last time I traveled in Italy.” Besides, he had no
choice but to go. Though there had been considerable interest in his
work after the award presentation, his agent had only managed to sell
two paintings.
So far, his mother was not aware of the
impending threat to her home. He turned away as the accusations in
his mind screamed, Fesso. And selfish. That’s what
his father would say about him. And he was right.
Gabe sucked in a quick breath and let
it out. So far, no publicity had surfaced regarding the false
accusation. That was all he needed—to scare off the important
collectors he had met before the ceremony. He hoped they still
planned to contact him, but his ever-present inner critic
relentlessly spewed its noxious toxins. People never come through.
His constant schoolmaster since childhood, it reminded him not to
stand on the shifting sand of trust.
He squared his shoulders. He had
done the work. Now all he needed was someone to open the door. He
gave his mother a peck on the cheek. “In three weeks, I will be in
Italy.” His voice was silky while he worked to calm her, keeping
his own doubts at bay.
Worry wrinkled her face. “Please
listen. There are reasons we never allowed you to meet this man.”
He glanced toward the ocean’s vague
horizon. Even when he had visited Siena for his studies a decade ago,
he had obeyed his father’s vehement demands and made excuses to
turn down his grandfather’s frequent invitations. Now, however, the
time was right. Louis Dolcini’s letter lay folded in his desk
drawer at home. His grandfather, a count no less, wanted to help his
career. At least someone wanted to.
Though no resolution had been reached
regarding the charges against him, the administrators at the
university seemed glad to distance themselves. When Gabe requested
leave for the fall term, they agreed that he should go.
Without
pay. The plane ticket to Siena used the last of his available
credit on his card.
This had to work.
Read part 7 tomorrow over at
Carol Brown's.
Bio:
Cheryl Colwell began writing fiction in 2007. True to her tagline, "Stunning Suspense," her characters visit stunning locations while they pursue adventurous quests peppered with mystery, suspense, and romance.
Passionate about all things creative, Cheryl finds inspiration in the countryside of Ashland, Oregon - the perfect venue for her interests in writing, gardening, and art.
John, her husband, best friend, and chiropractor, keeps her in shape for gardening and writing long into the night. They are delighted to have four unique and talented children and three grandchildren. A smart and playful English Shepherd makes their empty nest a happy place.
Books:
The Proof, published 2014 by Inspired Fiction Books
The Secrets of the Montebellis, published 2013 by Inspired Fiction Books
A story of healing in, "I Believe in Healing" by Cecil Murphey, published 2013 by Regal.
