Synopsis

The young painter Karla Bocelli is all too familiar with loss. When she was five years old, her mother died in a car crash in the south of Switzerland. Her Peruvian father lives at the other end of the world, and a year ago her aunt and guardian passed away. Now, at age twenty-four, Karla almost gets hit by a speeding car. As if this wasn’t fateful enough, Andreas, the driver, turns out to be a sculptor and carver of tombstones. In spite of his profession, Andreas is anything but morbid. Quick-tempered and intense, he exudes a rough-and-tumble energy. After a tumultuous start of their relationship, Karla comes to see in Andreas the “rock” in her life, the perfect antidote to her fears of abandonment and bouts of depression. Andreas, however, wrestles with his own ghosts: an alcoholic father who abused him as a child and his own fits of anger. Together, the two artists must confront the demons that haunt them.

LOVE OF A STONEMASON is a story about the struggle of two artists with their past, their families, their creativity, and their love for each other. It takes the reader on a journey full of sights, smells, tastes, and sounds from the south of Switzerland to Italy and the Peruvian Andes.

Excerpt

Karla Bocelli hated the painting. She had worked at it off and on during the past year and never managed to finish it. But no matter how much she disliked it, she couldn’t convince herself to destroy it. It seemed to haunt her. It was warm and muggy in early June in the south of Switzerland. Patches of mist hugged the mountains behind Lago Maggiore. Karla clasped her artist’s portfolio under her arm and brushed a strand of hair from her damp forehead. She was on the way to the old part of Locarno, thinking, once again, of the troublesome picture. She saw the car just as she stepped into the crosswalk. An old beat-up Fiat screeched to a stop a few inches away from her. Karla jumped back and dropped her portfolio, spilling its contents onto the pavement. Her heart thudded and she took deep breaths, trying to calm the queasy feeling in her stomach. That smell. Burnt rubber. A young man got out of the car and stared at her, stunned. “Are you all right?”

Karla, still dazed, nodded. She bent down and began to pick up her drawings. A few pedestrians stopped, but when they realized that nothing major had happened, they walked on. The driver’s dark voice rose to an angry pitch. “Jesus Christ. What’s the matter with you? You practically threw yourself in front of my car. I could’ve killed you. Are you suicidal or what?” “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching.” Karla slid the papers back into her portfolio. “Yeah, well, that’s obvious. Wake up, for heaven’s sake.” His belligerent voice angered Karla, who was gradually regaining her composure. She stood up, flipped her long dark hair back over her shoulders, and faced him. “I said, I was sorry.” He was tall, broad-shouldered, and sturdy, with longish dark tousled hair and green eyes, which now glowered at her. He must have been her age or a little older, perhaps in his midtwenties. As Karla continued to pick up her drawings, he approached and bent down to help her. “You’re an artist?” he asked in a friendlier tone as he looked at one of the charcoal sketches. “Yes.” Karla snatched the paper out of his hand. “I hope your pictures aren’t ruined.” “What do you care? Why do you have to drive like a maniac?” “Great,” he shouted. “Now it’s my fault?” “This is a pedestrian zone, in case you haven’t noticed.” Karla grabbed her portfolio and stepped back onto the sidewalk. Her heartbeat had slowed to almost normal, but her knees still felt wobbly. “Do you always jump in front of moving cars without looking?” He turned around and walked away. “Airhead,” he