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Doctor Frank D. Bertelli’s quick stepping stride was a regular sight in the Orlando Childrens Hospital, but today his feet were flying. An important man was waiting in his office this morning. As if to delay him, other hospital staff were at the doctor’s heels like nipping dogs, asking about this, having him sign that and keeping him from his goal. So much to do and so little time to spare.
After the board meeting at eight this morning, there was a lecture to give to the new interns arriving today at eleven. Four surgeries scheduled this afternoon, his rounds with patients at six in the evening, and follow-up paperwork to do before going home, usually around midnight. Although he was busy, Dr. Bertelli loved his job as chief of pediatric surgery. He prospered in ego, prestige, and especially his bank account. Frank was the youngest person ever to hold such a responsibility, but he was just that exceptional. He knew it too, thriving on the attention and importance, a man on top of the world.
Frank glanced at his Rolex and grimaced. It was almost ten. Where does the time go? He couldn’t be late for this important meeting. As he flew past Miranda, his administrative assistant, she too grabbed for his attention.
Arthur had arranged for Miranda, a faithful Christian, to work for Frank, hoping her devoted example would rub off on him. It wasn’t working. Frank was too self-absorbed to notice. Bertelli was brought up in a strict Catholic home, but somewhere along the way he put all that God stuff away and concentrated on what he wanted out of life. Sometimes Miranda made him feel uncomfortable, even guilty. It reminded him of how his family priest made him feel in the confessional.
“Dr. Bertelli, your father is on the line. He wants to talk to you,” she said. “Shall I put him through?”
Frank slammed his hand down on her desk making her jump. “Damn it, why does he always call at the wrong time! No, I can’t talk to him right now. I’m too busy.”
“What should I tell him?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Make something up. Can’t you figure out some excuse on your own? Do I have to do everything? Tell him I’m in surgery or doing rounds or some damn thing!” he screamed at the young woman. The raised tone of his voice brought the eyes of the other office staff his way. Miranda was embarrassed.
In a small voice, she answered him. “No sir, of course not. I guess I can tell him you’re in a meeting. I don’t like to lie, sir. It’s not right.”
“It’s just a little white lie, Miranda, those don’t count,” Frank said, tightening the skin around his cheekbones.
“A lie is a lie,” she answered.
Heaving a deep sigh, Bertelli realized he hurt her feelings and offended her moral code again. He didn’t mean to be cruel. Miranda only wanted the best for him, and she conducted herself with virtue and kindness. He felt ashamed he had yelled at her. Quickly Frank flashed his famous one-sided smile and lowered his voice. It was his charm that often let him get his own way.
“Forgive me for being a little cranky. It’s not your fault. I’ll call him when I get home. Now be a peach Miranda and get me out of this one. Okay? Pretty please.” Frank gave her his best fake smile again. Women were putty in his hands with that smile, and he knew it.
Miranda nodded yes, still reluctant to give in to him. Bertelli glanced over at the door to his spacious corner office apprehensively and back to Miranda.
“Is he here yet?”
“Yes, Doctor Bertelli.”
Miranda had already served the important visitor coffee as he waited for the doctor. Dr. Bertelli straightened his tie and smoothed down his white lab coat. He needed the backing of this special and very wealthy donor.
“Here goes nothing. Wish me luck,” he said to Miranda and headed for the door.
“I don’t believe in luck, but I will say a prayer for you, Dr. Bertelli. Lots of sick kids need that money. I pray you succeed.”
Frank smirked at Miranda’s devotion. “Whatever it takes, prayers or a deal with the devil. It doesn’t much matter to me as long as I get the big bucks.”
“Oh, Doctor, never joke about something like that. The devil is like a lion prowling around seeking those he can destroy. Don’t invite him in.”
Frank’s smiling face dropped to a frown, noticing Miranda wasn’t kidding. Once again, she made him feel like a naughty boy. Miranda’s innocent faith wanted only to do her best for this important doctor but Bertelli was not making it easy. It was clear Frank only worshiped himself. He ignored Miranda’s warning. Little did Frank know he had already invited the ‘lion’ inside.
Seated on a designer couch was a man, well dressed and waiting patiently for Bertelli. Thin lips sipped coffee from a china cup as the distinguished gentleman examined the plush office. It was obvious this doctor liked the finer things in life. I can work with that.
Frank’s arrival made the guest set the cup down and stand up to greet the doctor. It was clear to Frank the man’s sophisticated demeanor screamed how influential he must be. This was a man who could give him so much.
“Dr. Bertelli, I assume,” the man said, offering his hand first to shake.
Breathlessly, Frank reached out his hand. “I’m so sorry Mr. Walters for keeping you waiting, sir. Thank you for coming. Things got backed up in the O-R and I couldn’t get away. I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
With a wave of his hand, Walters dismissed the reasons. “Not to worry. Your lovely assistant Miranda was most gracious.”
The two men walked to the large oak desk and took their places. Frank behind it and Walters in front of it, comfortable in an overstuffed leather chair. The smile on his face hid a sinister plot in his heart. If Frank had been looking closer, he would have seen the red glow in his eyes fade in, then out again.
“Yes, Miranda is great. I don’t appreciate her enough.”
“I know,” Walters said as if he really knew how hard Frank made it for Miranda. “Very ‘pure of heart’ isn’t she?”
Frank looked confused. That’s an odd thing to say. Miranda was a faithful Christian who didn’t back down from speaking truth. He was worried she said something to offend this man.
“Yeah, Miranda’s a saint,” Frank quipped.
Walters squirmed as if a pin had pricked him. “More than you’ll ever know. But then we can’t all be saints. Sometimes in this world being a little ‘devilish’ is okay too.”
Frank looked puzzled at the strange comment. “I... I guess so.”
“Let’s get down to the nitty gritty of why I’m here. No sense filling our time with small talk. Don’t you agree, Doctor?” Walters asked, leaning forward.
“Yes, sir. You mentioned on the phone you had an offer you wanted to run past me, a donation from your benefactor,” Frank said. “I don’t remember his name.”
“You don’t remember it because I didn’t tell you his name. My ‘employer’ wishes to stay anonymous but wants to help you in your endeavors. He sees a promising future in you, Frank. Is it all right if I call you Frank? Or is it Dino?”
Frank nervously chuckled, not sure how the stranger knew his childhood name.
“Dino is just a nickname I had as a kid. I don’t use it anymore. However, if you want to donate to the new addition to the surgical wing or fund our research department, you can call me anything you like, Mr. Walters. We could use all the help we can get. I have plans for a project with some experimental cancer drugs.”
Walters returned a tight-lipped smile. “Yes, I read your paper in the medical journal. It sounds like you have the answer, or so you say you do.”
“Well, with our team of research scientists I have been working with, I think we do have an answer. We haven’t got as far as I’d like. This money will help immensely.”
Mr. Walters caught the attitude. Frank was trying to act humble but, in his heart, Bertelli wanted to take all the credit.
“Frank, I am prepared to make that project a reality, with one small condition.”
Frank’s jovial expression dropped like a flat cake. “A condition? What condition?”
Walters crossed one leg over the other and reached for a small notebook inside his coat pocket. He ignored Frank’s question as he read from notes.
“Frank Dean Bertelli, born in Chicago to Dominic and Lucinda Bertelli. Father is a popular jazz musician, same for grandfather, mother a nurse and band manager. Graduated from the Chicago University School of Medicine, top one percent, fast-rising star in the medical field. You’re one of the best surgeons in the country, specializing in pediatrics.” Walters looked up to lock eyes with Frank. “Quite the darling among the ladies, clean-cut personality, quite stylish who can charm donors to give him lots of money for his worthy causes.”
Frank felt his face flush. “Well, you do what you have to do... for the children.”
Walters smirked. “Of course, for the children.” He continued. “Known by his associates as the ‘singing surgeon’ because you like to sing to the children to calm them before surgery.” Walters smiled condescendingly. “How sweet.”
Frank felt a nervous drop of sweat drip down the back of his collar. This man knew all about him. It was unnerving.
“It’s in my blood. Music is as much a part of me as medicine. Jazz, blues, the classics were all I heard at home. Music is healthy for people. It bonds with their soul and takes all the reality of this painful world away. I love both medicine and music.”
Uncomfortable with the human’s happy feelings, Walters’ face tightened around high cheekbones, ignoring the cheerful memories in Frank’s head as he continued.
“How nice. So... as I was saying, residency at the University Medical Center in Chicago. Sought by several hospitals but you chose Orlando...”
Frank interrupted him to explain. “I hate cold weather and the beaches are so close.”
Walters looked offended Frank butted in. “As I was saying, you rose to the top quickly to be chief of pediatric surgery in just two years.” Walters put his notebook away and sat his hands in his lap. “Impressive, Dr. Bertelli. That’s why we sought you out. You’re a go-getter, ambitious and hungry.”
“Thank you, Mr. Walters. I try to do my best always.” Frank cleared his throat, narrowed his eyebrows, and asked again. “What’s the condition for the donation, Mr. Walters? Please tell me what else you need from me.”
Walters rose from the chair and walked to the spacious windows looking down to the park which sat across the street from the hospital. He held his hands behind his back and waited for the impatient doctor to talk first. Humans hate dead air. They feel they must fill it up with meaningless words. Unseen by Frank, red eyes glowed as a slight sneer grew across the fallen angel’s face. This will be so easy. One more soul for my master.
Walters spoke to Frank without looking at him, with not so much as an iota of change in his deadpan tone. It was then he made his fantastic offer.
“What I need from you is just one word... yes.”
“Uh, yes?” Frank asked. “Yes, to what?”
“How would you like to be chief surgeon at the Boston Children’s Hospital? It’s the finest in the nation. You will have to leave Orlando. Would that bother you to leave your patients?”
Frank’s jaw hit the floor. All his life he had wanted a position like that. Pride filled Bertelli’s heart, and all he could think about was his own career. It was the chance of a lifetime. Why not? I’ve worked hard to be the best, and I deserve this.
The evil fallen angel could feel the greed enter Frank’s heart. It pleased him. In such a high position of authority this man can inflict immense pain. Just what I want.
“That’s the condition? Are you for real?” It shocked Frank. “Then my answer is yes. Yes! Yes!”
Walters turned to face Frank and smiled maliciously. He could feel the greed growing, taking over this soul. He’s tempted. Just a little more and I’ve got him.
“Not yet. That’s the benefit if you say yes to one condition.”
“Okay. So again sir, what is the condition?”
“You must work for my employer, ‘caring’ for his children.”
“Before I say yes, I’d like to know more about your employer.” Frank’s suspicious nature was activated.
Walters dismissed the objection with a toss of his hand. He would never reveal who his master was to this human, although humans had encountered him since the Garden of Eden. Deceiving Frank with wealth and power was all this fallen angel could do.
Walters took his seat again in front of the desk. With one finger pointing at Frank’s heart, the fallen angel gave his evil master’s only condition: Frank’s soul.
“If you take this offer, you must do what my employer wants, when he wants it, no questions asked. A small ‘price’ to pay for such wealth and position. Don’t you think?”
“I-I-I don’t know what to say,” Frank stumbled over his words. Suddenly the project he was trying to fund in Orlando seemed insignificant. It was all about what he could have. It was there for the taking. How could that one small condition be so bad?
“If you are still not sure, besides the job, there are perks my boss can offer you I think you will like.”
“Perks?” Frank’s throat was so dry he could hardly talk.
“A penthouse apartment, the car of your choice... I like Porsche myself, but it’s up to you. A handsome salary in the seven-figure range and stock options with some top companies on Wall Street. Many of whom belong to my employer. Should I go on?”
Frank’s mouth hung open. “Uh, no. That’s enough. Holy moly.”
The fallen angel and sly tempter felt Frank weaken. “Well...? Yes or no?”
“Can I think it over?” Frank asked. “This is life changing. Do I have to decide right this minute?”
Before Walters could speak, the intercom buzzed on Frank’s phone. He punched the key and spoke harsh words. “Seriously Miranda? Why are you buzzing me?”
“I’m sorry Dr. Bertelli, but it’s the ICU nurse. They need you. It’s the DeAngelo boy, he has taken a turn for the worse.”
Frank looked concerned but guarded in front of Walters. He replied through the speaker. “Can’t Dr. Gonzales take care of it? He was my attending surgeon. He knows the boy’s condition as well as I do.”
“I’ve tried, but I can’t reach him. He must have gone home for the day. He’s been here two days straight. They need you right away, Dr. Bertelli.”
Frank couldn’t just leave, not now with such an offer laid at his feet. Walters had offered him a deal that was as big as the moon. It was so outrageous he couldn’t decide. He tried to focus on a sick child, but he wanted to stay with Mr. Walters. The young surgeon hesitated for a few seconds.
“Dr. Bertelli, are you still there?” Miranda asked.
“I can’t come right now. I’m in a serious meeting.”
“I know Doctor, but they’re asking for you,” Miranda’s voice sounded shaky.
Walters waited and watched the conflict in Frank’s heart.
Frank cursed under his breath. “Okay, okay, I’ll be there. Tell them I’m on my way.” He looked over at Walters, who seemed unconcerned about the emergency.
“Well, Doctor? What is your answer? I don’t have all day.”
Frank’s oath as a healer won out. “I’m sorry sir, I have to go. Can I think on this and get back to you tomorrow?”
Walters stood, buttoned his suit coat, and nodded. It disappointed him. Perhaps this human wasn’t as easy to turn as he thought he would be.
“I guess. Tomorrow I must know, no later. You can do remarkable things in Boston and I can make your project here a breeze with all the money you need. You must decide... stay here or come to Boston and fulfill your greatest dream... the best children’s surgeon in the country.”
Frank’s head was in a fog. He agreed to give Mr. Walters his answer tomorrow and left to take care of the DeAngelo child in the ICU. Walters watched him leave and then whispered to himself.
“Greedy, disgusting humans. It still amazes me how selfish they can be when I offer them what they truly desire. He was actually thinking of his own needs over the boy’s.” He laughed, a chilling and evil laugh. Red eyes glowed. “I’ll have another soul to give to my master. I know it. He can’t stop thinking about it even now as he goes to save a life.”
Suddenly Walters trembled. There was the spirit of Heaven in the room, and it made him shake with fear.
“Whose there?” he shouted to the empty room. Within a blink of an eye, Walters became a wicked creature from the depths of Hell. His leather wings stretched outward and glowing red eyes search the room. The fallen angel’s pale face was taunt and worried.
A brilliant light caused the wicked one to cover his face, shielding him from the holy pureness. It slowly descended and came to form an angel from the celestial realm. The fallen angel knew in an instant who it was invading his plans.
“Arthur!”
The melodious but powerful voice of this ministering angel spoke. “Ciro, what are you doing? Why are you tempting Frank?”
“Stay away. That human is mine!”
Arthur walked around the fallen angel, shaking his head. “No, he’s not. He hasn’t accepted your offer yet. Frank has a good heart, and he will choose the right path. I’m here to see you don’t blind him to all his choices, not just yours. I have faith in him and so does my Father.”
The demon hissed as if the words hurt his ears. “Don’t mention THAT name!”
“There was a time He was your Father too, Ciro. I remember you then, before the war in Heaven.”
“Stop! I don’t care about that anymore. I have power like I never had before. I will turn Frank Bertelli with my promise of wealth and fame.”
“Not everyone is greedy, Ciro. Frank is dedicated to helping children. Although he has lost his way, there is still a plan for his life. You must give him time to exercise his free will. That’s all you are allowed to do here on Earth.”
Ciro snapped his wings. “Maybe I can’t make him sin, but humans are weak. He will give in. I could feel it. He wants the fame and glory. They all do, given the chance. He could be such a prize for my master.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” Arthur waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I don’t want to fight you, Ciro. You need to go... NOW. Frank will make his own decision. No more pressure from you.”
Ciro fell quiet, knowing Arthur was right. Sulking, he walked away. He stopped. From the dark reaches of the fallen angel’s depravity, Ciro hatched an alternative plan. With a smirky grin, he turned to face his former brother.
“Unless...”
“Unless what?”
“I will destroy Frank’s self-esteem, his pride. I will break his will and make him a failure. If greed doesn’t work, guilt is a close second. I will take it all away and he will curse your master instead of mine. That’s even better and I will win.”
Arthur looked confused. “Guilt? What do you mean?”
Ciro laughed. “You’ll find out. There is more than one way to steal a soul away. See you around, you foolish puppet.” With that, Ciro flapped his wings and was gone in a puff of black smoke. Arthur looked up toward Heaven for direction and gasped. He knew what Ciro was up to now.
“My stars, Frank is in trouble.”
With a quick snap of his wings, Arthur was in the ICU room of a small boy. Ciro was standing by the bed. Long pale fingers with claw-like nails reach down and touch the child’s chest. The boy wheezed and fell into unconsciousness. The machines around the bed sounded the alarm to the hospital staff.
“Stay away from that child!” Arthur shouted. Ciro wheeled around and laughed. Arthur raised his hand. It glowed bright white as power swelled up inside him. With one mighty blast, Arthur hurled his Heaven-given power toward the fallen angel and slammed him against the wall. Ciro was shaken but unharmed. Quickly he left in a puff of black smoke. Arthur rushed to the bedside. The boy was barely breathing.
“Oh no, not this way!” Arthur looked up, and he knew. Nothing the angel could do would change what was about to happen. “Oh no. Frank must learn his lesson the hard way. I hoped it wouldn’t be like this. This test will be so painful for him to bear. Please, Father, is there no other way?”
The angel heard nothing but silence. He knew this was the only way now. Frank’s hesitation to do the right thing was a condemning indication only suffering would change his selfish heart. Arthur bowed his head and offered his unwavering devotion.
“Your will be done, Father. I will stay with him and wait for your instructions.”
Dr. Bertelli jogged the corridors of the hospital, his mind racing. What could have gone wrong? But thoughts of the amazing deal he had been offered kept pushing the attention to the child away. As he got closer to the ICU, it was clear an emergency was taking place. The parents of Billy DeAngelo were standing outside his room, holding each other, fear on their faces. Nurses and a resident physician were working on the boy. The parents saw their son’s doctor and looked to him for help.
“Save our son, Dr. Bertelli,” the boy’s mother cried out. She buried her face in her husband’s chest, sobbing. Worried eyes of the boy’s father stared at Frank.
Frank patted the father on the arm. “I’m here. I’ll do everything I can.”
The child was breathing harder, struggling for each breath. The nurse was giving him oxygen. Frank examined the boy and ordered the nurse to prep him for surgery. He had to go back in.
Arthur did his best to comfort the parents as only angels can do. He was not given the word to save the child or save Frank. His priority was the parents. As a ministering angel, he did his best. His arms hugged them both, speaking words of comfort to their souls. They prayed and begged for their son’s life. Arthur knew the Father heard their prayer, but the answer was not what they hoped for. The little boy would be in Heaven soon.
Arthur wanted to help Frank, but there was nothing he could do. He was not given permission to minister to him. The young doctor would have to make his own decisions. In a few moments, Frank’s life changed forever. His test was about to begin.
When Arthur saw Daniel, the angel of death arrive, he knew. The surgery failed. Together, hand in hand, Arthur watched as Daniel guided the soul of the smiling six-year-old to Heaven and a greater glory. Arthur could only imagine what this would do to Frank. Little Billy’s parents had great faith and would survive. The Father would give them another child and take away their grief. But Frank needed much more to shake him out of his selfishness and pride. He needed a sharp stab of regret piercing deep into his heart. It was the only way to wake him up and pull him back from the disastrous choice facing him just a few hours ago.
As Ciro strolled away from the surgery waiting room, he winked at Arthur. The angel couldn’t leave the parents and pursue the evil immortal. He had to let him go. But Arthur’s supernatural ears heard Ciro’s dire warning as he flew away.
“Guilt Arthur... guilt will eventually destroy Frank’s soul. Self-loathing will take the place of his inflated ego. Depression and regret will fill his heart. Frank will be mine, one way or another. He should have taken my offer while he had the chance. From now until he dies, this worthless human will blame himself for the child’s death. You lost Arthur.”
Ciro had found a way, and now Frank Bertelli would pay the price. From out of the heavens, Arthur got the call loud and clear. He looked up and nodded his head. With a bright smile, Arthur accepted his assignment. Frank Dean Bertelli was this angel’s mission now.
“Yes Father. I hear and obey. I’ll take care of him. I will show him the way to redemption and forgiveness. I pray he listens.”
When Frank broke the news to the parents, their pain cut through him like a knife. The boy had died because he failed to save him. He had successfully removed the cancerous tumor, but in his rush to get to his meeting with Walters, Frank didn’t do a complete job in the last moments before closing up. One stitch was not secure. It wasn’t noticed because they seemed to hold at first. Frank might have caught it if he had done his rounds on time. He would have noticed the change in the boy’s breathing. It didn’t take long for the weak link to break and the boy bled internally. If Frank had not taken that meeting with Mr. Walters/Ciro, the boy might have lived.
Arthur knew what really happened. Ciro had touched that weak link with his icy hand. The rest was up to a frail human body. Unlike immortals who don’t know death, the boy was too sick to live. Death took him. It would also take away Frank’s future.
Frank did all he could to save the boy, but his mind was conflicted, distracted thinking about his own selfish needs. If only he had taken another look. If only he hadn’t rushed. The pressure he had been under for weeks had dulled his skills and senses. He was tired, stressed and worn out. His pride made him feel indestructible, unable to make a mistake. His pride told him in his hands was the power of life and death. But the Creator who gave him that skill was the one with the genuine power. Frank knew that fact now. It was his mistake. It was his failure. No excuse he could give himself would bring that boy back to life.
In the weeks that followed, an inquiry was done. Frank admitted to the hospital review committee he had screwed up. It was his fault. Arthur was at least glad he had owned up to his mistake, but he never wanted Frank to go through such pain and remorse. He was only human, and humans make mistakes. That’s why there is grace for them.
There was nothing left for the boy’s parents to do but sue Dr. Bertelli and the hospital. The amount of debt they had from their son’s ill health was crushing them. The DeAngelos were not as hard on Frank as he was on himself. They lost their son, but their faith sustained them. As Christians who trusted in the Lord and knew their child was in Heaven, they forgave the doctor. But Frank couldn’t forgive himself. He couldn’t understand why the DeAngelos didn’t hate him.
The hospital settled with the parents, and the case was closed. The hospital board relieved Frank of his status as chief surgeon. Even the deal Walters/Ciro had offered Frank was gone, disappeared as quickly as the strange man had appeared. Frank tried to find him or his mysterious employer but couldn’t. It was as if he didn’t exist.
It didn’t matter now. Nothing could change what he had done. A stain on his career made it hard to be proud of his talent. Hospital staff looked at him differently now. They whispered behind his back. Colleagues shunned him or refused to work with him. Miranda was reassigned, but before she left, she prayed God would help her former boss. Arthur noted the prayer was heard and was being answered.
Finally, Frank couldn’t take it anymore and quit his job, eventually quit medicine altogether. It took everything Frank had to pay the lawyer fees. Unable to pick up a scalpel again, he quit his lifelong commitment as a healer. Sold his house to pay the credit bills, his fashion model girlfriend left him, and they repossessed his sports car.
Guilt was Frank’s only companion. Arthur tried to help him but was heartsick when Frank cursed the Father for taking the boy’s life and cursed himself for his failures. His family priest from the parish he grew up in tried to show him it wasn’t God’s fault. There was a higher purpose to the Father’s ways, and sometimes faithful people suffer because of the evil in this world.
It was just as Ciro had said Frank would do, give up. Faced with this unbearable guilt and self-loathing, he lashed out at everyone, friends, family. No one could console him.
Depression was deep. It could take lots of time to recover, if ever. There was nothing to live for, so why live? Arthur had to work especially hard to get rid of that foolish idea. The angel spoke to Frank’s worried father in a dream that his son needed him. The senior Bertelli coaxed his son to return home to Chicago and try to pull his life together.
When he returned to Chicago, Frank dropped his title as doctor and refused to let anyone call him that. He went back to using his nickname, Dino. It reminded him of a happier time in his life. He put Frank away and became Dino again.
The only thing that seemed to help Dino get through the day was music. It had always been in his life and now it was his lifesaver. Arthur concluded this might be what saves him. The angel suggested to Dino he take up singing and playing in small clubs around town. So he did.
Dino’s father was supportive, but after almost two years of his son’s late night playing in clubs and sleeping all day, depressed and unmotivated, Mr. Bertelli decided it was time for his son to go back to medicine. A fight ensued, ugly words were said that broke the father and son relationship apart. Dino left his family and moved to Florida, taking a job playing piano and singing in Fort Lauderdale.
Bertelli was a broken man. Arthur felt he had failed Dino but was told to not give up; this was part of the plan. Humans see better what is important when they look at their lives through brokenness. Now Dino’s heart was free of his selfish pride, free of greed and ego. As he spent another year in Florida, Dino began to heal. He was an open vessel waiting to be filled with love and forgiveness, ready to be given a new purpose for his life. That purpose was what the Father had planned all along, but Frank’s foolish pride had gotten in the way. As for Dino, he was ready, and Arthur took it from there. The fresh start Dino needed arrived with a phone call from Hank Dupont and an invitation to move to Las Vegas.