The Miner's Lady (21 page)

Dante allowed the rhythmic sway of the train to lull him to sleep. His dreams, however, were filled with thoughts of the woman who traveled at his side—who'd spent the night in his room only a few feet away from where he slept.

His mind conjured up visions of her smiling and welcoming him into her arms. He found himself longing to hold her—to kiss her again. And in the fogginess of his mind, he did just that. It felt so real that he awoke with a start at one point, only to find Chantel dozing, her head now on his shoulder.

Nonna Barbato had always told him that when his heart was confused on doing the right thing or the wrong thing, he should pray. But Dante had given up such things long ago. He couldn't help but think about Mr. Panetta and what he'd said about God speaking to him in the mine. Had God really talked to him?

Dante felt the last speck of his resolve crumble at the sight of the woman now so close to him. They looked like a comfortably married couple for all intents and purposes, he thought. And for the first time in his life, Dante found himself wishing they were.

What was he to do? How could he fight the growing feelings he held for this woman? And why should he have to? Perhaps Orlando was right. It made no sense to continue calling the Panettas their enemy. Especially the women of the family—they'd clearly done nothing to deserve such a title. His father would never agree, but Dante could at least now understand why Orlando had been willing to risk his relationship with his family . . . and even his own life.

When Chantel snuggled up against him, Dante put his arm around her and held her close. He knew that it went against social etiquette, but he didn't care. There were very few people in their train car and all of them were men. If anything, they would only envy him.

Chantel slept on.
She feels safe with me.
Dante shook his
head. Somehow he was going to have to explain to his father that not only had his brother married a Panetta, but Dante planned to do likewise. The thought startled him.
I want to marry her. I want to spend the rest of my life with this woman.
He smiled. Of course, he would still have to convince Chantel, but somehow he didn't think it would be all that hard.

Dante closed his eyes. It should seem wrong to contemplate marriage, but it didn't. It felt like the missing piece to a puzzle had finally been found. He was in love with Chantel Panetta and intended to marry her.

Dwelling again on what Mr. Panetta had told him about God speaking on peace and reconciliation, Dante thought of how hard he had fought to ignore God over the last half of his life. He supposed his father's negative outlook on God had something to do with it, but Dante also knew he was responsible for his own relationship with the Almighty.

I have to start somewhere
. The train continued to rumble along, swaying him as gently as a mother would her babe. For reasons Dante couldn't explain, he felt a great sense of peace.

God, I know it's been a long time since I listened for your voice, but I want to hear you like Mr. Panetta did. I want to know that you really care—that you are there.
He rethought his words and started again.

I'm sorry, Father. I came with demands when I should have come pleading and begging for forgiveness. Help me, because I have a feeling that if left to myself, I'm just going to make a bigger mess of things than I've already made. My heart is taking me in a direction I never expected, and my father is going to be livid. I'm going to need your help on this, God. But first I want to make things right between us.

He thought of what Nonna had taught him and of the Scriptures he had once committed to memory. Choosing to accept Jesus for his Savior involved repentance and a willingness to turn away from sin.

I accepted you a long time ago as my Savior, Lord, but I know I've been living wrong for some time. I want to make a change. I want to do right in your eyes, but I'm going to need more than my own strength to see it through. Please forgive my abandonment of your teachings. Forgive my arrogance and pride. And please, help my father to understand and let go of his hatred and anger
.

The following Sunday, Dante sat at the breakfast table. His father had returned late the night before, and now as they sat across from each other, he explained all that had transpired in his absence. It hadn't been easy, but Nonna had assured him it was the right thing to do.

“I thought I had convinced Orlando to at least come home and tell you in person what he had done, but he changed his mind.” The last words were given in the form of an apology.

Dante could see that the older man was carefully considering what was to be done. Nonna served them a platter of sausages to go with their steaming cups of coffee. Italian breakfasts were traditionally laden with sweets, but the Calarco men worked much too hard to survive on such things alone. She gave Dante the slightest nod of her head. She approved of what he'd done, but she could never save him from his father's wrath.

Spearing one of the sausages, Dante continued to wait, knowing further words would serve no purpose. The silence might seem welcome to some, but Dante knew it was just the calm before the storm.

Nonna, too, held her tongue. She joined them at the table with a plate of
bomboloni
—fried pastries filled with custard. They were one of Vittorio Calarco's favorites, and Dante knew his nonna had made them to assuage her son-in-law's anger.

Dante was on his second cup of coffee when his father finally spoke. “You will go after him.”

“I did, Papa. I went to Duluth and tried to bring him back. I told you that already.”

His father slammed his open palms onto the table. “I said you will go after him.”

“And where would I even begin to look? There were trains and ships, carriages and freighters. How am I supposed to find them now? It's been days, and they could be almost anywhere.”

His father's face reddened. “I won't tolerate your disrespect. I don't care where you look or how you do it, but you will find him.”

Dante wiped his mouth with a napkin and set it aside. “No, Papa. I won't.”

“Vittorio . . . your boy, he is married,” Nonna said, joining their English conversation. “You cannot interfere with this thing God has done.”

“God?” Dante's father questioned. “It seems God has been taking things away from me all of my life. My parents, my home in Italy, my wife, my brothers . . . and now He demands my sons? Well, He cannot have them.”

“You blaspheme,” Nonna declared in Italian. “You talk about God as if He should follow your directives, rather than the other way around. Vittorio, God did not rob you of your
family, nor has He taken your sons. You have pushed them away and put a mountain of hate between you.”

“Be quiet, woman,” he snapped. “I won't hear anything more from you. From either of you.”

“I'm afraid you're going to have to listen to me, Papa,” Dante said, trying his best to sound respectful. “Orlando and Isabella have been married for nearly a week. She soon could be expecting a child. That baby will be flesh of your flesh, as well as that of the Panettas. It is time to put aside the past and look to the future.”

His father said nothing for several moments, and Dante thought perhaps he'd actually gotten through to him. When his father stood, however, Dante realized just how wrong he had been.

“Get out. You are no longer my son. If you seek a peace with the Panettas, then go. Go live with the Panettas if that is your desire, but I never want to see you again. I will see to it that you never work in the iron mines. I will declare you to be worthless and deceptive—as you are.” He tore his shirt in a bellowing rage. “I have no sons! I have no family!”

Dante said nothing as his father stormed from the room. Nonna was beside him almost immediately. She put her hand upon Dante's shoulder. “He doesn't mean it. He's just upset. Once he takes time to think it all through, he will change his mind.”

“I don't think so, Nonna. Especially when he learns that I, too, am in love with a Panetta.”

A smile spread across her lips. “I knew it would be so. Chantel is a beautiful girl, and she loves God very much.”

“I know. She loves her family, as well. She risked everything
to help her sister and Orlando get away from me. She doesn't love lightly, to be sure.”

“That is a good kind of woman to have for a wife. She will be good for you and to you.”

“But at the cost of my father.” He shook his head.

Dante's father came back into the room, but he said nothing to either one of them. He went to the back porch and retrieved his boots. Dante waited as his father laced up his boots, wondering what he might say to him.

To his surprise, however, his father marched back into the kitchen and pointed his finger at Dante. “You be gone by the time I return.” With that he turned and, without bothering to close the door between the kitchen and porch, opened the outside door and allowed a blast of cold March air to fill the room. He left the house without another word.

Nonna padded over to the open doors and closed them one by one. “He is being unreasonable.”

“It is his home and right,” Dante said, getting to his feet. “And well past time for me to go.”

“Mrs. Merritt has rooms to let,” Nonna told him. “She's a good woman. You should go there.”

Dante nodded. “I guess I will.” He looked around the room, wondering if this was how Orlando had felt. “Will you be all right?” he asked Nonna.

“I will talk to him when he comes home. He might not listen, but I will speak my mind,” Nonna replied. “And if need be, I will return to Italy.”

Dante knew that such an arduous trip would most likely cost his grandmother her life. “No, don't go. Find me, and I will locate a house where we can both live.”

She smiled. “And Chantel?”

He nodded. “If she'll have me.”

Mrs. Merritt showed Dante to a very small room with a single twin bed. It looked hardly big enough for a child, much less a man. “If you are sure you can't share with the others, this is what I can offer you. I have a bigger room with two beds, but the price is greater and frankly it seems imprudent to waste the space. Bath is at the end of the hall and you share it with everyone on this floor.”

Dante liked the no-nonsense woman and smiled. “This will be fine. I'm not sure how long I'll need to stay anyway.”

“Well, you pay a week in advance. Price includes all your meals. If you leave your lunch pail in the kitchen each night, I'll have it packed for you to take to the mine. You won't go hungry,” she said with a nod. “Not in this house.”

Dante paid her the week's rent and waited until she had gone before he explored the room more thoroughly. There was a small dresser for his clothes and a nightstand by the bed with a single lamp and nothing more. There was one small window that allowed in the light. The shade had been raised by Mrs. Merritt when they'd arrived to review the room, and now Dante went to gaze out it and contemplate his future.

He had money enough of his own to take care of his needs, but only if he were allowed to keep his job. As he had mentioned to Nonna, he could probably afford to rent them a little house, but if his father got him fired, there would be no sense remaining in the area.

Maybe I should have a talk with the mine captain
, he
thought.
Maybe I should just go to him now and explain the situation and see if we can't work something out whereby I can stay on. Maybe even just be a mucker.
He considered the backbreaking labor of loading ore all day. At least it was a job, and the mines always seemed to need the common laborers. The pay would be far less, he knew, but even the offered $1.50 a day would be better than most other jobs.

He should probably seek work in one of the other mines. That way he wouldn't have to encounter his father at all. He looked at the clock. Most of the mining officials would be headed to church with their families. Perhaps he should join them.
With any luck at all
, Dante thought,
I might be able to talk to someone today.

Chantel couldn't hide her surprise at the sight of Dante Calarco at the morning services. He wore the same clothes he'd had on in Duluth, probably his only good clothes, she mused. But today he was clean-shaven—she hadn't seen him this way since returning from Italy. She had rather liked his beard and mustache, but she had to admit their loss was a vast improvement.

After services, Chantel found herself caught up in a conversation with several ladies about a fundraiser for St. Anthony's, and after that she lost track of where Dante had gone. Even so, from time to time she searched the crowd for some sign of him. She longed to be near him again, to feel his arm drawing her close.

I hope his father didn't get too angry with him. I would hate to think of them coming to blows. Papa said that he'd seen
many a man handle his sons with his fist.
The very thought caused her to shudder.

“Do you think you could manage that?” Mama asked her.

Chantel nodded, not having any idea what it was she was supposed to manage. She looked at her mother in confusion. “I'm sorry. What is it you need me to do?”

“We were talking about the bake sale,” one of the other women said. “We need a pledge of food from each family. We will hold the sale near the mine and are sure to sell out quickly. We'll have a large tent put up for the occasion and several families are donating tables for us to use. Since many of the miners are single, this will be a great way to raise money.”

“I'd be happy to do whatever I can to help,” Chantel replied.

“Your mother has the list of all the baked goods we'll need from each family,” the woman continued. “And we'll need you to take a shift at the tent, as well.”

“We can do that,” Mama replied. “If it raises money to help the church, it will be worth the time and effort.”

“Yes,” Chantel said in agreement. She again let her gaze travel the room in search of Dante. She soon spied Nonna Barbato.

“Excuse me,” she told the ladies and hurried to where Dante's grandmother stood talking to old Mrs. Nardozzi.

The women smiled at her approach and welcomed her to join them. “We were just talking about news from the old country,” Nonna Barbato told Chantel. She hugged her close. “Mrs. Nardozzi has a new great-grandson.”

Chantel could see the delight on the old woman's face. “Congratulations. May he live a hundred years.”

“Grazie,” the woman said, nodding. “My friend tells me that your sister has married her grandson Orlando.”

“Sí.” Chantel looked to Nonna and smiled. “They are quite happy together.”

“But his papa is not so happy,” Mrs. Nardozzi interjected.

“I'm sure that's true. In fact, that's why I came to speak with you, Nonna.” She hoped Mrs. Nardozzi wouldn't be offended. “I wondered if when you finished here, could I see you . . . alone?”

“You go ahead,” Mrs. Nardozzi said, patting Nonna's hand. “I must find my son and daughter-in-law.” She smiled again at Chantel. “You tell your mama to come see me soon.”