The Miner's Lady (22 page)

“I will,” she promised. Once Mrs. Nardozzi left them, Chantel guided Nonna to the far side of the church where no one stood. “Is everything all right? I mean, I know that Dante's father was to return late last night. Did he?”

“Sí, he came home very late. Dante went to bed early so he wouldn't have to give his father the bad news until today. Dante told him about Orlando and Isabella this morning.”

Chantel nodded, knowing it wouldn't have gone well. “I prayed for him, for you—even for Mr. Calarco. I know that God can change his heart.”

“He alone has the power to do that. My son-in-law, he is very angry. I should probably not tell you this, but he has put Dante from the house. He has disowned him and said he wants never to see him again.”

“What! That's terrible. Dante was only trying to do what he knew his father would want. Did he explain that he came all the way to Duluth and tried to get Orlando to return with him?”

“Sí, but that doesn't matter to Vittorio. He raged and blasphemed. He needs God to change him, but he doesn't want to have anything to do with God.”

Chantel's mind was still on Dante. “Where will Dante go?”

“He has taken a room at Mrs. Merritt's, and I think I will join him there. He came here today now that he's made peace with God.” She smiled at Chantel. “You have been a good influence on my Dante.”

Her face grew hot. “He . . . he's a good man.”

“He is. He cares enough to take care of his nonna, so I must say so,” she replied with a chuckle. “But I would say so anyway.”

“Would you both like to come have dinner with us today?” she asked, knowing her mother wouldn't mind.

Mrs. Barbato's eyes lit up. “I think that would be wonderful. I will tell Dante, and we will come.”

“Tell Dante what?” he asked, coming up from behind Chantel.

“We've been invited to eat with the Panettas. I told her we would.”

Chantel turned to find Dante only inches away. Her gaze locked with his, and when he smiled she thought she might well lose all sense and throw herself into his arms.

“Your nonna told me . . . told me . . .” She looked away to regain her thoughts. “She said you moved into Mrs. Merritt's boardinghouse.”

“Yes. It's a temporary solution for what will probably be a very permanent problem.”

She nodded. “I'm sorry, Dante.” She forced her gaze back to his. “I truly am. Would it help if Papa went to speak to your father?”

“I doubt anything will help at this point, except maybe prayer.” He smiled. “It seems that between you and Nonna, I have come to realize that there is power in praying and making peace with God.”

Chantel smiled in delight. “Indeed there is. If we pray in faith, we can move mountains.”

“Or the heart of Calarcos,” Nonna said with a grin.

Dante felt a sense of relief after talking to the mining officials. He was assured he would continue to have work and in the days that followed, the same was impressed upon his father. The mining corporation had a contract with the two men, and the captain told Dante and his father that they expected the men to honor it to the letter. The mining captain further explained that the skills of both men were important, and with the mine ever expanding, they would need every man they could get.

When they were alone, the mine captain told Dante that his experience and knowledge of explosives was too valuable to lose. Dante had worked all of his adult life at his father's side, and because of that training knew more than most explosives workers. Not only that, but Dante was far more open to some of the new innovations. If his father insisted on making threats about the matter, they would find a way to employ Dante elsewhere. Ultimately, they planned to encourage Dante's father to let the matter drop. The two men had always worked well together and their abilities were needed.

Dante knew his father, however. Vittorio Calarco was a
man bent on revenge—the feud was proof enough of that. Forcing Dante and his mother-in-law from the family house was equal proof.

Still, as the weeks slipped by and April was nearly finished, Dante knew two things with absolute certainty: Letting Orlando go was the right thing, and he was falling hopelessly in love with Chantel Panetta. He had seen her on several occasions at church and when he and Nonna had been invited to share meals with the Panettas. Their time alone had been very limited, however. That was a problem he intended to rectify.

“You are deep in thought,” Dante's grandmother said. “Are you thinking of that little house you went to see?”

He looked up from where he sat on the edge of his bed. “That and much more. Sorry for my silence.”

She smiled. “You made it sound like a lovely little house. It sounds large enough for all of us.”

All of us. He smiled at the statement. Nonna was quite impatient for him to propose marriage to Chantel. But instead of saying anything, she changed the subject.

“Will you work with your father today?”

Dante donned his jacket as they spoke. “If you can call it that. I don't know how much longer they'll have us in the same mine. The contract is up next month, so hopefully the officials will see fit to have us work apart. These past weeks have been difficult, and they know it. Papa has made it clear that he isn't happy working with me. He's threatened to quit several times, but they've always managed to smooth things over and remind him of his contract. Frankly, I don't know what they've been promising him.

“I know, too, that Papa's anger makes him unsafe. He
spends too much time focused on our problems instead of keeping his mind on the job. That will get him or someone else killed. Separating us will be best for everyone.”

“I wish only that he would make peace with you. He is a stubborn man, however. I have tried to speak to him, but he told me I was a traitor to side with you. So I am praying for him,” Nonna said. She worked to make the two small beds before they headed downstairs for Mrs. Merritt's breakfast. It was a routine she and Dante had fallen into since Nonna had come to live with him at the boardinghouse. Thankfully Mrs. Merritt still had the larger room available, suiting their temporary needs.

As they made their way downstairs, Dante took special care to help Nonna on the steps. She seemed so small and fragile since having suffered pneumonia, and Dante worried about her. Maybe it was for the best that they had come here. At least now Nonna's workload was cut considerably. She still handled their laundry, but she no longer had to worry about shopping for food and preparing it. She also wouldn't have to wear herself out with the cleanup of meals or of a large house.

Dante could only imagine how his father was faring. He'd tried to speak to him at work, but the man refused to communicate about anything. Dante was hard-pressed to even get information regarding the day's work. He would be very glad when the working arrangements were changed.

Mrs. Merritt bustled around the large dining room, making certain that everyone had a bowl of oatmeal and plenty of cream and sugar. She chatted with each of her boarders, offering bits of news she knew would be important to them.
She had twelve men who rented rooms and two ladies. One, Mrs. Bramley, was the mother of one of the men, and then there was Nonna. Mrs. Merritt seemed happy to have other women in the house and showered Nonna and Mrs. Bramley with gossip from the neighborhood. Dante could only imagine how the trio spent the workday.

With the oatmeal in place, Mrs. Merritt then deposited platters heaping with hot sliced ham. The men deferred to the ladies and allowed them to take their portions first and then dug into the mounds, reducing the number of slices in quick order. Mrs. Merritt followed the ham with golden brown biscuits and two large bowls of gravy. It was a feast fit for a king.

When breakfast was over, Dante kissed Nonna good-bye and headed to the mine with the other men. No one seemed overly interested in conversation. A few of the men tucked plugs of chewing tobacco into their cheeks, knowing that smoking would be strictly forbidden in the shafts. Dante was glad he'd never taken up either habit.

Once he'd been delivered down the shaft to where they were working, Dante made his way to where he and his father had their supplies of explosives. He found his father already there, checking the inventory of dynamite.

“Morning, Papa,” Dante greeted as he did every day since being put from the house. The older man didn't so much as grunt acknowledgment. Dante took it all in stride. He hoped that once the initial upheaval had settled, his father would see how ridiculous he'd been. At least that was Dante's prayer.
It will take an act of God to bring Papa around, but if God could get my attention, He can surely do the same for Papa.

To his surprise and his father's disgust, the mine captain arrived with Mr. Panetta. “I'm glad you're both here,” he told them. “I have a project that I need your thoughts on,” he began. “I've asked Panetta to join us so that we can make certain to cover all the details.”

Dante's father clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. Dante was surprised he said nothing, however.

“So this is the plan,” the captain continued. “We've an area that has shown a vast wealth of ore. We're going to plan to cave it for direct loading into the trams. I want you, Calarco, and your son to make minimal charges for this. We'll position small charges six feet apart in a crossing fashion.” He drew an
X
in the air. “They will be placed in the center of the area where we feel the ore is richest. We've had great results doing this in the past.”

“And when are we going to do this?” Dante's father asked.

“At the end of the last shift tomorrow. If you need anything, let me know. I can always wire Duluth and get it on the next train.”

“Why not just set the charge today?” Calarco asked.

“If we wait and do it Saturday night, it will give the dust a chance to clear. When we start loading and mining on Monday, the crew will be fresh. I want everyone good and rested. We have no room for error in this. That ore is greatly needed.” He nodded toward Chantel's father. “Panetta still walks with a limp, and we can't afford additional accidents.”

Dante's father muttered something under his breath, but Dante couldn't make it out. No doubt his father's words were just as well unheard.

“I want you to coordinate the explosion with Panetta and
make certain the trams are in place. We want this as neat and orderly as possible. Saving lives and time is what we're about. We'll all benefit if we get the ore out in the fastest and safest possible manner. Any questions?”

When there were none, the captain bid everyone a good day and left to see to other matters. Dante thought his father might comment on the job, but instead he grabbed up some supplies and left without another word.

“I see he's still not speaking to you,” Mr. Panetta said with a sympathetic smile.

“No. He's angry because I won't go after Orlando and bring him home.” Dante shrugged, trying to make light of the sad facts. “I suppose it was time to leave . . . all birds must leave the nest sooner or later.”

“True, but I just wanted to remind you that you are welcome at our house. You and Mrs. Barbato.”

“Thank you, sir.” Dante had to smile. He had never thought he'd be using such respect in speaking to a Panetta.

“We're family now, whether your father likes it or not. We heard from your brother, and he and Isabella are happily settled.”

“I'm glad.” He was happy to mean it. “I wonder if I might talk to you about something else. Not here, of course.”

“Why don't you come to supper tonight and bring your nonna. The weather's warming and thawing the ice, but for now the roads shouldn't be too impassible.”

“I'd like that and I'm certain Nonna would. Mrs. Merritt doesn't exactly prepare food to her liking.”

“I can imagine,” he said. “It's not Italian, eh?” Dante nodded and Panetta continued. “I'll expect you tonight. After
supper, we can talk about your matter.” He gave Dante a sly grin. “I have a feeling I already know what you want to talk about.”

Dante felt a moment of embarrassment at this. He hadn't expected Chantel's father to be quite so open about Dante's relationship with his daughter. Dante hadn't even talked to Chantel, since they both seemed to find it easier to just accept that things had changed between them. He didn't want to jinx it with a discussion. At least that was how he saw it.

Chantel reread her sister's letter from Chicago and shook her head. “She's working for a sewing house. Can you imagine it? Issy was never that fond of sewing.”

Mama smiled. “A woman has to do what she has to do when times are difficult. I'm glad they both found work.” She folded a letter from her sister that had come with Isabella's missive. “Marilla said they sounded quite happy when they wrote to her, as well.” She tucked her sister's letter back into the envelope. “You were smart to have Issy write to Marilla. That way no one can know where they are unless we tell them.”

“It's a pity it has to be that way,” Chantel replied, setting her sister's letter aside. “I keep asking God to intercede, but perhaps the time simply isn't right.”

“God's timing is up to Him,” Mama replied. “We cannot know why He says yes to one and no to another, or why the rains fall in one place but not another. Ours is not to understand, but to trust. That is where faith comes in. We must have faith.”

“I know you're right.” Chantel picked up her tatting. “It sounds like Issy and Orlando have made a nice little home together, but it also seems they will both be working very hard.”

Isabella had explained that Orlando had found work helping to offload cargo at the docks. They had rented a small furnished apartment in a decidedly Irish neighborhood and, despite their cultural differences, had made a few friends.

“Hard work is not a bad thing,” Mama countered. “It will do them good. Speaking of which, you and I must make plans for our garden. There is much to consider.” She drew a piece of paper from her pocket and took the pencil that hung from her chatelaine. “I've been making a list of what we should plant.”

Chantel listened halfheartedly as her mother outlined her ideas. Planting a garden was the least of Chantel's interests at the moment.

“Mama,” she interrupted. “I wonder if I could talk to you about something else.”

Her mother seemed confused. “Something else to plant?”

Chantel smiled and shook her head. “No. Something else altogether. Something about me.”

“Of course. What is it?” her mother asked, still focused on her list.

“I'm in love.”

Her mother immediately dropped the paper to her lap. “Love? You are in love?”