The Miner's Lady (23 page)

“Sí, Mama.” Chantel drew a deep breath. “I know this may sound completely crazy, but I've fallen in love with Dante Calarco.”

Her mother's expression took on a look of disbelief and then of amusement. “Goodness, Mr. Calarco will never recover from this.”

“I don't know exactly how Dante feels about me, but I think he feels the same. We haven't talked about it, but we . . . well . . . on the train ride home from Duluth, it felt like everything somehow changed between us. Neither of us were interested in fighting anymore. We were . . . in fact . . . well . . . content in each other's company. Now I find he is all I can think of. I want to see him every day.”

“Ah,
amore
,” her mother declared, touching her hand to her breast. “The heart, it knows.”

“What should I do?”

Mama smiled. “Give it time. If Dante feels as you say he does, he will not let you go. He will pursue you if it is God's will.”

“But I thought he might have said something by now. It's been weeks since we returned. I know it's been difficult for him since he was forced to leave his father's house . . . but even so, he's been to supper here several times.”

“Do not fret so, Chantel! Again, God's timing is not always what we think it should be. If He has made Dante for you—for your husband—He will bring it to be. Your job is to pray and stay out of God's way. If you try to force this before its time, you may lose everything.”

Chantel knew her mother was right. She sighed and got to her feet. “I'd best get to the laundry. That will give me plenty of time to pray.”

The prayer time did Chantel good, and before she knew it, the wash was done and hung to dry on the lines. She had
paused only once to have a small lunch with Mama, and now she noted that the day was nearly at a close. With the laundry complete, she made her way into the house to help Mama prepare supper.

The women worked well together, but Isabella's absence settled over them once again. Chantel had always loved her sister's sense of humor and vivacious spirit. Isabella made their days joyful and light.

“I miss her,” Chantel said aloud without thinking.

“I do, too,” Mama replied, needing no explanation.

“Issy always makes it easier to work. I suppose now I shall just have to learn to find ways to be joyful without her.”

“It's the way of life. A mama cannot expect her children to remain at home forever. One day your brothers will marry, and if you wed Dante, then it will be just your papa and me.”

“Will that make you sad?” Chantel had never really thought of what life would be for her mother once they all went their separate ways.

“It would make me sadder if you didn't find true love,” Mama admitted. “But I will miss having my family all around me. Your papa and I, we have a special love, and I know I will never tire of his company. So I remind myself that when my children are gone, I will still have him. And then . . . one day . . . I hope to have grandchildren.” She gave Chantel a broad smile. “A whole houseful to spoil and love.”

Chantel liked the idea of that very much and found herself whispering a prayer that it might be so.

Chantel had just finished setting the table when her father and brothers came in the front door. She was surprised by this as they usually came in through the back in order to leave their dirty work boots and coats. She started to comment, then realized why they'd chosen the front door. Dante Calarco was in their company.

Dante's eyes met hers, and Chantel couldn't help but feel a little shy in his presence. She couldn't keep the memory of his kiss from invading her mind, and she felt herself blush. Was he as tormented as she?

“I hope you don't mind,” Papa told Mama, “but I invited Dante to supper.”

“What about his nonna?” Mama asked.

“Nonna was teaching Mrs. Merritt how to make lasagna and told me to come without her,” Dante said with a grin. “I think the boarders will be very happy about this change. Mrs. Merritt is a good woman, but she's not Italian.”

Everyone chuckled at this, and Mama motioned to the dining room. “Well, the supper is ready. You boys come and take your places.”

“We aren't staying, Mama,” Marco announced. “Alfredo's gal has invited us to a birthday celebration at her house.”

Mama looked to Alfredo and admonished him in English. “You should have told me sooner. I could have sent her a gift.” She brightened. “I know. I'll give you some preserves. I have that nice blueberry jam your sister made.”

“I know she'd like that, Mama,” Alfredo replied. He jabbed Marco. “We're gonna go get cleaned up and changed. I'll get the preserves before we head back out.”

“Well, that just leaves the four of us,” Papa declared. “A nice number for supper, don't you think?”

Chantel nodded and tried not to squirm under Dante's gaze. She could sense his eyes following her, and she longed to feel his touch once again. But she remembered what her mother had said about letting things take their course and giving God time to work.

Papa embraced Mama and walked with her into the dining room, leaving Chantel and Dante standing in the foyer.

“It's good to see you again,” Chantel said softly.

“You too.” He smiled, and her stomach fluttered in response.

“We had a letter from Issy and Orlando. They are doing well. I thought you might like to know.”

Dante nodded. “Your father mentioned it. I'm glad they're happy. And though it was a difficult decision, I know now that their marriage was the right choice.”

“I'm glad,” Chantel said, folding her hands together. “I know Orlando . . . well, he loves you.”

“Yes.”

Dante's dark eyes bore into her own. Chantel felt as if he
could read her thoughts—her heart. She wanted to move away, but her feet seemed nailed in place. She licked her lips in a nervous gesture and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Are you hungry?”

He took two steps to cross the distance between them, then pulled Chantel into his arms. “Hungry doesn't even begin to explain it.” With that he kissed her with a deep intensity that left Chantel breathless. When he pulled away, he grinned in a self-assured manner and headed for the dining room.

For a moment Chantel couldn't even think clearly. He obviously had feelings for her, so why didn't he just tell her rather than kiss her?
Of course,
she touched her lips,
I rather like the way he explains himself.

Dante sat across from Chantel at the supper table. Had her brothers been with them for the meal, it might not have seemed so intimate, but with just her parents and Dante, that wasn't the case.

“That new resort, Crossman's Park, is to open next month,” Papa announced. “I read it in the paper. It sounds like it will be quite the place to enjoy the luxuries of life.”

“Against the backdrop of a mining town hardly seems a fit setting,” Mama said, passing Papa the bread. “Of course, I know that away from town there is great beauty, and the resort will be at the big lake. But I'm afraid when people arrive by train they may question their choice and turn back.”

“Well, it isn't likely any of us will be using it,” Papa replied. “I understand it will mainly be used to draw in tourists from the big cities. And don't you worry, dear. I heard talk of great plans to beautify this town—buildings to be painted,
flower gardens planted. Pretty soon it will look mighty fine, I'm thinking.”

The conversation soon turned to the upcoming summer and all that was planned for the town of Ely. Chantel tried to remain interested, though she wished she and Dante could talk again in private.

I wish I were better at waiting. Patience isn't exactly my best virtue, is it, Lord?

“Marshal—I mean Constable Garrison—said that he has begun to tighten control on the gaming houses and brothels,” Papa added.

“And I heard it said that the city council is now holding meetings in the city hall,” Dante threw in.

“It's quite the grand building, what with the fire department and courtroom there, as well. I do believe we are becoming a real town. Who knows, in time we might very well become a large city like Duluth,” Papa said before cutting into his meat.

The mention of Duluth caused Chantel to think back to her trip, and she felt her cheeks grow hot at the memory of awaking to Dante standing over her. Her love of Isabella had given her courage, but now the entire matter seemed so foolish. She looked across the table to find Dante grinning at her as if he could read her mind.

“Dante, would you like more bread?” Mama asked.

Chantel was grateful his attention was placed elsewhere and lowered her gaze.
If I don't control my emotions, Mama and Papa are going to demand to know what's going on, and I can't tell them I spent the night with Dante
. She swallowed hard and bit her lower lip.

“The Pioneer Mine is expanding, and there has been some discussion about running three shifts at the Chandler,” Dante declared.

Mama looked at him in disbelief. “Three shifts? Goodness, there will never be any quiet.”

“That will cut the length of time we have to spend down in the mine,” Dante added. “But it may also cut back our salaries.”

“I heard the captain say that wages might well be increased to coordinate with the shortening of hours. I suppose all we can do is wait and see,” Papa replied.

Chantel really didn't care about Ely or the mine at this point. Would this meal never end?
But once it's over, then what? Will Dante want to leave for the boardinghouse, or will he stay and talk with me? Maybe I should just ask him to stay for a time.

After nearly twenty minutes of conversation about new mines and the price of iron ore, supper was finally concluded. Chantel was just about to ask if she could delay in helping with cleanup in order to spend time talking to Dante, when Papa cleared his throat.

“Dante and I will speak in private while you ladies clear the table.”

Chantel hid her disappointment. “Would you like for me to bring you both coffee?”

“No,” Papa replied with a shake of his head. “In fact, I would rather you both let us alone. I will come for you when we are finished with our business.” With that, he followed Dante from the room.

Puzzled by her father's comment, Chantel turned to her mother. “What kind of business does Papa have with Dante?”

Mama shrugged. “I suppose it has to do with the mine. He didn't say anything to me.”

Chantel helped her mother wash and dry the supper dishes, but all the while she kept wondering what her father and Dante were up to. They seemed so secretive, and she was almost certain her father's eyes held the same devilish twinkle he got when he was preparing a surprise.

“What are you doing, Chantel? Where is your mind?” Mama asked.

Chantel looked down to find herself putting away the baking dish . . . in the oven. She straightened and shook her head. “I'm afraid my mind was elsewhere.” She went to the cupboard and put the dish away properly.

It was only another ten minutes or so before Papa appeared with a smile. “I'll finish helping Mama. You might want to go to the sitting room and speak with Dante. He has something to say.”

“To me?” she asked in surprise.

Her father chuckled. “Yes. We finished our discussion and now I believe he prefers to speak with you.”

Chantel untied her apron and hung it by the door. She trembled slightly as she made her way to the front room. Dante had leaned back against the sofa and looked for all the world as though this were his home. In all his visits before, Chantel had remembered him as quite tense—almost as if he might jump up at any given moment to run from the house. But not this time.

“Papa said you wanted to speak with me?”

Dante got to his feet and nodded. “I think it's about time, don't you?”

———

He could see that Chantel was hesitant. She looked past him at the window and bit her lower lip for a moment, an action he'd seen her do when her nerves got the best of her. “Why don't you come sit here,” he said, directing her to a chair. “I want to make certain you are comfortable and can hear me out.”

Chantel did as he suggested and perched on the edge of the chair. He couldn't help but smile as he drew up another chair to sit directly in front of her. “I had a long talk with your father,” he said, meeting her questioning gaze.

“About the mine?”

He laughed. “No. About you.”

“Me?” Her eyes widened. “What . . . what about me? You didn't tell him about . . . that . . . night. Did you?”

“You sound as nervous as a girl about to receive her first kiss, although I know quite well that isn't the case.” He reached out and took hold of her hand. Her fingers were cold, and he did his best to warm them in his grip.

“Chantel, I think we both realize how we feel about each other.” He shook his head. “I certainly never thought to follow in my brother's footsteps and fall for a Panetta woman, but it would seem I have.” He smiled. “And quite happily, I might add—lest it sound like something I dread.”

“Your father will certainly be unhappy to hear it,” she said matter-of-factly.

“He's not speaking to me anyway,” Dante replied. “So I'm not inclined to consider his feelings in the matter. Even so, I'm sure you're right. It will come as a shock to realize he has not one, but two sons, married to Panettas.”

“Married?” She barely squeaked out the word.

Dante's eyes narrowed. “If you'll have me. After all, you have already spent the night with me.”

She flushed a pretty red, making him smile all the more. He liked that she was embarrassed at the reminder. It spoke of her innocence and sensibility.

“If you're doing this because of that night . . . out of a sense of duty . . .” Chantel's words faded, and she seemed to struggle to find the right words.

Dante shook his head. “This doesn't have anything to do with a sense of duty. It has to do with . . . well, having lost my heart to you. I know neither of us set out to fall in love, but I have to believe you feel the same way about me.”

She looked up and met his gaze. “I do feel the same way,” she admitted.

“Good. So you'll marry me?”

Chantel nodded. “I will.” Her expression filled with understanding. “So that's what you wanted to talk to my papa about?”

“Yes. I asked him for permission to marry you. I had thought only to ask for permission to court you, but I realized my intentions were far more serious than that. I want to spend my future with you by my side.”

She smiled, and it warmed his heart. “There's no other place I want to be.”

Dante got to his feet and pulled her up, as well. A wave of tenderness washed over him, and he put his finger under Chantel's chin and tipped her face upward. “I never intended to fall in love with a Panetta.”

“I never figured to love a Calarco,” she replied.

“I suppose my brother's bad influence has brought this about.”

Chantel nodded. “I blame my sister.”

“Nevertheless, I suppose we must make the best of it.”

Her gaze never left him. “I suppose we must.”

Gently Dante touched his lips to hers. Chantel in turn wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Dante's arms encircled her waist as the kiss deepened.

“I take it she said yes,” Mr. Panetta said from the doorway.

Dante jumped back as if he'd been caught stealing eggs. “Yes, sir. Yes, she did.”

The older man chuckled. “I'm glad. I think you two will be very happy together.”

Dante left the Panetta house nearly an hour later. His spirits were high as he relived his time spent with Chantel. He had never expected to propose to her, but then, he'd never anticipated falling so deeply in love with any woman, much less her.

He couldn't help but grin. He was in love, and he would soon marry. But there was a great deal to accomplish in the meantime. He would need to secure a house and find furnishings. He knew Nonna would help. She had a good many friends who would probably be able to assist, as well.