The Miner's Lady (28 page)

“We are Italian,” Nonna reminded and laughed all the more. Chantel joined in, a sense of relief flooding over her.

Nearly an hour later, the doctor honored his word and allowed Chantel to visit Dante's bedside. “You can only stay a few minutes,” he instructed. “Mr. Calarco is weak and needs to rest.”

Dante looked up into Chantel's face and saw her worried expression. “Don't look at me like that. I'm not going to die.”

“I thought I might have already lost you,” she murmured.

“You promised to marry me—you aren't getting off that easy.”

She smiled for the first time since entering the room. “I thought perhaps now you would have changed your mind.”

Dante gave the slightest shake of his head. “Nope. I'm gonna marry you, Chantel Panetta. There's no changing that.”

“And when do you plan to do this thing?”

“Well, I have to buy a ring,” he said, feeling groggy from the medication he'd been given. “And you'll need to talk to Father Buh.”

“And you'll need to fully recover,” the doctor interjected.

Chantel nodded. “I'll see to that, Dr. Shipman. Calarcos are known for their stubbornness, but I'll see to it that he obeys. He won't be allowed to do anything unless you approve.”

Dante looked at her in amusement. “Calarcos aren't the only stubborn ones, Doc. Don't even try to come up against a Panetta. They are fixed in their ways and quite unyielding. There's no end to what they'll do to get their own way.”

Dr. Shipman chuckled. “Well, for once I'm glad for someone's obstinate ways. It will only serve to aid in your healing.”

Four weeks later, Dante was still being pampered and looked after as if he were an invalid. His ribs felt completely healed, but his collarbone still caused him some discomfort. The head wound ached for nearly two weeks, but now even that had subsided and bothered him only occasionally. Being unable to work at the mine had helped Dante to realize that he was ready to find another means of supporting himself. While speaking with his father, he realized Papa was also tired of mining work.

“There are other ways to use explosives,” his father suggested. “Perhaps we can explore those methods and move away from this particular line of work.”

“I agree,” Dante replied. “I know Chantel would be happy for that.”

“And a warmer climate would help your nonna.”

“That's also true.” Dante flexed his arm and felt a dull ache in his neck and upper arm.

A knock at the open front door drew their attention. Nonna got up and admitted Chantel to their company. “Come, come. We were just speaking about the future.”

Chantel met Dante's gaze and smiled. He felt a longing to hold her in his arms—to kiss her lips. They were to marry in two weeks, and it couldn't come soon enough as far as he was concerned.

“There's good news,” Chantel declared. “One of the men responsible for beating up Marco has confessed. He made a deal of sorts so that he wouldn't be hanged. He's going to testify against Leo Fortino. Leo was the one who set up the entire thing. He wanted Marco not only beaten, but dead. Leo has been arrested, and the constable said it seems almost certain he will be found guilty and hanged instead of jailed.”

“That is good news,” Dante said, patting the sofa seat next to him.

Chantel strode toward him, her lightweight green gown rustling in a most alluring fashion as she crossed the room. She sat down carefully and adjusted her skirt. “It won't bring Marco back,” she said, looking at the trio, “but Mama said she will be able to rest now, knowing that his killer has been called to pay for his crimes.”

“She's right, it won't bring him back,” Nonna said, nodding. “Very little can fill the void of losing a child, but in time the Lord will ease that emptiness and fill it with good memories of the love between a mother and her son.”

Dante took hold of Chantel's hand and pressed a kiss
on her fingers. “Enough sad talk. Tell me, have you finished making your wedding gown?”

Chantel's expression changed from solemnity to pure delight. “We are putting on the last pieces of Chantilly lace tonight.”

“But I thought Chantilly lace was usually black. Surely you aren't having black lace on a wedding gown, are you?” Dante asked.

“Of course not, silly. Mama made some beautiful ivory lace years ago. She made some for each of us girls, but of course Isabella eloped—though she did use just a little of her lace for her wedding gown. She's saving the rest for a baby gown.”

“They're going to have a baby?” Dante asked in surprise.

“Well, not just yet,” Chantel replied. “But when the time comes, that's what she plans for her lace.”

Dante grinned. “Maybe we can still beat them in starting a family.”

Chantel felt her cheeks grow hot as Dante's father chuckled. Even Nonna was fighting to suppress her amusement. “I didn't know we were having a race,” she replied, feeling rather awkward.

Dante hugged her close. “Orlando and I have always been in competition. He married first and it grieved me. I'm the elder brother, and I should have been the first to wed.”

“Well, in two weeks you will wed me.” Chantel lifted her face to his. The joy in her expression melted his heart. “And if God so wills it, I will give you a child before Isabella can do so for your brother.”

“But even if you don't,” Dante said, cupping her chin in his hand, “I will have you, and that's more than I could have ever hoped for.”

Italian custom held that a Sunday in June was the best possible day to marry, and so Dante and Chantel set their wedding for the twenty-first of June. Although Chantel had decided the wedding would be a simple affair, there were still many traditions to uphold.

With her veil carefully in place and the beautifully crafted wedding gown displaying her figure to perfection, Chantel met Dante on the street just outside their house. He looked quite regal in his dark suit. Chantel met his gaze with a smile.

“Are you sure that's you in there, Chantel?” he asked, trying to peek through the lacy veil.

“You'll just have to wait and see,” she teased.

He took hold of her hand. “Are you ready for our walk to church?”

“I am.” She glanced behind her to make sure that Isabella and Orlando were following. “Issy has my bouquet, and I presume Orlando has the rings.”

“Rings? Were we supposed to have rings?” Dante asked, sounding surprised.

Chantel had grown used to his teasing. She shrugged. “I
suppose we don't have to have them. In fact, I suppose we can call this whole thing off.”

“Ha!” Dante tightened his hold on her. “I've waited too long as it is. Besides . . . ” He paused and held up a piece of iron ore. “I have my lucky piece of iron, so you cannot run away. My father assured me that this tradition held strong merit, because if you try to leave me, I can simply throw it at you.”

“I would never try to leave you,” she assured.

He put the piece back in his pocket. “See, the luck works.”

She smiled behind the veil, knowing she was going to have a life of laughter and happiness in the company of this man. They moved off down the street to face the customary obstacles laid in their path by friends.

The first thing they came to was a broom. Chantel picked it up and gave a little sweep. “Ah, she'll be a good housekeeper,” one of the women lining the street called out.

“She'll have to be,” Dante replied. “I'm quite a pig.” This elicited laughter from the crowd.

Chantel was unconcerned. “Nonna Barbato told me that you're already trained to leave your boots off at the door. We'll continue that tradition in our own home.”

“Of course, my little wife.”

He led her on down the road toward the church, only to find someone had placed a perambulator in their way. Inside, a very unhappy infant cried. Chantel stepped forward and lifted the infant into her arms. The baby reached for her veil, but Chantel managed to keep the child from pulling it from her head. As the infant continued to cry in her arms, Chantel produced a sugar cube she'd hidden in her sleeve for
just such an occasion. She touched the sugar to the baby's lips and the crying ceased.

The crowd howled with cheers and delighted laughter. “What a good mama she'll be,” an old woman declared.

The baby's mother came to relieve Chantel of the child and gave Dante a wink. “May you have a dozen.”

He laughed and thanked the woman before leaning over to whisper in Chantel's ear, “Do you think a dozen will be enough?”

“To start us off,” Chantel replied, unfazed.

Dante roared and apparently the viewers understood the situation, for they joined heartily in the laughter.

The next obstacle was one for Dante. There were coins strewn on the dirt road, and he bent to retrieve each one. Once collected, he handed them to Chantel, who placed them in a little white silk bag.

“He will be a good provider,” several men said in unison. Again cheers went up.

There were several other impediments that suggested Chantel would be a good cook and seamstress, and that Dante would remain strong. Just before they reached the church, they were required to saw a log in two using a double-handled saw. This would prove their ability to work together.

Having met all of the requirements, Chantel took her bouquet from Isabella and allowed Dante to lead her into the church. A stream of friends and family followed behind the happy couple. While the congregation took their places, Dante escorted his bride to the altar, where the ceremony began with Father Buh's prayers.

Chantel thought she might well burst from joy, and she
reveled in the moment. She had never thought it possible to love anyone as much as she loved this man.
This man who was my enemy not so long ago
.

They recited their vows, pledging before God and man that they would remain faithful through adversity. And Chantel knew adversity would come. Just as Nonna Barbato had reminded her of in Job, life was full of problems and trials. It would be her duty to keep her eyes on God.

With Dante at my side, there is nothing I cannot face
.

Father Buh motioned them forward, urging Dante and Chantel to each hold a lighted candle. “These candles represent two families—the Panettas and the Calarcos,” the priest declared. “And now they become one family in the eyes of man—one flesh in the eyes of God.”

Chantel and Dante lifted their candles and together lit a third candle. Chantel couldn't halt the tears that spilled onto her cheeks. She remembered how the longstanding feud had separated Nonna from her dear friend and prayed that somehow the two women might be rejoined in more than secret letters.

Father Buh called for the wedding rings and blessed them before handing them to Dante and Chantel. Chantel smiled at the simple gold band Dante held. This would be her only jewelry today—most days. It symbolized their eternal love for one another, and inside the ring Chantel knew Dante had the engraver mark her ring with his name and the date of the wedding, while her name was engraved inside of his.

Dante's voice was strong and unfaltering as he slipped the ring on her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.” He lifted her hand to his lips and sealed the ring with a kiss.

Chantel bit her lower lip to keep from crying even more at the happiness of it all. She barely managed to speak her vows and place Dante's ring on his finger. Following his gesture, she kissed his band and finger.

Father Buh had more to say, but Chantel barely heard the words. She could think of nothing but Dante's hold on her hand.
He's my husband now. I am my beloved's and he is mine.

When Dante lifted her wedding veil and gazed upon her face for the first time that day, his dark eyes seemed to drink her in before he covered her lips with his own and sealed their marriage with a kiss.

The priest offered a final blessing, and before Chantel even knew what was happening, Dante quickly whisked her down the aisle and out of the church, where a small carriage and driver awaited them.

At their small house just off of Central and Harvey Streets, the carriage driver brought the horse to a stop and waited while Dante lifted Chantel from the carriage. He barely let her feet touch the ground before he whisked her into his arms and carried her up the walkway. At the door, he held her with one arm and turned the handle with his free hand.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Calarco,” he said, gazing deep into her eyes. It was all he could do to believe this wasn't a dream. When she touched his cheek, Dante felt the warmth of her hand and smiled. It was all very real.

“May it be a place of love and godly wisdom,” she whispered.

He kissed her ever so briefly once they were across the
threshold and gently lowered her to the ground. Chantel wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close. Dante felt flush with a desire that he had been most careful to put aside until this day. Waiting to be alone with her—to hold her, to touch her—had been almost painful to him.

Without another word, he lifted her into his arms once again. Their waiting had come to an end.

Hours later, Chantel and Dante arrived at the traditional wedding feast. In the hours of celebration that followed, Chantel laughed and shared dances with her father, brother, and many other men before Dante finally reclaimed her and announced it was time to put an end to the festivities. After fourteen courses of food, dozens of offered toasts and blessings, and hours of dancing, Chantel was more than ready to agree. Her feet ached, and weariness threatened to leave her sleeping in her husband's arms.

“Come, my lovely lady,” he said, reaching for her hand.

The well-wishers gave the couple one last set of cheers before Dante once again helped Chantel into the waiting carriage for the drive back to their little house. With the night stars shining down upon them and a full moon overhead, she thought it the most beautiful night of her life.

“I'll always remember this moment—this feeling,” she told Dante, laying her head upon his shoulder.

“And what feeling is that, my love?”

“Safety. Joy. Peace. Wonder. And the assurance of a blessed future.”

He laughed. “That's a great many feelings.”

She raised her head to meet his gaze. “No. It's really just one. It's the love we share. The love I hold for you—the love you hold for me.”

He smiled and cupped her chin with his warm fingers. “And the love we have in God.”