Rapture's Rendezvous (27 page)

“Like I said in trying to explain. Your father asked that I let you think it was he who paid for your passage. To let you think that he was no beggar. That he alone was making the kind of money to pay for such things. But that is not the way it is, Maria. I am responsible for your being in America … as well as Alberto . . . and your father. You must always remember this.”

Maria turned her back to Nathan, hanging her head. She felt humiliated. Degraded. Tears tried to surface. She wiped at her eyes, then turned back to face Nathan. “So .. . you
did
plan all along to .. . seek … me out. .. ?” she mumbled.

“All the while,” he said flatly.

“Why then … did you .. . wait.. . ?”

“Why did I wait until now?” he said. “Because I wanted you to get your fill of living in such conditions as you are living in. Then I knew that you would rush into my arms … be my wife … to be able to live as any woman dreams of doing. In luxury. With the best of food . . .
and
clothes. Am I right?” His gaze moved around him once again. “Are you tired of living in such a way? Are you ready to live a different way of life? As
my wife? In my house? I could see to it that you never want for anything again.”

“This is unbelievable,” she gasped.

“If you don't agree, I will see to it that you and your family are returned to Italy on the next ship. And while you are on the ship, I will make sure that it will be a voyage of hunger and degradation. I have the power to do so. You know that. The ship you traveled on is mine. Or didn't you know that?”

“This is blackmail,” she hissed. “I cannot let you do this to me.”

“Call it what you please,” he said, laughing amusedly. “But you don't have any choice, my pretty Italian waif.”

“You are evil. Just as I have always thought you to be,” she said, setting her jaw firmly. She turned once again, and began pacing the floor. She was damned if she did . . . and damned if she didn't. She stopped, facing him directly. “And what about Papa and Alberto? If I do as you request, what about them
⁷
Can their lives be made to be more . . . gentle . . . ?”

“No special privileges can be handed them,” he said, coughing nervously into a cupped fist. “The only thing I can promise you is that they won't be shipped back to Italy. Other than that, their lives will remain the same. Only you will be the privileged one. But again, you don't have any choice. You will have to forget your brother and father for the time being. For not to do so would be to give all of you a true death sentence, for sure, if you so much as board that ship that heads back to Italy.”

“I need .. . time … to think,” she murmured, so
wanting to lash out at him, to hurt him in some way. But she couldn't. It was he who held her still as a prisoner. It was he who had the power to command….

“You know where I live,” he said, placing his hat back atop his head. “I shall be expecting you tomorrow. If you don't arrive, you can expect your father and brother to be without jobs and have tickets in hand for passage back to Italy. I shall do this. Tomorrow.”

“I can't believe … that….” Maria whispered, paling even more.

“You will believe it when you see it,” he said firmly, moving toward the door. He turned to face her, glowering. “Tomorrow?” he said.

“But… my Papa … and brother,” she stammered.

“They are two capable adults. They can do without you,” he said bluntly. “And if you will take my advice, do not leave word for them as to where you are until we are together in wedlock. No sense in causing alarm enough for them to come for you when you know the outcome of such a movement on their part.”

Maria lowered her eyes, hating this man so much … so much . . . she could possibly even kill him. She swallowed hard, remembering the gun that Alberto still had hidden. Could … she … ? But no. She knew she couldn't. But she would get even with him. Even if it meant having to find a way after actually marrying him.

“I will be there,” she said. Her gaze shot upward. “But don't do anything to my brother or Papa. Please. I do this thing . . . only for their welfare. I would gladly go back to Italy. But I know my Papa is too ill to make
such a voyage. He wouldn't make it one day aboard that cold, wind-swept deck of the ship. Please just don't do anything to hurt my Papa and brother.”

“If you will arrive as soon as you can after the morning whistle's blow from the mine, tomorrow, I will see to it that all will be well with your family. No need to fear. I will keep my word. And you? Will you keep yours? For not to, means only heartache for you. You know that.”

“Yes. I understand,” she murmured.

“Then I will bid you good day, Maria,” he said, bowing slightly, then turned and hurried outside to his carriage.

Maria inched her way to the door and watched, trembling, until the carriage moved from sight. She closed the door behind her, feeling a chill race up and down her spine. Had this been real? Had this truly happened? She leaned against the door, sobbing. She had for so long thought herself to be strong, both physically and mentally. But now? She felt as though she was a child, unable to control her own destiny. She chewed her lower lip while tears crept from her eyes. She knew that she had no choice but to do as Nathan Hawkins ordered. No matter what she would do … or no matter whom she would tell of her dilemma . .. she knew the end result. She would possibly be the cause of the loss of three lives. Her own, her brother's, and . . . her … Papa's….

The shrill shriek from the mine's whistle drew her mind to the present. She looked down at herself, seeing the ugliness of her garb, then rushed to her bedroom. She had to dress the part of the sister … daughter ..
this one more evening. Knives seemed to be piercing her heart, as she thought that this was possibly her last night with her family. “Oh, God,” she prayed. “Make it to not be true. Make it to be a nightmare that I will wake up from, and soon. . . .”

She took one last look at her violin, touching it gingerly, feeling the slickness of its varnished exterior, then shut it inside its case and placed it beneath her bed. Then as quickly as she could, she exchanged her chimney sweep costume for her thin cotton dress. She fingered the dress, feeling a creeping eagerness that set her face to flaming because of shame, knowing that deep inside herself she was envisioning herself in other dresses, maybe even fancy hats, like those she had seen on the many women this afternoon in Creal Springs.

She gritted her teeth, wondering how she could let herself think for one moment that what she would be forced to do would be anything pleasant. It would be a life of ugliness … so degrading to have been forced into a life with such a man. . . .

But her thoughts suddenly turned to revenge. “Won't I have some control over the lives of the Italians, if I am the wife of Nathan Hawkins?” she said aloud, smiling coyly. “Has he forgotten that to give me his name . . . will be the same as also giving me . . . the power that goes along with . . . that name . .. ?” A feeling swept over her, a feeling of growing confidence in what she was being made to do. “I will make sure my family is well cared for. Nathan Hawkins won't even know I am doing so. He will be too entranced by the way I will use my body with him to even wonder where I will spend my days when he is away. I will go to my
family and give them things they have never had before.”

She laughed hoarsely. “Yes, Nathan Hawkins. I will repay you for what you have done. I will use your name . .. your wealth . . . your power … for the Italians. All Italians. . .

Maria lay half asleep, then awakened, startled, when she heard a noise in her room. Pulling the blanket up to hide her thin cotton chemise, she peered through the darkness, seeing a figure moving toward the bed.

“Who's there?” she whispered, growing afraid. Had Nathan Hawkins sent one of his representatives to pluck her away in the middle of the night? She moved to an upright position, inching her way from the bed.

“Maria?” Alberto whispered, reaching for her.

Maria exhaled heavily, relieved. “Alberto?” she whispered. “What are you doing? Why are you sneaking about in my bedroom?” She was remembering him watching her . . . following her to the privy. Had he truly become deranged . . . ?

Alberto moved onto the bed, placing his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. “Maria. Shh. Let's not awaken Papa,” Alberto said softly.

Maria began to squirm, feeling embarrassed to have her brother so close to her in this bedroom. It was not Italy. Their Gran-mama was not sleeping in the same room, only a few feet away. Things had changed. There was a respect to uphold when having a bedroom to one's self. “Alberto,” she cried softly. “Let me go. Why are you behaving in such a foolish way?”

With his eyes, Alberto sought out her figure in the darkness and could see her outline, making his heart pound fiercely. He moved his elbow up to let it touch a breast. Even though she was his sister, he couldn't help but ache for her in an abnormal way. “I've come to talk, Maria,” he said thickly, clearing his throat nervously.

“About what. . . ?” she said, moving away from him.

He ran his fingers through his whiskers, knowing that his movements had been foolish. He didn't dare lose his sister's respect. She was .. . his . . . life. “About someone I just saw at Ruby's,” he quickly blurted.

“So you have been there again, Alberto?” she said angrily. “Must you? Every night?” She pulled the blanket upward, shivering from the chill of the early evening. Then she said, “You can't have been gone long. Why did you return so soon? What was this about someone you saw at Ruby's? Did this person cause you to leave so soon? Or did you run out of gambling money?”

“Maria, will you just listen,” Alberto grumbled, looking toward the bedroom door, hoping their Papa wouldn't hear the conversation being exchanged between brother and sister in this bedroom of darkness.

“Okay,” she said impatiently. “Tell me. What's this all about? Who did you see?”

“Michael Hopper,” Alberto said quickly, wishing to see his sister's expression, but without any lights, he just listened to her quick intake of breath. He smiled to himself, anxious to tell her the rest.

Maria's heartbeats skipped as her hands went to her throat. “Did you … say… Michael… ?” she gasped.

“At Ruby's? Surely… you … are … wrong “

Alberto laughed hoarsely. “No mistake, Maria,” he said.

“But… Michael “

“Michael was there. I saw him. No way could I be mistaken,” Alberto said.

“With … one of Ruby's … ?”

Alberto laughed once again. “No. He had just arrived and was headed up the stairs, alone, to the gambling room, I am sure,” he said. “When I saw him, I ducked out the back door.”

Maria's blood surged in a wild thrill, knowing that Michael was so close. She had to find a way to go to him. She had to be held in his arms once again. She knew that he would comfort her as no one else could do. But then she had to remember Nathan Hawkins's warnings. She was to tell no one of their plans. To do so would be possible death for her Papa and brother. Pains circling her heart caused her to gulp back a large lump in her throat, feeling desperation rising inside herself. She had to see Michael, yet she knew she couldn't. “So he was there … to only play cards . . . not be with … a woman . . . ?” she said softly, trembling.

“He looked as though he didn't have the money for which to pay for one of Ruby's whore's services,” Alberto said, laughing. “He looked like a bum. Nothing at all like he dressed while aboard the
Dolphin.
Seems your lover has fallen on hard times.”

Maria's eyes widened, remembering how smartly dressed Michael had been, and how he had served her only the best of wines and foods. “I can't… believe… that he would be poor,” she said, sulking. “He is a man
of riches. I know this to be true.”

“I guess he played one card game too many,” Alberto said. “You know the cards can be one's enemy. They have turned on me as of late. You know that. Maybe this is what happened to Michael.”

“And you say that Michael didn't see you, Alberto?”

“Hell no. Do you think I'd let him see me? That would only lead him to you.”

Maria lowered her eyes. “Then why did you even have to tell me you saw Michael?” she said softly. “Wouldn't I have been better off to not know? Just the same as Michael?”

“I had to tell you that he has lost his luck. I wanted you to know that he is no longer one of the rich kind, that he is as poor as you and 1.I hoped that would make you forget him and the damn dreams you must have been having of some day meeting up with him to share his riches. If he has none, you can dream about someone else.”

“It is not the riches that attracted me to Michael,” Maria said, glowering. “It was Michael. I fell in love with him the first time I saw him. It had nothing to do with money. Nothing at all.”

“You… did… love him… Maria?” Alberto gasped.

“Did . .. do .. . and always … will,” she sighed, feeling tears surfacing. “But it is all lost. For me … it is all lost.”

“Because of what I just told you about him?”

Maria swallowed hard. “No, Alberto,” she said softly. “It's nothing to do … with what you have told me.”

“Then what?”

Maria's eyes wavered. She reached up and pulled her
hair back from her face and let it settle in deep waves down her back. “Nothing. It is something I cannot talk about, Alberto,” she said, knowing that to mention Nathan Hawkins in the same breath would be to reveal too many truths to Alberto. Maria knew of Alberto's temper. She just couldn't let him know that this very next day she would be leaving for Nathan Hawkins's house … to become his wife.

“Alberto, will you please leave so I can get some sleep,” she said sullenly. “I am so bone-weary and tired.”