Rapture's Rendezvous (46 page)

Since the coal mine's explosion, Maria had refused to return to Nathan's house. She had sat beside her “Papa's casket, day and night, so full of mourning that nothing could have pulled her away. And this day, once her Papa was lowered into the earth for his final rest, Maria still didn't plan to return to her husband's house. Her Papa was dead. He was the main reason for Maria's having agreed to such- a marriage.

Alberto? Maria now knew that Alberto could take care of himself. Alberto was capable of much Maria had never thought possible. Though weak in many ways, he had found much courage in himself ready to emerge, to blossom, to make him into the man he had always wished to be.

Maria reached over and took Alberto's hand in hers. She could feel the trembling of his fingers. She could hear the low, throaty sobs emerging from her brother. She knew that he was mourning deeply, maybe even
more deeply than she. She knew that Alberto had had many plans for the Lazzaro family. He had wanted to be the one to say that he had bettered their lives, had taken their Papa away from a life of drudgery. Alberto had confided in her the past two days, since the accident, that he had been saving money with which to invest in his own business . . . one that would be away from Hawkinsville. His gambling had been profitable. But not enough . .. not soon enough. . . .

But now? Only the Lord had taken their Papa. Only the Lord could give their Papa the peace he had sought all his life. . . .

A low whispering from behind Maria made her turn her head slightly. She listened closely. Her eyes widened when she was able to make out what was being said.

“Tomorrow night. We will make our move tomorrow night,” one man grumbled to another. “Pass the word along.”

Alberto was nudged in the side. Maria looked quickly toward him as he leaned his ear down to listen. Maria tensed when she heard the same words. . . . “Tomorrow night. We will make our move tomorrow night,” the man said. “Alberto, pass the word along. It is time. Now … or never.”

Alberto wiped a tear from his eye, looked carefully from side to side, then leaned forward, speaking into another's ear. Maria recognized the same exact words. Her hands went to her throat, finally realizing what was being planned. Nathan had made sure no groups had gathered, knowing that hatred of him was now at its highest, also knowing that gatherings could be plots
being planned against his welfare. But Nathan hadn't considered the gatherings of a funeral being a place for planning. Funerals were a place of mourning… a place of silence. …

Maria watched the word being passed on from one man to another. She reached for Alberto's hand once again and squeezed it, both fear
and
hope making her insides ripple like the Indian grasses in the wind. She glanced upward and saw a trace of a smile beneath Alberto's thick whiskers. His tears had ceased to fall. Yes. Alberto felt confident that soon revenge would be fulfilled. Not only for himself, but for his Papa, his Maria, and all the poor immigrants in the community.

A priest dressed in full black moved in front of the gathering. He held tightly to a Bible and said, “Let us pray for our fallen brothers.” He bowed his head and spoke briefly of his Italian friends, with whom he had crossed the waters from Italy, having received a calling to come to this community, where God had warned him that the devil reigned.

Then when the brief eulogy was spoken, the priest stepped back, sweat glistening on his haggard face, and motioned for a young woman to step forward.

Maria's eyes widened as she suddenly recognized the woman. As the woman began to place single red paper roses atop each casket, Maria remembered vividly their encounter and how they had competed for the street corner in Creal Springs. When she heard a loud sigh next to her, Maria looked into Alberto's eyes and saw something she had never seen before. She could see that he had just, for the first time ever to Maria's knowledge, been taken aback by the loveliness of a
woman who was not his own sister.

Alberto leaned down next to Maria. “Who is that.. . ?” he whispered. “She's so lovely.” His face turned crimson, and he thought,
Even lovelier than you, my sweet Maria. Even lovelier than you.. . .

“She is one of us,” Maria whispered back. “But I do not know her name.”

“I must find out,” Alberto said, then felt shame for having such feelings while standing at his Papa's funeral. How could such things enter his mind, when his Papa was lying lifeless, ready to be lowered into the depths of the ground?

But he couldn't help himself. He had never .. . no . . . never … seen anyone to stir him so. . ..

Young, long-haired pallbearers, dressed in ill-fitting black suits, moved to stand beside the caskets, and after the paper roses had been put in place and another prayer spoken, the pallbearers lifted the caskets and lowered them into the ground.

The women of the gathering, tightly grouped, began to weep loudly and cried words incoherently into their handkerchiefs as the dirt began to be shoveled atop the caskets. Maria chewed on her lower lip, also wanting to cry out, but she felt a greater need to mourn silently. She lowered her eyes and began to move away from the graves. She didn't wish to see the final shovel of dirt placed above her father's grave. She didn't wish to think of him in the ground at all, where he would soon be wet, and then.bothered by the crawling life that burrowed through the ground and all that was lowered into it.

Hurrying, she circled around the coal mine, then
onto the street that led her to her Papa's house. The house would be stone quiet, like a grave itself. It would be almost unbearable for her. But she had to go there. She would not be a part of Nathan's life. Ever again, even if he chose to send her and Alberto back to Italy. She knew that to do so, he would have more than a fight on his hands. There would be Michael
and
Alberto to contend with. She only had to hope, though, that what the gathering of coal miners had planned would soon become a reality, to end the whole nightmare of Nathan Hawkins. . . .

Turning momentarily, Maria wondered about Alberto, why he wasn't following alongside her. Then she saw the reason. He was standing talking with the young woman who he had been so enraptured with at the gravesides.

Maria gazed toward the woman and could see something in her eyes. It was a look of liking. Instant liking. She also . . . found . . . Alberto . . . interesting.

Maria smiled to herself, then rushed into her Papa's house, stopping to look slowly around her, seeing the chair where her Papa had spent so many lonely hours. Then she glanced toward the spot where the casket had rested the last two days .. . where she had sat.. . looking down upon him .. . keeping him company during his last hours on earth. . . .

Choking back a sob, she rushed to the bedroom that had been hers and now was again. She leaned down and reached beneath the bed, feeling the violin case that she had left there. With tears rushing down her cheeks, she pulled the case from beneath the bed, placed it on the bed, opened it and peered down onto
the violin and its broken body.

She lifted the violin to her bosom and cradled it to her, rocking it back and forth, feeling so much at this moment. When she heard a knocking on the front door, she hesitated, then thought it might possibly be Michael and rushed to the door and opened it. She almost dropped her violin when she saw Nathan standing there, looking even more craggy than she remembered. His narrow, gray eyes were pools of emptiness, and as he removed his hat, revealing his head of shining wax to her, Maria stepped back away from him. He wasn't anything but a threat to her and Alberto. She swallowed hard and “said, “What do you want, Nathan?” She turned her back to him, lowering her eyes. “You have caused this family nothing but grief. You are evil. You will always .. . be . . . evil. .. .”

“You are to return home with me. Now,” he demanded. “Your place is by my side. You are my wife. You have no place in this . . . this rat trap .. . of a . . . house.. . .”

Maria swung around, her lips trembling almost uncontrollably. “1*1I never return to your house with you,” she screamed. “Get out. Do you hear? Get out. My Papa was just buried because of you. Do you understand? You are the cause of my dear Papa's death. I hate you. I'll always hate you. You'll never get the chance to touch me
or
my life again.”

“Hah!” Nathan exclaimed. “You say I am the cause of your father's death? Well, I have news for you. This Michael Hopper and his union men are responsible.”

Maria's face drained of color. “What did .. . you say … ?” she gasped, feeling her knees weakening.

“Don't you know that violence travels side by side with those union men? It's become a well-known fact that once the United Mine Workers of America intervene, there is violence. No. I am not the cause. There was no trouble until Michael Hopper began spreading lies about me and my coal mine. He is the cause. No one else.”

“Lies! It is a lie,” Maria shouted. “You are the cause. You alone.”

“I don't lie,” Nathan said, licking his lips nervously. “You have chosen to be loyal to the wrong man, Maria.” .

“Get out, Nathan Hawkins,” Maria shouted, moving toward the door. “Get out with your filthy lies. And leave me alone. Do you hear … ?”

“No. I won't leave you alone,” he warned. “You will return to my house. I will see to it. In time, you will wish you had never come back here. You are meant to be my wife. Nothing else.”

Maria stomped a foot as he moved from the door and toward his carriage. With a pounding heart, she slammed the door, then went to her bedroom and placed her violin back inside its case, now full of wonder. Could Michael and his men be made to feel responsible for this disaster? Had Michael somehow even caused the blast… possibly to scare the coal miners into joining the union? Had Alberto even had a hand in such a thing . .. ?

She clenched her fists to her side. No. It was all wrong. Neither Alberto nor Michael could cause such a thing. They are good. Nathan is the evil one.

“Maria … ?”

Maria swung around and found Alberto standing there with the woman from the funeral… the woman from the streets of Creal Springs who made and sold flowers.

“Yes? What is it, Alberto?” Maria said softly, wiping tears from hereyes with the back of a hand. Hereyes traveled over this woman, again seeing her beauty. She had delicate features, with a small nose, tilted, not at all like most Italians noses, but her olive skin tones and her long, flowing hair and dark eyes showed the Italian in her. She smiled sheepishly back at Maria, then moved toward her. “We've met, haven't we?” she asked, reaching a hand of friendship toward Maria.

Maria laughed softly. “Yes, I believe we have,” she murmured, accepting the hand, also in friendship. “You make beautiful flowers.”

“And you make beautiful music, Maria,” the woman said.

“This is Angelina Monteleone,” Alberto said, moving next to Angelina. His eyes showed it all. He had found the woman of his dreams. “And this is my sister, Maria. But, of course, you already know this,” he added, laughing lightly.

Angelina smiled warmly. “Yes. Like I said, Alberto, Maria and I have already met.”

Alberto's brow furrowed. “Did you say something about Maria and her music?” he asked, looking toward the bed, seeing the violin in its case. “How would you know . .. ?”

• “We met one day in Creal Springs,” Maria said, swinging around, securing the locks on her violin case. She bent to slide it beneath her bed once again. Seeing
it reminded her too much of her losses. The music she could no longer pull from the violin … and her Papa … and possibly even Michael. But surely Nathan had been wrong about Michael.. . .

“And … ?” Alberto said impatiently, clasping his hands tightly behind him.

Angelina cast her eyes downward. “I was selling my flowers for pennies, and Maria … was … uh playing her violin, also for coins to be tossed at her feet.”

Alberto's face first shadowed, then he burst into a fit of laughter.

Maria's jaws tightened. “What's so funny, Alberto?” she said, eyeing him questioningly.

“You must have drawn such crowds,” he said, softening his mood, wiping his eyes. “Two such beauties? Wish I had been there.”

Maria began to pace the floor. “That's where Nathan Hawkins first saw me,” she blurted. “I only wish I had stayed where I belonged. In this house. Where no one like him could have discovered me.”

“Let's not talk about Nathan Hawkins, Maria,” Alberto said, going to her, grabbing her by the arm. “By tomorrow night, there won't even be a Nathan Hawkins to talk about. So … let's … pretend … this is tomorrow night.”

Maria's eyes wavered as she reached for Alberto's hand. “Alberto, I must talk about Nathan,” she whispered. “He was here. Only moments ago.”

Alberto's face reddened with rage. “He was here? That bastard was here? Immediately after our Papa was lowered into the ground?” He hung his head, kneading his brow. “He never gives up, does he?”

“He said many things, Alberto,” Maria said.

Angelina spoke up. “Let's move to the kitchen. I shall make some tea.' Maybe that will make everyone feel better about things.” She went to Alberto and touched him gently on the cheek. “The kitchen. Please direct me to it?”

“Yes. I guess a bit of tea is what we all need,” he grumbled. “Hell. I need something stronger. But that can wait.”

Maria followed along behind them and helped Angelina until they were sitting around the table, sipping on the warm liquid.

“Nathan said that Michael was the cause of the explosion,” she suddenly blurted, swallowing hard, seeing the lines deepening around Alberto's eyes.

“He'd say anything to persuade you to hate Michael. Maria, Nathan Hawkins is completely responsible. Don't doubt that for a moment.”

“But he said that violence follows alongside the union men. Could it be true? It was quiet at the mine until the union began spreading its tales around.”