Two months later, with Mac fully healed from his brush with death, Pachelbel's Canon sounded throughout the Trinita dei Monti. Mac stood at the altar in his dress whites, with his white navy stiff board hat under his arm. A sword in scabbard, hanging by his side, was held in place by a red sash, both of which were on loan from the United States Ambassador. The Swiss Guard, in their sartorial splendor, lined the sidewalls of the church, while the papal red velvet chair sat high on the red carpeted marble steps behind the altar, with green velvet chairs to each side. Flowers were everywhere, festively colored, picking up the subtle hues of autumn. Asters, spider mums, carnations, and birds of paradise, in shades of orange, yellow, purple, rust, and red, covered the church from front to back, along the aisles, and spread generously across the altar in silver vases.
Alberto, dressed in black formalwear, stood at Mac's side to the right side of the altar, watching his mother, in her delicately embroidered taupe gown, being escorted down the long aisle by his younger brother Roberto to her front row seat on the right side of the church. Margaret and Giuseppe Martini, the groom's parents, having flown in from America at their son's expense, were already seated in the front row on the left side of the church, next to Alex and Carmella Martini, the grandparents of the groom. Uncle Francesco and Aunt Alberta, Giuseppe Martini's brother and sister-in-law, were seated in the row behind, along with their three children, Mac's cousins, all dressed in their sartorial best.
On the right side, seated next to the mother of the bride, were her parents, Elvira and Luigi Sorge, the grandparents of the bride, with smiles on their faces from ear to ear. Behind them, sat Anna's older children, dressed to please their Aunt Carla, but fidgeting, as children will do.
Standing next to Alberto at the altar, Giuseppe Balsieri stood at attention, in his formal eveningwear, taking in the proceedings. Roberto had now joined the men on the altar, standing to the left of Giuseppe. The church was full of what seemed like the entire town of Palombara Sabina, and most likely half of Rome, including the Ambassador and his wife, William and Caroline Phillips, the Origos, Iris and Antonio, and the Corelli family, the Don, Domenico, Lena, and Franco. Mac noticed everyone looking around, patiently waiting for the services to begin. There was a stir behind the wrought iron gate at the rear of the church that got the parishioners straining their necks in that direction.
Pachelbel's Canon continued from the organ in the balcony high above the pews. Teresa, the sister-in-law of the bride, the Matron of Honor, started her long march down the aisle, her amber taffeta dress swishing as she elegantly moved one step at a time on the white marble floor, her fall flowers held in white gloved hands at her waist. Anna, the sister of the bride, was next to come down the aisle, starting after Teresa took her place on the left side of the altar, opposite her husband, the best man, Alberto. Anna, too, was dressed in amber taffeta, her hair elegantly perched in swirls on top of her head. When Anna arrived at the altar, across from Giuseppe Balsieri, a third girl in amber taffeta, Alyssa, the best friend of the bride, started her step-by-step procession down the aisle, her long blond hair bouncing with each step, until she too joined Teresa and Anna on the left side of the altar, directly across from Roberto, the youngest brother of the bride.
As Alyssa took her place, the crowd in the pews caught their breath, turned once again to the back of the church, ooing and ahhing, as little Lizabetta, Anna's baby daughter, with her basket of white rose petals, began her meandering march down the aisle, spreading the flowers on the marble floor, her ballet slippers skipping along the marble, up to the altar. As she nervously tucked herself between her mother and Alyssa, all eyes were glued on the front of the church, as the Pastor of Trinita dei Monti, Father Rinaldi, came out from behind the altar, taking his seat to the right, on the top of the steps, above the altar. Father Leiber, the Jesuit priest, followed the Pastor from behind the altar, taking his seat on the left, above the altar. Both priests rose in unison, turning their back to the congregation, welcoming Pope Pius XII, as he came in from behind the altar, all dressed in white, from the skull cap on his head to the slippers on his feet. The priests kneeled to each side of the Pope, kissing his ring as the Pope turned to each, the Pope bowing to each of them, before taking a seat in his red velvet chair. The priests sat on either side of the Pope, all three now silently acknowledging the crowd beneath them.
At that moment, Pachelbel's Canon gave way to the Wedding March, as all stood and turned to the back of the church. Mac wanted to cry when he saw his bride appear behind the great wrought iron gates in the rear of Trinita dei Monti, her arm tucked under that of her tuxedo clad father, beginning to make her slow walk down the white marble aisle. Carla had a white sheer veil over her face, held in place by a crown of white baby's breath. Her dress was full sleeved, needlepoint and lace. Her bosom was pushed up, carrying the necklace that Mac had given her for Christmas, now almost a year before, the sapphires and diamonds brilliantly glistening in the light from the stain glass windows. Her long, elegant train trailed behind her, covered in embroidered flowers, dragging far down the marble aisle.
It seemed like forever before Carla made her way to the altar, where Mac had stepped down to receive his bride from her crying father. Telesforo gingerly lifted Carla's veil, giving her a kiss on one cheek, then the other, before shaking Mac's hand, and releasing his daughter. The veil now pushed back over her shoulders, Carla looked ravishing, her raven hair in a tiny braid, tied around the back of her head, her dark, steamy eyes full of wonder and promise, as she saw her handsome husband dressed in white, with the Pontiff standing behind the altar, smiling benevolently, looking down upon both.
“Good start,” she whispered in Mac's ear, as he took her hand, and led her up to the altar.
Alberto and Anna were now in full tears, but there may not have been a dry eye in the church, including the three holy men at the altar. Teresa gathered up Carla's train, swirling it around the bride's feet, at the foot of the altar steps.
“Dearly beloved,” started Pope Pius in Italian, as the entire church took their seats.
Mac heard nary a word from the Pope during the entire mass, as he was focused on his new wife, and just how beautiful she was on her special day.
“Tommaso Martini and Carla DeFelice, do you wish to undergo the sacrament of marriage?” asked Pope Pius, at the conclusion of the full mass.
“We do,” said the couple in unison.
“Please kneel, my children. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, I hereby bless this union of these two wonderful children of God, before the witnesses in this church,” said the Pontiff, as he rubbed chrism on each of their foreheads.
“Tommaso Martini, do you take this woman to be your wife, to honor her, to obey her, to cherish her, to hold her dear, from this day forward, for the rest of your life?”
“I do.”
“Carla DeFelice, do you take this man to be your husband, to honor him, to obey him, to cherish him, to hold him dear, from this day forward, for the rest of your life.”
“I do.”
“The rings?” asked the Pope, as Alberto passed them on to the Pontiff.
“Tommaso, you say to Carla, “with this ring, I thee wed.””
“With this ring, I thee wed,” said Mac, as he gazed into her big, beautiful brown eyes.
“Carla, you say to Tommaso, “with this ring, I thee wed.””
“With this ring, I thee wed,” she said meekly, as she squeezed his hands tightly in hers.
“Please stand before the eyes of God, and the good followers of Christ in this Church,” said the Pope. “By the power vested in me, under the authority of Jesus Christ, our Lord, in this beautiful church of his, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
As Mac kissed Carla lovingly, the entire church erupted in applause, including the Pontiff, Father Leiber, and the Pastor.
The sacrament completed, all in the church were invited to a reception to be held at the Castello Savelli, back in Palombara Sabina. Mac and his bride left the church as husband and wife, with rice being thrown at them on the steps of the Trinita dei Monti, and into the limousine in which they intended to ride to Palombara Sabina. During the hour trip, the couple kissed and talked about their future. It had already been decided that they were spending their first night at the Castle, and then it was on to Nice, with a stopover at La Foce, on the way, for one night. After being bombed at Naples, Mac wanted no part of bringing his new wife to the Sorrentine peninsula. They were to spend a week on the Riviera, then come home to Mac's apartment at the Inn, where they would live together as man and wife, at least until they could find a place of their own.
The party at the Castle was lovely, but the young couple was wishing that everyone would leave, allowing them to be alone officially for the first time. Signora DeFelice and her daughter Anna had cooked for weeks for the festivities, and Signore DeFelice was in his glory. Lasagna and kisses, salad and speeches, dessert and more kisses, and dancing for all. Finally, it was time for everyone to leave the young couple to themselves, as Carla's mother and father gave her a few parting words, and took the wedding presents back to their home.
The owner of the castle took the young couple to the tower, and they were shown into their marital chamber. They were told that many centuries of offspring were sired from this room, and they were wished luck of their own. Mac and Carla closed the door behind the man, both laughing as they did.
The room was the size of the rectangular tower, high above the Town of Palombara Sabina. The fire blazing in the hearth on the wall to the right of the canopy bed, which was in the center of the room, offset the coolness of the stone walls. There were pillows everywhere, on the bed, on the stone floor, on each of the chairs. The woven tapestries on the stone walls gave the chamber a medieval air, along with the narrow stone windows, and the lambskin comforter draped across the bed. A chilled wine cooler sat to the left side of the bed; an open bottle of French Champagne nestled within the ice. Two fluted glasses, along with a tray of cheese and fruit, rested on the night table. Violins could be heard from the streets below, as the young couple looked out the window at the musicians, waving.
“Sit down on that chair, Commander Martin. I have something for you.”
Mac took his hat and set it on a library table up against the wall. He did as he was told, sitting in the chair, but only after he had unbuttoned his white dress coat. Carla stood before him, putting her white shoe on the chair, between his legs.
“Take this off for me, sir,” she said, in English, gesturing with her chin to her white pump.
“My pleasure,” said Mac, as he removed one shoe, and then the other, seeing her toes wiggle around in the opaque white stockings covering her feet.
Carla faced him, her hand behind her, un-looping each of the catches down her back. When the gown was loosened, she pulled it down, and stepped out of the full-bodied skirt and bodice. She bent over to touch her toes, first to the right, and then to the left, her body encased in a bustier, her legs in the white stockings, held up by white and baby blue garters down each leg.
“Carla, you are so beautiful!” exclaimed her husband.
“Thank you, my Lord and master, and I am now all yours,” she said, as she wiggled her wedding ring finger in his direction.
“More, please, more!” intoned Mac.
“Patience, my husband; be patient.”
Carla reached around her back, and unhooked her bustier, allowing it to fall from her breasts, onto Mac's lap.
“Is this what you want to see, you dirty boy?”
“Yes, so beautiful!” said Mac, as Carla ran her hands under her ample breasts.
Carla again put one foot on the chair in which Mac was sitting, between his legs, and she unhooked her garters, rolling down her white silk stocking. Then she repeated the process with the other stocking, standing before her husband in only her white silk panties, and her jewelry, her long black tresses still tied behind her head.
“You like, my husband?”
“Very much, my wife. Show me the rest! Please!”
“Your wish is my command, sir. I promised to obey you until death do us part,” laughed Carla.
Carla pulled down her panties, standing before her husband, for his approval. She stood there in her nakedness, the dark tan of her toned arms and legs offset by the milky white skin she keeps hidden from all but her husband. Mac got up off his chair, taking her in his arms, kissing her passionately, as he ran his wanton hands all over her soft, supple, body.
“Oh Mac,” panted Carla. “Take me to bed!”
Without a word, Mac lifted Carla in his arms, bringing her over to the bed. He set her softly on top of the lambskin covers, looking at her while he undressed himself, her watching his every move.
“I love you, Mac, so much!”
“I love you, Carla,” said Mac, as he feasted in her beauty.”
The young couple made love all night long, each not being able to get enough of the other. They were meant to be together, and both felt it to their core. Their touches and their movements played like music in the otherwise silence of the night. This time, there was no reason to hold back, the two now being one under the eyes of God.