Chapter 21

The following Sunday, Dante sat at the breakfast table. His father had returned late the night before, and now as they sat across from each other, he explained all that had transpired in his absence. It hadn’t been easy, but Nonna had assured him it was the right thing to do.

“I thought I had convinced Orlando to at least come home and tell you in person what he had done, but he changed his mind.” The last words were given in the form of an apology.

Dante could see that the older man was carefully considering what was to be done. Nonna served them a platter of sausages to go with their steaming cups of coffee. Italian breakfasts were traditionally laden with sweets, but the Calarco men worked much too hard to survive on such things alone. She gave Dante the slightest nod of her head. She approved of what he’d done, but she could never save him from his father’s wrath.

Spearing one of the sausages, Dante continued to wait, knowing further words would serve no purpose. The silence might seem welcome to some, but Dante knew it was just the calm before the storm.

Nonna, too, held her tongue. She joined them at the table with a plate of bomboloni—fried pastries filled with custard. They were one of Vittorio Calarco’s favorites, and Dante knew his nonna had made them to assuage her son-in-law’s anger.

Dante was on his second cup of coffee when his father finally spoke. “You will go after him.”

“I did, Papa. I went to Duluth and tried to bring him back. I told you that already.”

His father slammed his open palms onto the table. “I said you will go after him.”

“And where would I even begin to look? There were trains and ships, carriages and freighters. How am I supposed to find them now? It’s been days, and they could be almost anywhere.”

His father’s face reddened. “I won’t tolerate your disrespect. I don’t care where you look or how you do it, but you will find him.”

Dante wiped his mouth with a napkin and set it aside. “No, Papa. I won’t.”

“Vittorio . . . your boy, he is married,” Nonna said, joining their English conversation. “You cannot interfere with this thing God has done.”

“God?” Dante’s father questioned. “It seems God has been taking things away from me all of my life. My parents, my home in Italy, my wife, my brothers . . . and now He demands my sons? Well, He cannot have them.”

“You blaspheme,” Nonna declared in Italian. “You talk about God as if He should follow your directives, rather than the other way around. Vittorio, God did not rob you of your family, nor has He taken your sons. You have pushed them away and put a mountain of hate between you.”

“Be quiet, woman,” he snapped. “I won’t hear anything more from you. From either of you.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to listen to me, Papa,” Dante said, trying his best to sound respectful. “Orlando and Isabella have been married for nearly a week. She soon could be expecting a child. That baby will be flesh of your flesh, as well as that of the Panettas. It is time to put aside the past and look to the future.”

His father said nothing for several moments, and Dante thought perhaps he’d actually gotten through to him. When his father stood, however, Dante realized just how wrong he had been.

“Get out. You are no longer my son. If you seek a peace with the Panettas, then go. Go live with the Panettas if that is your desire, but I never want to see you again. I will see to it that you never work in the iron mines. I will declare you to be worthless and deceptive—as you are.” He tore his shirt in a bellowing rage. “I have no sons! I have no family!”

Dante said nothing as his father stormed from the room. Nonna was beside him almost immediately. She put her hand upon Dante’s shoulder. “He doesn’t mean it. He’s just upset. Once he takes time to think it all through, he will change his mind.”

“I don’t think so, Nonna. Especially when he learns that I, too, am in love with a Panetta.”

A smile spread across her lips. “I knew it would be so. Chantel is a beautiful girl, and she loves God very much.”

“I know. She loves her family, as well. She risked everything to help her sister and Orlando get away from me. She doesn’t love lightly, to be sure.”

“That is a good kind of woman to have for a wife. She will be good for you and to you.”

“But at the cost of my father.” He shook his head.

Dante’s father came back into the room, but he said nothing to either one of them. He went to the back porch and retrieved his boots. Dante waited as his father laced up his boots, wondering what he might say to him.

To his surprise, however, his father marched back into the kitchen and pointed his finger at Dante. “You be gone by the time I return.” With that he turned and, without bothering to close the door between the kitchen and porch, opened the outside door and allowed a blast of cold March air to fill the room. He left the house without another word.

Nonna padded over to the open doors and closed them one by one. “He is being unreasonable.”

“It is his home and right,” Dante said, getting to his feet. “And well past time for me to go.”

“Mrs. Merritt has rooms to let,” Nonna told him. “She’s a good woman. You should go there.”

Dante nodded. “I guess I will.” He looked around the room, wondering if this was how Orlando had felt. “Will you be all right?” he asked Nonna.

“I will talk to him when he comes home. He might not listen, but I will speak my mind,” Nonna replied. “And if need be, I will return to Italy.”

Dante knew that such an arduous trip would most likely cost his grandmother her life. “No, don’t go. Find me, and I will locate a house where we can both live.”

She smiled. “And Chantel?”

He nodded. “If she’ll have me.”

Mrs. Merritt showed Dante to a very small room with a single twin bed. It looked hardly big enough for a child, much less a man. “If you are sure you can’t share with the others, this is what I can offer you. I have a bigger room with two beds, but the price is greater and frankly it seems imprudent to waste the space. Bath is at the end of the hall and you share it with everyone on this floor.”

Dante liked the no-nonsense woman and smiled. “This will be fine. I’m not sure how long I’ll need to stay anyway.”

“Well, you pay a week in advance. Price includes all your meals. If you leave your lunch pail in the kitchen each night, I’ll have it packed for you to take to the mine. You won’t go hungry,” she said with a nod. “Not in this house.”

Dante paid her the week’s rent and waited until she had gone before he explored the room more thoroughly. There was a small dresser for his clothes and a nightstand by the bed with a single lamp and nothing more. There was one small window that allowed in the light. The shade had been raised by Mrs. Merritt when they’d arrived to review the room, and now Dante went to gaze out it and contemplate his future.

He had money enough of his own to take care of his needs, but only if he were allowed to keep his job. As he had mentioned to Nonna, he could probably afford to rent them a little house, but if his father got him fired, there would be no sense remaining in the area.

Maybe I should have a talk with the mine captain, he thought. Maybe I should just go to him now and explain the situation and see if we can’t work something out whereby I can stay on. Maybe even just be a mucker. He considered the backbreaking labor of loading ore all day. At least it was a job, and the mines always seemed to need the common laborers. The pay would be far less, he knew, but even the offered $1.50 a day would be better than most other jobs.

He should probably seek work in one of the other mines. That way he wouldn’t have to encounter his father at all. He looked at the clock. Most of the mining officials would be headed to church with their families. Perhaps he should join them. With any luck at all, Dante thought, I might be able to talk to someone today.

Chantel couldn’t hide her surprise at the sight of Dante Calarco at the morning services. He wore the same clothes he’d had on in Duluth, probably his only good clothes, she mused. But today he was clean-shaven—she hadn’t seen him this way since returning from Italy. She had rather liked his beard and mustache, but she had to admit their loss was a vast improvement.

After services, Chantel found herself caught up in a conversation with several ladies about a fundraiser for St. Anthony’s, and after that she lost track of where Dante had gone. Even so, from time to time she searched the crowd for some sign of him. She longed to be near him again, to feel his arm drawing her close.

I hope his father didn’t get too angry with him. I would hate to think of them coming to blows. Papa said that he’d seen many a man handle his sons with his fist. The very thought caused her to shudder.

“Do you think you could manage that?” Mama asked her.

Chantel nodded, not having any idea what it was she was supposed to manage. She looked at her mother in confusion. “I’m sorry. What is it you need me to do?”

“We were talking about the bake sale,” one of the other women said. “We need a pledge of food from each family. We will hold the sale near the mine and are sure to sell out quickly. We’ll have a large tent put up for the occasion and several families are donating tables for us to use. Since many of the miners are single, this will be a great way to raise money.”

“I’d be happy to do whatever I can to help,” Chantel replied.

“Your mother has the list of all the baked goods we’ll need from each family,” the woman continued. “And we’ll need you to take a shift at the tent, as well.”

“We can do that,” Mama replied. “If it raises money to help the church, it will be worth the time and effort.”

“Yes,” Chantel said in agreement. She again let her gaze travel the room in search of Dante. She soon spied Nonna Barbato.

“Excuse me,” she told the ladies and hurried to where Dante’s grandmother stood talking to old Mrs. Nardozzi.

The women smiled at her approach and welcomed her to join them. “We were just talking about news from the old country,” Nonna Barbato told Chantel. She hugged her close. “Mrs. Nardozzi has a new great-grandson.”

Chantel could see the delight on the old woman’s face. “Congratulations. May he live a hundred years.”

“Grazie,” the woman said, nodding. “My friend tells me that your sister has married her grandson Orlando.”

“Sí.” Chantel looked to Nonna and smiled. “They are quite happy together.”

“But his papa is not so happy,” Mrs. Nardozzi interjected.

“I’m sure that’s true. In fact, that’s why I came to speak with you, Nonna.” She hoped Mrs. Nardozzi wouldn’t be offended. “I wondered if when you finished here, could I see you . . . alone?”

“You go ahead,” Mrs. Nardozzi said, patting Nonna’s hand. “I must find my son and daughter-in-law.” She smiled again at Chantel. “You tell your mama to come see me soon.”

“I will,” she promised. Once Mrs. Nardozzi left them, Chantel guided Nonna to the far side of the church where no one stood. “Is everything all right? I mean, I know that Dante’s father was to return late last night. Did he?”

“Sí, he came home very late. Dante went to bed early so he wouldn’t have to give his father the bad news until today. Dante told him about Orlando and Isabella this morning.”

Chantel nodded, knowing it wouldn’t have gone well. “I prayed for him, for you—even for Mr. Calarco. I know that God can change his heart.”

“He alone has the power to do that. My son-in-law, he is very angry. I should probably not tell you this, but he has put Dante from the house. He has disowned him and said he wants never to see him again.”

“What! That’s terrible. Dante was only trying to do what he knew his father would want. Did he explain that he came all the way to Duluth and tried to get Orlando to return with him?”

“Sí, but that doesn’t matter to Vittorio. He raged and blasphemed. He needs God to change him, but he doesn’t want to have anything to do with God.”

Chantel’s mind was still on Dante. “Where will Dante go?”

“He has taken a room at Mrs. Merritt’s, and I think I will join him there. He came here today now that he’s made peace with God.” She smiled at Chantel. “You have been a good influence on my Dante.”

Her face grew hot. “He . . . he’s a good man.”

“He is. He cares enough to take care of his nonna, so I must say so,” she replied with a chuckle. “But I would say so anyway.”

“Would you both like to come have dinner with us today?” she asked, knowing her mother wouldn’t mind.

Mrs. Barbato’s eyes lit up. “I think that would be wonderful. I will tell Dante, and we will come.”

“Tell Dante what?” he asked, coming up from behind Chantel.

“We’ve been invited to eat with the Panettas. I told her we would.”

Chantel turned to find Dante only inches away. Her gaze locked with his, and when he smiled she thought she might well lose all sense and throw herself into his arms.

“Your nonna told me . . . told me . . .” She looked away to regain her thoughts. “She said you moved into Mrs. Merritt’s boardinghouse.”

“Yes. It’s a temporary solution for what will probably be a very permanent problem.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry, Dante.” She forced her gaze back to his. “I truly am. Would it help if Papa went to speak to your father?”

“I doubt anything will help at this point, except maybe prayer.” He smiled. “It seems that between you and Nonna, I have come to realize that there is power in praying and making peace with God.”

Chantel smiled in delight. “Indeed there is. If we pray in faith, we can move mountains.”

“Or the heart of Calarcos,” Nonna said with a grin.