Chapter 27

Chantel waited impatiently while Dr. Shipman and one of his nurses took charge of Dante’s still-unconscious form. They allowed Vittorio Calarco to accompany them, but no one else. Though this grieved Chantel, she understood. I’d only be in the way. She twisted her hands together and tried to calm her nerves.

With her father’s minor wounds treated, Chantel thanked him for what he had done. “Papa, there are no words for what I want to say. I love you so much, and to know that you would risk your life for the man I hope to marry . . . well . . . I just don’t know what to say.”

He hugged her close. “I understand. No words are needed.” He held her tight. “I know you love him dearly. I can see it in your eyes, just as I could see his love for you in his. It is the same kind of love I hold for your mama.”

“Oh,” Chantel put her hand to her mouth. “Someone should go to Nonna Barbato and let her know what has happened. She’ll want to be here.”

Papa nodded. “Will you be all right if I go?”

She nodded and withdrew from his arms. “I will be fine. It’s better that you get Dante’s grandmother. If he doesn’t . . . if it’s really bad . . .” She still couldn’t bring herself to say it. Not long ago she’d stood in this very room only to hear that her brother was dead. Chantel knew full well she couldn’t bear to hear similar news regarding Dante.

“I will go, then. I will bring her back.” He kissed her on the forehead and left without further ado. Chantel began to pace the room, feeling terribly alone.

Glancing toward the ceiling, Chantel sought God’s comfort. “I need you, Lord. I cannot bear this by myself. Please, Father . . . please save Dante. Let him be all right.”

The waiting seemed to drag on and on, and after nearly twenty minutes there was still no word from the doctor. Nonna Barbato arrived with Papa, but he had quickly returned to the house so that Mama wouldn’t be alone.

“We will bear this together,” Nonna told Chantel. “Together with our precious Savior.” She took hold of Chantel’s hand, and together they sat and waited for news.

The mine captain showed up some ten minutes later to get a report on the situation. He was sympathetic and kind, but his words felt hollow, giving little comfort to Chantel.

“He’s a good, strong man,” the captain said. “I’m sure he’ll pull through this.” He smiled at Chantel. “Your father was quite heroic to go in after him. You should be proud.”

“Of course I’m proud,” Chantel replied. “I’ve always been proud of my father . . . my brothers, too.”

The captain nodded. “I was sure sorry to hear about Marco. He was one of my best workers. Have they found out who killed him?”

Chantel shook her head. “My brother Alfredo intends to learn the truth . . . but I fear it may cost him his life, as well.”

The captain frowned. “I hope he won’t do anything foolish to further grieve your folks.”

“He’s determined to find the men responsible,” Chantel replied. “I can only imagine the harm that might befall him in doing so.”

“But our heavenly Father, He can protect,” Nonna interjected in English, then switched to native Italian. “Just as He has protected my Dante. You’ll see. Our Father will provide all that we have need of—including answers.”

The captain shrugged in confusion. Chantel could see he hadn’t been able to follow Nonna’s Italian. She quickly translated for the man.

He shook his head. “I’ve not known God to worry overmuch about giving me answers, but I do know how the determination of a man can work to his benefit. Alfredo will want a reckoning for what’s happened to his brother. That will be enough to get the answers.”

Nonna waggled her finger at the mining captain and again rattled off a rebuke in Italian. Chantel turned to the man and repeated the older woman’s words. “God alone will reveal the hidden things. You might not have answers from Him because you do not think to ask. I have put Dante and all that has happened into God’s hands. He will provide for our needs.”

Dante opened his eyes, and a white-hot stab of pain flashed through his head. He couldn’t keep from moaning aloud and tried to raise his hand to his head. Dante’s arm refused to obey as weakness washed over his entire body.

“Don’t try to move, son,” a voice commanded gently.

Dante fought against his blurry vision to make out the features of Dr. Shipman.

“What . . . happened?”

“There was an accident at the mine.” This time the voice came from his father. Dante turned his head slightly to the left and located the older man. He blinked hard to clear his vision.

“You stepped into a sinkhole,” his father explained. “You were pulled down. Very nearly killed.”

Dante tried to remember the accident, but he had no memory of it. The last thing he remembered was trying to speak to his father. He had wanted to tell him something, but for the life of him, Dante didn’t know what it was.

“Giovanni Panetta saved your life,” Papa continued. “He pulled you out after I set another charge to dislodge the rock.”

“A Panetta helped a Calarco?” he asked, barely able to voice the question.

His father shrugged. “Miracles do happen.”

Dante smiled and attempted to nod. The pain in his head stilled his actions. He closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, the doctor was standing directly over him.

“I believe you have several broken ribs, but it doesn’t appear they’ve punctured your lungs as I originally feared. Other than that, you have a broken collarbone and a concussion with multiple contusions and lacerations. It will be best for you to remain completely still.”

“I believe you,” Dante whispered. “Does Chantel know?”

His father spoke up. “She’s waiting in the other room.”

“Let her know . . . I’m alive.” He closed his eyes and grimaced from the pain.

“I will, but first you need to know something, son.” He touched Dante’s hand.

Dante opened his eyes again. “What is it?”

His father frowned. “I was a fool. I treated you wrong.”

Was Papa truly repenting or was this all a dream?

“I was wrong to hold on to my grudge. You were right about ending the feud, and Giovanni . . . well . . . he made me see what a stubborn fool I’d been. Almost losing you made me realize . . . well . . . I love you, son. I was wrong to send you from me. I was wrong to disown your brother. I guess I’ve been wrong about a great many things.”

Dante could see the sincerity in his father’s eyes and hear it in his voice. His father had never been a man of apologies, and Dante knew the words hadn’t come easy. He risked complicating the situation. “I’m in love with Chantel Panetta.”

His father nodded. “It’s just as well, because that little girl loves you dearly. She’s not been willing to leave your side until the doctor forced her to wait outside.”

“I didn’t intend to fall in love.”

The older man chuckled. “I didn’t intend to fall in love with your mama, but she wrapped me around her little finger with a single look. I was never the same after that.”

“She’s a good woman, Papa.”

He chuckled again. “For a Panetta?”

Dante felt his strength fade even more. He was so tired. “I hope you won’t mind another Panetta in the family.”

His father’s expression became serious. “I prayed while you were trapped. I haven’t prayed in years, but I prayed then. I told God that I would give anything for your protection and recovery. The one thing He wanted from me was to end the feud and forgive the past wrongs. I intend to hold up my end and bury the past, rather than a son.”

Dante let out a pain-filled breath and smiled. “Thank you, Papa. I don’t think you’ll ever be sorry.”

“I need to clean and stitch this gash in your head now,” Dr. Shipman interrupted. Dante saw a blurred image of the doctor holding up something. “It won’t be pleasant, so I want you to drink this. It will ease the pain.”

“I’ll go speak to your Chantel,” his father declared. He gave Dante’s hand a squeeze and was gone.

Dante fought back waves of pain and nausea as the doctor helped to lift his head. He drank the bitter liquid, feeling it burn slightly as it trickled down the back of his throat. The doctor lowered Dante back to the table. “That should take effect rather quickly.”

“Was anyone else hurt?” Dante asked as the doctor began scrubbing the wound. The pain was blinding, but Dante did his best to focus on other things.

“Mr. Panetta was banged up a bit, but nothing all that bad. You’re lucky to be alive. You know that, don’t you?”

Dante tried to smile. “My nonna would say that luck had nothing to do with it.”

“In this case, I believe she would be correct,” the doctor replied. “You were clearly in greater hands. Your father told me you were mere inches from being buried alive. Obviously God has another purpose for you.”

“Chantel,” Dante whispered the name.

“As soon as I finish up with you here, I’ll allow her to see you, but right now we have work to do.”

When Mr. Calarco appeared in the waiting room, Chantel felt the wind go out from her. She gripped the back of the nearest chair to keep from collapsing to the ground. Nonna Barbato got to her feet and went to her son-in-law.

“How is our Dante?”

“He’ll survive,” Calarco declared.

Chantel forced herself to take in a deep breath. He was alive. He would live. She looked up to find Calarco and Nonna watching her.

“You aren’t gonna faint, are you?” Dante’s father asked.

She shook her head, but took a seat nevertheless. “Is he conscious?”

“Sí, and the doctor, he is stitching up his head.” Mr. Calarco came to where Chantel sat and squatted down beside her. “Dante asked me to let you know that he’s all right. He told me, too, that you plan to marry him.”

Chantel nodded and could see by the look in the older man’s eyes that a miracle had taken place. Not only was Dante going to live, but Mr. Calarco had obviously come to terms with the Panettas being a part of his life.

“I love him so very much,” she said in a near-whisper.

Mr. Calarco nodded. “Brothers married to sisters. It will make for a very close family, no?”

“That is my hope,” Chantel replied. “There’s nothing quite so important as family.”

He smiled. “I agree. Of course, there’s a good number of Calarcos who won’t agree with this blend of families.”

Chantel shrugged. “Then they’ll just miss out on the best of what each family has to offer, because I intend to have a great many children with Dante, and I’m sure Isabella feels the same way about Orlando. We will bring the Panettas and Calarcos together in such a blessed way that no one will ever again feud over mules or women or anything else.”

Nonna laughed. “Ah, you paint such a pretty picture, but you forget one thing.”

Chantel frowned. “What? What did I forget?”

“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.”