Chapter 28

Italian custom held that a Sunday in June was the best possible day to marry, and so Dante and Chantel set their wedding for the twenty-first of June. Although Chantel had decided the wedding would be a simple affair, there were still many traditions to uphold.

With her veil carefully in place and the beautifully crafted wedding gown displaying her figure to perfection, Chantel met Dante on the street just outside their house. He looked quite regal in his dark suit. Chantel met his gaze with a smile.

“Are you sure that’s you in there, Chantel?” he asked, trying to peek through the lacy veil.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” she teased.

He took hold of her hand. “Are you ready for our walk to church?”

“I am.” She glanced behind her to make sure that Isabella and Orlando were following. “Issy has my bouquet, and I presume Orlando has the rings.”

“Rings? Were we supposed to have rings?” Dante asked, sounding surprised.

Chantel had grown used to his teasing. She shrugged. “I suppose we don’t have to have them. In fact, I suppose we can call this whole thing off.”

“Ha!” Dante tightened his hold on her. “I’ve waited too long as it is. Besides . . . ” He paused and held up a piece of iron ore. “I have my lucky piece of iron, so you cannot run away. My father assured me that this tradition held strong merit, because if you try to leave me, I can simply throw it at you.”

“I would never try to leave you,” she assured.

He put the piece back in his pocket. “See, the luck works.”

She smiled behind the veil, knowing she was going to have a life of laughter and happiness in the company of this man. They moved off down the street to face the customary obstacles laid in their path by friends.

The first thing they came to was a broom. Chantel picked it up and gave a little sweep. “Ah, she’ll be a good housekeeper,” one of the women lining the street called out.

“She’ll have to be,” Dante replied. “I’m quite a pig.” This elicited laughter from the crowd.

Chantel was unconcerned. “Nonna Barbato told me that you’re already trained to leave your boots off at the door. We’ll continue that tradition in our own home.”

“Of course, my little wife.”

He led her on down the road toward the church, only to find someone had placed a perambulator in their way. Inside, a very unhappy infant cried. Chantel stepped forward and lifted the infant into her arms. The baby reached for her veil, but Chantel managed to keep the child from pulling it from her head. As the infant continued to cry in her arms, Chantel produced a sugar cube she’d hidden in her sleeve for just such an occasion. She touched the sugar to the baby’s lips and the crying ceased.

The crowd howled with cheers and delighted laughter. “What a good mama she’ll be,” an old woman declared.

The baby’s mother came to relieve Chantel of the child and gave Dante a wink. “May you have a dozen.”

He laughed and thanked the woman before leaning over to whisper in Chantel’s ear, “Do you think a dozen will be enough?”

“To start us off,” Chantel replied, unfazed.

Dante roared and apparently the viewers understood the situation, for they joined heartily in the laughter.

The next obstacle was one for Dante. There were coins strewn on the dirt road, and he bent to retrieve each one. Once collected, he handed them to Chantel, who placed them in a little white silk bag.

“He will be a good provider,” several men said in unison. Again cheers went up.

There were several other impediments that suggested Chantel would be a good cook and seamstress, and that Dante would remain strong. Just before they reached the church, they were required to saw a log in two using a double-handled saw. This would prove their ability to work together.

Having met all of the requirements, Chantel took her bouquet from Isabella and allowed Dante to lead her into the church. A stream of friends and family followed behind the happy couple. While the congregation took their places, Dante escorted his bride to the altar, where the ceremony began with Father Buh’s prayers.

Chantel thought she might well burst from joy, and she reveled in the moment. She had never thought it possible to love anyone as much as she loved this man. This man who was my enemy not so long ago.

They recited their vows, pledging before God and man that they would remain faithful through adversity. And Chantel knew adversity would come. Just as Nonna Barbato had reminded her of in Job, life was full of problems and trials. It would be her duty to keep her eyes on God.

With Dante at my side, there is nothing I cannot face.

Father Buh motioned them forward, urging Dante and Chantel to each hold a lighted candle. “These candles represent two families—the Panettas and the Calarcos,” the priest declared. “And now they become one family in the eyes of man—one flesh in the eyes of God.”

Chantel and Dante lifted their candles and together lit a third candle. Chantel couldn’t halt the tears that spilled onto her cheeks. She remembered how the longstanding feud had separated Nonna from her dear friend and prayed that somehow the two women might be rejoined in more than secret letters.

Father Buh called for the wedding rings and blessed them before handing them to Dante and Chantel. Chantel smiled at the simple gold band Dante held. This would be her only jewelry today—most days. It symbolized their eternal love for one another, and inside the ring Chantel knew Dante had the engraver mark her ring with his name and the date of the wedding, while her name was engraved inside of his.

Dante’s voice was strong and unfaltering as he slipped the ring on her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.” He lifted her hand to his lips and sealed the ring with a kiss.

Chantel bit her lower lip to keep from crying even more at the happiness of it all. She barely managed to speak her vows and place Dante’s ring on his finger. Following his gesture, she kissed his band and finger.

Father Buh had more to say, but Chantel barely heard the words. She could think of nothing but Dante’s hold on her hand. He’s my husband now. I am my beloved’s and he is mine.

When Dante lifted her wedding veil and gazed upon her face for the first time that day, his dark eyes seemed to drink her in before he covered her lips with his own and sealed their marriage with a kiss.

The priest offered a final blessing, and before Chantel even knew what was happening, Dante quickly whisked her down the aisle and out of the church, where a small carriage and driver awaited them.

At their small house just off of Central and Harvey Streets, the carriage driver brought the horse to a stop and waited while Dante lifted Chantel from the carriage. He barely let her feet touch the ground before he whisked her into his arms and carried her up the walkway. At the door, he held her with one arm and turned the handle with his free hand.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Calarco,” he said, gazing deep into her eyes. It was all he could do to believe this wasn’t a dream. When she touched his cheek, Dante felt the warmth of her hand and smiled. It was all very real.

“May it be a place of love and godly wisdom,” she whispered.

He kissed her ever so briefly once they were across the threshold and gently lowered her to the ground. Chantel wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close. Dante felt flush with a desire that he had been most careful to put aside until this day. Waiting to be alone with her—to hold her, to touch her—had been almost painful to him.

Without another word, he lifted her into his arms once again. Their waiting had come to an end.

Hours later, Chantel and Dante arrived at the traditional wedding feast. In the hours of celebration that followed, Chantel laughed and shared dances with her father, brother, and many other men before Dante finally reclaimed her and announced it was time to put an end to the festivities. After fourteen courses of food, dozens of offered toasts and blessings, and hours of dancing, Chantel was more than ready to agree. Her feet ached, and weariness threatened to leave her sleeping in her husband’s arms.

“Come, my lovely lady,” he said, reaching for her hand.

The well-wishers gave the couple one last set of cheers before Dante once again helped Chantel into the waiting carriage for the drive back to their little house. With the night stars shining down upon them and a full moon overhead, she thought it the most beautiful night of her life.

“I’ll always remember this moment—this feeling,” she told Dante, laying her head upon his shoulder.

“And what feeling is that, my love?”

“Safety. Joy. Peace. Wonder. And the assurance of a blessed future.”

He laughed. “That’s a great many feelings.”

She raised her head to meet his gaze. “No. It’s really just one. It’s the love we share. The love I hold for you—the love you hold for me.”

He smiled and cupped her chin with his warm fingers. “And the love we have in God.”