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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 kn
ow 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.”
