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“I do feel fit as a fiddle in these clothes,” she finally answered. “Again, Michael, you are too kind.”
“You must get used to my whims,” he laughed throatily. “Each day I might pop in with a new hat for you. Who knows?”
Maria's face darkened, remembering the large array of hats that had burned in Nathan's house. He had been as generous in his own devious ways. He had almost bought out the stores their one time in Saint Louis. She turned her eyes away from Michael, trying to hide the shadows that had crept across her face. She wanted so badly to forget. She had to forget. It was all behind her now. The Italian community was safe now. Their living conditions were being improved as each day passed. Alberto had taken charge. With the money loaned to him and the families of Hawkinsville by the United Mine Workers of America, running water had been installed in each household, electricity had been wired, and a siding of sorts had been nailed outside each house, enabling the people to stay warmer in the upcoming storms of winter.
“Darling,” Michael said. “You are lost in thought once again.”
Maria turned her eyes to him, fluttering her lashes nervously. “Yes. I do that. I'm sorry,” she murmured.
“You know the mine is safe now,” he said. “Alberto is safe working the mines now as are all the other coal miners. Isn't that what we were striving for? Didn't the union make coal mining safer and more secure economically for your people? You shouldn't fret any longer.”
“But my mind has been drawn back to . . . what was found when the investigators searched deep inside the coal mine,” she uttered, covering her mouth with her hands, feeling sick inside all over again. If not for Michael and the persistence of his men, would she in the end have also been found there—decapitated . . . dead … ?
Michael took a quick swallow of port, then puffed angrily on his cigar. “Yes. I know what you are thinking of,” he said hoarsely. “You are remembering the . . . uh . .. women's bodies found when the investigators worked their way to the back of the mine. The earlier wives of Nathan Hawkins.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “I'm remembering that. What if… ?” She couldn't help but shudder.
“But, he didn't get the chance, did he?” Michael reassured her. “Now we know all the reasons for his protecting his mine from the snoo
ping of investigators. He had used the mine for a grave. A dark, deep grave.” He looked heavy-lidded toward Maria. “You are safe. Thank God you are safe. Nathan Hawkins didn't get the chance to”do . . . uh the . . . same with you.. . .”
“Only because I was with him for such a short time,” she stammered. “What if . . . ?”
“Enough of such talk,” Michael said, rising, taking his empty glass to the liquor cabinet. “Let's concen trate on plcasanter things. Let's head on to the fair. What do you say?” He mashed his cigar out in an ashtray, then offered her his arm.
“Yes, let's,” Maria said, pushing herself up from the chair. She accepted Michael's arm and walked with him from their suite, on out into the hallway, and watched as he pressed the button for the elevator.
“Ready to ride the moving box once again?” Michael teased, laughing.
Maria's heartbeat began to hasten. She didn't like to disclose her fears of this box to Michael. She didn't want him to think her a child, with childish notions. But the elevator always set her worst fears in action. What if the box fell? What if the box doors didn't open and they were trapped … ?
“Well? Darling?” Michael persisted, guiding her on inside the elevator as its doors rattled open.
Trying to hide the trembling in her fingers, Maria watched the door as it was shoved shut. Then she barely breathed as the box moved downward in awkward jerks. And when the door opened once again, revealing the hotel lobby to her and all its merry chatter of people coming and going, only then could she force a smile and move on next to Michael out into the busy streets.
“Angelina, you might appear to be tiny-boned,” Alberto said, breathing heavily, feeling an aching in his arms. “But you are quite heavy.”
Angelina giggled as she clung to his neck. They weren't married yet, and this was only a fun way to practice. She began to kick her feet slowly as Alberto stepped on across the threshold that would lead diem into what would soon be their honeymoon suite at the grand Planter's Hotel. “But, Alberto, I'm heavier on this, the day before our wedding,” she murmured.
“Why is that?” he scowled, kicking the door shut, then heading toward the bedroom.
“Because I'm so fdled with love, darling,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his. “My love for you must weigh hundreds and hundreds of pounds. But you know that.”
Alberto's eyes raked over her, feeling the quivering of his insides, so wanting her, yet afraid. Just looking into her eyes … so dark … so imploring . . . could set his heart to racing and the blood to boiling inside his manhood. But he had failed so often while trying to make love to a woman.
With Angelina, he had up to this point managed to put off the inevitable, telling her that he wouldn't seduce her before the wedding, saying that he had wanted her to remain pure at heart, as most women should, if they weren't wanton whores, giving their bodies to every man who asked. But now he had decided that he had to try this night, so that if he couldn't succeed, he would set her free to let her marry someone more worthy.
“You look so beautiful, Angelina,” he said, placing her tenderly atop the bed. He moved away from her, thrusting his hands deeply inside his front breeches pockets. He went to the window, placing his back to her. “But your dress,” he murmured. “Before . . . uh . . . going any further with our caresses, maybe, you'd best remove it and hang it carefully in the closet. I don't want to .. . uh . .. muss it.”
He turned and fled from the room, his heart pounding so hard he felt he couldn't breathe. He was afraid she would sense his weakness. Up to this point in their relationship, she had seen only the stronger side of his personality. She had been proud to know that he had led the mob of coal miners who had killed the dreaded man Nathan Hawkins. She had been proud to believe that he had been the one to pull the trigger of the gun that had fired the one fatal bullet that night.. ..
Going to the liquor cabinet, Alberto poured himself five fingers of whiskey and gulped them down, trying to let the whiskey burn the memory of that night from his mind. He lowered his head and stroked his cleanshaven face. He couldn't help but think back once again. . ..
It had been so dark that night. A starless night. The sky had been almost as dark as the insides of a coal mine. But the dark cover of night had made it easier for the coal miners to move unnoticed toward Nathan Hawkins's house. There had been no sounds, except for the anxious breathing of all men who had guns drawn and ready. Then when they had reached Nathan Hawkins's house, the scratching of a match had begun it all. Torches had been passed around and the house had quickly become consumed in flames.
All poised and ready, everyone's eyes were focused, unblinking even, on the front door of the house. When Mama Pearl had rushed, screaming, from the house, she had seen the circle of men and had fled down the road toward Ruby's.
Then when Nathan Hawkins had come gasping from the house, Alberto had tried to pull the trigger, but had frozen to the spot. When the gun was grabbed from his hand and the shot fired, Alberto had been surprised to find that it was Michael who had once again proven himself to be more of a man than Alberto, causing Alberto's hatred for Michael to begin anew. . ..
