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“You have my word.”
I almost ask if I can go with them, but if I do, Antonio might be angry, and the trip to Fall River will be off.
“Let’s go,” Will mutters impatiently, when Lydia and Samantha are taking too long to say goodbye.
“Will,” Antonio calls. “Take Rafael with you. Call me if he gives you a hard time.”
“I can manage Rafa,” he replies. “Don’t give any of this”—he indicates an orbit around his wife and in-laws—“a second thought. You take care of business here, and let me know if you need reinforcements. My wife was in that church.”
Antonio nods.
I’ve never laid eyes on Will until today, but I can tell from the way he and Antonio communicate that the man has plenty of his own power.
“Antonio,” I plead as his mother gets into a car. “Who was in the bride’s parlor when the explosion happened? There’s nothing left of the room.” I can’t wait any longer for answers. Everyone in that room was there because of me. My insides are shaking. In my soul, I know they’re all dead.
“It might be awhile before we know who was in the room.” He wipes a smudge off my face with his thumb. “You weren’t there. That’s all I care about.”
“Who would do something like this? Why?”
“At the very least, someone wanted to embarrass me and to stop the wedding. But that’s not happening,” he growls, dragging me inside to the vestibule at the front of the church, where the priest is gathering vestments and oils used in holy rituals.
“You need to marry us now,” Antonio demands as soon as we set foot in the chamber.
“I’m preparing to administer the last rites.”
“They’re dead, Padre. It can wait.”
“Antonio,” I gasp, but he ignores me.
“We came to be married in God’s house. We’ll leave married.”
The priest gawks at him like he’s insane. But he doesn’t dare go against him.
“You can do an abbreviated version. Just the essential parts,” Antonio instructs him. “God will forgive you under the circumstances.”
He’s lost his mind.
“Outside.” Antonio continues his demands, like this is his church.
72
Daniela
On the church steps, ringed by armed guards, with death looming, we say our vows.
Father Aguiar asks the first of the three questions that characterize Catholic marriages. “Daniela and Antonio, have you come here to enter into marriage freely, and without coercion?”
Antonio scowls at him before he says, “I have.”
The priest’s eyes are on me as he waits. My chest constricts as Antonio gazes at me with an abundance of patience, but says nothing. He’s more confident of my answer than I am.
“I have,” I submit softly, knowing I’ll have to make my peace with God later.
“Do you promise to love and honor each other, vowing fidelity, for as long as you both shall live?” the priest asks.
“I do,” we say at the same time. And as long as we’re married, I will honor this promise. But I have no opinion, only a prayer, as to whether Antonio will be faithful to me.
“Are you prepared to welcome children into this marriage?”
