Dante's Dilemma (a Dante Legacy Novella) (12 page)

Rom grinned. “Since I can’t, I purchased tickets for our passage to New York, as well as for the train from Florence to Rome.”

“They will be looking for you in Florence,”
Nonno
warned.

“If they find us, it will be too late. By then, it will be done. Julietta will be my wife in name and in fact. An annulment will not be possible.”

“Shall we finalize our plans?” Serena spoke up again. “The walk to the church from the Rossi villa takes forty minutes. We’re supposed to leave right at four. When we arrive at the church, Tito will go inside and I’ll take Julietta to the prayer garden in order to put the final touches on her dress and hair. Join us there, and you’ll have the opportunity you need to whisk her away.”

Rom’s frown mirrored his grandfather’s. “That could prove problematic. What if she fights me? I’m riding a motorcycle. It’s not like I can throw her over my lap and ride off with her.”

“I guess you’ll have to find a way to convince her.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Either she loves you and is willing to elope with you, or she isn’t. I refuse to sway her. She must choose to go with you.”

“And if she has second thoughts, afterward? If she refuses to marry me when we reach the church?”

“Now that, I can help with.” Serena held out a thin envelope. “Give her this and all will be well.”

Rom eyed it dubiously. “You’re sure? It doesn’t look like you wrote very much.”

“Just three words,” Serena said with a laugh. “Trust me. I know my sister. Those three words are all the ones you’ll need.”

The next few days crept by. And though Rom attempted to visit Julietta, she refused to see him. From the few glimpses he caught of her, she appeared pale and drawn, her attitude one of such sad determination he found it painful to observe.

Tito didn’t appear any better. In fact, his friend’s expression mirrored his bride’s. Were a bunch of grapes truly worth such misery? Rom didn’t understand it. But, it filled him with a determination of his own, to change the course of all of their fortunes—for the better, even if it wouldn’t initially seem that way.

Much to Rom’s relief, the morning of the wedding dawned clear and cooler than normal for early June. The entire day assumed a ritualistic feeling. Every action—even one as habitual as his morning shower—was done with care and attention to detail, knowing he performed each task with Julietta’s pleasure in mind.

An hour before the start of the procession, Rom dressed in the suit he’d bought to wear at Tito’s marriage, never imagining he’d end up wearing it for his own. He checked his watch and took a deep breath. This was it. It was time.

His mother and stepbrothers were nowhere in sight—no doubt already on their way to the Rossis’ villa. But Luigi lingered in the kitchen. He glanced up at Rom’s entrance. Without Nicci’s presence to temper his attitude, the mask of politeness slipped for an instant, and a wealth of anger and resentment showed through. Then it vanished, and he gestured in the direction of the root cellar.

“Bring up a couple of bottles of wine before you leave. The Trebbiano. Your mamma forgot to do it.”

Relieved that Luigi didn’t plan a confrontation, Rom nodded. “Sure. I’ll get them right now.”

“Some beer, as well.”

Rom opened the heavy wooden door and pulled the chain connected to the overhead light bulb. Steep, narrow steps plummeted downward into a small cellar that stored the produce his mother canned throughout the summer and fall, select bottles of Ranieri wine, and the butter beer
Nonno
put up each year. Halfway down the steps, the door slammed behind him, and he heard the ancient iron key turn in the lock.

“Luigi?” He turned and ran back up the steps. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t disgrace me.” Luigi’s muffled voice penetrated the thick wood, the sound filled with rage. “Do you think I don’t know what goes on under my own roof?
Mi fai schifo
. You disgust me. I know what you have planned, and I won’t let you dishonor my family with your disgraceful behavior.”

Rom pounded on the door. “You don’t understand. Julietta loves me. And I love her.”

“You’re cursed. Just as your mother was cursed. Once Tito takes the woman for his wife, the curse will end. Make yourself comfortable,
faccia di stronzo.”
He seemed to relish the epithet. “This will be your home until tomorrow.”

Rom had no idea how long he pounded on the door. He only stopped when his hands, battered and bloody from his repeated attacks on the impervious wood, turned numb. He dropped on to the top step, exhausted.

How long? How long before Julietta became Tito’s wife? Half an hour? Or mere minutes from now. Or maybe she’d already spoken her vows. He leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes.

“Julietta,” he whispered. “Believe in me. Believe in The Inferno. Don’t do it. I beg of you. Don’t marry Tito.”

Julietta stood in front of the mirror while her mother put the finishing touches on her upswept hair. “You look beautiful,” Maria said with a sigh.

Her sisters floated around her in a rainbow swirl of pretty gowns. “Beautiful,” they all echoed.

Julietta glanced in the small mirror positioned over a simple dresser. She didn’t look the least beautiful. She looked tired. And sad. She straightened her shoulders and forced a smile to her lips, not allowing herself to play the part of the martyr. She’d chosen to marry Tito, and she refused to make everyone around her pay for that choice. Not her family. Least of all her soon-to-be husband.

“It’s a shame you couldn’t wear my wedding dress,” Maria fussed.

Julietta shook her head. “Thank you for the offer, but no one wears a black wedding dress anymore, Mamma.”

“It had the prettiest white hat to go with it.” She tilted her head to one side. “Still, this gown is also pretty, even if it’s not traditional.”

And it wasn’t. In fact, the strapless gown, a gift from her aunt, had initially shocked her mother. The ruched bodice was gathered to one side, accented with crystals and pearls that trailed from breast to hips in a long, fitted line. For the sake of propriety—and much to her mother’s relief—it also came with a long-sleeved, bolero jacket that fastened just beneath her breasts, to be worn in church during the ceremony. The satin skirt was covered in several cascading layers of tulle and belled outward at her hips, ending in a modest train that she could manipulate without assistance.

Serena approached and helped with the veil, a waterfall of tulle that matched Julietta’s gown, anchoring it to her sister’s upswept curls with a handful of pins. “Don’t forget, you need to rip the corner for luck before you walk down the aisle.”

“I’ll remember.” Maybe. Not that it mattered. Nothing about this day would bring her luck. If anyone deserved luck, it was the poor bridegroom.

“Come, girls,” Maria announced. “We better leave now if we’re going to arrive on time.”

The procession for the walk to the church gathered in the road just outside the Rossi villa, everyone in their Sunday best, many carrying wildflowers to scatter ahead of the “happy” couple. Tito stood with his family, his expression set in grim and stoic lines. Had there ever been a gloomier bride and groom? Julietta crossed to his side, and he presented her with a bouquet of pungent herbs and orange blossoms, tied with a white ribbon.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

He offered a strained smile. “Not as beautiful as my bride.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Oh, Tito,” she whispered. “What are we doing?”

“What we must to get what we each want.”

She bowed her head. “I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

“Time will tell.”

The street leading to town was lined with well-wishers, and, in keeping with tradition, they put various obstacles in the path of the approaching couple—a broom Julietta needed to pick up to show she’d be a good housekeeper, a crying child to see if the couple would offer comfort and prove themselves good parents. Every step of the way, Julietta wished with all her heart it was Rom at her side, instead of Tito. No doubt Tito wished for a different bride, as well, someone who’d give him the passion she couldn’t.

At one point, he lifted her hand and studied her engagement ring. “I see Rom adjusted it.”

“Yes. He gave it to my mother last night.” She pretended to glance around. “I don’t see him. Where is he?”

“His stepfather told me he isn’t well. He sent his apologies.”

“I see.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she forced them back. What did she expect? She’d asked him to stay away, hadn’t she? And he’d granted her wish. Besides, how could she possibly say her vows to Tito while Rom watched? Could she do it if their situation was reversed and he was marrying another? No, never!

Eventually, the procession wound its way into Santa Lucia to the front of the church. Tito paused long enough to kiss Julietta’s cheek. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” For an instant, his gaze lingered on Serena, and then he spun around and disappeared into the cool, dark interior of the vestibule.

Julietta fought to breathe. This was a mistake. A hideous mistake. How could she bear to spend the rest of her life with a man she didn’t love? A kind man, but one whose touch repulsed her? She desperately wanted to save her family, to be an obedient and dutiful daughter. But to spend the next fifty years or more trapped in a loveless marriage? To bring children into this world that were a result of such a union?

“Serena, please,” she whispered, fighting to draw air into her lungs. “I need to sit for a moment.”

Over her sister’s shoulder, Julietta could see their mother looking on in concern. Serena waved off the cluster of family members. “Go on in. We have to make a few final adjustments to her hair and gown before the ceremony.”

Everyone slowly filtered into the church, and Serena smiled sympathetically, wrapping an arm around Julietta’s waist and drawing her toward a shady prayer garden on one side of the church. “It’s okay. We’re alone. You can relax now.”

They crossed to a bench positioned beneath a widespread oak, and Julietta sank on to the wrought-iron seat. “Thank you.”

“Would you like some water?”

“Please. And tell Mamma everything will be fine. I’ll be along in a few minutes. I just have to catch my breath after the walk into town.”

“I’ll be right back.” Then she did something she’d never done before. She stooped in front of the bench and gathered Julietta close. “Someday I hope this will all come full circle. Until then, know that I love you and only want what’s best for you.”

She left the garden before Julietta could ask what she meant. But her words lingered, as though they were part of some greater message. In the distance, she heard her father call to one of her younger sisters, and aware her time alone wouldn’t last much longer, she closed her eyes. “Rom,” she whispered, rubbing the deep, burning itch centered in her palm. “Please, forgive me. I love you. I do. I wish there were another way, but there isn’t.”

With all her heart, she prayed some other solution would present itself in the next few minutes and she’d escape her fate. That a miracle would happen and Rom would ride up and carry her off, and yet her family would still somehow be saved.

But miracles weren’t meant for her.