Rapture's Rendezvous (49 page)

Maria scowled, envisioning Michael's coming face to face with many beautiful women each day. Jealousy stung her insides. And Michael thought she would sit home having babies? He would see just how wrong he was! She set her jaw firmly, thumping her fingers nervously on her lap. She had plans of her own. She would enter into politics and see to it that all women had the same rights as men. She had seen enough of
rights being kept from people. Hawkinsville had shown her enough of this kind of life. She would never feel as though she was in bondage again. Not in marriage . . . and not in life.

She would study the laws of the land, and then she would show everyone that women could speak out about women's rights and slavery of all kinds. Maria had just recently heard about a Susan B. Anthony and her leadership of a women's suffrage movement. Maria wanted to be more like her. Maria wanted to be a part of fighting for these rights being spoken of all over the country.

She sighed leisurely, knowing that would come. Yes, that would come. But for now, she would just enjoy the day at hand. She gazed out the carriage window, seeing people entering and exiting the famous French pastry shops of the city, and then she was all eyes when the carriage carried her and Michael on past the grand Union Station where trains stood lined up beneath a large roof both day and night. This building that reached up into the sky was an architectural marvel, as were the buildings that Michael had told her about that she would soon see when they arrived at the World's Fair grounds.

“You've suddenly turned quiet, darling,” Michael said, leaning next to her, taking her hand in his.

“This city,” she sighed. “It is so beautiful. There is nothing like it in Italy. I just know it.”

Michael laughed hoarsely. “Yes, there is,” he said. “It's only because you never got any further than that town of Pordenone. Ah, Rome. One day we will go there. I will take you back to your country and show you what you were unable to see as a child.”

Maria frowned. “Not by ship,” she said stubbornly. “I shall never forget that ship that brought me from Italy.”

“Darling, when we travel to Italy, it will be on a luxury liner,” he said, patting her hand fondly. “It will be the same as in a luxurious hotel. You won't even know you are on the water.”

“I can't believe there could be such a ship,” she sighed, eyes wide.

“You've much to see and learn,” Michael chuckled, flipping his cigar from the window. “And we will begin now. I believe the carriage has arrived at the fair.”

When Michael reached around and opened the door for Maria, she let out a loud gasp, seeing so much already. The crowds were thick and everyone was attired fancily in their best hats, suits, and dresses. Aided by the coachman, Maria stepped from the carriage onto a red carpet that had been spread from the curbing to the entranceway of the fair, where all fancier carriages moved to a halt, discharging the most elite of passengers.

Maria's eyes moved upward. She let out a loud gasp, covering her mouth with her hands. “My word,” she said. “What is .. . that.. . Michael?”

Michael's gaze followed Maria's, hiding his eyes from the rays of the sun with the back of a hand. “My God,” he exclaimed. “They've succeeded at getting that damn thing up into the sky. That's some of my union associates. They bought that contraption for this occa-sion.” He laughed hoarsely. “See what's written on the balloon's side?”

Maria read “United Mine Workers of America.”

“But it's so fascinating,” she said. “How does such a balloon … as you called it. .. get up into the air? And aren't the men afraid they might fall out of that flimsy-looking basket, or that the balloon might just suddenly drop from the sky?”

“Darling, that's a hydrogen balloon. The balloon is able to rise because the gas inside the bag is much lighter than the air around it,” he said, guiding her onward. “If you will notice, my friends were not brave enough to let the balloon fly itself. You do see the rope securing the balloon to the ground.”

“I would hope so,” she sighed, looking on ahead. “What shall we see first, Michael?” she added, feeling excitement rippling through her.

“We can't see it all in one day,” he said. “But we shall start at the Sunken Gardens.”

Michael guided Maria down steps that led to a richly planted parterre. A graceful slope of fine turf that was a combination of color and charming design spread out before the eye. The scene was kaleidoscopic, the colored bits of flowers seeming to change patterns constantly. The aroma was like a mixture of different perfumes combined.

Maria's eyes couldn't move fast enough to take it all in. “I believe I've walked into heaven, Michael,” she sighed. She leaned down and sniffed at one flower then the next, and then Michael guided her on to the next unique display. This was the area of the fairgrounds that was called “The Pike.” It was a long, wide street of large amusement concessions.

Maria and Michael clung to one another, laughing, as they passed the “Temple of Mirth,” went into the

“Jungle of Mirrors,” where they saw many of themselves staring back at them, then on to “Hagenbeck's Wild Animal Show,” where every kind of animal could be found walking stealthily back and forth behind fenced-in areas.

“I don't think I've ever had so much fun in my entire life, Michael,” Maria purred as Michael purchased a swirl of pink candy floss from a vendor and handed it to her. She set her teeth into it, laughing as it seemed to melt onto her tongue, then swallowed the sweetness.

“I don't think you'd get too fat eating that,” Michael laughed, buying himself an ice cream sandwich from another vendor.

They moved on past two more exhibitions, where the announcement sign stated that a young Irish tenor, John McCormack, was singing in one, and a comedian named Will Rogers performing in the other.

Michael nodded with his head toward a tent with a red-and-white-striped covering. “And under that tent, they boast of some new invention called the hot dog, and a cool drink called iced tea,” Michael said, licking his lips as he swallowed the last of his ice cream sandwich. He reached inside his pocket and pulled a cigar out. He placed it in his mouth and lit it.

“Hot dog?” Maria giggled. “Such a strange name. Surely it isn't… a thing . . . made from a dog .. . ?”

Michael doubled over with laugher. “No, my dear,” he said. “It is something quite good made of a mixture of pork and beef. Before we leave this day, we will try it. Maybe have it for our lunch.”

Maria's gaze moved upward. Her heart pounded against her ribs. “And what is that thing… called… ?”

she whispered.

Michael looked upward. “That is the ‘Observation Wheel,'“ he said. “One can climb aboard those seats and make a circle into the sky and see for miles and miles. Want to board it? Experience it?”

Maria swallowed hard. She could vividly remember her feelings about the moving box at the hotel. She knew that this ride that moved in a circle into the sky could be even more dangerous. “No, Michael, I think not,” she said. “Please. Let's move onward. There's so much to see. The buildings. Each one is so very beautiful.”

Michael chuckled and led her away from the squealing passengers. Their day was then spent moving from one building to the next, seeing exhibits, checking out the flags that waved atop each of these buildings, seeing that Michael's seamstresses had done quite well for the Hopper Shoe Company, that was soon also to be known as Hopper's High Fashions.

And when the sun began to dip toward the horizon in brazen oranges, Michael guided Maria back to the carriage, to head back to the hotel. He smiled when he found her head resting on his shoulder. The day had exhausted her. But he knew that his surprise waiting for her would quickly awaken her. He only hoped that Maestro Von Heifschmitz hadn't let him down. . . .

The carriage came to a halt and the coachman opened the door. “Maria?” Michael whispered, touching her softly on the face. “Darling? Wake up. We've arrived back at the hotel.”

Maria's eyes fluttered open and looked around her. She smiled warmly when she found Michael's face so
close to hers. “Michael? Are we back at the hotel already?” she murmured.

Michael laughed softly. “Yes. You've been asleep. But now it's time to step down from the carriage.”

Maria sighed heavily, then reached a hand to the coachman and let him assist her down. She swirled the skirt of her dress around, waiting for Michael, then locked her arm through his as they went inside the hotel and once again traveled inside the moving box to the fourth floor of the popular Planter's Hotel. When they were finally inside the hotel suite, Michael swept Maria into his arms and kissed her long and lingering, then stepped back, smiling sheepishly.

Maria giggled, lifting her hands to her hat. She removed first the pins, then the hat. “What's wrong with you, Michael?” she said. “You look as though you might be the cat who swallowed the canary.” She walked to the couch and dropped onto it, so very, very tired. She placed her hat beside her and threw her head against the back of the couch, breathing heavily.

“I've got a surprise for you, darling,” Michael said, removing his suit jacket, placing it on the back of a chair. He moved toward the bedroom. “I'll only be a moment,” he said from across his shoulder.

Maria leaned forward, watching. A surprise? What could he be talking about? She had been with him almost every hour of the day and night since having arrived in Saint Louis. How could he have .. . ?

When he reentered the room, carrying a black case, Maria's heartbeat quickened. She rose quickly and rushed to Michael, all eyes. “It looks like .. . it. . .
is . .
. my violin case,” she gasped, taking it from him.
She stood still for a moment, hugging it to her. “Michael, how . . . ? What . . . ?”

“You've talked of having missed your violin? Well, Alberto brought it to Mama Pearl one day while we were out. Then I contacted a Maestro Von Heifschmitz, the director of the Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra. He said that he would arrange to have it repaired.”

Gasping, Maria rushed to the couch and placed her violin case on it. With trembling fingers, she released each lock, then raised the lid, feeling tears surfacing as she lifted her instrument into her arms. She hugged it to her, feeling as though a part of her had been returned . .. and all in one piece. She held it away from her once again, letting a finger trace its highly varnished body. The crack was no longer there. By some miracle, it had been removed. She plucked at the strings, filling the room with a soft, sweet sound, then placed the violin back inside the case and flew to Michael and into his arms.

“Oh, Michael, this is the best surprise you could have handed me,” she cried, clinging. “I just didn't think anything could ever be done for my cracked violin.” She looked upward into his eyes. “How can I ever thank you? Darling, how can I?”

Michael laughed hoarsely, his fingers already working with the buttons of her dress. “There's always a way, darling,” he said quickly. “And you know what that is, don't you?”

Maria reached back and continued to release her buttons, watching as Michael began to release the buttons of his shirt. “But we must move to the bedroom, my love,” she purred. “Mama Pearl. We
must remember we're not the only ones occupying the small space of this hotel suite.”

“Mama Pearl?” he laughed. “She'sjust down the hall for this entire night. She's staying in another hotel suite that I've purposely arranged for her so we could have this place all to ourselves. Shall we take advantage of it?”

Maria's gaze lowered. “Before we're even married, Mr. Michael Hopper?” she teased.

Michael stepped from his shoes, then his breeches, laughing. “Even before we're married, wench,” he said. His underthings were quickly discarded, then he moved to Maria and aided her with her corset, laughing when he heard a loud breath of relief when it fell to the floor in a heap. He lifted her into his arms, smothering her lips with kisses as he carried her to the bedroom.

When they reached the bed, Maria clung to his neck, savoring the soft warmth of his lips. His hands began caressing her, causing the pleasure waves to splash around inside her, a storm of passion rising and falling with each of her erratic heartbeats.

As he placed her on the bed, he leaned over her with his blue eyes burning with desire, then with a fierceness, he was beside her, holding her, his mouth bearing down upon hers in hot demand.

Moaning with sensuous pleasure, Maria's fingers moved over his body, feeling the familiarity of it. . . the wide expanse of shoulders tightened now as he held her in rapturous imprisonment against him … the soft, velvety skin of the curve of his buttocks . .. then the fuzz of hair that led her fingers around to where his
manhood lay throbbing against her thigh.

The wondrous desire for him was now causing her to writhe, trying to position herself, when he suddenly released his lips from hers and lowered them to a breast, as his manhood slowly entered her.

“My darling,” he whispered. “I thought I had lost you for sure.”

“I was always yours,” she murmured. “From that very first instant that I looked into the blue of your eyes.”

He laughed amusedly. “Do you mean that day on the ship when I discovered that you wer.e indeed a female?”

“Yes. That day, my love,” she purred. Her heart was beating with a reckless passion now, recalling all their times together since that day … all of their rapturous rendezvous . . . from the first bed she was stretched out upon on the ship, to the time they had made love in the depths of the Indian grasses.

“How could I have ever for one moment not known you were female,” he said, kissing her sweetly on the hollow of the throat.

“Remember the day you made love to me while the tipple of the coal mine seemed to be watching, as though it was a person?” she whispered, tracing his lips with a forefinger.