Sensuous Angel (16 page)

“Nothing too special.” He smiled and took her hand in his. “Where do we go for the bread?”

“Uh…down to the corner,” Donna stammered.

His beguilement of her senses was pathetic and sinful. But he had extracted the promise he wanted from her. He began to walk, holding her hand as if they were teenagers, and as they bought a number of Mr. Scrathatelli’s fresh Italian loaves, they planned a wedding.

It would take place in two weeks, in New York, at St. Philip’s. He apologized to her for forcing that issue, but it would be in poor taste not to be married in his own church. Father Jaime would marry them. Both wanted to keep the service small, but Donna’s family would be invited, and wherever her family went, there was an instant crowd.

It was when they were walking back to the house that Donna suddenly hesitated. “I guess I’ll talk to my grandfather tonight,” she said.

He laughed. “I don’t think it will be so bad. I did my very best with him.” He grimaced. “Donna, I hate anisette. I haven’t prayed so hard in a long time as I did to manage to imbibe half that bottle with the old man!”

Donna chuckled, but the sound was still uneasy.

Luke sighed. “If you want to do this right, I can talk to your father—”

“We already have father’s blessing.”

“We do?”

“Yes,” Donna said distractedly.

“Then—”

“Oh, Luke, don’t you see? I’m twenty-eight years old. I would do what I wanted anyway, but…”

“They mean so much to you, right?”

“Yes, is that wrong?”

“No, it’s one of the reasons I love you.”

She spun around, crushing the bread as she held fast to him. “Is it, Luke? I guess I always wondered a little what you saw. You—you’re unique, Luke. But I’m afraid that I’m rather ordinary—”

“Ordinary.” He laughed, lifting her clear from the ground to kiss the top of her head. “Stubborn, persistent, determined, caring, and a dozen other things. Ordinary, never. And besides that….”

“What?” Donna demanded.

“I have never, never met a woman with such heavenly, gorgeous, sensual sex appeal.”

“Oh!” Donna laughed as she struggled from his arms. “I think you’d better put me down, Father. I think a few members of my family are still thinking of you as a holy man, and I don’t want to shock anyone. I think I almost gave my father a stroke tonight.”

Luke smiled and set her down. “I’m serious!” Donna charged him indignantly. She walked ahead of him, then suddenly stopped, swinging around again.

“Oh, Luke! We can’t be married yet! Not unless Lorna can be there. Luke, she’s my best friend—”

“Donna!” His voice grated with a frustrated impatience. “Trust me! Lorna will understand.”

Trust me….She was always being told to trust him and she did. Didn’t she?

“Donna! It’sa cold outta there! You come up, now!”

She gazed up at the old triple decker. Her grandmother’s head was sticking out of the window. “Coming!” she called back.

She grimaced at Luke. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting into?”

“I’ll love every minute of it,” he promised her dryly. “Except once we’re legally married, I think I am going to have to tell your grandfather that I hate anisette.”

Donna hurried up the walk with him close behind her. He caught her in the stairwell and spun her around for one last quick kiss.

“Donna, two weeks.”

“I just wish—”

“Have mercy! I warned you that I wasn’t a saint.”

She nodded, swallowing quickly. Then she hurried on up the rest of the stairs.

Dinner was delicious. Luke met more of her aunts, uncles, and cousins. He seemed at total ease with the cacophony, and she was grateful for his understanding that as chaotic as it all was, her family was special.

When she walked him to the door to leave, he told her firmly that he would wait downstairs. She gave up trying to dissuade him and returned to the kitchen. She met her father’s eyes, and he smiled his encouragement to her.

Her grandfather was sitting at the butcher block table again, still impeccably neat in his white shirt and suspenders. He was playing a game of solitaire and sipping espresso. He didn’t look up when she approached, but kept turning his cards over.

Donna realized that the kitchen had gone silent. She wished that someone would make some noise but it seemed as if she was going to have a full and uniquely quiet audience for her confrontation.

Without looking up, her grandfather began to speak. “He’s a nice boy, Donna. But he isn’t for you.”

Donna took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She knew that things had been going way too smoothly. “I’m going to marry him, Grandpa.”

His cards slapped down hard on the table and he stared at her, his jaw firmly squared. “He’s not for you! Donna, I—your grandpa—am telling you no!”

Donna started as someone touched her shoulders. Her father was standing behind her. “Pop, Donna is old enough to do as she pleases. She’s been wise enough to choose a good man. Give her your blessing.”

Donna’s grandfather swallowed down his espresso and picked up his playing cards as if no one had spoken.

“Pop, Donna is my daughter, and I’m going to be proud to give her to such a man.”

“I will not be there.”

“That will be your choice.”

Donna closed her eyes for a brief moment, gathering strength. She wasn’t going to have her father and grandfather fighting because of her. She gave her father a brief smile and went to kneel by her grandfather. He kept playing cards. Donna waited.

At last he looked up; his blue eyes rheumy with age caught hers; they were rebellious and pained, and Donna thought of how he had always grumbled and chastised them—and how he had also always been there to soothe away all the little hurts that were a part of growing up.

“Grandpa,” she said quietly, “I think you know that I love you and I would never want to hurt you in any way. But I love Luke Trudeau, and I am going to marry him. It will hurt me deeply if you don’t accept him, but whether you do or not, I am going to marry him. Whatever he is, Grandpa, he’s a good man first. And I want him because he is a good man.”

Stony silence followed her speech. Then she was treated to a burst of angry Italian she couldn’t begin to follow though she had been hearing it all her life.

“Grandpa—”

An old and boney finger wagged threateningly at her. “I won’t be at your wedding, Donna, you hear me—I won’t be there!”

“I’ll miss you, Grandpa.”

Donna rose, kissed his forehead, and headed for the door. She had known this would come, she had known, and yet it hurt so badly, because she did love her grandfather. Walking away from him was one of the hardest things she had ever done.

“Donna! Don’t you walk out that door!”

“Pop—” her father interrupted.

“I’m not talking to you, Sal! Donna, I’ll come to your wedding. But don’t ask me to dance!”

Donna froze where she stood for a minute. Then his words sank into her mind with sweet clarity. Thank God! Oh yes, thank God—maybe He was intervening!

She spun around, racing back to his chair and kissing his balding head. “Thank you, Grandpa!”

She hugged him until he cried out that she was going to crush his bones. Then she whirled about and kissed everyone in the room, which took her a little while.

She kissed her mother last, then raced down the stairs. Luke was leaning against his rented car, smoking a cigarette. She hurled herself into his arms. “Oh, Luke, it went perfectly—well, almost perfectly.”

“Did it?” he asked her huskily. “Then let me take you home in perfect shape. When you’re this enthusiastic, it’s very hard to convince myself you’ll be morally and legally mine very soon.

Perfect. Yes, it would all be perfect.

If only things would straighten out for Lorna, and if only she understood this man shrouded in mystery.

L
UKE RETURNED TO NEW
York the next morning without seeing her again. Once he left, Donna began to doubt her sanity. It was crazy. Absolutely crazy. She was marrying a man she barely knew. She had made promises, forgetting all about her own life.

Everything suddenly became a crisis for Donna—her house, her job, everything.

But everything was solved too easily. Her oldest brother wanted to buy her house, and since she did the bookkeeping for the business, her father saw no reason why she couldn’t continue handling the business accounts from New York.

She had called Luke. Did a priest’s wife do such things? His laugh had touched her with warmth and a flood of anticipation. Sure, whatever she wanted to do was fine with him.

In just two weeks she would be married. It should have been an awful rush, impossible to accomplish. But her sisters packed her belongings, her brothers worried about settling her accounts, and she was left with very little to do.

Perfect.

Luke called again to tell her that he had arranged for her family’s priest to preside along with Father Jaime at the ceremony.

Again she was touched by his consideration and by the sound of his voice. She knew that her family would be thrilled.

Perfect.

Perfect again.

Then why was she so nervous…so unsure? She loved him, she needed him. Despite the nagging feeling that something was being withheld from her, she knew she would ten times rather worry with him than to have to live without him.

And so the days sped quickly by.

On the Friday before the wedding, a wing of suites at the Plaza was taken over by the Miro family. Dina—a bundle of energy for a change—worked studiously to move Donna’s things into Luke’s house. Her suitcase, packed for a honeymoon “in a warm clime,” was left at the foot of Luke’s bed. There was a dinner party at which Donna met Luke’s family. (Not as large as her own, but she was already dreading Christmas shopping!) His sisters were charming, his father a handsome doll, and his mother as sweet as could be. She had been thrilled to meet Donna.

Perfect. Everything was perfect.

Except that Andrew wasn’t there, nor was, Lorna. When asked about his brother, Luke just said that he was away on business, and, unfortunately, just couldn’t make it back.

At ten o’clock, the families dispersed and Donna was left alone with Luke. Suddenly she felt how very deeply she
didn’t
know him. Shivers raced along her spine, tremors of foreboding. Now, she told herself. Now was the time.

Her throat seemed to constrict, and she felt at a loss. How did she put it into words? How did she ask him what it was he was hiding from her, why he never talked about April? Ask, she told herself. Open your mouth and ask….

But then he was walking toward her with his long strides, filled with a leashed tension. She felt that gold and sun touch of his eyes, and her shivers became a cascade of heat when his arms came around her. His lips touched hers, then his hands, large and tender, holding, cupping, exploring. Firm, knowing…then gossamer light…making her ache….

“I’m going to take you back to the hotel,” he told her.

It was raining, and cold. Not even Luke could manage to get a cab quickly. They stood on the steps, huddled beneath the overhang as they waited.

It was a dreary night, promising little better for the morrow.

“Luke?” Donna finally asked.

“What?”

“Why don’t you ever talk about April?”

She felt him tighten. “Because she’s dead.”

“I know, but…Mary said once that you had loved her very much.”

“Of course I loved her. Very much. But she’s dead, and there’s nothing I nor anyone else can do about it now.”

His tone was blunt. Curt to the point of annoyance. Rudeness.

“Luke! I feel that you’re hiding something from me—”

“For heaven sake, Donna! What do you want me to say? That it hurt? Yes, it hurt badly. No, I’ll never forget it or her. That’s natural. But it’s not something to harp on. I don’t hide anything from you. Not that you need to know.”

“That I need to know?” Donna echoed. She heard the sound of the constant drizzle of the rain. It seemed to tear at her and ridiculously beckon her to cry along with it. She felt terribly cold, terribly wet, suddenly frighteningly alone.

“Luke,” she said stiffly. “You say that you love me. We’re getting married tomorrow. It isn’t that I need to know things, it’s just that—”

“There’s the taxi! Hurry, or we’ll get drenched.”

She felt herself propelled down to the sidewalk and into the cab. Luke asked for the Plaza, then settled back beside her.

The neon lights were casting strange glints on his eyes again. He looked satanishly handsome—the dark hypnotist again. Except that he wasn’t looking at her, he was staring into the night.

“Luke,” she began, but before she could say more, he had twisted and taken her into his arms. His whisper was for her alone.

“Donna…please, let it lie. I have you. I love you. It’s all I ask from life.”

The doubt was gone. The fear was gone.

One more day and she would be his wife….

Morning dawned with the same drizzle. By midafternoon it was still dark and gray. Night would come quickly.

Donna wasn’t really bothered by the weather. She hadn’t wanted a big, ostentatious wedding; she’d already had one, and not even an annulment could change that. She and Luke had both been married before, so their five-o’clock wedding was planned to be a simple one.

She wore pale-blue silk and carried a handful of baby’s breath. A Catholic and an Episcopalian priest would conduct the ceremony and mass. Luke—and Donna’s grandfather—had made all the arrangements.

The church was full. She should have expected it. Her family alone could fill a quarter of the pews.

But it seemed that word had gone out among Luke’s parishioners, and not one of them wanted to miss his wedding. She smiled a little, knowing Luke would never turn anyone away.

A flute played as she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm.

But it was then that the shivers began again. It was almost a case of panic. But that was natural, wasn’t it? Weren’t all brides and grooms supposed to have shivers, last-minute nerves?

She couldn’t call it off now. She couldn’t. A church full of people were staring at her. Smiling. Her mother and grandmother were crying, of course, whispering to each other, and Luke…was waiting.