Rapture's Rendezvous

“You know that no one could enjoy living in such a way,” she said, lowering her hands to her side, circling them into two tight fists. Her hate for him was growing to such an intensity inside her that she found her courage slowly returning.

Nathan turned on a heel, reaching up to caress the thickness of his mustache. His eyes were narrow slits of gray this moment as they raked over Maria. “You don't have to live in such a manner,” he said smoothly. He tossed his hat onto Maria's father's favorite overstuffed chair, then moved toward her. “Maria, you could even move into my house with me. I've been waiting for the likes of you for years. I know that what lies beneath that ugly attire is the body of a woman. The woman I could even take as my wife. When your father first described you to me those many months ago, I knew that you had to be what I had been waiting for. Now that I have seen you, I know this to be true.” His bony fingers reached upward and touched Maria on the cheek.

She recoiled, as though touched by a snake. But her thoughts were confused, not believing what Nathan Hawkins had just said to her. His wife . .. ? Her Papa had told him about her … ? When . . . ? Why .. . ? Her head was spinning from all that was happening. “I don't understand any of this,” she finally murmured. “You probably don't even know the meaning of the wprd ‘truth'. My Papa wouldn't tell you anything about me. And you surely can't think I could lower… . myself… to marry such a despicable person as yourself. Do you think you honor me with such a proposal?” She laughed raucously. “Your proposal makes me laugh. In no way could I .. . would I .. . ever let you touch my body. Take your words elsewhere. I don't need the likes of you. Ever.”

His eyebrows moved together in their briar-thicket thickness as his face darkened in shadows of yellow-grays. “No one speaks to Nathan Hawkins in such a way,” he snarled, taking her by the arm, jerking her to stand next to him. He reached up, grabbing her by the hair, and pulled her face down to meet his, lips searching hers out in a slick wetness, making Maria feel suddenly ill to her stomach. She began to strike out at him, then kicked him in the shins, laughing when he jerked away from her, cursing wildly beneath his breath.

But then his cursing turned to an ugly sort of laughter. “Yes. I do like women to have fire in them,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “And, yes, you will be mine. You have no choice.”

Maria's eyes widened into two dark pools. “What do you mean?” she snapped. “No one can force me to do anything. And why aren't you after those women who wear beautiful dresses in the town of Creal Springs? Why can't you just leave me and my family alone? Don't you know that all we Italians hate you? You've made us prisoners in this country of America. Papa has told me that he can't even leave to go to another town for fear of what you might do to him. What kind of power do you hold over us all? I don't understand.”

Nathan went to a window and placed his back to Maria, letting her only now see the baldness of his head and the small curve to his narrow shoulders. He clasped his hands together behind him and said, “I have explained to you before. I have been generous enough to pay for all your passages to America. This is why you all owe me so much.” He swung around and faced Maria. “This is why you owe me. When your father asked for special favors those many months ago, describing you, his daughter, to me, asking that you have special privileges, to let you and your brother believe it was your father's money that was paying your way instead of mine, and because of your beauty and innocence, I agreed, only because I knew that you would be the one I would choose to wed. I am sick of all American women. They bore me. Your description was all that it took to make me realize that you would be the one for me, at long last.”

Maria's face had paled. “You say . .. that you .. . planned this? From the beginning?” she whispered. “But.. . Papa .. . ?”

“He had no idea of my true intentions,” Nathan said, working with his moustache, curling its ends with the caress of a finger. “He just thought I was being generous.”

“But . . . Papa .. . ?”

“Like I said in trying to explain. Your father asked that I let you think it was he who paid for your passage. To let you think that he was no beggar. That he alone was making the kind of money to pay for such things. But that is not the way it is, Maria. I am responsible for your being in America … as well as Alberto . . . and your father. You must always remember this.”

Maria turned her back to Nathan, hanging her head. She felt humiliated. Degraded. Tears tried to surface. She wiped at her eyes, then turned back to face Nathan. “So .. . you did plan all along to .. . seek … me out. .. ?” she mumbled.

“All the while,” he said flatly.

“Why then … did you .. . wait.. . ?”

“Why did I wait until now?” he said. “Because I wanted you to get your fill of living in such conditions as you are living in. Then I knew that you would rush into my arms … be my wife … to be ab

le to live as any woman dreams of doing. In luxury. With the best of food . . . and clothes. Am I right?” His gaze moved around him once again. “Are you tired of living in such a way? Are you ready to live a different way of life? As my wife? In my house? I could see to it that you never want for anything again.”

“This is unbelievable,” she gasped.

“If you don't agree, I will see to it that you and your family are returned to Italy on the next ship. And while you are on the ship, I will make sure that it will be a voyage of hunger and degradation. I have the power to do so. You know that. The ship you traveled on is mine. Or didn't you know that?”

“This is blackmail,” she hissed. “I cannot let you do this to me.”

“Call it what you please,” he said, laughing amusedly. “But you don't have any choice, my pretty Italian waif.”

“You are evil. Just as I have always thought you to be,” she said, setting her jaw firmly. She turned once again, and began pacing the floor. She was damned if she did . . . and damned if she didn't. She stopped, facing him directly. “And what about Papa and Alberto? If I do as you request, what about them7 Can their lives be made to be more . . . gentle . . . ?”

“No special privileges can be handed them,” he said, coughing nervously into a cupped fist. “The only thing I can promise you is that they won't be shipped back to Italy. Other than that, their lives will remain the same. Only you will be the privileged one. But again, you don't have any choice. You will have to forget your brother and father for the time being. For not to do so would be to give all of you a true death sentence, for sure, if you so much as board that ship that heads back to Italy.”

“I need .. . time … to think,” she murmured, so wanting to lash out at him, to hurt him in some way. But she couldn't. It was he who held her still as a prisoner. It was he who had the power to command….

“You know where I live,” he said, placing his hat back atop his head. “I shall be expecting you tomorrow. If you don't arrive, you can expect your father and brother to be without jobs and have tickets in hand for passage back to Italy. I shall do this. Tomorrow.”

“I can't believe … that….” Maria whispered, paling even more.

“You will believe it when you see it,” he said firmly, moving toward the door. He turned to face her, glowering. “Tomorrow?” he said.

“But… my Papa … and brother,” she stammered.

“They are two capable adults. They can do without you,” he said bluntly. “And if you will take my advice, do not leave word for them as to where you are until we are together in wedlock. No sense in causing alarm enough for them to come for you when you know the outcome of such a movement on their part.”

Maria lowered her eyes, hating this man so much … so much . . . she could possibly even kill him. She swallowed hard, remembering the gun that Alberto still had hidden. Could … she … ? But no. She knew she couldn't. But she would get even with him. Even if it meant having to find a way after actually marrying him.

“I will be there,” she said. Her gaze shot upward. “But don't do anything to my brother or Papa. Please. I do this thing . . . only for their welfare. I would gladly go back to Italy. But I know my Papa is too ill to make such a voyage. He wouldn't make it one day aboard that cold, wind-swept deck of the ship. Please just don't do anything to hurt my Papa and brother.”