Page 21

Dante

Three Weeks Later…

Finally, the day arrived.

It had taken a staff of fifty to accomplish it all, but it all was set. I had pulled every string and called in every favor. I even think my father pulled in some favors too, but I didn’t want to know about them and so I did not ask the who or the why. My office mates now returned the party favor by jumping in, running errands and making deliveries to the estate. Adding the last minute touches, from decorations to food.

Many of them supplied every man hour power they could. Seems my pizza days and the wing parties paid off. As Zia always says, kindness and generosity pays back with the same . I smugly reported this fact to my father when he was surprised at the many staffers showing up to help. They dealt with the details and arrangements we had no real time for. He and Luca never approved of my expenditures for my coworkers at Descalia Corp. Disdaining it as a waste of funds for non-essential fluff and fun.

Well, I lived by the creed that without the fluff and fun most people would perish from a boring and essential life in general.

Then there were the citizens of New Orleans. Or the citizens of our local parish as they are called here. So add at least twenty more helpers to the help list. I had always been grateful to our people and their southern cajun charm, but now I knew they were the warmest in the land. They all believed in a happy ending. They believed in miracles and the magic of love.

And yes, today would be a miracle in itself if we pulled it off.

Neversmile’s story of everlasting love was also historical proof of this even a hundred years later. And no, I would never forget Della’s connection to that story or really our story as it connected to the words…

What Love Hath United, Death Cannot Separate.

I stood next to Tito, Romeo and Amadeo. We all waited patiently for the miracle moment to happen.

Well, I wasn’t waiting patiently—they were. No, I was all pins and needles inside. Pricking at me, telling me this was just a dream after all. It wasn’t real, it wouldn’t happen, she wouldn’t arrive…

Then she did arrive just as the song started.

Holding her arm was Stephano Descalia, my father, the man who got this whole idea rolling in the first place. He’d announced her as my fiancée several weeks ago at that Council inquiry. The idea had been to protect her under our family name. Then that same idea took hold in my mind to actually give her the family name…my name. I already knew she was the one woman for me. I already knew I’d fallen more in love with her as each day passed. I already knew I wanted to wake up beside her and take care of her for the rest of our days.

Then came the day when I received the ring from my father, being the first Descalia of this generation to get married. He made a huge deal of it after he’d gathered us all in the study. Announcing to the family that it was official and that Della would wear our mother's ring. Being that I’d be the first Descalia son to need the ring. When we all toasted this semi-ceremony of the ring, I had pronounced that since Legend wasn’t due to marry until the end of next month, that he was just too slow. Of course the family all laughed at this.

That had been a wonderful day but nothing could top one priceless, eventful day of our whirlwind planning as it had been most exceptional. Yes, that day might have been the funnest day when we explained the cake we wanted to ‘Bonnie, The Baker’ as she was known in our parish. However, it got even more hilarious when we had to explain the ‘wedding cake’ to her three times in a row.

Her stammering response had been, “M-M-MoonPie?”

Nodding our heads, Della and I both fell over on the small sofa in rolling laughter.

Upon seeing this reaction, the baker looked relieved and said, “Oh, so you are joking.”

We swiped at our tears of hilarity and clumsily sat up to shake our heads at her, much to the woman’s dismay.

So right this minute in a ballroom, two buildings over, up in the corner, upon a table was a creation, straight out of the MoonPie handbook. A large round cake three feet high with 10 tiers of graham cracker layers, filled with marshmallow cream frosting. The exterior was white cream frosting with an artfully dripped covering of chocolate.

I just knew my father would lose all of his olive skin tone in his face when he got a good look at it. So it was almost worth the trouble and the extra cost just by being able picturing that in my head.

Just now however, I sucked in a deep breath and beamed now as we all got our first look at my dream-bride, coming down the aisle.

All in white, her dress sporting a laced pattern with tiny pearls here and there adorning it. The dress also had a heart shaped cameo bustline and a seamless length. It showed Della as truly having an hourglass figure as it was called. I called it curvy and scrumptious. Her skin gleamed as if she herself was a diamond. Her hair hung down along her back in one long dark braid, with small pearl strands woven through it.

My father escorted her closer and closer.

I admit that just then, a bead of sweat rolled down along my forehead and stung my eye. I had to blink it away so that my starved eyesight could take in the dream I was living.

Romeo reached over and handed me a tissue.

Grateful, I took it and wiped my eyes. So when I looked up, Della was finally here.

My father handed her over and I had to admit that beyond giving me life, he had never presented me with anything as precious as my Della.

I took in her bright sparkling eyes and her trembling smile. She wore no veil as I'd asked not to cover her face like that. She’d worried that it would upset the church patrons as veils were a part of the tradition as she had read the reasoning behind it to me from google…

In the Catholic tradition, a wedding veil symbolizes the bride's modesty, humility, and purity, reflecting her commitment to her husband and her faith.

I shook my head and told her she was THE most modest, selfless and pure of heart person I had ever met. She sure didn’t need the veil to prove that as everyone who knew her believed she was all of those things.

Valencia being a prime example of that nature as well. Della had forgiven her for the crypt incident and had befriended her too. Being supportive and friendly to her as if the woman had never put her in a grave as Della described it. In fact, Valencia stood on our left with Glory and Julianna. Della had asked her to stand up for her as she’d known Valencia for a long time.

I took Della’s hand now and smiled at her. I could see tears brimming in her eyes and I hoped they wouldn’t spill over yet as she had lamented many times before today. I just know I’m gonna cry and ruin my makeup. She never wore much of that and I didn’t see a lot of it now either.

We turned to the priest and awaited the vows.

Father Bennet recited our vows in his usual musical-like voice.

I heard him but the words just seemed fuzzy. All I could do was stare at my bride in total awe. Who knew that when they brought her into my father’s study more than a month ago that I would be saying—

“Dante!” Romeo nearly shout-whispered in my ear.

Looking away from my bride to be, I stared at Father Bennet and spoke strongly, “I do.”

The crowd behind us laughed as apparently, it was the ring part. Not the I DO part.

Della let out a boisterous laugh and nodded at me.

I shrugged as Romeo handed me the wedding ring. Placing it on her finger, I again repeated, “I do,” just for good measure.

Everyone laughed again.

Father Bennet slowly shook his head and instructed Della to place my ring.

Valencia handed Della the ring and she slid it onto my finger while copying me with, “I do.”

The priest tisked as neither of us were behaving.

“Oh, Dios Mio,” my father scolded from somewhere behind us.

Father Bennet simply gave up and said to me, “Dante, you may kiss the bride.”

I leaned in and pressed my lips to Della’s then scooped her up into my arms – wedding train and all as her feet left the floor – to kiss her deeply.

Upon the unexpected and unorthodox handling of the wedding kiss, she giggled in her throat as we kissed, which was fine with me. There was no better way to ensure a couple's happiness than providing laughter at the nuptials.

“I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Dante Descalia,” Father Bennet announced to the crowd in the pews.

Swinging her around, I finally broke the kiss and whispered to her lips, “Chattanooga, here we come.”

More laughter came from her lips as I carried my dream down the aisle.

NOT QUITE THE END…