* * *
Domenica Cabrelli was happily betrothed to Captain McVicars, which was good news for the Sisters of Notre Dame because it meant McVicars the Glaswegian would be close by to do repairs when they needed him. Within a few days, McVicars plugged a leak in the convent kitchen, rewired the dining room chandelier, and even went to the trouble of filling in a large pothole on the stone drive to the convent entrance. The captain remembered the name of each nun, even though it was difficult to tell them apart in their habits. The Sisters laughed at his jokes and reveled in the energy he brought to the convent. It didn’t hurt that McVicars was handsome, with eyes as blue as the robe of the statue of the Blessed Mother in the convent chapel. The Sisters appreciated beauty in all its forms, including the suave McVicars, because it was a gift from God.
Domenica and McVicars conducted a proper courtship, and not always by choice as they walked the garden paths of Notre Dame de Namur. The nuns roamed the same grounds as they prayed, keeping their eyes on the young lovers.
“When we marry, do the Sisters come with you?”
Domenica laughed. “There seem to be more of them around when you visit. They’ve grown fond of you.”
John was leaning down to kiss Domenica when he saw the flutter of a black veil through the trees. He pulled away to a proper distance. “They’re like locusts. We may have to make a run for it.”
“My father and mother would be worse.”
“I doubt it.” McVicars offered his arm to her.
“When will you receive your assignment?”
“Merchant navy sailors are the last to be placed.”
“So we have time?”
“It depends upon Italy.”
Domenica winced. She loathed the Fascisti and the evil intentions of their leader. Mussolini had been appointed by the king—he was not elected—and yet his will would decide the fate of her people. She despised him for keeping her from returning to Viareggio.
“Will you take me back to Viareggio someday?”
“Of course.”
“Not for a visit, to live there.”
“I would be happy to live anywhere in the world you want to be.”
“Sometimes I wish we could go somewhere and start over again. I like the idea of America.”
“Do you, now?” McVicars smiled.
“We could discover a new country together. I’ve heard wonderful things about it. They say the brass rings on the carousels are made of gold.”
He looked around for spying eyes before pulling her close. “You know what I love about you? You believe that claptrap. But if you want to see for yourself, I will take you. I have a cousin in New York. He works in the shipyard.”
“Could you do that kind of work?”
“I’d do anything to provide for you. When we marry, your nursing days are behind you. No more washing soot off old men and bandaging their bloodied meat hooks and sewing up their wounds. That’s over. I want you having my babies.”
“The captain orders it and it’s done?”
“Usually,” he said sheepishly.
Domenica smiled. “Would you give up the sea for me?”
“You decide about your nursing,” McVicars grumbled. “I won’t ask you to give up anything you love.”
“Nor will I,” Domenica promised.
* * *
John McVicars watched as the procession in honor of the Feast of Corpus Christi passed by. The gold monstrance, swathed in a white satin talis, was held high in the air by the priest. The Mother Superior followed behind, carrying the pyx, a gold box that held the hosts to be served at Holy Communion. The girls of the school followed behind them, wearing white dresses, carrying small bouquets of red roses. Domenica, along with the teachers, followed the girls.
The groundskeeper let down the velvet rope separating the procession from the onlookers. The guests, including the captain, entered the church. The good Protestant had never set foot in a Catholic church. This was proof he would do anything for love, for Domenica Cabrelli.
John waited for Domenica when the service ended. In his pocket were the two gold wedding bands he had purchased at Mattiuzzi’s that morning. Sister Matelda was to arrange a military wedding, Vatican-approved, with the priest for the next morning. Domenica had moved to the guest lodge of the convent. McVicars would join her there once they married.
John didn’t like the look on his fiancée’s face as she came toward him through the crowd after the service.
“He won’t do it. The priest refuses to marry us.”