Claiming The Prize (13 page)

“
Would you like to come
in?”
she asked.

His eyes darkened as he
spoke.

“
Ty si krasna,
sipková,
You are beautiful,
sweetbriar.”

A faint smile touched his lips, but
his face wore a pained expression as he denied himself the yes he
longed say.

“
There is nothing more I
would like than to remain with you, but here is where I must leave
you.”

The sight of her furrowed brow ignited
a burn in the pit of his stomach.
Taking her into his arms, he
crushed her to his chest.

“
If I stay, milenka,
sweetheart
, I will seek
to take what is not yet ours to share.
My honor and my respect for
you will not allow me to do this.”

And even though Grace never wanted him
to take his arms from around her, she knew she loved an honorable
man.
Inhaling his scent, her face nestled at the base of his neck,
she murmured against him.

“
I can hardly stand the
thought of your leaving.”

He took her face in his hands, tilting
her chin until their eyes met.

“
You will be in Slovakia
with me before the first frost.”

He lowered his head to brush his lips
across hers, stealing her breath before hugging her tightly again.
As her mind realized what Drago had claimed, she lifted her head
exclaiming, “That will only leave three months to arrange
everything!”

Her eyes were lit with excitement at
the thought of only a short separation, the color heightening in
her cheeks to a dusty rose.
The sight brought a smile to Drago's
face and an ache to his chest as he considered his situation.
Three
months before he could make her his, before he could awaken with
Grace beside him.

Breaking into his thoughts, Grace
spoke aloud her own mind's considerations.

“
But Drago, there's the
nine weeks of premarital counseling.
And the engagement dinner,
and...”

“
Nie,
No
,” he cut her off, shaking his
head.

She paused, regarding the half grin he
wore and the gleam in his eye.

“
Well, I suppose we will
have to skip the engagement dinner.
It would be hard to have it
when we'll be on two different continents.”

“
Ano,
Yes
,” he agreed.

“
But the counseling is
mandator...,”

“
Nie.”

“
You'll check to make
certain?”

“
Ano.”

He waited, his pleasure evident, to
see if she would offer any further obstacles for him to dismiss,
but she sighed contentedly and leaned against him.

Where she belonged.

“
I'll miss you,” she
whispered.

Her words sobered him.

“
Be ready.
I will send for
you soon, milenka.”

Tenderly, he pressed his lips to hers,
reveling in their softness.
Wanting so much more but unwilling to
compromise their beliefs, Drago denied himself a deeper taste of
her.
He reached for her hand, stroking the finger that wore his
ring as his gaze lingered on it purposefully.
Raising it to his
lips, he kissed its underside, trailing kisses over her palm and
the inside of her wrist.

Every nerve from her hand to her spine
pulsed with energy, rippling inward to her core.

“
I'll be ready.”

“
Goodnight, Gracie.
Goodbye.”

“
Telephone when you arrive
safely.”

She would say no more.
She
would not make this more difficult for him.
Laying her hand aside
his cheek, she rubbed her thumb along his skin and turned, slipping
inside her room.

Drago felt the loss of her touch as if
he had lost a piece of himself.

Awake in her room, a few fitful hours
of attempted sleep later, Grace knew she could join her father and
the Friar in seeing Drago off at the airport, but chose instead to
lie alone in the bed and linger over their exchange of the night
before.
It was a goodbye she could relive during his absence.
Pulling the blanket around her against the chill of the air
conditioned room, Grace closed her eyes and drifted in and out of a
half-sleep, half-dream world where she was still in Drago's
arms.

* * *

When Drago's regular Sunday
call came nine weeks after his departure, Grace began to update him
on her tremendous progress.
The weeks had flown by, but she
desperately missed him.
Each week, she anticipated his call,
longing for the sound of his voice.
Her gown had been picked up the
day before, the alterations complete, as well as those for her
father's tux.
Her belongings had been packed, and were en route to
him.
Things were coming together nicely.
But when he spoke, her
heart soared within her.

“
All is ready, milenka.
Come quickly.
We will be married on October 20, less than two weeks
from today.”

Chapter 9

The massive, stone cathedral loomed
above the surrounding buildings.
Grace's first impression upon
entering the side door with her father was that it seemed to be
carved from a mountain.
Her excitement was greatly tempered as she
took in the holy surroundings.
The church's atmosphere was solemn,
and Grace could almost sense the ancient echoes within the
cavernous space.
Thick walls of stone hinted at a long ago age, and
she marveled at the impression of being transported through
time.

Father Svalina appeared and greeted
Grace and Guy Antolini warmly.
His presence and kind face eased the
dank chill of the place, and Grace relaxed slightly.
Ushering them
toward his office, Father Svalina exchanged pleasantries with Guy
as his daughter took in her surroundings.
Opening an arched, wooden
door, they entered a small room, stone as well, having a brightness
of atmosphere due to four leaded-glass windows on the opposite
wall, which flooded the room with light.

The Father went behind his ornate desk
and eased into a high backed chair, encouraging them to sit as
well.

“
Well, Grace, I understand
you're a member of the Eastern Orthodox church in the United
States.
Correct?”

“
Yes, Father,” she replied
as she opened her bag to retrieve the documentation of membership
from St.
Cecelia's.

Handing him the paperwork, the
priest's hooded eyes caught and held hers with kindheartedness.
The
priest glanced at the papers and handed them back.

“
We will need to make
copies before you go, of course, but all seems to be in order.
However, I would like to speak with you privately.
Mr.
Antolini,
you understand?”

Guy's eyes lit as he discerned the old
priest's meaning, and he rose to excuse himself.

“
I'll see you shortly,
daughter.
I think I'll take a look around these impressive
grounds.”

Grace sat wondering for the moments
Father Svalina and her father spoke amiably in the hallway.
Re-entering the office, the Father sat opposite Grace on a
cushioned bench, giving the intimate sense of being with a dear
grandfather.

“
Dear girl,” he began,
“Before I can consent to perform the marriage between yourself and
Drago, there are some things we must discuss.
I have had
communication with your priest, and he informs me you were active
in your congregation.”

“
Yes, Father,” she
answered.
“I helped in the church offices once a week with basic
secretarial duties.”

“
Do you plan to be an
active member of this congregation?”

“
I do, Father.
Although
I'll want to speak with Drago before I commit to any extra
activities.”

“
Of course, child,” the
priest said as he shifted on the bench, leaning slightly toward the
small oblong table separating them.
“Marriage is a holy
institution.
Yet today, many young people enter into it without
considering that they make a vow before the Lord of the universe!
They marry in the church more because that's what is normally done.
It is my responsibility to ensure that the couples married here
enter into this covenant fully aware of the commitment they make to
God and to one another.
Therefore, I'm going to ask you some
questions, and I want you to think about the answers you give me
over this next week as you prepare for your wedding.
Will you do
this as I have asked?”

Grace's soft brown eyes met Father
Svalina's, and he understood the young fighter's decision to take
this young woman to wife.
Her eyes spoke for her.
Indeed, she would
contemplate her answers to his questions.
She would examine her
heart.
She would take her vows to love, honor, and cherish
seriously.

“
I will, Father,” was her
honest reply.

The holy Father continued
with a light heart, for he would perform this wedding with
gladness.
Nearly an hour elapsed as the elderly priest gently
challenged Grace to consider how her marriage promises would affect
her attitude toward serving her husband to ease his burdens in
life, creating a refuge and haven for them both from the world, and
living with joy amongst the stresses of life.

Grace took all these things into her
heart and offered up a silent prayer, asking for the strength to
carry out her good intentions, a prayer asking God to mold her into
the woman and wife He created her to be.

* * *

Many toasts were made up and down the
great, pine tables in the church's fellowship hall, and the mood
was festive.
The feeling of community pervaded the air, leaving no
dull moments during the rehearsal dinner.
Simple yet delicious
looking fare laid out on bright red on white patterned tablecloths
had been prepared by the women in Drago's extended family who were
also members of the church, and it seemed to Grace that there was
plenty enough to feed an army.

Her father was seated opposite her
with Drago's uncles, animated and laughing on either side, sharing
their humor in heavily accented English, and she observed her
father enjoying the camaraderie wholeheartedly.
Aunts and cousins
surrounded her in a sea, most wanting to offer happy wishes and to
meet the newcomer to their large family, and a few to openly gawk
at the American girl who didn't differ in manner half as much from
themselves as they had imagined.
Curiosity satisfied, the myriad of
family members found their way, squeezing together on the long
benches to enjoy the feast after Father Svalina spoke the
blessing.

Now, Drago sat next to her, his thigh
fitted closely to hers from the press of the crowded bench, sending
small jolts of electricity up her own thigh to gather in her
abdomen.
Learning the people closest to her groom was important to
her.
Her welcome from Drago's Aunt Visnja and Uncle Slavko had made
her immediately comfortable.
Their son's wife, Ilija, and her
befriending was invaluable to her.
So with some difficulty, she
focused her attention on the wonderful friends around her
conversing happily and away from the solid body affecting her so
beneath the table.

“
After your bride's week,
Ilija and I will show you around the city better, Grace,” Aunt
Visnja announced with a wide smile.

“
Oh yes,” laughed Ilija.
“You will need to know the butcher shop's location to feed Drago's
appetite!
You must memorize that address quickly.”

Grace smiled, knowing they would
indeed show her all around, and she hoped the friendly overture
would develop into a close bond with the two women.

“
I'll need to get a map, or
else I'll become disoriented and end up across town from where I
want to be!
My internal compass is not helping me on these
unfamiliar streets,” Grace alleged in light-some humor.

Drago turned at this and countered,
“Don't listen to her Auntie Visnja!
She will learn easily, and
before I know what has happened she will be giving me
directions!”

His easy laughter surprised Visnja,
and she wondered at her nephew's change since returning from
America, since meeting this American girl.
She had known upon his
return that he was in love and worried as a mother would for a
son's heart.
Drago had always been smart, focused, and driven.
Visnja had prayed that he would find love and marry to experience
the support and comfort of having a partner in life.
The path he
walked was brutal.
That world could harden a man.
Visnja recognized
the tranquil gentleness within Grace in her first encounter with
the young woman, satisfying that motherly wish.
Each further
interaction with Grace Antolini strengthened her belief that this
girl was the answer to her prayers.

“
Of course she will,
nephew,” Visnja retorted, patting Grace's hand.
“Zadrovec women are
such.”

The eruption of laughter from the
older men gave proof of the matriarch's assertion.

To this, Drago lifted his hands in the
air in mock defeat, eyes alight with humor.
Grace took in the
playful exchange, warmed by Visnja's inclusion of her into the
circle of Zadrovec women.

“
What is this, Drago?”
Slavko instigated.
“No defense of the Zadrovec men's authority in
the home?”
Chuckling merrily, he continued.
“He pummels giant
beasts of men in those cages but raises his hands in submission to
my Visnja!”

And once again, laughter reigned over
the meal.

Easy conversation sprinkled the hall
the duration of the meal.
Grace sat half listening, pushing her
food around in the pretext of eating, excitement and nerves
quelling her appetite.
Tomorrow she would be a bride.
Elation was
kept in check by the knowledge that she was leaving her family
behind in America to join her life with the man she sat next to.
Her mind swirled with unspoken questions.
Would she make a good
wife?
What did she even know about it?
Her own mother had died when
she was very young.
It had been only Grace and her father since
before she could remember, and her father rarely spoke of her
mother.
How would she survive so far from her father?
And how would
he get along without her?
She knew he had the gym, and his partners
were like family to them, but it had always been the two of them.
He had taught her everything she knew about life, commitment, hard
work, and faith.

Steaming tea was brought to the
tables, and the women began to go over the details for the post
ceremony celebration.
Grace held the small, etched glass in her
hands and breathed in the warm, rich steam, listening to the
chatter as she took in the tea's calming scent, spicy and sweet.
Having gone over all the stations of the ceremony earlier, Grace
could sit back and allow these capable women to their behind the
scenes coordination.
Once they were satisfied, they rose to begin
cleaning the tables.
Grace moved to join them, but Drago's hand
covered her knee, holding her in place.

“
Stay with me, Grace,” he
murmured, leaning close to her.

Visnja, seeing the exchange, gave a
knowing smile.

“
We can take care of this.
You stay,” and continued about her work.

The men moved, some to assist with the
morrow's preparations, and the others to collect their families to
go, and all stood to say their good nights.
Taking Grace by the
hand, Drago took a few steps backward.

“
Walk with me.
I will show
you the courtyard where our wedding dinner will take
place.”

They exited the hall and followed a
covered portico which stretched the length of the great cathedral.
Arched openings embellished with iron lattice allowed the creamy
moonlight to pattern the stone floor.
Reaching the end, they turned
through the last archway, its heavy, latticed gates opening into a
vast, stone courtyard.
A high wall surrounded it on the remaining
three sides, and the far end held a solid, wooden gate which led to
the street at the front of the church.
Potted plants laden with
lingering autumn blooms dotted the stone garden, and long boxes
suspended from the walls dripped additional color and
greenery.

In front of them, a fountain curved
out from the wall, gurgling as swiftly flowing water danced down
its tiers.
It was a magical place, Grace thought, and she quietly
said so, not wanting to disturb the pleasant moment of appreciating
the scene, nor to lose the connection of Drago's warm hand wrapped
around hers.

“
This cathedral has stood
for many centuries,” Drago stated.
“It has had much history come to
pass within.
Tomorrow we become another piece of that
story.”