Gaining Visibility. Pamela Hearon
served as a sad reminder of her parents’ death in a boating accident on Kentucky Lake.
“Every life has stormy seas,” the captain said.
The poignancy of his statement stung Julia’s eyes, and her throat burned with the bitterness of all she’d lost.
Across the gulf to the small islands of Tino and Isola, up to La Spezia, and back down to Lerici, the afternoon flew by as quickly as the Italian coastline. Fingers of the Mediterranean grasped the land deeply in places, holding it still as the world revolved around it. Quaint fishing villages rose and fell like the tide, winking into and out of view. Fishing boats with wizened old men smoking pipes. Yachts with bikini-clad beauties—mostly topless. Blue sky and azure water coming together at some indistinct point Julia wasn’t sure even existed. She felt like any moment they would be riding one of the waves into the air, and she wouldn’t be surprised in the least.
When the boat returned to shore, she realized it had been hours since she’d thought about her toe—or her life. Out on the sea, Frank, cancer, Melissa’s move, Hettie’s stroke—everything, at last, dissolved into a blue oblivion.
Relaxed and exhausted from the shiatsu massage of the wind, she returned to her room and fell asleep on a chaise on the balcony, awaking sometime in the middle of the night with a vague worry about where she would be the next night but sure Vitale’s word would be good.
She dragged herself to the bed, not waking again until a loud knock startled her. She scurried to the door as fast as her toe would allow.
Vitale.
His eyes raked down her, and he gave a cocky grin. “Buon giorno, Julietta.”
Her eyes dropped to see her designer nipples protruding through the thick camisole she’d slept in. Of course, Vitale thought they were greeting him personally. “Buon giorno, Vitale.” Although she didn’t think her scars would be visible to his casual glance, she stepped self-consciously behind the door and peered around it.
“I have the place for you to stay. Are you ready to go?”
She looked at her watch, astounded to note that it was past ten thirty. What about Italy caused her to sleep so late? She’d been living out of her suitcase since she’d arrived, so there wasn’t much to pack. “I can be ready in twenty minutes. Is the place you found far?”
He shook his head and she shut the door, wondering if he was going to continue standing there, but pretty sure there was no way she could breathe enough to move if she asked him in.
She took the quickest shower she’d ever taken, brushed her hair and teeth, and slapped on a minimum of makeup. Moving from one hotel to another didn’t require dressing up, so she slipped into a short skirt, tank top, open blouse, and the flip-flops that would unfortunately have to be standard footwear this trip.
As she suspected, when she opened her door twenty-three minutes after answering it the first time, Vitale was still standing there.
He grabbed her suitcases, obviously not even considering using the wheels. “I talk to Mario. He do not charge for your stay here because of the injury.”
“Oh, I don’t want him to do that,” Julia protested.
“It is the correct thing to do, and I borrow his car, so we must hurry. It is the Sunday.”
A bright yellow Smart car waited on the road at the front of her hotel. Julia put on her seat belt while Vitale filled the back with her two pieces of luggage.
He got in, taking off so quickly she lost the ability to speak for a minute, able only to clutch the sides of her seat and take in quick breaths through clenched teeth. But when Vitale took the road that led away from town, the threat of impending doom gave her voice back. “I thought you said it wasn’t far! Where is the room you found?”
He gave a wolfish smile and threw a sidelong glance her way. “Casa mia. You will stay with me.”
CHAPTER 7
“Oh no, you don’t.” Julia flung her arm out the window and held on to the door as Vitale swept around a curve. “I am not staying with you. Take me back to the hotel. Now.”
Vitale kept his eyes on the road and shrugged. “I cannot do that. We to be late.”
A curve in the opposite direction careened her back to the middle of the car. She came up hard against Vitale’s arm. “Late for what?”
“Il pranzo con la mia famiglia.”
The words were some from the CDs she’d practiced with, so they were familiar. She just hadn’t heard them put together this way. It took a few seconds to translate. “Lunch? With your family?”
He nodded, seeming pleased that she understood. “Sì.”
Realizing he wasn’t likely a serial killer if he was taking her to Sunday lunch with his family, her heart rate shifted from panic mode to unexpected guest. “Oh no. I can’t impose like that.”
“You like.”
Julia looked down at the skirt riding up on her thighs. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t enjoy it. I’m sure they’re lovely people, and it’s very kind of you, but I’m not dressed for Sunday dinner with anybody’s family.” It crossed her mind that her clothes were only an arm’s length away. Was there something she could change into? She loosened her grip on the door handle, intending to unzip her luggage and have a look, but a fast curve made her rethink that action. “Is there someplace we can stop and let me change clothes?”
“No, no to change.”
“But . . .” A protest was on her tongue.
“You look beautiful.”
Beautiful? Of course, the word was merely part of his woman-appeal jargon, but it hung pleasantly in her ear. She sat back and thought the situation over again. Sunday lunch in the home of an Italian family might be fun. The food would probably be amazing, and it would be a great way to practice her Italian. She’d never see these people again, so what difference did it make what she was wearing? She nodded. “Okay. Why not? That is, if you think it will be all right with your family.”
“It will be all right with the family.”
“Then thank you for inviting me. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it very much. But after lunch you’ll take me back to town, and we’ll make calls until I find a room.”
He ignored her comment, but his reaction didn’t make her feel ignored. His smug smile said he knew she was there. This was simply a man used to getting his own way. Julia mentally rolled her eyes.
They came around another hairpin curve too fast, and Vitale slammed on the brakes to keep from hitting a car at the back of a long line of stopped ones.
Julia braced a hand against the dashboard and gritted her teeth while the car jostled to a stop. “Where in the hell did you learn—and I use that term loosely—to drive?”
The line started to move, he threw the car back into gear, and Julia latched on to the door for another wild takeoff.
“I do not learn. I just to drive.”
“Well, that explains it.” She could do a better job, but her toe wouldn’t let her press on the gas pedal at all. She wished Vitale had a hurt toe that would keep him from pressing it so hard.
He gunned it, and they roared ahead a few more yards. She clenched her jaws and held on, foregoing conversation until they were a safe distance from the car in front of them.
At last, the obstacle, a minivan with a flat tire, managed to pull far enough off the narrow road to allow others by, and traffic picked up to breakneck speed again.
They were headed into the hills. The hills I should be hiking today. Patches of purple and yellow wildflowers whipped past her vision. She closed her eyes to keep from getting carsick. Instead, I’m in the passenger