Chapter 19
Chapter Ninetee n
F or three days, I did nothing. Well, nothing except sleep, shower, and eat, and eat. And eat. But essentially, nothing.
On day four, an idea hit me that was so brazen and bold, it possessed me like a determined poltergeist. I checked out of the hotel and practically ran to a taxi. “Heathrow please.”
At the airport, I raced to the nearest ticket counter. “I need the first flight to Rome please.”
The next available flight left in forty minutes—if I was prepared to run.
Hell, yes, I am.
When the lady behind the counter handed me the boarding pass, I snatched it and sprinted like my life depended on it, headed toward the boarding gate.
Twenty minutes after I’d walked into the airport, I was lining up to board a plane. I pulled my phone from my bag and sent Zali a quick text.
I have a plan. About to take a flight. Wish me luck
YAY. I knew you’d figure it out. GO BABE. You’ve got this
Sitting on the plane was like sitting on an ants’ nest. I could not keep still. The flight was two and a half hours. It felt like twenty.
Still buzzing on a mission-driven high when the plane landed, I raced from the plane to the nearest taxi. “Hello. Can you take me to Manarola?”
“Manarola?” His face scrunched up with apparent confusion.
“It’s one of the towns on the Cinque Terre.”
“Cinque Terre? That will take long time.”
No shit, Sherlock. “Yes. I know. Can you take me?”
“It cost lots of money.”
Faaark. “Look, can you take me, or shall I ask the next taxi?”
“ Sì. Sì . I take you.” He wobbled his head and waved his hands. “But you pay me two hundred euro now.” He smiled a crooked smile. “As part payment.”
Bloody hell. When did everyone become so untrustworthy? I shoved four fifty-euro-notes into his hand, dumped my suitcase into his trunk, and climbed into the back seat.
Six sets of traffic lights later and I was living in hell. We were stuck in gridlock and my driver was singing fucking opera. Either that or he had something stuck in his throat.
Kill me now.
Every five minutes, I checked my watch. It didn’t help.
It didn’t help that we seemed to be driving in circles either.
Four hours after the plane landed, I saw my first road sign for the Cinque Terre. I was equal parts elated and fucking scared.
The what-ifs were attacking me like disturbed wasps .
What if I can’t find Roman?
What if he’s taken off to travel the world like he wanted to?
And the clincher. What if I do find him and he’s back with Caterina?
Faaarrk! Or even worse . . . what if he’s not with Caterina, but he’s horrified to see me?
The driver slowed the car and pulled to a complete stop at a boom gate over the road. A welcome sign introduced the town of Riomaggiore. “We here.” The driver turned to look at me with a toothy grin.
“But this isn’t Manarola?”
“No cars allowed. See?” He pointed at a sign next to the boom gate.
“No cars?”
“ Sì . No cars.”
Damn it. The Universe was against me.
I paid him a further one hundred and twenty euro, climbed out, and hefted my suitcase from his trunk. He drove away. What the hell do I do now? I turned toward the boom gate and the view beyond that took my breath away. In the distance, the Mediterranean Sea was a truly magnificent indigo blue that stretched right to the horizon. The sun was hidden by the hills, but was coloring the distant clouds a gorgeous mix of orange and pomegranate. Its rays illuminated the buildings lining the left-hand side of the street, highlighting their pastel colors.
Movement out the corner of my eye caught my attention. There was a glass booth near the boom gate.
I dragged my suitcase over. “Hi. I’m trying to get to Manarola.”
He looked at his watch and shook his head. “Sorry. Last train was at four fifteen. You missed it.”
Damn. “Okay. How else can I get there?”
He waggled his head. “Walk. ”
“Oh, I can walk there? How long does it take?”
A weird smile wobbled across his lips, giving me the impression he was playing with me. “Thirty minutes.”
“Okay.” I can do this. “Where do I start?”
He waved my attention toward the very steep hill ahead of us. “You will see signs.”
I see a sign, all right. A sign that this may be a bloody tough walk.
“ Grazie .” Dragging my case behind me, I began my descent down the hill. Thank goodness I was wearing my Del Rey sneakers and not my sexy knee-high boots or I would’ve gone ass over tit within seconds.
The view was stunning and improved with every step. Riomaggiore was the first town on the Cinque Terre walk, and one of the biggest of the five towns. Manarola was the smallest. With each step down the main street toward the ocean, I wanted to pinch myself. I was actually doing this.
I, Daisy Chayne, was stepping waaay out of my comfort zone to chase the man I loved.
And I do love him.
I love him so much my heart aches.
I didn’t even want to think of the consequences should he not be happy to see me. I couldn’t go there. Not now. Not yet. I was here, doing it. If that guard was right, in thirty minutes I’d be in Roman’s little town. Hopefully within an hour of that, I’d have found him.
So, within two hours, Roman and I could be walking along the beach, watching the sun set over the ocean. Oh. My. God. My heart skipped a beat at the lovely visions dancing across my mind.
The air smelled all salty and fresh, but aromas of garlic and melted cheese set my stomach rumbling. Food would have to wait. I was on a mission.
The buildings on either side of the paved street were all four or five stories high, each sharing a wall with the one beside it. The only way to tell them apart was their color. Yellow, orange, pink, green, blue—all pastel shades. The overhead balconies were wrought iron and decorated with pretty vines. Potted plants bursting with colors lined the doorways. I was approaching a restaurant with tiny circular tables and matching twin chairs, and a middle-aged woman in a black dress draped with a white apron was standing in the doorway. She nodded at me as I approached and I nodded back.
“ Ciao. Hai fame?”
Yes I was hungry, but I had much more important things to do. “ Ciao. Scusa .” Hoping she spoke English, I said, “I can’t stay.” I indicated walking with my fingers. “I have to walk to Manarola. Do you know where the path is?”
She flicked her hand. “You keep walking. You see signs.”
“ Sì, grazie .”
Okay, signs. Signs. Where are you, signs?
I dragged my case past more pretty buildings and more cute Italian restaurants, but many of the shops were closed for winter. Three tiny wooden boats painted bright blue were propped up on wooden blocks and filled with colorful plants. A couple walked out of an alley opposite the boats, and I was lucky they did. I was so busy admiring that eye-catching display that I just about walked right past a sign with two pictographs—one showing a stick figure walking and another of a train. Believing this was a sign for me, I dragged my case into the alley and the hard plastic wheels clattered over the pavers and echoed off the stone walls.
At the end of the alley was a large courtyard with little booths dotted about that were all closed up. At the far side of the expanse was the train station. It was dark and deserted. But to the left of the single platform was another sign indicating the start of the Cinque Terre hiking trail .
Yes! Now we’re talking.
Following the arrows, I moved as fast as my feet could drag my suitcase. But when I reached the set of stairs, my brain thudded to a stop.
These weren’t just stairs. They were fucking giant blocks—like something from the Viking ages. The first step alone was as high as my thigh and so narrow I doubted my case would even fit.
What the fuck, people? That is not a frigging hiking trail. That’s an army endurance training ground.
I slumped my ass onto my suitcase and stared up the dark stairs. The handrails on either side snaked into the distance and disappeared. Gnarly tree branches hung over the path, blocking out what was left of daylight, confirming that even if I could drag my case up there, it was so dark I would barely see twenty feet ahead.
I wanted to scream.
Shoving my palms over my eyes until bright sparks shot across my eyelids, I inhaled a deep, calming breath.
“Right, Daisy. Get your shit together.”
A man, woman and two kids barreled down the steps, startling me. By their curious expressions, I’d say they’d heard me talking to myself.
“Oh, hey.” Standing, I waved at them. “Did you just hike the trail?”
“Yeah.” The man bent over, panting with his hands on his knees. “Started this morning.” His Texas accent was so out of place with our quaint Italian setting. “Only just beat the sun.”
My jaw dropped. “It took you all day?”
He scowled at me. “We did all five towns in one day. That’s damn good.” He tugged the young boy to his side and tussled his hair. “Didn’t we, champ?”
The boy’s flushed red cheeks wobbled as he nodded and grinned .
“Oh, sorry. I misunderstood.” I offered what I hoped was an innocent smile. “Well done. I just want to walk to the next town. Is it hard?”
“That was the easy part.” The young girl was all multi-colored braces and dimpled cheeks and energetic youth.
“Except for the first section,” the boy said. “Some of the steps were bigger than me.”
“Same with this last past.” The woman indicated the set of stairs facing us. “If you’re thinking of taking that suitcase, you’re crazy.”
I puffed out my cheeks. “No. No. I was just checking the path out. I’m walking it tomorrow.” When did I become such a good liar?
“Okay. Well, good luck. We promised these guys a swim before dinner. Right, kids?”
A swim? They must be nuts. It was barely sixty degrees Fahrenheit.
Their squeals of approval confirmed they didn’t have the same reservations I did.
The man nodded at me. “Good luck tomorrow. You’ll love the views. Take your time and enjoy it.”
As they bounded away, no longer showing signs of having hiked all day, his parting words bounced around my brain.
Take your time. Enjoy it.
Was this the Universe telling me to slow down?
Maybe it was right. If I did happen to bump into Roman right now, I’d look like I’d wrestled with a hedge and the bloody branches had won.
“Time to calm your farm.” It was obvious I was not going to see Roman tonight. I’d waited weeks to see him. Another night wouldn’t matter.
Okay. With that settled, I had to get a new plan.
First up—I needed a place to stay. I had passed a few bed- and-breakfasts along the main street. My only hope was that not all of them had closed for winter.
Retracing my steps, I crossed back through the alley and aimed for the first person I saw. It was an elderly woman, hunched over and dragging a trolley behind her.
“ Mi scusi. Parla inglese?”
Without stopping her shuffling feet, she shook her head and carried on.
“Hotel?” The word was the same in Italian and English.
She shook her head again but also pointed up the street.
Unsure how to interpret that, I said, “ Grazie” and started walking back up the hill I'd come down.
I was out of breath by the time I saw a B&B sign. Yay. And the door was open. Hoping it was a good sign, I lugged my suitcase up the three short steps and stepped into the narrow hallway.
It was my lucky night. Not only did the lovely woman who greeted me speak English, but she also had a room. The only bad news was the two sets of stairs I had to drag my case up.
I was panting like a woman in childbirth by the time I reached my room. When I saw my reflection in the mirror, I was grateful for missing the train. My neck and cheeks were flushed, my hair was a bloody mess, and my clothes looked like I’d slept in them for a month.
If I’d greeted Roman looking like this, he would've pretended he didn't know me and run for the hills.
My rumbling tummy dictated my next move, and leaving my case where it was, I grabbed my bag and headed back out the front door. I chose the first restaurant I came across, took a seat that gave me a magnificent view of the ocean, and a handsome young man with a bright pink shirt offered me a menu.
I ordered the pasta special and a glass of Chianti .
After rolling my neck from side to side, trying to release a kink that’d settled in during my flight this morning, I plucked my phone from my bag and sent a text to Zali.
Hey, babe. So close and yet so far
My phone buzzed just seconds later.
Cryptic
I told her all about the towns on the Cinque Terre not allowing cars, about missing the train, and my stupid idea to walk to Manarola.
Bloody hell. I’m glad you decided against that. You could’ve tumbled off a cliff
Ha! I hadn’t even thought of that. I took a photo of my view down the main street. The setting sun was offering its last gasp with a magnificent display of citrus colors, and the ocean had darkened to a navy blanket. My photo also captured the pastel buildings lining the paved street. It looked like a postcard, and I felt a little insensitive sending it to her.
My view
WOW It’s so beautiful
Yeah. My forced night in Riomaggiore is going to be tough
I can tel l
My pasta arrived, and the waiter carved a good quantity of fresh Parmesan cheese on top, along with a few cracks of pepper. The first mouthful alone was a slice of heaven. I took a photo of my meal, a new first for me, and sent it to Zali.
Gah! You’re killing me
Sorry
No. Don’t stop. Wish I was there
I wish you were too
Make sure you get a good night’s sleep. You’re gonna need all your energy tomorrow. Roman is probs going to cum in his pants when he sees you
Ewww. No he’s not
Hell yes he is. You wearing your new come FUCK me boots?
If you mean my knee-high boots, then yes. I will be
Good. And wear your sexiest lingerie
All my new lingerie was sexy.
Yes, Mom
Hey. Don’t be mean. Speaking of mothers. Any more news from the police?
No. I don’t expect to hear from them again.The case was closed. Rob was already in jail and Mother was about to die. Not much more they could do. How’s your mom?
She’s as strong as an ox. Yesterday she started moving the furniture around. No idea why, but it gave her something to do
I smiled. Zali should bottle and sell her positive spin on life. I’d be lining up to buy it by the truckload.
Then again, by being here and chasing Roman, I was already putting a positive spin on things. Even as I looked out to the Mediterranean, I still couldn’t believe it. Butterflies danced in my stomach as I thought about how tomorrow would play out.
It was going to be good.
No, it would be better than that. It was going to be the best day of my life.
Anyway, wish me luck for tomorrow
Oh I do, babe. All the luck in the world. You deserve it
Thanks
Next photo you send me better be a pic of you two together
I hope so. Love you. MWAHHHH
Love you too, babe
With my full stomach bloated to bursting point, I strapped my bag across my shoulder and strolled down the street toward the ocean. A curved beach formed the edge of a natural marina, and several small boats bobbed on the ocean. A few kids were skimming rocks across the water, and a couple more were fishing on the far side.
I tugged my scarf around my neck, and crunching across the rocks, I aimed for a giant boulder. With tiny waves curling onto the shore, I inhaled the salty air long and deeply, trying to calm my tumbling thoughts.
Taking this time out was a good idea. If I saw Roman tomorrow. No. Not if . . . when I saw Roman tomorrow, I was going to look amazing and be calm and collected.
At least, that was the plan.
I was living in that Doris Day song, and tomorrow was going to be my what will be, will be moment.
By the time I lay in bed and listened to the absolute silence around me, I was utterly exhausted.
What will be, will be.