Katie pouted.
Todd chuckled. “The moral of the folklore lesson could be that some mysteries are best left in God’s keeping.”
“No kidding!” Katie said. “What about you, Christy? Who did you dream of? Or can we all guess?”
Christy could feel Todd looking at her, but she suddenly felt too shy to look back. She especially didn’t want to say that she hadn’t dreamed at all. “Some mysteries are best left in God’s keeping,” she answered quietly.
The rest of the uncomfortable night on the floor of the Milan train station and the three-hour, early-morning train ride into Venice gave Christy plenty of time to think. The panic she had felt in Amsterdam had subsided. Now she knew how crazy it had been to even think of getting married in two months and going back to work at The Rock with Todd. The decision to finish her commitment at the orphanage and complete her course work was a good choice. She felt peace about following through on what she had begun.
What remained to be settled was her relationship with Todd. It bothered her a little that he hadn’t kissed her since she had talked with him on the train ride into Amsterdam about saving her kisses. She hadn’t meant for him to pull back completely. While they had still been close these last few days, they weren’t snuggly the way she wanted to be. Christy wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Couldn’t they be a little more affectionate? Or was this Todd’s way of honoring her request to save their kisses?
Christy knew it would all settle itself once she and Todd had a chance to be alone and have a long talk. But when is that going to happen? Our time together is slipping away. It’s already Saturday morning. I don’t mind staying in Basel another two months, but I don’t think I can wait that long to have a heart-to-heart talk with Todd.
23
When the train pulled into Venice at nine that morning, the place seemed like a different station from the quiet, nearly empty one they had stayed in two weeks earlier. It was alive with noise and throngs of travelers. Todd, Christy, and Katie found their way to the water taxi and climbed aboard with dozens of other students.
As the boat sped across the water, Christy shielded her eyes from the sun and tried to memorize the sight before her. Across the gleaming water was one of the more than one hundred islands that made up the ancient city of Venice. A tall spire stretched toward the sky. Dozens of tall, very old buildings stood close together. They reminded Christy of plump old ladies dressed in their Sunday best, sitting snugly beside one another on a church pew. Some wore hats. Some seemed to be holding large handbags on their laps. All the faces of the matronly buildings were adorned with smug grins, as if the women were listening to a sermon being proclaimed to them from the heavens, but all the while, they held in their hearts mischievous secrets of their past.
“What a place!” Christy declared as they stepped out of the water taxi. “I mean, I’ve seen pictures, and I’ve seen Venice in movies, but this place is larger than life.”
“Something is in the air, isn’t it?” Todd said.
Christy sniffed but didn’t catch any whiffs of garlic.
“No,” Todd said to her, “I mean, a sort of spirit is in the air. This city has seen it all.”
“Yes,” Christy agreed. “I was just thinking how the buildings all looked like smug old ladies sitting next to each other.” Todd grinned at her. “What should we do first? Eat or find a place to stay?”
Christy knew Todd would prefer finding some food. She would prefer a shower. Katie made the choice for them when she said, “Let’s call Marcos.”
“We know where his father’s jewelry shop is, right?” Todd said. “Let’s go there and ask for him. He’s more likely to be at the shop than at home. We can’t assume that we can stay with him.”
“Can we stow these packs someplace?” Katie asked. “I’m sick of carrying this thing everywhere we go.”
“We can find the youth hostel,” Christy suggested.
A girl who had been standing nearby turned to them and with a British accent said, “They won’t let you check into the youth hostel until three o’clock. It’s very crowded. We found a hotel that’s much closer. Would you like the address?”
“Yes, thanks,” Todd said.
The hotel turned out to be a good choice except that it was more expensive than the hostel. Todd admitted he was almost out of money; the plane ride from Narvik to Copenhagen had taken a huge chunk out of his budget. Katie said she figured she had about seventy-five dollars left, and Christy had a little more than that.
“We can pool our money,” Christy said. “Together we have enough to eat and pay for the hotel. What more do we want? We’ll have to ride second class back to Basel, but that’s no big deal. I think we’ll be fine.” Her optimism as well as her suggestion that they all take showers before they headed out again helped tremendously. They were starving by the time they left their hotel, but at least they were clean and didn’t have to carry the heavy packs.
“Let’s find a quaint, authentic place to eat,” Katie suggested. “None of these tourist traps. Then we can go to Savini Jewelers and see the rest of San Marcos Square.”
Following their noses, the three famished friends tromped down narrow alleys and over ornate bridges with absolutely no idea where they were going.
“I haven’t seen a single restaurant,” Christy said. “Don’t you think we should consult the tour book?”
Katie pulled out the book, and three postcards fluttered to the pavement.
“I can’t believe I haven’t mailed those cards yet,” Christy said, bending to pick them up.
“Isn’t that a post office over there?” Todd asked, motioning toward the building two doors down from where they stood. “At least, that looks like a post office. That is a mailbox out front, isn’t it?”
While Todd and Katie consulted the tour book for a good restaurant, Christy ventured into the small building. She found a short man sitting behind a desk, reading a newspaper. He wore wire-rimmed glasses that rested precariously on the end of his pointy nose. Christy handed him the postcards but didn’t understand what he said to her. Trying to speak slowly in English, she handed him some change for the stamps. He licked the stamps for her and looked at her over the top of his glasses. Then he motioned with his free hand that she needed more money. Christy reached into her pocket and pulled out two more coins. The peculiar man shook his head as if it wasn’t enough and then waved his hand and spoke a string of Italian words. She thought he was indicating that the amount was close enough, and she could go.
Christy walked back into the bright daylight shaking her head.
“Was it a post office?” Katie asked.
“I have no idea, but the odd little man in there put stamps on the cards and took my money, even though I don’t think it was enough. If Seth’s postcards ever reach Oregon, it will be a little miracle.”
“Those weren’t your postcards?” Katie asked.
“No, can you believe it? Remember the guy we talked to on the train to Paris? He dropped them. I’ve been meaning to mail them for the last week.”
Todd stretched his arm around her shoulder and drew her close. “My little Good Samaritan,” he teased.
Christy liked feeling him close to her, especially when he smelled fresh, like soap and shampoo. She slipped her arm around his middle and rested her head against his shoulder.
“Come on, you two snuggle bugs,” Katie said. “We have to find some food. I don’t care anymore if it’s a tourist trap. Let’s find our way to San Marcos Square.”
Following the map and crossing several bridges, they were almost to San Marcos Square when Christy caught the scent of garlic in the air. “Oh, just smell that.”
Katie sniffed and began to follow the scent. It led them down a narrow alley to a tiny place that looked like a pizzeria. The door was open, but no one was inside.
“Should we go in?” Christy asked.
“Hello?” Katie boldly entered. “Ciao. Do you sell any chow here?”
A short, round woman wearing a white apron over her dress greeted them. “Americanos!” she said. “Come in. You are hungry, yes?”
“Yes!” all three of them answered in unison.
“You like to make your own pizza?” the woman asked. “I am, how do you say . . . breaking now.”
“You’re taking a break?” Todd said. “Sure. We’d love to make our own pizza.” He walked behind the counter and went to wash his hands in a small sink. Christy and Katie followed him.
“You tell us what to do, and we’ll do it,” Todd said. “By the way, I’m Todd. This is Katie and Christy. We’re from California.”
“I am Cassandra. We lived in New York for a little while. What kind of pizza do you like?”
“Any kind,” Todd answered for them. “Did you hurt your foot?” He motioned to where her right leg was resting on a stool.
“Yes. I did this morning.”
“Have you put ice on it?”
“No.”
“Here.” Todd made himself at home, looking through the small refrigerator in the back while Katie and Christy grinned self-consciously. He returned with a towel wrapped around a hunk of cold mozzarella cheese. “It’s not ice-cold, but this should help.”
“You are an angel,” Cassandra said dramatically. “Come here. Let me kiss you.”
Todd bent over to apply the chilled mozzarella to the ankle, and Cassandra kissed him with a big smack on both cheeks. Christy thought she saw him blushing.
“Where do you keep the pizza dough?” Todd asked, reaching for an apron he saw under the counter.
For the next two hours Christy thought she had never laughed so much in her life. While Cassandra sat with her foot up, Todd, Katie, and Christy learned the fine art of tossing pizza dough into the air and then covering it with Cassandra’s special tomato sauce. Two young girls entered the pizzeria while Todd was sliding their masterpiece pizza into the oven with a wide paddle.
Cassandra said something to the girls in Italian. They giggled, took a seat, and watched Todd as the perspiration glistened on his forehead.
“I told them you would make their pizza,” Cassandra said. “One Todd Special coming right up.”
This time Katie tried her hand at tossing the dough into the air. Christy was certain it would come down over her head like in a cartoon, but Katie actually was better at the task than Todd had been. At Cassandra’s insistence, Christy gave it a try, but on the first toss, her fist went right through the middle. She ended up wearing the pizza crust like a huge, sagging bracelet around her wrist.
“You spread it out too thin,” Cassandra said. “Try it again.” Christy’s second attempt was a twirling, flying success and gained her a round of applause.
Todd served the first slice of his pizza to Cassandra with a towel over his arm, like a classy waiter. Cassandra praised him and offered him a job.
“Hmm,” Todd said, playfully rubbing his chin as if seriously contemplating her offer.
“Remember,” Christy said, “the need is not the call.”
Todd laughed and wrapped his arm around Christy’s shoulders. He turned to Cassandra and said, “Sorry, but my girlfriend says no.”
“Ahh!” Cassandra said excitedly. “Your girlfriend, is she? Why didn’t you tell me?” The woman worked to get to her feet, all the while saying, “Stand there. Wait.”
Once she was up, she patted her apron, and a cloud of fine white flour rose up to encircle them. “I must give to you a blessing.”
As Todd stood there with his arm around Christy’s shoulder, she slipped her arm around his middle. Cassandra raised her hands and pressed her fingers on each of their closed lips. She spoke a melodic-sounding string of Italian words. Then she pulled her hands back to her lips, where she kissed her fingers and then pressed her fingers to their cheeks.
With a wistful look, Cassandra said, “I do not know how to say it in English. It is not the same. I wish for you all God’s goodness.”
“Thank you,” Christy said in barely a whisper. “Grazie, Cassandra. Molte grazie.”
“Molte grazie,” Todd repeated, squeezing Christy’s shoulder and pulling her close.
“Do you happen to have any blessings for those of us who are still available?” Katie asked.
Cassandra didn’t seem to understand Katie’s question.
“She wants a blessing, too,” Todd explained.
“You come back here when you have a man, and I will bless you both.”
Christy thought those words would break Katie’s heart, but to Christy’s surprise, her friend didn’t make a joke or let out a forlorn moan. Katie stood tall and said, “I’ll do that someday, Cassandra. You wait. I’ll be back. And whoever he is, he’ll be worth every word of your blessing.”
Christy had never felt more proud of her friend.
It took Todd, Christy, and Katie several hours before they could pull themselves away from Cassandra’s pizzeria. The next stop was Savini Jewelers.
From outside, the shop didn’t look like much. But once they stepped inside, they realized they were in an exclusive and expensive jewelry store. A glittering, golden chandelier hung from an ornate, domed ceiling. Marble statues stood guard in each corner. Cushioned sofas covered in gold brocade enabled buyers to sit back in comfort as they browsed the lowered glass cases.
A large man in a black suit immediately stepped up to Todd, Christy, and Katie. He looked like a bouncer.
“Hi. How’s it going? We’d like to speak with Marcos Savini, if he’s here,” Todd said.
“Mr. Savini is not in,” the bouncer said.
“Okay, but we were wondering about his son,” Katie explained. “Is Marcos here?”
“Mr. Carlos Savini is not here, and Mr. Marcos Savini is not here,” the hulking man said.
“Could we leave a message for him?” Katie asked.
The bouncer pulled a business card from his pocket and opened the door for them to leave.
“Thanks.” Katie took the card. As soon as they were all outside she said, “Boy, was that the opposite of Cassandra’s or what? I take it they don’t like poor American college students around here. I guess we’re not welcome here the way we were at Antonio’s.”
“Should we try calling and leaving a message?” Christy asked.
“No,” Katie said. “He’s probably out of town anyway.”
“Let’s go exploring,” Todd suggested. “I want to check out San Marcos Square.”
The sight that impressed Christy most in the square was the pigeons. They were everywhere. People held out hands full of food that could be purchased at vendor carts, and the birds would come and sit on their hands to eat. One little boy was frozen with a mixture of terror and delight as two birds sat on his head and four more perched on his arms. A man spoke to him in German and stepped back to take the boy’s picture. Christy pulled out her camera and snapped a few shots of the square. She had taken only three rolls of film the whole trip. Most of the time she had been so busy absorbing and observing that she hadn’t thought to use her camera.
That afternoon she made up for it by finishing the roll of film in the camera and taking another entire roll. She took pictures of the unique church at the end of San Marcos Square and then shots of the square from the top of the church. She took several shots of the Rialto Bridge as the gondolas passed under it.
Katie didn’t bring up the topic of a gondola ride, and Christy didn’t, either, because she had read in the tour book that the gondolas could be very expensive. It was doubtful if they had enough money left to rent one. She wondered if Katie had figured that out, as well.
Or are the gondolas another Lille Havfrue, an illusive mermaid we traversed the globe to find? Now that we’re here, is Katie feeling it’s no big deal? Why do so many things in life turn out like that? Like the fjords and the castles.
By sunset, all three of them were exhausted. The all-nighter at the Milan train station and walking around all afternoon had caught up with them. Christy wasn??
?t even hungry. All she wanted to do was sleep.
The next morning Katie was the first one up, and she woke Christy. “Come on, sunshine,” she teased. “Venice awaits you.”
“What time is it?” Christy asked.
“Almost nine. This is a new record for you, isn’t it? Todd and I have been up for hours. We went for coffee, and I brought you back a pastry. Wait until you taste this one. I think this is the winner of the trip so far.” Katie held out a flaky pastry shaped like a cone and filled with chocolate.
“I can see why you liked this one,” Christy said, indulging in a big bite while she was still in bed. “Thanks for bringing it back for me. Sorry to keep you guys waiting.”
“No problem. I’ve decided that today none of us is going to apologize to anyone for anything. This is our last day; it’s going to be perfect.”
Christy thought the delicious pastry was a pretty perfect way to start the day. She felt like a new person after so much sleep.
After she took a quick shower, Todd arranged for them to take a boat to the island of Murano to watch the glassblowers. Christy loved being out on the water and feeling the wind in her hair. She was standing by the rail snapping pictures when Todd came up behind her. He put both his hands on the rail so that Christy stood securely within the circle he had created.
“I don’t want you to go,” Christy said softly.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Todd pressed his cheek against the side of her head.
“Yes, you are. Tomorrow at this time you’ll be on a plane back to California, and I’ll be in class. No, actually, my first class will be over, and I’ll be at my little Konditorei, drowning my sorrows in whatever Marguerite baked.”
“Our plane doesn’t leave Zürich until two tomorrow afternoon,” Todd said.
“Okay, so I’ll be at the Konditorei, and you’ll be at the airport. We’ll still be apart, Todd. I don’t want tomorrow to come.” She turned and buried her head in his shoulder. She wanted Todd to tell her he would leap into the sky, lasso the sun, and with his bare hands hold it back from circling the globe so that this day would never end. Or if he wouldn’t attempt that, she wanted him to at least kiss her.