Sailing out of Darkness (Carolina Coast Book 4)

by Normandie Fischer

  At nine, she was downstairs waiting. At nine-ten, the phone rang. The receptionist handed her the receiver.

  “Darling,” Lena said. “So glad I’ve found you. Finally. I tracked down your hotel through Daniel, and that was so laborious. But it doesn’t matter now that I have you, because I’ve such news. Phil has clients who own a villa up on one of the lakes, north of you someplace. I don’t know where, but I’ll get out a map before we come. Yes, that’s why I’m calling. We’ll be there next Thursday. Well, no, I suppose it will be Friday morning. Anyway, Phil’s clients are so pleased with his work that they offered us the villa. It should be divine, and the kids are thrilled. Can you meet us? Come for a week?”

  “Well, it sounds...” What could she say? She didn’t want to see Lena, certainly not for a week. The thought of Lena intruding on her idyllic little world appalled her.

  “Oh, and tell Stefi she must come, too, even if only for the weekend. We want to hear all about her school. And we can celebrate your birthday. Wicked of you to take off without coming to stay here, without letting us at least wish you a happy. Now, you must agree to join us. The children will be devastated if you don’t, and you know Phil adores you.”

  Sam inhaled and released the breath slowly. This was not a moment when the truth would work. “Well, thank you,” she said, because hurting Lena seemed worse than lying to her.

  “Why don’t we visit you in your quaint little town first? Daniel says you’ve run into that writer-uncle of your shop girl—what is her name? Anyway, we’d like to meet him and see your environs. You’re not far from Genoa are you?”

  “Not at all. Or from Milan, though that would be backtracking for you guys.”

  “I’ll see what Phil says. His secretary’s booking the flight for us, and I don’t know why she can’t do it into Genoa and out from Milan.”

  “Do you want me to pick you up at the airport?”

  “Heavens, no. We’ll rent a car. But you could book us a night’s lodging nearby. A suite, preferably. That way we can get off fresh the next morning to find the villa by daylight. You know what Phil’s like when it comes to maps and asking directions. Much better if he’s had a good rest.”

  Yes, she knew Phil, and she knew Lena, and the thought of spending days confined in a house with either of them set her fingers drumming on the countertop. As Lena chattered, Sam shifted position, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and scanned the room’s furnishings without seeing them.

  When she and Greg had been married, they’d shared the occasional Christmas dinner with his sister’s family, the rare weekend in the city. But Lena’s designer clothes made Sam feel frumpy, and her conversation made Sam want to put a sack over her head until she could flee.

  Now she felt trapped by this unexpected invitation. Why hadn’t she just said no?

  Back in her room after promising to call Stefi tomorrow, Sam stood at her window, staring out at the dark sky. “No. No,” she whispered to the view as she practiced the unfamiliar roll of the words off her tongue.

  When she reached her daughter the next morning, Stefi’s screech blasted through the phone. “Mama, yes! I’d love to see the lake country. This is so great! I can miss a class or two. I mean, really.”

  Stefi would be the perfect buffer for awkward moments with Lena. Besides, Guido wouldn’t be there, hanging on. Maybe Stefi would return to Firenze with a different perspective on her Italian pretty boy after spending four days with younger cousins who were bright, fun, and curious about life.

  She collected a note from Teo on her way to the Internet café to check e-mail. Would she like to dine with him again? It took mere seconds for her to decide. Eat by herself, alone and unable to communicate, or eat with a witty author who seemed to enjoy her company and who made her laugh? Hard decision.

  Besides, it was just dinner. Nothing more. It would never be anything more. She liked being with him. He seemed to like being with her.

  A third dinner together meant nothing. They were Americans abroad, and he, the local, wanted to help her, the temporary visitor, over the hump of her linguistic limitations.

  She answered e-mails, entered words in her journal, walked, paused for coffee and lunch, walked again. By evening, she couldn’t wait to spend time with someone who spoke her language.

  She met him in the lobby. “Buona sera,” she said gaily and felt a momentary guilt because she was having fun. Absurd, that guilt, but, as Stefi would say, so like her.

  She hiked the smile back into place in time for Teo to offer his arm and say, “Good evening to you, too. Tonight, I thought I’d take you to Il Mare Turchese.”

  Her first impression was of an unpretentious place splashed with turquoise on the tables and walls. The maître d’ greeted Teo warmly before seating them in a corner, away from the traffic pattern to and from the kitchen.

  “So that’s what it sounds like when an Italian pronounces your entire name,” Sam said as they opened the menus.

  “I like the way you say it.” Teo squeezed lemon into his water. “He merely gives the syllables a different flair. It turns out, he is also a Teodoro.”

  The waiter arrived, took their order, and left, followed almost immediately by a young boy who placed a loaf of bread and a bottle of olive oil in front of them.

  “Great service here,” Sam said, returning the young Italian’s smile.

  “It’s a family-run place. He’s the owner’s nephew. I don’t remember his name, but I understand he’s very proud to be promoted to dining room work. His father,” Teo nodded toward the front, “is the mustachioed fellow behind the cash register, and his sister, the lovely Isabella, should be making the rounds soon.”

  “Friends?”

  “On my first visit, the brother-in-law limped over to compare canes, mine to his ornately carved ebony one. We shared an espresso and war stories.”

  Sam tore off a piece of crunchy bread and poured herbed oil on her plate. “There’s something about the Italians. Something we’re missing. We’re so busy, so isolated back home.”

  “I agree. I suppose that’s one of the reasons I like it here.”

  And he seemed to fit in well. Had she ever actually belonged to a place? She’d imagined melding into the Raleigh world from all her years there, in that house, raising her children, seeing to her shop. And then, suddenly, she hadn’t.

  The same could be said for Beaufort, couldn’t it? She’d been away so long and had no family left here. The never-belonging had always been the case. Would, she imagined, always be that way.

  Blown by the wind, that was Samantha Ransom. Up and out and off and away.

  “What?” Teo asked.

  She shook off the melancholy and pasted a smile back on. “I’m sorry. Woolgathering.”

  “Thinking of home?”

  “You really want to know?”

  He nodded. “I do.”

  “I was thinking how well you fit here. Reggio seems to suit you perfectly.”

  “Ah.” He swirled his bread in the oil and bit off a chunk, pausing to chew.

  Which gave Sam the opening she needed. “Speaking of liking it here—” His brows rose in question. “You were. Speaking of it, I mean. Anyway, the point is, we need to change one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The fact that you always pay for the meals. I must contribute.”

  “No, stop, please. I can afford this and more. Besides, I enjoy having company. Think of it as doing me a favor.” A pause let his eyes reflect the smile she found so appealing. “Please.”

  “Is this to be my convenient savings plan? Eat with you and extend my budget?”

  “Why not?”

  “Sounds like a kept woman.” Sam hiked her eyebrows.

  Teo wiggled his own back at her. “Without the fringe benefits.”

  “I admit that viewing this world with a witty companion has distracted me so well that I only called my assistants once this week.”

  “That’s down from every day
?”

  Oh, my, she didn’t want to be affected by that twinkle in his eyes, but how could anyone stay aloof from a man who knew how to laugh at his world?

  She sighed. “It was hard letting go of the shops, but Rhea and Tootie both seem to be getting on fine without me—which says something about how important my role is.”

  “No, it just means you trained them well.”

  “I still miss going in every day. Do you? I mean, do you miss being a lawyer?”

  “I would hate to go back to that pressure. Life is too short.”

  “But I feel so idle here.”

  And he wouldn’t, not with his writing. She bit into oil-dipped bread. He seemed about to speak when their main course arrived, and they grew silent, tasting the food. She savored the hint of garlic, the rich blending of herbs that made up the sauce on her plate.

  She revived the conversation by asking about his latest manuscript.

  He forked a bite of pasta. “Ah, poor Sophrina. She’s gotten herself in trouble. She fancies herself in love with a Greek playboy.”

  “But I thought she was always imagining herself in love.”

  “Now, Samantha,” Teo chided. “Didn’t you notice she takes care never to fall in love? No, she enjoys having men wine her and dine her, and she enjoys a little cat and mouse with them, but she never finds one quite clever enough for her.”

  “Hard being a gorgeous and brilliant sleuth, I imagine.” She’d never had that problem. No, sir. She was neither gorgeous nor brilliant, as she’d proven again and again.

  “Extremely. But in Greece, she meets her match. At least, she thinks so.”

  Sam raised her hand to stop him. “Don’t tell me any more. I want to be surprised when I read it. But do you have anything I could borrow now? I’ve finished the ones I have and need something to do when I can’t sleep.” She wiped her lips. “You know how one gets in the middle of the night.”

  “The middle of the night and I spend many hours together. I know it well.”

  Compassion made her long to reach out. It came so naturally to her, that lifting of her hand to lay it on another’s forearm, the tactile of “I hear. I care.” But she’d robbed herself of that freedom, hadn’t she, the freedom to touch and be touched. New rules meant hands off. Hands to herself. On the bread or her fork. In her lap.

  She was probably certifiable.

  “Does pain keep you awake?” she asked, working on casually concerned.

  “Not really. I often write entire chapters in my head before I’m forced to turn on the light and put the words on paper. I can’t go to sleep until it’s all written out.”

  “Such discipline.”

  “I wouldn’t call it that. More like self-preservation. Tendrils of ideas that don’t unravel into complete thoughts drive me crazy.”

  “That, I understand.” She took another bite of the goat cheese and escarole cannelloni and sighed deeply. “This, sir, is good enough to make me weep.”

  “As is this,” he said, nodding toward his plate of penne with lamb ragu. “Here.” He reached for her fork, stabbed a bite of his dish, and held it out to her.

  She slid the morsel into her mouth...a hint of mint and savory. “Oh, my. That’s incredible.”

  “I told you. One of my favorite places to eat.”

  “It has just become mine.”

  After consuming and moaning through a few more bites, she remembered to tell him about Lena’s visit. “Do you happen to know of a good hotel for them?”

  “I do.” He scribbled on a folded paper he retrieved from his pocket. “With two young people in tow, they may prefer this one.” He added a star next to one located in the larger town just north of Reggio. “More for them to do.”

  “Thank you. Lena hinted more than once that they’d like to meet you.”

  “That would be fun.”

  “You think? Just prepare yourself to be cross-examined. They’re both lawyers.”

  “Reminders of times past. I think I can handle it.”

  “I hope so,” she said, sopping up the last of her sauce and wiping her mouth with the generous napkin.

  “Would you like anything else? A cup of coffee?”

  “No, thanks.” She set the napkin by her plate and, yawning, slipped her purse into her lap.

  “In a hurry?”

  She followed his gaze to the purse, surprised to find it there. “I’m sorry. It must be the food and all my walking today.”

  “Then I’ll drive you home.”

  He signaled the waiter and paid the bill, offering his arm as he led her to his car. She waited when he went up to his apartment to retrieve one of his books for her and tucked it in her purse with a “Thank you” when he returned.

  “Hope you enjoy it.” He turned the key in the ignition, pulled away from the curb, and entered traffic.

  And a woman screamed.

  Teo slammed on the brakes. Before Sam could move, he’d climbed from the car and darted to the sidewalk. She opened her door as Teo called something to a woman leaning out an upper window. A few passersby paused to watch, but only Teo spoke to her.

  “There, can you pull the car up into that space, out of the way?” He didn’t wait for Sam’s answer as he hurried toward the building’s entrance. “Her grandson’s hurt.”

  “Can I…” she began, but he’d already climbed the short stoop, caneless and limping, but at a clip that surprised her.

  She parked, grabbed his cane, and hurried after him. Sobs led her up two flights of stairs and through an open door. A very young boy—three, maybe four years old—lay with his leg bent awkwardly. The poor little thing writhed and wailed, while other children bent toward him, some weeping, some staring. Sam counted five in all.

  Teo knelt beside the little one and spoke soothing somethings in Italian. Waving his arm at the other children, he scattered them and tried to question the sobbing grandmother. Sam waited for direction.

  “I’ve called for an ambulance,” Teo said over his shoulder. “Now I need to phone the father. Will you sit here by the boy, see if you can keep him still?”

  She lowered herself to the child’s side. What had she done for Daniel when he’d broken a collarbone? She mumbled a prayer as she smoothed the boy’s forehead. She couldn’t imagine why the grandmother didn’t have the boy in her arms. The poor thing had to be petrified as well as miserable, and all Sam had in her arsenal were English platitudes.

  Teo was on the phone with the boy’s father when the medics arrived. Their presence seemed to inspire awe in the other children and the old woman, but the child kept a death grip on Teo’s hand, especially when the medics readied him for transport.

  “The grandmother will have to stay here,” Teo said as he picked up his cane. “Could you follow the ambulance so I can go with the child? I told his father I would.”

  “Of course. I have no idea where the hospital is, so don’t lose me, okay?”

  He touched her shoulder, spoke to the others, and accompanied the stretcher out the door and down the stairs.

  Sam’s heart ached for the whimpering child. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  The hospital wasn’t far. By the time Sam had parked and followed them into the emergency room, a doctor was already tending to the boy.

  She would have recognized the man who finally burst through the doors as the boy’s papa even without his frantic cries. Teo spoke and found himself pulled into a crushing embrace before the man turned to find his son.

  Teo straightened his jacket. “Well.”

  “Well indeed. You did a good thing tonight.”

  That brought his head around. “I’m sorry. You were tired, and I was about to take you home, wasn’t I?”

  “You can certainly do so now. Looks to me like you need your bed, too.”

  His hand touched the small of her back as they turned toward the exit. “The boy thought he’d fly like Superman when he jumped off the bed.”

  “Poor little tyke. He must have been in t
errible pain.”

  “I’m sure of it,” he said, removing the warmth of his fingers to open her car door.

  She snuggled back against the seat. It wasn’t an even exchange.

  “That’s a lot of children for a grandmother to care for.”

  He snorted. “Too many, obviously. I wanted to gag her.”

  “But you didn’t. Good man.”

  “Force of will.” A streetlight illuminated his grin. “And the faces of those children.”

  “I’m proud of you.” She surprised herself by just how much she meant the words.

  How many men would have responded to the cry of an old woman and taken charge as he had? No passerby did more than pause. And there’d been other tenants in the building. She’d seen their faces peeking out of doors.

  But Teo, a stranger, had offered help.

  He pulled up in front of her pensione. She reached for her door handle, but he stopped her.

  “Please, allow me.”

  At her door, he offered his hand. She stepped onto the curb.

  “Thank you for tonight,” he said.

  “I did nothing.”

  “You were there. You calmed the child.”

  He turned her, his hands sliding to her upper arms, and his lips grazed hers before his fingers traced a path down her cheek and he whispered, “Good night, Samantha.”

  She stood, the expression in his eyes surprising her more than the kiss. Just before he climbed back into the car, she murmured, “Good night.”

  “Sleep well.”

  The sweetness of that kiss—and that look—lingered as she prepared for bed. There’d been nothing potent or frenzied in either, nothing to remind her of former kisses, former loves. But the difference told her she’d better do some serious thinking.

  18

  Teo

  Fallen markers mask the path,

  And curves ahead will blind us.

  Teo drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his jaw set, his eyes focused on the narrow streets for the short drive home. He parked, locked his car, and tap-tapped through the entrance door to his building.