The Sweet Life

by Sharon Struth

  Fear and guilt trapped him daily for the last twelve months. He could’ve stopped the jump that day. But he hadn’t. What had Carlos called the winds? Questionable? Self-hatred pounded at Julian’s head. What an idiot. A self-absorbed idiot.

  Bravado that once led him to take on the show’s challenges disappeared after that moment, the reason he was fired. This tour company provided the perfect hideaway to his shameful existence. Its strict policies helped him regain control of the life he’d forfeited when he’d encouraged Carlos to jump.

  Footsteps nearby drew him back to the problem at hand. The woman clutched an envelope and lifted her chin as she neared, her legs long and frame lithe. She had a slight limp, a fact he hadn’t picked up on until now. Yet it didn’t undercut the bull-like determination in her gaze.

  “Now listen,” he said before she could speak. Best to keep an unpredictable bull grounded. “I’m not an unreasonable guy.”

  Her large brown eyes softened. “Did I say you were? It’s just that the others don’t seem to care if I’m on this bus or not. Bernie and Sandra, they’d even feel like they have their daughter along. It obviously means a lot to them. Wouldn’t my presence make them happier travelers?”

  “I told you. Rules are big in this outfit. Look.” He offered her the handbook, opened to the rule page. While she scanned them, he said, “If it was my company, I might let you stay. But as you can see, miss—”

  “Mamie.” She looked up from the book. “Mamie Weber.”

  Julian found himself drawn to the innocence in her eyes, hiding behind her tough facade. “My problem is that you’ve come out of nowhere and want a seat on my bus. I don’t have one piece of paper telling me I shouldn’t still be waiting for this Felix Carrol.”

  She opened the envelope in her hands, pulled out some papers, and thrust them in Julian’s hands. “I have the entire trip itinerary, with Felix’s name on it. And a faxed note from Felix saying he’s transferring the trip to me. The hotel gave me the room.”

  He flipped past the itinerary to the faxed note. “Anybody could’ve written that letter. If the passenger who booked the trip didn’t take the time to call it in, well...” He worked hard to think of an excuse as a bead of sweat dribbled past his ear. Julian batted away the moisture, not sure when it got so hot outside.

  “Excuse me?”

  He glanced up to find her staring at him.

  “Do I look dishonest?”

  Of course she didn’t. He reread the note from the original passenger. The package contained the full itinerary. Everything seemed legit. He removed his phone to call Claudia.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “The boss.”

  She frowned. “But if she says no, then I can’t go.”

  “She probably will.”

  As he dialed the phone, he could see her lips pressed tight and she started to pace. Finally, Nicola, Claudia’s assistant, answered. Julian explained his problem.

  After a minute of searching the office, Nicola returned to the phone. “Nein. Nobody contacted us regarding a transfer on that passenger.”

  Damn. “Nothing, huh?” He glanced up at Mamie and caught her eyes watering. “Okay. Thanks.”

  A sadness Julian hadn’t expected took him by surprise, overpowering him with the idea this trip of hers was about something more. “Why are you really so eager to go on this trip?”

  “I told you. My uncle wanted me to...” She stopped. “Why are you shaking your head?”

  “The truth. It’ll go a long way with me.”

  She wouldn’t meet his gaze for a long moment, but then she glanced up. Dark circles that he hadn’t noticed before hung beneath her eyes. “This trip is a chance of a lifetime. I may never get here again.” She drew in a breath and, he swore, she trembled. “It took everything for me to board the plane and fly here.” She rested her soft hand on his forearm, the effect cracking a piece of him that always stayed tough. Or maybe that strong facade had been broken this year and made vulnerable to more damage.

  “Please don’t ask me to explain why, but doing this means everything to me.” She dropped her hand from his arm, adding, “Everything.”

  The rules flashed like a warning, but his softened resistance buckled at the knees. He could only think of one reason this trip meant so much to her.

  There was a chance she was sick, especially considering the limp. What if she was so sick this was her last chance to travel the Tuscan countryside?

  She lifted a hand to wipe away a tear, drawing him to her high cheekbones and ivory skin, with a few faded freckles near her nose. Simple and pretty. But tired. He wanted to ask if it was her health, but to do so seemed invasive.

  He glanced in the bus’s direction. Inside, the passengers watched from the windows with expectant expressions. He didn’t want to face their disappointment.

  Julian rubbed the back of his neck and dragged his gaze away only to have it collide with Mamie’s doleful eyes. Damn it! Every ounce of common sense said to end this now. Only he couldn’t. Each time he glanced her way, a pain in the far recesses of her eyes mirrored his own sadness...or was he imagining it?

  “Do you have a passport?” he asked.

  She tipped her head. “How do you think I got into the country?

  “Can I see it?”

  She dug into the bag and pulled out a navy-blue US passport and handed it over.

  It had been issued eight years ago. In the photo, her face looked fuller and eyes brighter. From her birthdate, he worked the figures. Thirty-nine. Further snooping showed she was born in New York. He flipped through the pages used for immigration stamps. “You haven’t used this once.”

  She shrugged. “Like I said, taking this trip—it’s a big deal for me.”

  Guilt sucker punched him. Damn rules! No wonder he’d ignored them most of his life. A quick risk calculation on a visit from Claudia was low. During his employment here, the home office only got good feedback on Julian’s tours—so he’d been told.

  If he did this one little thing, how would she know?

  He looked again at the bus. Several occupants gave him eager nods. When he looked to Mamie, she watched him.

  He kicked a stray stone gently off the curb. “If I say yes, will you promise to be low key?”

  “Low key. Of course.”

  “I’d like to keep this letter from your uncle. For my records, in case my boss finds out your uncle transferred his paperwork to you.”

  “So, I can go?”

  “Yup.”

  Twirling to face the bus, she flashed a thumb in the air. A loud cheer erupted from inside. She slowly turned back to him and smiled sweetly, the relief in her eyes a reward he wasn’t sure he deserved. “Thank you. You won’t regret this.”

  He motioned to the bus before he changed his mind. “Get on. We’re behind schedule.”

  As she took a seat toward the front, the other riders whooped loudly. With any luck, he’d skate by without Claudia finding out.

  How much could go wrong with a bus full of people over sixty-five and a thirty-nine-year-old who’d never left the US?

  Chapter 2

  From her seat in the bus’s third row, Mamie admired the patchwork countryside. She wished the driver, who’d been introduced to the passengers as Beppe, would slow down and allow her to breathe it all in.

  A minute later, she got her wish when he zipped off a highway exit ramp, causing the bus to sway like a roller coaster ride. Mamie grabbed the seat back in front of her, where Bernie and Sandra leaned with the turn. Holding on for dear life was exactly like her cab ride from Pisa airport to the hotel in Siena. But Italian driving speeds were part of the adventure, and she made a mental note to write about it later.

  Her mission here was top secret. Ten years ago, when she started editing for Felix, she signed an agreement stating she’d never tell a
nother living soul the Covert Critic’s true identity. Now, as she filled in for him in the field, Felix had suggested she use a fake cover story about her life. She planned on telling people she was recently divorced, worked for a bank, and her dream was to write a novel set in Tuscany. That way her taking notes and pictures wouldn’t look so odd. The one truth in her story was that she was now alone in life.

  The bus moved more slowly now along a country road, passing verdant fields stretched out side-by-side and linked with golden wheat-colored patches. The ground-level view practically painted her into every picture of Tuscany she’d ever seen. An excited flutter tickled her belly.

  I’m here. Really here.

  She reached to the floor for her backpack, removed a journal brought along for taking notes, and flipped to the last page. On the plane ride over, she’d started a Travel Bucket List. One she hoped would make up for how she’d squandered the life she’d been spared in the accident and would honor Ted and Zoe. At the moment, only one item was listed: Fly to Italy. She put a check mark next to it, knowing more should be added to truly pay homage to them.

  At last month’s memorial service, to mark five years after losing them, she finally woke up to the way she’d tossed her own life aside like unwanted trash. The realization filled her with shame, so when this work opportunity came along, she took it as a sign. She wanted to believe they were both somewhere together in the spirit world, watching her fight her grief and rooting for her.

  All the love she still possessed for her lost family surfaced, causing her chest to shiver with need. Some days, she could still feel her three-year-old snuggled in her lap, head resting on to Mamie’s chest while Mamie stroked her soft cheek after she fell or had a nightmare. Mommy is here. It’ll be all right. She missed the way Ted pulled her from her shell, at times still able to feel the power of his steady blue gaze watching her when he’d say, “Come on, Mame. Life is being on a wire, and everything else is just waiting.” He’d loved the quote of Karl Wallenda’s, which personified her husband’s outlook on life.

  The tour guide laughed and disrupted her memories. She looked across the aisle to the seat he occupied behind Beppe. Julian. He probably would hate her this whole tour after how they started off, with her late and unauthorized. He spoke on his cell phone in fluent Italian. A surprise because English sounded like his native language.

  He hung up and stood in the aisle, holding onto a pole near the front of the bus that barely steadied him on the curvy road. “As I mentioned earlier, tonight we have a short excursion and dinner. I’ll make sure we’re not out too late. I’m sure you’re all tired from traveling to get here.”

  “Tired?”

  Mamie turned to a voice behind her. The man with a bald scalp and patches of hair above his ears—who’d been one of the first to convince their guide to let her stay— scratched his short, scraggly gray beard. He grinned at Julian. This time, she focused on his name tag, which read Bob Leon and “Volunteers” by Jefferson Airplane was his favorite Woodstock song.

  “I’m worried about you keeping up with us, Julian.” His larger-than-life red Hawaiian shirt suggested this was a man who liked fun. “We all survived Woodstock, you know?”

  The other passengers laughed and so did Julian.

  “I didn’t forget, Mr. Leon. “

  “Please, call me Bob.”

  “Well, Bob, you may not need rest, but I do.” Julian smiled, then ducked his head low to see outside the front window. “Ahead is our destination. We’re still in the province of Siena heading toward Colle Val d’Elsa. Tonight’s stop is in Monteriggioni, one of the most important walled castles in the territory.”

  Mamie looked outside the window and almost gasped. Perched high on a hill and surrounded by lush fields, the medieval structure welcomed them. A self-contained city with a walkway surrounding it and tall towers jutting up at even intervals.

  She pulled her notebook from her purse and scribbled notes about where they were headed.

  “This commune,” Julian continued, “has a perfect circular perimeter, but not because of artificial construction, rather it was created by just following the curves in the natural ground...”

  Despite her earlier exhaustion, she soaked in details of the world they passed through. Words of poets and authors returned to her, but they barely did justice to the exhilaration stirring inside her chest.

  Julian worked it like a travelogue host, and she scribbled furious notes. “The castle was built by the Sienese between 1213 and 1219 for defensive purposes; its strategic location atop a hill overlooking...”

  Her hand slowed and she stopped writing. All this beauty and history. Ted would’ve loved it here. If only they’d travelled more...

  Tears filled her eyes. She turned abruptly to the window, pretending to watch the blurred scenery.

  Get a grip on yourself!

  She counted to ten while forcing herself to tune into Julian’s voice.

  “We’ll be parking soon at a lot at the bottom of the hill. There’s a short climb to the village. Once we arrive, you’ll be right in the village’s center, called the Piazza di Roma. The church you’ll see is the Church of Santa Maria Assunta, a beautiful example of Romanesque and Gothic style architecture.”

  Churches. There were so many in Italy. The car accident had deepened her disdain for a faith she once believed in. A church was the last place she wanted to visit, but they were unavoidable in this country, where they seemed engrained in the landscape. Besides, she had a job to do and a journey to take. Time to get over her issues. Fast.

  She drew in a breath, stiffened her lip, and forced herself to turn around and face the tour director.

  “Monteriggioni was cited by Dante Alighieri in his most famous work, The Divine Comedy—” Julian’s gaze locked on hers and his brows furrowed.

  Adjusting in the seat, she sat more upright and looked straight at him.

  “Um...Dante...” Julian blinked a few times then looked at the paper in his hands. “I’d like to read a poem of his before we get off the bus.”

  He began to read, but she didn’t listen. She reminded herself to stay strong and make sure nobody knew her real mission in Tuscany or her real story in life. Felix’s offer for her to take his place was a gift, offering escape from the pity of well-meaning friends and family. An escape from the memories that kept her from living life. A chance to regain a semblance of her former self in a safe setting. Mamie inhaled and blew out a breath, feeling a little better.

  Julian must’ve finished reading the Dante poem because now he faced the front, looking out the bus window. “Beppe will be staying on the bus if you decide to leave anything on your seat. We’ll be here through dinner.”

  He turned around and, for a brief second, his gaze stopped on her. He parted his lips and she sensed he was about to say something. Only he closed his mouth and returned to his original position.

  Mamie stared down at her hands to the empty bucket list. Ted and Zoe’s bucket list. It needed filling up. From this point forward, she’d think like her husband. Do the things he’d have done if he were here. Even if it scared the hell out of her. Even if it pushed every single boundary she possessed.

  The time had come to live again. In every way possible.

  * * * *

  “Here.” Chef Saburo approached Julian, who’d been standing in the kitchen doorway and watching his passengers interact. “L’antipasto for the tour director.”

  Saburo smiled, showcasing the space of a missing tooth on the right side of his mouth. His splotched white apron covered his ample mid-section, and he looked as if he’d lost a food fight with the simmering pots on the old gas stove in the restaurant’s old kitchen.

  As Saburo lowered the plate to a nearby counter, Julian’s stomach growled. Salami, pecorino, bruschetta, and Tuscan crostini with chicken livers. “Saburo, you’re always too good to me.”
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  “Eh, it is no big deal. Buon appetito.” He waved his hand in a simple Italian gesture that spoke to his modesty. On his way back to his stove, he asked, “Why you not out there with the others?”

  “I usually don’t eat with them at first. Gives them a chance to enjoy each other. Sometimes when I’m around, passengers feel like they need to talk to me about the trip.”

  The large man dipped a wooden spoon into a pot while nodding. “Ah, I see.”

  “How’s Abriela?” Julian took a piece of pecorino and leaned against the counter.

  “Keeping me busy.” He rolled his eyes, but then softness filled his face with the love Julian understood Saburo had for his wife of many years. “She is good.”

  They chatted, as they’d always done since meeting a year ago, when Julian brought his first Wanderlust tour here for a meal. Like all the men Julian had grown up with in Italy, Saburo loved to talk. Life. Politics. The summer heat. The conversations reminded him of living in the homeland of his mother, at least when his parents weren’t filming their show. While growing up, Julian had enjoyed being part of “The Wild Adventures of Allie and Alfred,” yet he loved when the filming ended and they lived a more normal life even more. Back then, not only bloodlines, but also being a neighbor or friend defined family. Food always served as the glue bonding them together. His father’s family in the US were almost strangers.

  Julian reached for a crostini and leaned against the doorjamb, peering back out into the dining room. From this spot, he enjoyed a clear view of the woman who made him break Claudia’s rules. What the hell had possessed him to say yes?

  Sandra and Bernie Wallburg seemed to take her right under their wings. Kind of nice, actually. Maybe they sensed what Julian had, that Mamie seemed to need someone. Not because of her unkempt hair, with pieces of a sloppy ponytail sticking out from beneath a Yankees cap. Not because of those tired, albeit dark and mysterious eyes, that tugged at a more masculine side of him. Certainly not the subtle limp, because she carried herself like it wasn’t a problem. No, she had an aura about her. One that said capable, but hurting.