One Step Ahead

by J. J. Kapka

  The next phase involved treating the rest of her skin: it was time for her exfoliating sea-salt body scrub, hot mudpack treatment for her back, and aromatherapy bath. After two skin-tingling hours, Maddie was ready to inquire where to apply to become a permanent guest. She knew in her heart, though, that it could only end badly when she became too possessive of Hans and his hands. With an hour before her manicure and pedicure, she resigned herself to finding the restaurant in the complex. All that pampering had a way of making a girl hungry.

  Once she found the restaurant, she reluctantly tempered her hunger with restraint, given that overdosing on carbs and protein might not be a seemly way of comporting oneself in an enterprise dedicated to wellness. Settling on a large, healthy salad instead, Maddie munched away in silent contemplation of the stunning success of this mission. Not in her wildest dreams did she ever envision her body feeling this good, this revitalized, this…relaxed. While certainly her life was going to have some significant changes when she got back, she resolved to find the time to renew herself periodically, and only regretted that it had taken this long to come to that awareness. Guiltily, she also remembered her earlier imagined acts of revenge on Renate and made a mental note to send her a thank-you gift for opening her eyes to the world of spa treatments.

  The perfect counterpoint to the intensive body treatments of the first part of the day was the manicure and pedicure that occupied the first part of the afternoon. Though nothing new for her, it still felt good to see her nails get equal treatment and actually look fairly respectable for a change. This left her facing her last indulgence of her pampering junket: something called foot reflexology that Renate had strongly recommended.

  Once again she found her way to the massage side of the house. An attendant showed her into a room with a curving lounge chair and told her to remove her sandals, then slipped out. When the door opened again two seconds later, Madison thought the attendant had forgotten to tell her something. But when she looked over at the door, her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

  With a big grin, Hans sauntered into the room. “You again?” he teasingly chided. “I don’t imagine you’ve ever had reflexology before, either.”

  “No,” Maddie managed to say breathlessly, knowing that whatever this reflexology thing was, it was going to be good.

  “Close your eyes and relax,” Hans said, leaning down and gently running his wonderful big, strong hands over her eyes. He started a soft jazz CD, dimmed the lights, and set to work on her vulnerable feet.

  Inexplicably, Maddie felt nearly as naked as she had in the morning. With every new action that Hans performed on her feet, she felt a connecting thrill somewhere else in her body, resulting in shivers of pleasure and goose bumps raised on her arms that she fought a losing battle to control. Finally surrendering herself to the sheer enjoyment of the moment, Maddie simply relished lying there, soaking up the succeeding waves of pleasure that emanated from her feet.

  By the time Hans quietly exited one relaxing hour later, Maddie was considering the thought of enshrining her feet, as people framed celebrity autographs, for having been touched by the best of the best. Realizing that would put a bit of a damper on the rest of her trip, she reluctantly slid into her sandals and once again set off for her hotel, stopping for takeout en route before sliding blissfully into a deep, stress-free sleep, long before the sun said bye-bye to Baden Baden.

  ~~~

  The Becker Chronicles—Munich

  Becker found himself checking into his Munich hotel in a funk. All desire to sample the bachelor life had evaporated after that horrible night in Amsterdam. Racking his brain, he tried to attribute his reluctance to the bad experience he’d had with his “date.” Surely, Becker mused, any man would be put off of romance for a time after such a traumatic episode. Still, he couldn’t shake the fact that it was the sight of Maddie in another man’s arms that kept returning to haunt him time and again.

  Setting off to explore the sights in Munich, he found he could only devote half his attention to what his was seeing. The other half kept returning to thoughts of Maddie. Not just Maddie in Amsterdam, London, and the brief-but-troubling glimpse of her in Paris, but snippets from their entire relationship. All the things he’d never looked at when he’d come to his decision to sever their marriage. Back then, all he’d considered were the things he could be doing without her. Now, here he was in that very situation, and he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Why can’t I just move on like I thought I could? Why are her actions making me react? What difference can anything she’s doing right now make to me? Isn’t this exactly what I wanted and asked for?

  As he wandered around the central area of town, he kept glancing around, but not at the marvelous old buildings like the churches, the famous Glockenspiel, and the City Hall. None of that held his attention. Finally, he stopped short when he consciously realized that what he was looking for was another glimpse of Maddie. On reflection, it hadn’t really been such an odd coincidence that he had already seen her twice. They both had discussed their itinerary in advance and had a pretty firm idea of how much time they were going to devote to each location. And within those locations, the tourist attractions and thoroughfares were pretty well established.

  Becker increasingly felt as though he’d severed his right arm. As he circled the central plaza for the fifth time gazing at the ebb and flow of the tourists in the area, trying to see if Maddie might be in the crowds, he acknowledged that the vague longings that had spurred his decision to break up with her were most likely a load of crap. How else to explain his sense of disorientation when he was exploring a city as he was now? When it came right down to it, he had to admit that what he wanted more than anything else was someone to share these experiences with. No, not just someone, but Maddie.

  He knew what things she enthused over and even what choices they argued about, how they went about choosing their restaurants by endlessly browsing the menus displayed in the doorways. He missed the chatter, the give-and-take, the companionship that he now realized had grown so comfortable after all of these years together that he’d taken it for granted.

  He realized, now, he hadn’t given nearly enough weight to the comfort factor of his old life when he made his decision. In fact, when he considered the prospect of walking these same streets with anybody else, a sense of panic seized him. He would have to painstakingly build up a relationship, covering the same ground all over again. Newness wasn’t what he wanted or needed after all. How foolish of him to rashly shed his second skin on what he now realized was an ill-conceived whim.

  With a mounting sense of urgency, Becker methodically scanned the crowds searching for Maddie’s face. He knew she was around here somewhere, and if only he could find her, he knew he could set things right again and perhaps salvage their relationship. And maybe, just maybe, even try to enjoy the rest of this vacation.

  Some six disappointing hours later, a ragged Becker fell exhausted into bed, discouraged by his lack of success. Why did fate thrust Maddie into my sights twice when I least expected it? Now that I really want to find her, she’s nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter 6

  Venice

  Spaghetti al Limone—the Heartiness of Spaghetti Contrasted

  with the Acidity of Lemon and a Spark of Heat from Cracked Black Pepper

  July 15

  “I could get used to commuting by water taxi,” mused Maddie, as her motoscafi threaded its way from the airport to the center of Venice among an amazing variety of other water craft moving along the canals. Gazing up at the centuries-old buildings, which in some places had water lapping directly on the doorstep, Maddie was overcome with wondrous admiration for the way the Venetians had made the most of their environment, while still managing to retain the city’s unique charm throughout the many ensuing years.

  Disembarking at her stop, which was only a stone’s throw from the entrance to her hotel, Maddie took a moment to do a 360-degree turn in order to take in this entirely ne
w setting she was about to explore. She thought it was strange that, although Amsterdam was full of canals, too, both cities seemed to approach their relationship to the water in completely different ways. In Amsterdam, though people did, indeed, navigate and even live on the water, the emphasis seemed to be more on getting over and around the water via bridges. But in Venice, the people seemed to be more part and parcel of the water. Rather than finding ways around it, they wholeheartedly threw themselves into traversing it in every way imaginable, from gondolas, to water taxies, to even water buses. Because many of the houses fronted directly onto the water, instead of onto a street with a sidewalk, there seemed to be much less of a buffer between the Venetians and their canals.

  Trundling her suitcase noisily along behind her on the cobblestoned street toward her hotel, Maddie kept swiveling her head around in order to take in all the rich architectural detail of the buildings she was passing, from the windows, to the doorways, to the trim on the roofs. She was so wrapped up in soaking up the scenery that she nearly missed the entrance to her hotel.

  Pulling up short when she realized her error and back-stepping a few paces, she climbed three steps and found herself in the coziest little lobby she’d ever seen. All dark woods, bright flowers, and glittering shafts of sunlight falling gracefully through the old glass windows, it made her feel instantly at home.

  The minute she stepped over the threshold, the bell captain appeared at her shoulder. Instantly solicitous, he grabbed her suitcase and guided her over to the front desk. Having received a recommendation to stay here from her German friends, she made yet another mental note to send them her thanks for their unerring instincts at knowing what she would like.

  The lady at the desk greeted her warmly. Grabbing the room key, she insisted on escorting Madison upstairs herself, along with the bell captain. After taking an extremely small elevator up to the fourth floor, they emerged into a tiny hallway. Maddie followed the lady to the end and waited while she opened the door, and the bell captain deposited her suitcase.

  Given that the hotel had been all sober woods and wallpaper up till now, Maddie stood slack-jawed in the doorway when she saw the bright yellow walls and primary color accents that greeted her. As jarring a contrast as the sight was compared to the rest of the hotel, it fit exactly with the contours of the room and the bright light coming into the tall window, a reflection off the canal below. Gratefully thanking the lady and the bell captain for their hospitality, Maddie eagerly turned to face the room as they shut the door behind themselves upon exiting.

  She ran and flung herself backward on the bed, gazing up at the intense yellow all around her, feeling like she was bathed in sunshine. In her stillness on the bed, Maddie became more aware of the sounds outside the window, including the gentle lapping of the canal and purrings and stutterings of the various boat motors that were passing beneath the window. In fact, the hypnotic droning of the motors coupled with the comforting cocoon feel of the room made her drowsy.

  Having risen early to get to the airport in Frankfurt and then spent hours waiting, flying, and getting to the hotel, Maddie figured a nap wouldn’t be entirely out of order right now. Almost before she finished giving herself permission, she fell asleep in the same position in which she’d thrown herself upon the covers.

  Some hours later, a nearby church bell summoned her out of her slumber. Maddie sleepily consulted her watch. Somehow, she’d soundly slept through at least two prior tollings of the hour and was only now apparently rested enough for the bells to have chimed through to her consciousness. Lazily rousing herself from the bed, she stepped into the shower to finish shaking off the sleep. By the time she stepped out of the hotel, rested and refreshed, she was eager to make up for lost time.

  Pulling a slip of paper and her map from her purse, she calculated her proximity to the list of restaurants her German contacts had given her. Since it was almost dark by now, and she didn’t yet have a feel for what the safer areas might be, she decided to confine herself to the central district where there would likely be a heavier concentration of tourists. That still left a list of about five restaurants. So she decided to leave the selection to chance: whichever of the restaurants she happened to pass first as she wandered through the tangle of streets, plazas, and canals would be the place she would have her dinner.

  As the crowds became denser and the accents more diverse, Maddie knew without even looking at her map that she was homing in on her target. Having memorized the names of her five restaurants, every time she passed a place to eat, which was frequently, she glanced up and took in the name. In about five minutes, she struck pay dirt and entered a small, dimly lit place. As she was being shown to a table, she noticed the tantalizing smells emanating from the kitchen that ran alongside the length of the restaurant. Glancing over the chest-high divider to the cooks’ prep area, she saw a chef arranging some small fish on a plate. “What are those?” she asked the waiter escorting her.

  He pointed out the name on a menu, giving her the English name. “Salted fresh sardines.”

  Sounds like a good start to me, thought Maddie. She realized she must be in the midst of one of her infrequent salty food cravings. Before the waiter could even recite the day’s specials, Maddie eagerly asked for the sardines and a glass of the house red wine.

  The waiter gamely waited for her to finish and then did his recitation of the specials, one of which caught Maddie’s attention: the homemade tagliolini with shrimp and arugula.

  Wow, I haven’t even cracked the menu open this time, she thought in amazement. A sure sign of hunger if ever there was one. Her stomach was not to be kept waiting for long.

  Within two minutes, the waiter returned with a tray bearing a basket of bread, the glass of wine, and a plate of the sardines.

  Although she’d had anchovies many times before, she could never bring herself to try the canned sardines from the supermarkets back home. She wasn’t exactly sure what one was supposed to do with them, other than eat them directly out of the tin. After taking her first few bites of the ones that had been set before her, she doubted she would ever want to try their canned cousins. These were moist with olive oil and had just enough salt to satisfy her craving without overwhelming her taste buds. The crusty Italian bread made an excellent partner to the little fish, as did the hearty flavor of the red wine. It wasn’t a wine to win any medals, but it certainly paired off well with this kind of hearty peasant food.

  The subsequent pasta dish was equally satisfying. The arugula had been glancingly sautéed, and the shrimp were fresh and perfectly cooked to tenderness. As for the homemade tagliolini, sometimes homemade pasta wasn’t really all it was hyped up to be, but wrapping her teeth around the just-softened freshness of the tagliolini brought to mind visions of an Italian grandmother back there in the kitchen hovering over her family recipe.

  After the fish, bread, and pasta, Maddie was fairly bursting. It was only as a courtesy to the solicitous waiter that she agreed to even look at the dessert menu, even though she had no intention of actually partaking. As she opened the menu in front of her, Maddie’s line of vision was directed over the top of it to the crowded passageway outside. Just as she was about to lower her head to pretend to study the offerings, a familiar profile caught her eye. Recognizing Becker strolling outside, she sucked in her breath. Looking in the other direction, he seemed to be examining the restaurant across the way. As his head started to turn toward Maddie, she dove behind her menu, raising it sufficiently to cover her entire face.

  “The last thing I need right now is a run-in with him,” she grumbled indignantly to herself. I really don’t need to hear what a terrific time he’s had since he dumped me, if he would even bother to acknowledge me at all.

  Peeking over the menu when she judged it to be safe, Madison breathed a great sigh of relief to see that he’d disappeared just as quickly as he’d popped into view. Too many thoughts were starting to crowd into her brain that she just wasn’t prepared to cope with r
ight now. Not after all the great experiences she’d had since last seeing Becker. Not after finally getting her stress and strain smoothed out of her body in Baden Baden. The situation called for extraordinary measures. Dessert.

  Waving the waiter over, she asked for an espresso. This’ll keep me up even later than my taking a nap. She pointed randomly to one of the desserts, not having any idea what it might be. Just in case Becker passed by again, Maddie held tightly to the menu when the waiter tried to take it away. “I’d like to look it over a little more,” she said. Holding the menu in a handy semi-erect position, Maddie kept one eye on the window while losing herself to her thoughts about Becker’s disturbing proximity. She realized her heart was going a mile a minute.

  It didn’t help her heart rate much when the waiter came by with her espresso and a slice of cake. Two sips confirmed the coffee’s jolting effect, but undeterred, Maddie knocked it back as though she were drinking a shot. Similarly, after a few short minutes, she looked down and realized she’d finished the cake on autopilot. She didn’t have the vaguest idea what kind of cake it had been, which was a pity, really, given that it was probably good and would otherwise have been memorable. The rest of the meal had been delicious.

  Maddie paid her bill and rose from the table, her mind a haze of indecision. All she knew for certain was that she wasn’t prepared for a chance meeting with Becker. Her emotions were still high, and she needed to get them back down to a rational level before having to deal with him in a face-to-face situation.

  Exiting the restaurant, she turned right, the direction opposite the one in which Becker had been heading earlier. She reasoned that Becker was most likely to stick to the well-traveled thoroughfares she herself had earlier committed herself to for safety. Alarmed at the possibility of running into Becker, Maddie threw caution to the wind. With no destination in mind, she ducked into the first small street she came to and continued negotiating through a series of alleys and tiny pedestrian ways.