Morning Colors

by Sharon Timm

  Who was she kidding? She had family back in the states. She had a great career that was far from over. She was making decent money in a profession that was still regarded as one of the greatest adventures left on earth. Besides, she was a beautiful, healthy woman who had never lacked offers from men.

  She had taken herself out of the romance game for her own tragic reasons, but she always knew that she would one day find another love. Maybe a strong, deep burning love like the one that was so cruelly wrenched from her grasp.

  She remembered Luca's touch and electricity pulsed down her body. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth of his hand wrapped gently around hers.

  "Stop it!" she said out loud. This is insane, she thought. "Tomorrow I'm going to go into a train station in Venice, point out a bad guy and all of this will be over!" I will go back to my ship, she thought, fix whatever the part-time doctor messed up in my sick bay and get underway for some peace and quiet, rest and relaxation. "That's exactly what I will do!" she said to herself.

  Sam turned and walked quickly back toward the house. She'd made up her mind. She was going to get this investigation stuff over with and return to the ship. She didn't regret this visit to Venice. Maybe she had needed this. Maybe the XO was right to kick her out of the forest long enough for her to see the trees.

  She had waited long enough. Her penance was complete. She was ready to love again, she knew that now. Ready to love, but not Luca Danieli. Not some man in a strange land, not a man she really didn't know and especially not someone who had spent the vast majority of his time irritating and infuriating her.

  She was approaching the tall pillars that marked the entrance to the Danieli Vineyard. Oh no! she thought, not Luca. "That I will not do," she assured herself in a firm voice.

  "What won't you do?" a voice beside her queried.

  Luca Danieli stepped out from the vines along the driveway and approached.

  Oh what a handsome man! Sam realized quickly that all her conversations with herself, self-determination and good intentions, couldn't keep her from wanting desperately to feel this man's body against hers. Sam tried to look indignant.

  "Hiding behind the bushes and spying on me? Is that what you have stooped to now, Luca?" She glared at him. "I was just telling myself what a mistake it would be to stay with you. That, Luca is what I will not do!"

  Sam stormed away. Her words failed to convince her and she wondered if she sounded as unconvincing to him. She pounded up the stairs to her room and didn't come down for supper. With nothing to occupy her mind, the demons returned. That night the nightmares came back with them.

  Flames poured out of gaping holes in the metal walls. No matter how she tried she couldn't push the fire back. It burned her hands. The charred, blistered skin fell away from the bones in her fingers she screamed and cried in pain. She heard the voice cry, "Help me! Help me!" but she couldn't hold the fire back.

  The demons swirled around her taunting her as she screamed and cried and cradled her burning useless hands to her breast. The largest demon came to her and placed his fiery arms around her to squeeze the life from her fragile body. She fought him at first, then, realizing she could not push him back to the inferno he called home, she resigned herself, relaxed and let him take her away. She melted into the giant's arms and felt the life drain from her body. She looked up into Luca's face. His lips brushed her forehead.

  "Sam, I'm here, Sam. Sono qui, bella. Dear, dear Sam," he whispered. It's okay. There is no fire. The fire is gone, Sam. You are safe, with me."

  Sam stared down at the soft skin of her hands. They were undamaged, unblistered, uncharred. There was no fire. The fire was gone. She touched her face and found her cheeks soaked with tears. She was sitting on the floor by her bed, facing the starlit sky through the window of her room. Luca knelt next to her on the floor. She clung to him as sob after sob racked her body. He held her in his strong arms until the tears subsided.

  "Who is Joe?" Luca asked when she had calmed down.

  Sam took a deep breath. Maybe it was time to tell someone, she thought. She leaned against Luca and began.

  "Joe was my husband. We were married eight years ago, the day before his ship left port. We were both in the Navy. He was a First Class Petty Officer I was still just a very junior sailor." Sam rested her head against Luca's chest and spoke in a monotone voice. Luca ran his fingers thorough her soft short hair.

  "I wasn't sure what I was doing with my life. Joe was very focused, and sure of himself. He kept telling me to get my act together. `Settle down' he told me. `Life is too short. Put your mind to something. Set some goals. Go somewhere with your life'.

  "I just wanted to have a good time. I wasn't paying attention to my job and was spending too much time with my friends.

  "On our wedding night, we both knew he was leaving the next day, but instead of enjoying a few hours together we got into an argument." Tears began to stream down Sam's face again. "I stormed out, slammed the door and went to a friend's house. When I woke the next day, his ship was gone. I hadn't even said good bye.

  "When I got back to the apartment, I found a note from Joe. He said he loved me and that he was sorry. He would come back in less than a month and we could take some time off and maybe go on a honeymoon. He said the Chief Petty Officer selection results would come back before he returned and signed off, ‘wish me luck,’ Sam paused and stared out the window at the kaleidoscope stars, streaked and twisted by the tears in her eyes.

  "A week after the ship went out, there was an engine room fire," she continued. "Joe was the fire team leader who entered, with his team, to put the fire out. The fire re-flashed and his team was trapped. Joe got all but one man to safety before a grating collapsed and...

  "Tell me, Sam," Luca coaxed her gently. "You have kept this inside too long."

  "Joe was transported by helicopter to the hospital where I was working, but it was my day off and I was not on the Navy base. He was burned terribly. He had third degree burns over eighty percent of his body, but he was alive when they took him to intensive care. He kept asking for me but no one could find me. I was out late with friends, partying and having fun. When I got home there was a note on my door telling me to come in to work. I got to the hospital an hour after Joe died.

  Sam sighed deeply. "Two days later the results of the Chief Petty Officer selection board were released. Joe had made it. I walked around in a daze for a long time. I barely remember the funeral.

  "Standing by his grave I finally realized what he had been trying to tell me. I promised him I would buckle down and take my career seriously.

  "Had he lived, his Chief was going to pass on his first pair of Chief's anchors to Joe. He was crying when he handed them to me at the funeral. I felt so bad." she sobbed. "I swore on Joe's grave that I would make Chief for him and it's all I thought of for the next six years, that and the nightmares."

  "You have nightmares about the fire, Sam?"

  "Sometimes it's the fire, but most of the time it's just the pain of not being there for Joe. I have always regretted our wedding night." she whispered, "We never made love. I was too busy being a spoiled little child. I had a husband for one night. I was only married for a week."

  They sat silently, on the floor by the bed, staring out the window at the stars. Luca held her gently in his arms. Sam curled herself into a little ball and rested her head against his chest. She fell asleep in his arms listening to the strong beating of his heart.

  Sam awoke as the early morning sun streamed through the curtains and painted the walls. She stirred and felt fingers run through her hair. Luca was still with her. He was wide awake and obviously uncomfortable, but he was still holding her in his arms. He had covered her during the night. Sam looked up at him, smiled shyly and nestled her head back against his chest. "G'morning," she said groggily.

  "Good morning." Luca said. His voice was tender and soft in her ear. He kissed her on the top of her head. Then he slipped one arm under her knees and lif
ted her gently onto the bed. Sam was dressed only in her old flannel nightshirt and underwear. He covered her gently with a blanket.

  Sam watched him stretch and groan, obviously cramped and sore from sitting on the cold floor and holding her through the night. "You must be sore," she said. "Did you get any sleep at all?"

  "I will be fine, Sam."

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  Luca nodded and left her alone. She felt drained. Cleansed. A weight had been lifted from her shoulders; a weight that she had carried for a long time. She looked out the window.

  Morning had broken beautifully. Swallows, rondine, played outside the window, spring was in the air and Sam felt free. Yellow clouds, smeared across the rising sun, glowed gold and bright. The haze lifted, blending into a pastel blue sky. The hilltops exploded into the fresh colors of morning.

  As a child she had told her mother about morning colors. She tried to describe the differences between the colors in the morning and those in the rest of the day. Her mother hadn't seemed to understand, but she nodded and said, "Sam if you can see morning colors, then they must be your special gift." Her mother had tousled her hair and smiled. "I'll take your word for it."

  Years later in the Navy, Sam was delighted to learn that the morning flag raising ceremony was known as "Morning Colors". She thought of it as her own private celebration of morning.

  All activity on the Navy base would cease for the thirty seconds, or so, it took to run the Stars and Stripes up the flag pole. Anyone outside had to stop, face the flag and salute. While most of her friends checked their watches and rushed to be inside before the bugle sounded attention, Sam had always made it a point to wait outside so she could salute the morning, and the flag.

  Sprawled across the bed, now, she reveled in the morning and lifted a mental salute to the day. She rolled out of bed and dressed quickly. She hurried downstairs to breakfast, famished since she had not eaten the night before. The events of the night had left her peaceful and calm. She hadn't spent much time analyzing her thoughts, in fact, she had not spent much time thinking. This morning was about feelings and she felt serene.

  Anna met her at the kitchen door, kissed her cheek and served her coffee and fresh bread. Luca was not there.

  "Luca?" Sam questioned.'

  "Telefono." she replied.

  Sam broke a piece of bread off and smeared it with peach jam. She had never eaten peach jam before she arrived in Venice. The rich marmalade was full of chunks of peach that burst with slightly tart sweetness. Spread on the best bread she'd ever tasted and combined with the frothy strong aroma of the coffee, the jam blended into a symphony of flavor and texture.

  The coffee was dark and strong and delicious. Sam poured some from an oddly shaped coffee pot of gleaming metal. Its two octagonal sections twisted together at the center. Sam wondered how the coffee stayed in the top section as the dark liquid filled her plain white porcelain cup.

  Luca entered the kitchen. He took the cup his mother handed him, sat at the table across from Sam and poured some coffee for himself. He didn't mention the night before. He was businesslike and spoke quickly. "I just spoke to the Colonel on the telephone. One of the men from the Mestre station will be around to pick us up in about forty five minutes. We will go straight to the dock outside of Mestre where my men will pick us up in a boat and take us directly to headquarters. There are some people who wish to talk to us there.

  "We will take our positions in the train station by three this afternoon. The meeting with our greedy little criminal is not scheduled until about eight o'clock, but we need to be there early to see if he arrives on an earlier train."

  Sam had almost forgotten the operation she would be involved in that evening. She marveled once again at how crazy the past few days had been. Luca was barking orders again.

  "Finish your breakfast, pack your things and be ready to...."

  Sam's eyes narrowed slightly and Luca stopped talking. Sam watched his look soften. He covered her hand with his own. "I'm sorry, Samantha. I didn't mean to fall back into my arrogant, impossible manner with you. I have been trying not to upset you." He smiled and squeezed her hand. "Let me know when you are ready."

  She finished her coffee and skipped upstairs to pack her things.

  When the dark blue Alfa-Romeo police car pulled into the driveway, Sam held Anna tightly for a moment and kissed her cheek. She realized suddenly, with considerable regret, that she might never come back to the Danieli Winery. Saying goodbye to Anna was hard to do. She closed her eyes and breathed the scent of the older woman's gray hair. She glanced beyond the huge stone house at the orderly rows of vines bound and gagged to trellises. Her eyes followed the green rows up the undulating round hills. She tried to memorize the moment. The swallows played under her window upstairs. She broke away and folded herself into the back seat of the car.

  CHAPTER TEN

  On the trip back to Mestre, Luca sat up front with the driver. Sam sat behind them and listened to them speak, wondering what they were saying. Listening for words she knew. She was conscious of the burning desire, within her, to learn the language. With a stab of regret she wondered if she would have the chance someday.

  Even after last night, Sam realized, Luca was a temporary fascination. Her feelings, heightened by her own self-imposed deprivation, would not last. This was a fairy tale place with fairy tale people. It would pass like the dreams which faded upon waking and left mere impressions of themselves on her conscious thoughts.

  Dreams, like nightmares, disappear in the colors of the morning. She remembered her nightmare and waking up in Luca's arms. Sometimes what happened after a dream was more memorable than the dream itself. She hoped her memories of Luca would fade as quickly as the nightmare had. She hoped. She secretly knew it would not be so. She knew the peaceful dreamless sleep in his arms would haunt her for a long time to come. She was free of a haunting memory but feared it would be replaced by the sweeter dream of Luca's arms around her.

  She stared out the window at the country side which rushed by her and thought of Luca's fingers in her hair. He had stayed with her all night, holding her like a frightened child. She wondered how many hours he had been there. Maybe it was only an hour. Maybe it had been one of those dreams that come at dawn, the ones that stay with a person through the day because they come just before waking. She shook her head.

  No, she remembered, the night had been dark, the stars had been out and she had bared her soul to Luca, on the floor of the bedroom. She had told him things she had never told anyone. Doug was the only one who knew.

  Doug had been there. Doug had been Joe's Chief. He had pressed his anchors into her hand as the tears streamed down his face. Doug had always been there for her, but it was Luca who had embraced her in the night and had calmed her fears and made the nightmare go away.

  Maybe Doug had been right about Luca. Maybe she had fallen in love with him and maybe it was a love that was meant to last. No, she thought.

  No! No! No! She studied the passing scenery and tried to push Luca from her mind.

  The police car turned off the main road onto the gravel road that led to the docks. A Carabinieri boat was moored there, waiting. Sam and Luca climbed rapidly onboard and Luca pushed Sam down into the forward cabin of the boat.

  "We should play it safe," he said. "Stay out of sight in case someone is watching."

  They crossed the lagoon in silence. The boat rocked from side to side as the pilot skillfully navigated the labyrinth of canals, then slowed as they approached the dock.

  Luca pulled a dark blue hooded rain slicker from a bin in the forward cabin. He shook it out and held it for Sam. She understood and huddled beneath the disguise as she climbed from the boat and slipped inside the Carabinieri station through the criminal's entrance once again.

  Luca's office had been turned into a command post. Members of the intelligence community, in plain clothes, contrasted sharply with the uniformed police officers. Elaborate electronic devic
es were hooked up to the telephone where a nondescript man sat alone. He was the agent who had been contacted, Sam deduced. The telephone was patched through to the station and any phone calls would be recorded.

  When Sam and Luca entered the office, the Colonel clapped his hands and began to shout orders. A team of plainly dressed people were assembled in the office. They could have passed for anything from janitors to lawyers. They were the chameleons of the intelligence service; agents trained to look like they weren't there. As Sam glanced around the assembly, others, filed in and two uniformed men quickly cleared out.

  Colonel Garelli cleared his throat and began to talk. Everyone in the room was silent. He began with introductions. Sam did not remember all of the names. She wondered if the names were real. When the Colonel introduced her, Sam became the center of attention. She felt flattered but uncomfortable. The others stared at her and whispered to each other like they were in the presence of a legend.

  The Colonel continued, establishing teams and their posts and, setting up radio frequencies and call signs. Some of the presentation was in Italian, some of it was in English for Sam's benefit. It was brief, clear and to the point. Since there were no uniformed policemen in the group, Luca was tasked with passing on assignments to his men. When the plan was laid, the Colonel ended by pointing at his watch. "Get some lunch and be back at two thirty," he said.

  At the end of the briefing, one man, with a familiar face, detached himself from the others. He approached and hugged Sam tightly. He was the man who had been stabbed. "Thank you," he said, "You saved my life."

  Sam didn't know what to say. She hugged him lightly, careful not to put any pressure on his injured right side. It still intrigued her how easily and quickly the people there displayed affection. They loved so easily and hugged the ones they loved, naturally and unashamedly. She remembered how the Colonel had locked arms with her and Luca and led them away from the helicopter. Physical contact in Italy, just as on the ship, was inevitable.