Roman Holiday

by Phyllis A. Humphrey

  I only said, We’ll see, but I’d never been so happy.

  ****

  Back in my room, I changed clothes, and at seven thirty that night, I followed Enza and the others down narrow streets, up and down at least eight bridges, to the appointed restaurant for dinner. As we walked, Kimberly held tightly to Todd’s hand. Enza had reported that Karen, although feeling better, had not wanted to come along.

  This time, instead of sitting next to Todd, Kimberly took a chair across the long table from us, as if wanting to establish her independence, and ordered her own dinner from the menu.

  We had finished our meal and were waiting for dessert when Karen showed up. She wore a raincoat against the sudden shower out of doors, and her hair—normally always in place—looked disarranged. Her face bore a scowl, mouth curved downward, eyes narrowed into menacing slits. At the sight of her, all conversation stopped, and everyone stared in her direction.

  I felt my stomach muscles constrict, as if they sensed something bad was about to happen. I wondered if Karen had found out about Kimberly spending time with the Cartwright family and disapproved. Would she yank the girl from her seat and drag her back to the hotel? But the reality was much worse.

  I want you all to know, Karen said in a voice loud enough to attract diners at other tables, that something terrible has been going on. She paused dramatically, as if making sure she had everyone’s attention. Mr. Todd Matthews—pause—has sexually molested my daughter.

  Roman Holiday

  Chapter 20

  Tears blurred my vision, my heart felt as if it had stopped beating, and my breath caught. This was unreal, impossible. In the silence that seemed to go on forever, I stared at Karen, then looked down at Kimberly. The girl seemed traumatized by the accusation, her face drained of all color, her eyes and mouth open wide. I wondered if she tried to scream, but no sound came out.

  Enza jumped to her feet. At the same time, Kimberly, as if coming out of a trance, shouted, No! No, bent her head and pounded her fists on the table.

  Still in shock, I realized Todd, next to me, had stood up, and I turned to look at him. His fists were clenched at his sides, his face a tight, pale mask, lips thinned, eyes narrowed. I stood too and reached out to touch him, but before I could say a word, he backed up so violently he sent his chair crashing backward onto the floor and stalked from the restaurant.

  Enza strode toward Karen. Her voice low, almost menacing, she said, You will please take your daughter back to the hotel. This is not the place. This is not the time. When no one moved, she added, in a tone I’d never heard her use before, Do as I say.

  I found my own voice at last. It’s not true!

  Enza glanced at me then at everyone around the table. Do not speak of this. I will handle the problem. She gently pulled Kimberly from her seat and walked her to the door. Karen, head erect, glaring as if defying anyone to say a word, followed them out.

  My knees wobbly, my head spinning, I slumped back in the chair. As if in a dream, I heard the murmuring of others at the table and in the rest of the restaurant’s main dining room.

  It’s not true, I said again, but when Robin Waxman looked at me as if waiting for an explanation, I didn’t know what to say. I felt certain that Todd was an honorable man. Furthermore, he could not have been so attentive to me, kissing me, telling me he was in love with me, and still abuse a little girl.

  Yet, where was the proof? I had not been with Todd every moment of every day. Just this afternoon, I had walked on the piazza alone for some time before he took me for the gondola ride. Afterward, we had gone to our separate rooms to change clothes. In truth, I didn’t know what he’d been doing during those times.

  My heart pounded in my chest, and my throat became dry as dust. I don’t care, I said at last. I know it. I just know it. It’s a lie. He did not abuse Kimberly. I got to my feet again, grabbed my purse and jacket from the chair, stumbled to the doorway, and went outside.

  I saw no one. Not Enza, not Karen, Kimberly, or Todd. I felt heavy raindrops on my head but ignored them. I searched vainly for a view of Todd, then went back inside the restaurant. I would have walked back to the hotel myself, rain or not, but I didn’t know the way. I could never remember which narrow streets Enza had turned into, what bridges we’d crossed.

  I spoke to the others at the table. How do we get back to the hotel? Does anyone know the way?

  Heads shook in denial. Lance Waxman said, I might be able to do it, but I think it’s best if we take a water taxi. I’ll ask the head waiter to order it for us. He disappeared for a moment and returned to say that water taxis were busy because of the rain. It would be at least twenty minutes before we could get one.

  I went into the ladies’ restroom and closed myself into a stall where I could cry without being seen. My shoulders shook, great sobs racked my body, and my eyes burned with overflowing tears. For Todd. That anyone should accuse him of such a terrible thing made me want to scream and tear things. I hadn’t felt so frustrated, angry, and impotent since being told of my brother Howard’s death. Why did bad things happen to good people? Why?

  ****

  Eventually, the water taxi arrived and took us back to the hotel. I rushed to Todd’s room and knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. Then it occurred to me that he might not want to see any of the others.

  I spoke loudly. Todd, it’s me, Darcy. Please open the door.

  Again, no answer; not even, Go away.

  So, he didn’t want to talk about it; I could understand that. Maybe he wasn’t even in his room. Perhaps he was still outdoors, walking the streets, or in a bar getting drunk. I was sure that, under the circumstances, some men might do that very thing. At the least, he was probably in shock himself. Unless, of course, he was guilty. But I didn’t believe that.

  I finally gave up and went to my own room, undressed, and crawled into bed, but sleep failed to arrive. Over and over in my mind, the awful scene replayed itself: Karen making her dreadful announcement, Kimberly looking devastated, Todd bolting from the restaurant. And I—what had I done? Only stared in disbelief, finally protested it was a lie. Did anyone believe me? Did I believe it myself?

  The doubts I’d had at the table returned. I didn’t know where Todd had been at certain hours. For that matter, there were plenty of times during the tour that I hadn’t seen him at all. He could have been anywhere, doing anything.

  I tossed in bed, stomach churning. If he had abused Kimberly—I remembered the way he had left the restaurant, not saying anything, not denying the charge. That alone must make him look guilty.

  I also remembered Kimberly’s reaction to her mother’s statement. First, openmouthed amazement. Then that cry, No! and beating her fists on the table. What did that mean? Was it embarrassment? Was she denying Todd had touched her or upset because her mother accused him in front of everyone?

  I turned in the bed again, the bedclothes tangling around my legs. I felt confused and angry, but mainly I felt helpless. I didn’t know what to do or if I could do anything. In spite of my strong feelings for Todd, I felt like a bystander in the drama. And yet I knew my doubts were unfounded. I knew Todd was innocent.

  Then I realized I was not completely helpless; I could pray. I closed my eyes tightly, put my hands together on top of the sheets and asked the Lord to help me. A passage from the Bible came to me almost immediately. Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.

  I should not try to figure it out from the material picture before me but trust God to reveal the truth to me and everyone. I sighed and wiped the tears that ran down my face. Then I prayed to know that all God’s dear children were kind, loving, and admirable. Eventually, I slept.

  ****

  In the morning, I again tried Todd’s door, but when he didn’t answer, I wondered if he’d gone downstairs for breakfast. Oh, get real, I told myself. He’s just been accused of child molestation, and he’s going to calmly eat sausage and egg
s? Even though I wasn’t cold, I shivered.

  I entered the large dining room anyway, because that’s where everyone had been meeting every morning, and I didn’t know what else to do. Sure, I could go out now that it was daylight and the rain had stopped and try to find him. But even if I could keep from getting lost—and, with a stab of pain, I remembered how Todd had pointed out signs that directed tourists toward the Grand Canal—I felt it would be hopeless. Besides, someone, probably Enza, would know where he was.

  Inside the large, cheerful room, buffet tables offering what now seemed normal greeted me: cereal, fruit, meat, cheese, and eggs, plus dozens of various kinds of bread and rolls. I saw a few other hotel guests serving themselves from the tables but no one else from my tour. After hesitating a few moments, I picked up a plate and approached the many food platters but became queasy and couldn’t imagine eating anything. I made a cup of tea and took it to a table in the corner to wait for the others.

  A few minutes later, Mary and John Perkins joined me. John went to the buffet table to get his breakfast, but Mary sat down next to me and spoke softly, kindly.

  I can imagine how you must feel, and I want you to know that both John and I believe Todd is innocent.

  I mumbled a Thank you.

  We’ve lived longer than you, and we’ve interacted with lots of people, Mary continued. I don’t think we could have been that wrong about Todd Matthews. He would never do such a terrible thing.

  I remembered my doubts from the night before. We’ve only known him for a few days, I said. Isn’t it possible—?

  Anything is possible, but in Todd’s case, I find it highly improbable that he’s such a monster and we wouldn’t know.

  I hope and pray you’re right.

  John returned with a plate heaped with fruit, eggs, and bread. You hope what’s right?

  She hopes I’m right to say Todd is innocent of Karen’s accusation. Mary stood up and headed for the buffet table, and John sat down on my other side.

  That Karen, John said, is a piece of work. I’ve met women like her before. He shook his head. A predator, out for something, and when she doesn’t get it, she has to spoil life for everybody else.

  Out for—you mean Todd, I said.

  For Todd, of course. It’s been obvious right from the start that she set her cap for him. Excuse me for using such an old-fashioned expression, but that’s what we would have called it in my day.

  Robin and Lance Waxman entered the dining room and came toward us. May we join you?

  While John and Lance brought more chairs, Robin headed for the buffet and returned soon with a glass of orange juice. As Lance went to get his own food, Robin leaned toward me. Don’t be upset. We’re on your side.

  I tried to smile. You think Todd is innocent?

  Robin didn’t answer for a moment, sipping her juice. Well, of course, we don’t know him all that well. But you spent time with him, and if you’re certain, then we are too.

  Her comment didn’t reassure me very much, and I put my cup to my lips to hide my trembling mouth. I didn’t want to cry again, not in public. But where is he? I asked. Has anyone seen him since last night?

  Robin shook her head, and the others looked equally perplexed.

  Lance returned and sat down. Great food, isn’t it?

  Oh, Lance, Robin said, how can anyone eat this morning?

  I can. I don’t have a guilty conscience.

  Lance!

  His face flushed, he looked at me. Sorry. That just sort of slipped out. I mean, we don’t think Todd really—that is—

  What Lance is trying to say, Robin offered, is that it might not have been his fault.

  What do you mean? Mary asked.

  Well, let’s be realistic. Kimberly is thirteen, and nowadays girls are very sophisticated.

  Some girls, even in my office, Lance said, dress and act like hookers.

  And, Robin went on, you have to admit that she hung around him a lot. It’s obvious she had a crush on him.

  No, I said, it wasn’t like that. She treated him more like a father. She looked up to him.

  Well, I could be wrong, Robin said, but if Kimberly was flattered by his attention, and if Todd was the kind of man who would take advantage of that—well, I’m just saying, it might have happened.

  I listened but couldn’t believe Robin’s theory. I knew that never happened. Then my conversation with Kimberly about teenagers having babies leaped into my mind. Did Kimberly want to do that? No, I told myself, that wasn’t Kimberly, that was her friend. Right, myself told me back, like people never pretend it’s someone else they’re talking about. Was it possible Robin was right, and Kimberly had such a crush on Todd that she’d seduce him? I couldn’t believe she thought of him as anything but a father figure.

  I’d awakened that morning with a firm conviction that justice would be done, and nothing anyone said would convince me otherwise. My voice rose. I won’t believe that. Todd did not do anything to Kimberly, and I don’t believe she wanted him to.

  Mary touched my hand. I agree with you, and I applaud you for having faith in him.

  I hope you’re right, Robin said. I really do.

  Me, too, Lance said. Oh-oh, look who’s coming. He jumped up and pulled over another small table, and then I saw Enza and Kimberly.

  John also got up, and the men brought over more chairs. Enza, her arm around Kimberly’s shoulders, led the girl to the expanded table and they sat. No one spoke for a long moment.

  Enza looked around at the group. I am happy to say that the, er, problem is over. I assure you, the thing Mrs. Vale said—it was not true.

  Kimberly, eyes red from crying, spoke in a shaky voice. I don’t know why my mother said what she did. It isn’t true, and she knows it.

  But why—? John Perkins asked.

  She thought—I don’t know—

  Enza spoke again. For most of yesterday, Kimberly was with a nice American family, the Cartwrights, and Mrs. Vale leaped to a wrong conclusion. She is sorry now. I spoke to her a few minutes ago, and she has asked me to apologize to you.

  Mary Perkins asked, But why would she make such an accusation?

  She took medication for her sickness, Enza said, and she thinks it made her—I’m afraid I do not know the English word.

  Paranoid? Robin said.

  While others murmured their own version, Lance muttered, Probably sloshed as well.

  Remembering Karen’s indulgence in plenty of wine at dinner and Kimberly having told me her mother often drank liquor at home, I thought Lance might be closer to the truth. The excuse that her medication made her do it sounded almost as lame as the customary, My dog ate my homework.

  Gradually, their appetites apparently restored, Robin and Lance returned to the buffet.

  I remained at the table with Kimberly. I put my arm around the girl, and she clutched my hand. Mr. Matthews never— she said, looking up at me.

  I know. I turned to Enza. Do you believe what Karen said?

  Enza asked Kimberly to please bring her a plate of fruit, and when the girl was safely out of earshot, she turned to me and spoke softly. When we returned from the restaurant, I told Mrs. Vale that she had made a serious charge and that I would have to call the police, and we would make a report. She glanced up before continuing. Then Mrs. Vale admitted she had spoken wrongly, saying that, because of her sickness and the medicine, she wasn’t herself.

  And what about Mr. Matthews? I pressed. Has Mrs. Vale apologized to him? Has anyone told him she admitted it was a lie?

  Enza shook her head slowly. No. I am sorry. The desk clerk has told me that late last night Mr. Matthews checked out of the hotel.

  Karen’s words the night before had been bad enough. Now, the news that Todd had gone tightened my throat and turned my body cold. Before last night, I’d felt that I might fall in love with him, that Mr. Right had shown up to prove anything was possible. But then Karen had made her accusation, and now that my faith in him had just been restored,
he was gone. I’d never see him again, and he’d never know that Karen had admitted she lied.

  Roman Holiday

  Chapter 21

  After breakfast, I went to my room and fell across the bed. I prayed, thanking God for revealing the truth. But what now? Continuing the tour seemed unnatural, unreal. Maybe Enza was downstairs even now, organizing something with the others, but I couldn’t bring myself to be a part of it. How could I go sightseeing and pretend to enjoy myself when my mind was stuck in shock and concern?

  But what else could I do? I had one more day on my schedule, a day I was supposed to be gathering information for my article, but I didn’t really need more. I already had enough for twenty articles, to say nothing of the facts in the guidebooks.

  Go home a day early? That held no more appeal than staying in Venice.

  But wait, there was something. After learning that Todd had checked out of the hotel, I doubted I would ever see him again, but then I remembered he told me he was going to Lake Como and had even mentioned the name of the hotel. A sudden impetuosity, that was not unusual in my case, overcame me, and I knew I had to leave Venice right away and go to Lake Como. I had to find Todd and talk to him. I jumped off the bed and began to pack.

  Half an hour later, downstairs in the lobby, I decided to leave a message for Enza, and I went to one of the little desks in a corner where there was some hotel stationery. But as I started to write a note, I spied Kimberly sitting on one of the sofas and looking morose.

  I walked over to her. Are you okay?

  Yeah, I guess.

  Don’t be too hard on your mother, I said. I’m sure she feels just as bad about this misunderstanding as the rest of us.

  But she’ll never admit it.

  If she needs help— I started.

  She never listens to me.

  Maybe she’d listen to someone else.

  Like who?

  A school counselor?