To Tuscany with Love (10 page)

Stillman’s hand rubbed up and down her arm. “It’s OK.” His whispered words seemed calm; he was wide awake. “It’s Rune and Karen. They’ve been at it awhile.” His words didn’t seem to disturb the others. The creaking from the opposite bunk kept its cadence.

Bella thought of Karen’s faceless fiancé.

“Bitchin’ way to celebrate her engagement to a guy 4,000 miles away,” Stillman whispered. “The preacher would damn them both to hell.”

Before she could respond, Stillman silenced her lips in the nicest way she could imagine.

“Stillman.” Rune’s whisper spanned the space between them. “Want to take over watch duty?” His words slurred from his sated state.

“No problem.” Stillman shifted on the bunk, his arm encouraging Bella to curl her backside into him. “It’s only a few more hours to Paris. I’ve got it covered.” He kissed Bella’s ear. “Try to sleep,” he told her.

Bella nestled against him and drifted off.

Bella slept for several hours snuggled against Stillman. The couchette door rattled; Bella rubbed her eyes and lifted up on her elbows. Daylight streamed through the open train window. Their compartment-mates exchanged rapid-fire words. The two strangers rolled out of their bunks and crouched, facing the compartment door in a fight-ready position.

Another rattle and the door parted from the casing. Phillip led Lee into the cramped space. He stopped two feet from the larger stranger. Rune rolled over the top of Karen and vaulted to the floor.

“Hey, guys,” Rune said. “Meet the charming gentlemen sharing our compartment. A couple of straight-up guys, but not too talkative.” He pinched his fingers together like he was smoking a joint and pantomimed taking a drag. Rune glared at the taller man, as if daring him to take a swing.

The larger stranger grabbed both of the Middle Easterners’ duffel bags and shoved Phillip out of his way. Lee moved to let the strangers exit. The two men disappeared down the corridor.

“Sociable fellows, weren’t they?” Lee said.

“You met our couchette-mates,” said Bella. “Who bunked with you?”

“Nuns.” Lee’s voice growled his disappointment. Then he laughed. “None of us dared share bunks with the two of them saying their “Hail Marys,” “Our Fathers,” and “Glory Bes” loud enough for everyone to hear.”

Phillip laughed. He turned to clap Lee on the shoulder. “I counted twenty full rosaries before I fell asleep.”

Lee grinned. “Beat ya. I probably heard fifty. After all that prayer last night, Phillip and I figured we should leave and give the nuns some privacy to get ready this morning. Meghan and Hope told us they’d wait there for all of us.”

“The train is slowing down.” Stillman nodded toward the corridor. “Let’s meet up with the other girls and blow this pop stand.”

Phillip’s hand closed over Bella’s arm when she passed him. “Let’s switch room arrangements on the way back. How about it?”

“I like the way we split up this time,” Lee said. “Maybe on the return trip we won’t be stuck with nuns. I’d love to cozy up to Meghan on the ride home.”

Karen giggled. “The girls should all ride together so we can compare our new lingerie.”

“I want in on that action.” Rune rubbed his hands together.

Bella felt Stillman’s eyes on her. Phillip squeezed her arm and stepped closer to her. The train hissed and lurched to a stop.

Bella looked at Stillman, and then at Phillip. The two of them must be smoking something, she thought. They actually thought she’d do it with them on a train? Kissing and heavy petting was one thing, but no way she’d give up her virginity in a cramped couchette. No way.

11

San Gimignano, Italy

T
he following week, their chaperone drove them to San Gimignano to study the art and history of the famous hill town. Their van stopped far below the walls of the ancient towered city. Bella slid on her backpack. The morning sun warmed her bare arms.

Ugh. Without a doubt, her back would turn into a sticky sweat pool beneath the backpack’s rough fabric before she had finished the long, uphill hike to the village entrance. Bella’s pack, with her notebook and reference books on the culture and traditions of medieval Tuscany, dug into her back. Shifting the straps’ position on her shoulders was of no help.

Bella dreaded the day. The deadline for her second research paper loomed in two days. The prospect of compiling her notes into annotated form and formal academic style seemed to her as much fun as cleaning a communal bathroom after a horde of middle school boys had used it for a week at summer camp. She’d procrastinated, thinking this visit to San Gimignano would somehow make finishing the paper easier. Wrong. Now she had no choice, but it was the last thing she felt like doing.

She knelt to tighten her sandal strap. Phillip and Stillman passed her. Neither wore a backpack.

Bella caught up with them and wedged herself into the middle. “What’s up? Where are your backpacks?”

Stillman grinned. “I’m done. Finished my paper two days ago.”

She searched Phillip’s face. He nodded.

She pulled away from them. “You guys are too ambitious, just like Hope. My roomie finished her paper days ago. I’d hoped you two would pool resources with me and write through the night together. Hope will be sleeping, so we could use your room.”

Stillman raised his eyebrows at her. “I’ll spend the night with you.”

Phillip draped an arm over her shoulders. “How ’bout I keep you company? I’ll start the book I borrowed from Lee while you work.”

“We can both keep you company,” Stillman said, “and play poker or something.”

“You can both go to hell,” Bella said. They trudged the final stretch to the curved stone entrance of the city in silence. Inside, a few tiny shops showed signs of life. A rotund man wearing a starched white butcher’s apron tugged on a four-foot stuffed wild boar. He positioned the taxidermy trophy to the side of his entry, proud of this visual advertisement for his meats. Bella shuddered.

Stillman and Phillip stopped at an espresso bar. Bella shook her head when they urged her to join them.

She continued walking up the dark, cool street. The narrow space felt more like an alley than a thoroughfare. Bella reached the end of the street. It opened into the main stone piazza with a cistern in the center and the Cathedral of San Gimignano on one side. The sunny plaza was empty of people.

Bella walked around, looking for a place to sit and work, but found herself peering into the windows of the shops and thinking about which ones she’d enter later. She saw a wide outdoor stone staircase not far beyond the cathedral and wondered where it led. She started toward the steps.

“Bella, wait up,” Phillip called out to her as he crossed the piazza toward her.

“I thought you were getting espresso,” Bella said.

“One was enough for me.” Phillip smiled. “I’d take you over Stillman any day.” He pointed to the steps. “Want to find out where they lead?”

To her surprise, the steps led to a sunny rooftop courtyard at the edge of the city’s wall. Beyond the low wall, green, rolling hills dotted with cypress trees, vineyards, and a few clay-roofed houses created an idyllic landscape. She exclaimed at the beauty of it.

Phillip moved behind her and tugged the backpack off her shoulders. He grabbed her hand and brought her to the wall. Phillip dropped the backpack and turned to Bella. Without a word, he cradled her chin in his hands and kissed her with tender lips.

Bella wasn’t surprised Phillip had kissed her. He’d been flirting with her and vying for her attention every day.

What surprised her was the shock wave that ran through her body when his lips met hers.

After the night on the train to Paris, Bella was convinced that she’d sleep with Stillman this summer. True, Phillip had been attentive, funny, and charming when he would walk with her in the afternoons. But when they stopped for lunch and whenever he was near her at night, Stillman found a way to pull Bella into a doorway or side street to kiss her—the Italian groping kind of kiss. Stillman’s kisses and hands had left Bella craving for more.

Every night, Stillman had asked her to come to his room, but how could she? Phillip was Stillman’s roommate. The truth was that Bella wasn’t ready to spend her time exclusively with Stillman, because she loved her afternoons with Phillip. With Phillip, she relaxed. Somehow, he managed to make her laugh and confide in him. She had even shared her worries about being so far from her mother.

After that kiss with Phillip—their first—he pulled his head away from hers. “Is this OK?” he said.

“Try that again,” she said in a throaty voice, “and I’ll let you know.” And that’s exactly what he did.

Phillip and Bella had the rooftop courtyard to themselves. They stood by the wall and kissed, not the sweaty, urgent kind she’d had with Stillman, but more soft and slow. Before long, he pulled away from her and asked if she needed to work on her paper. He volunteered to help her write it and pointed to the bench where they could sit and work.

Bella had procrastinated until she had no choice. If she didn’t finish her paper, she’d flunk the course. She nodded, reluctantly picking up her backpack and moving to the bench. They reviewed her notes for a few minutes, and then Bella couldn’t stand it anymore.

She looked out at the vineyards stretching away from the ancient city. She did homework back home. This was Italy, probably her only chance to come here, and it seemed a waste of a day to spend it compiling a paper. Bella knew Lee and Meghan were sneaking away together every chance they got. Her nights were spent in a tiny room with Hope. She said, “I’ll study later. Want to see how many more rooftop courtyards we can find?”

Phillip and Bella explored San Gimignano together, hand in hand. She felt comfortable and at ease with him. He told jokes with self-deprecating humor and kept her laughing at his banter.

By unspoken agreement, they avoided the city center. They took turns tugging each other into doorways and even smaller side streets for quick, flirty kisses and hugs. They both kept it light and playful.

Eventually, their casual touring had to end, as it was time to join the group for lunch. As they rounded the last corner, Bella squeezed Phillip’s hand and said, “It was a great morning.” In truth, it had been the best morning of the summer. Looking ahead for signs of their group, she released Phillip’s hand. Great morning or not, Bella knew she didn’t want Stillman to see her cozying up with Phillip.

Phillip nodded. “I’d like more of these mornings.”

So would Bella. The only problem was that now she had not one but two guys who turned her on.

After lunch, the guys stayed at the table to finish off the wine. The weather-bleached steps of the cathedral beckoned to Bella. She planted herself on the cool stone steps, her backpack beside her. She sighed. Time to work. She studied her notes about the city and museums. The sun, thankfully, dried her sweaty back.

Across the square, Bella spotted a tiny, stooped woman dressed all in black pulling a young boy by his hand. His mouth worked overtime, providing nonstop, lyrical Italian chatter to the older woman—probably his grandmother.

Bella watched them trudge past her up the steps and disappear into the cathedral. She glanced at the papers on her lap. She reread from the top of the page. Her handwritten notes swirled under her gaze. Crap. This wasn’t working. She stuffed everything back into her pack and followed the woman and boy up the stairs and into the church.

The morning sun beat through the church’s front windows, creating stripes of bright rainbow colors on the floor. Bella entered in time to see the grandmother push the boy into a confessional. The elderly woman knelt next to the curtained space, created from wood ornately carved to feature an oval relief of a battered Christ carrying his cross. Bella could hear the woman’s soft cadence, praying Hail Marys in Italian.

Bella knelt on the wooden kneeler three pews back. She bowed her head over her folded hands and thought of her mother.

The confessional curtain slid open. The elderly woman finished her prayer, and then jumped to her feet. The boy stammered out something in Italian to the woman, and then hung his head, as if ashamed. She nodded, pulled him into the pew beside her, and thrust her rosary into his palms. The boy bowed his head. Bella could hear him murmur. She stared at the open confessional. She hadn’t been inside one since her confirmation, years before.