Sisterchicks in Gondolas! (9 page)

Sue was already on the roof. She turned to me with a serene expression. “Look,” she said softly.

At our feet, Venezia had transformed while we were washing dishes. A twilight hush lingered over the darkened water. In every direction we spotted amber lights—lights on boats skimming across the water, lights in windows of homes that lined the piazza, lights tucked in the winding alleys in the distance that promised cafés open for business. With the absence of glaring streetlights, car lights, and other illuminations that brightened the sky in most cities, Venezia took advantage of the flattering glow and showed off what she seemed to consider her best side.

Sue and I looked around for a long time before snuggling into our beds on the rooftop.

O
nce Sue and I
were tucked cozily into our beds, we noticed that the stars overhead were ready to take over the city’s light show, impressing us with their bountiful twinkles.

“I wonder who’s sleeping in the princess suite,” Sue said.

“Someone who will be as ready as we are for a good night’s sleep.”

“Do you think we’re going to be okay up here?” Sue asked.

“Yes, I think we’re well protected.” I meant protected by our heavenly Father, but Sue took it to mean protected by the raised wall that kept us out of sight from anyone who might look up in our direction.

“I’d feel more protected if the wall were another foot higher.”

“Sue, when was the last time you slept outside?”

She thought awhile. “When I was a Camp Fire Girl. That had to be more than forty years ago.”

“Then it’s time to sleep once again in the cradle of the night.”

Sue responded with a glimmer of the wit that I knew lay just under the surface of her hesitancies. “Do you think we can earn a merit badge for this?”

I chuckled.

“Don’t you think it would be nice to have something to show for all we’ve accomplished in this long day?” she asked, warming up to the topic. “I mean, we flew across the world, for starters.”

“And found our way here,” I added.

“And set up everything for the men.”

“But God clearly provided the food for tonight,” I added.

“Yes, but we figured out how everything in the kitchen worked. And we didn’t break anything.”

“True.”

Sue kept going. “You spoke Italian, and people understood you.”

“Yes, but you started a fresh page in a new notebook with two, count ‘em, due, gelato flavors.”

“I did, didn’t I? But then, I also bit off all my fingernails today. I don’t know if you noticed.”

“I noticed.”

“Did you really, or are you just saying that?”

“I really noticed. I always notice your hands. I can tell how you’re doing by the condition of your fingernails.”

“I never knew that.”

“There’s a lot you and I don’t know about each other.” Our friendship was formed hard and fast in a time of need. The focus had been on doing all we could for a man we both loved—my brother, her husband. After my divorce I had been ostracized from my family. Callie and I did holidays on our own and for our birthdays didn’t expect gifts from family members. In our isolation my darling girl and I became our own family. We did okay, but only because we were part of a wonderful church community that welcomed us as its own.

Everything changed with my family when Jack went into a coma. I showed up, and no one asked where I’d been for twenty years. They just accepted me again, and we all started over. Sue opened her heart to me, and I crawled right in, making a little place for myself as cozy as the birds’ nest she and I were settled in now on this Venetian rooftop. She found an equally inviting corner in my heart where she could feel at home.

Sue shifted around in her bed, rearranging the covers.

“Are you comfy?” I asked.

“Getting there.”

“Warm enough?”

“Yes.” She lay still for a few moments before asking, “Jenna, are you at all nervous?”

“No.”

“I don’t think I am right now, either. I should be, but I’m not. It’s a strange feeling.”

“It’s a good feeling.” I smiled contentedly and soon fell asleep under a canopy of angel winks.

My journey through dreamland was peacefully uninterrupted until the first gleam of light broke over me. With the light came a lot of clatter.

Stretching and crawling out of my blanket haven, I leaned over the left side of our lookout tower, feeling like a spy who peered down on the citizens below. A hand-pushed cart stacked high with boxes that looked like they were on their way to the grocery store came rumbling over the piazza. Without delivery trucks, every item in Venice had to be hand carried, pushed around on carts, or paddled down the canals by boat.

To the right of our turret, a fishing boat with a small outboard motor puttered down the canal. Two well-dressed children sat on the front bench of the boat, swatting at each other.

Sue moaned. “What time is it?”

“Six-thirty.”

“In the morning?”

“Yes. Six-thirty in the morning in Venezia, Sue! Buon giorno!”

She rolled over. “Please tell me we don’t have to get up yet.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’ll get up. See? I’m getting up now.” She didn’t move.

I stretched and made my bed as best I could.

“How can you be so awake?” she muttered.

“You can keep sleeping, Sue. I can go to the bakery by myself.”

“No, I want to go. Really.” Still, she didn’t move.

“The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, right?”

“My flesh is still asleep. Would it be okay if I sleepwalked to the bakery?”

“Sure. I’ll watch that you don’t stumble into any canals.”

Opening one eye, Sue looked up at me. “We really are in Venice, aren’t we?”

I nodded.

She yawned. “Wow. I thought I’d had an elaborate dream. Don’t go anywhere yet. I’m coming. Really. I’m getting up now.” With determination, Sue rolled onto her back, lifted her tangled covers, and then fluffed them up in a billowy tent. She pulled the sheet and blanket up to her chin.

“What are you doing?”

“Making my bed.” She completed the process by extracting the lower half of her body one leg at a time. “There.” Smoothing the rippled covers, she stepped back to view her accomplishment with satisfaction.

“I’m guessing you’re looking for another merit badge for that little achievement, aren’t you?”

“That was kind of fun.” She appeared to be more awake now. “I haven’t tried that since Camp Fire Girl days, either. What about you? How did you sleep?”

“Great! Are you ready to find a bakery?”

“After you.” Sue motioned to the stairs that led down to the apartment. We dressed quickly and quietly, hearing snores that reverberated from behind the closed bedroom doors. In our sleeping loft the brightness of the new day and the outside noises had awakened us. Inside the cooled palace, the closed shutters kept the interior dark and sheltered from the outside clattering. The men should sleep deeply for several more hours. Unless they were experiencing jet lag as well.

I wished I could take a warm shower and wash my hair, but we needed to get to the market, and I was afraid the noise of the running water would wake the others. Pulling on my wrinkled chinos and a clean shirt, I noticed how swollen my ankles were. I wasn’t used to walking as much as I had yesterday. But I knew it was good for me, and I felt good.

Sue took a little longer to organize herself, but I could tell she was trying to hurry. Her hair was a monumental challenge. She managed to corral it into a ponytail, and we exited as quietly as we could.

We did fine making our way out of the building, but
once we were outside, we couldn’t agree on the directions to the grocery store. My vote was to cross the bridge and turn right. Sue insisted we were supposed to cross the bridge and then go straight.

“Jenna, should I remind you about the hospital incident? Or will you just trust my sense of direction?”

Several weeks earlier Sue’s mom had needed a ride to the hospital for some tests. I volunteered to take her and delivered her on time but to the wrong hospital.

“My car automatically goes to Southland General,” I protested in the middle of the footbridge that led away from our palace. “After all the trips I made to Southland for Jack, all I have to do is put the key in the ignition, say the word ‘hospital,’ and my car goes to Southland on its own. It doesn’t know how to get to St. Joseph’s.”

“All I’m saying is that you’re better off trusting me with the directions.”

“Hey,” I said in playful defense. “You asked me to drive your mother to the hospital. I drove her to ‘a hospital,’ okay?”

“You’re digging yourself a deeper hole, Jenna. Let’s just say that we have different gifts, you and I. If it’s directions we’re wondering about during this trip, why don’t we go with my instincts? Besides, I’m the one with the map now, remember?”

“I suppose you’re going to try to earn a direction merit badge this morning,” I teased.

We probably could have kept on with our sassy comments, but we had been walking this whole time and had to end our discussion because we were standing in front of the grocery store. Sue’s instincts on the directions were right.

However, the store wasn’t open. A panetteria was conveniently located across the way. Stepping inside, the delicious scent of freshly baked bread wafted our way and tickled our palates pink. Sue could chase down her favorite gelato all around town, but I’d be happy to sample every baked goodie at every one of Venezia’s panetterias.

Two other people stood in line in front of us to order their daily bread. When it was our turn, I stepped up to the counter. Since I was the designated linguist of this expedition team, I started the conversation by smiling at the woman in the apron and saying, “Buon giorno.”

“Buon giorno.” She had golden hazel-colored eyes. I’d never seen eyes that color before.

I pointed at the round rolls that looked as if they were brushed with egg white on top to make them shiny. They were the most beautiful ones for sale. “Nine of these rolls, per favore.” To make my order clear, I held up one hand with five outstretched fingers and on the other hand I utilized my thumb and first three fingers and said, “Nine.”

“
Nove
?” She repeated.

“Si. Nove.”

I pulled out some of the money Sam had sent me
ahead of time to purchase food. The change came back in coins along with the rolls wrapped up in a bundle of what looked like butcher paper.

“Grazie,” I said, hearing the “r” roll slightly on my tongue for the first time.

“Prego,”
she replied, her expression warming.

Feeling confident and because no one was waiting behind us, I decided to further our conversation. In slow English I asked, “Do you sell coffee? Espresso?”

“Caffe?”
Her answer after my nod was a long string of Italian.

“What did she say?” Sue asked.

“I have no idea. I think I know just enough Italian to be dangerous. She obviously thinks I understand her.”

The woman seemed to be asking me a question. I gave her an apologetic shrug.

Sue stepped up and added a little dramatic interpretation. “We need to buy some
caf-fay
to take home.” She acted out pouring coffee into a cup of coffee and drinking the hot beverage. Then she pointed out the door. “To go.
Caf-fay
to go.
Chow.”

She actually was quite entertaining, and I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

The golden eyes of the amused woman crinkled in the corners. She held up her hand, as if indicating we should wait there while she went into the back. I hoped she had an English-speaking baker hiding out there.

Instead, she returned with a metal mixing bowl in her hands. I feared our communication triangle had failed. But then she showed us that the bowl was filled with fragrant ground coffee. With a smile she held out the bowl for us to take. I had the distinct feeling she had emptied her own coffee canister to provide for our need.

“Grazie, grazie,” I said, holding out a ten-euro bill. I had no idea if that was enough.

“No, no,” the woman said. She tapped the side of the metal mixing bowl and spoke the same phrase to us several times, looking at me implicitly.

I guessed she needed the bowl back so I said, “Si, si.”

She nodded, appearing satisfied that we were of one mind on the matter. With a wave she said, “Ciao,” and we were out the door.

“That was gracious of her,” Sue said.

“I know. You don’t find hospitality like that very often at home.”

“It feels so different here,” Sue said.

“Yes, it does.” I was smiling the same way I’d smiled when we had arrived in Venice yesterday morning. I noticed that Sue wasn’t biting her nails. That was a good sign.