To Tuscany with Love (9 page)

10

Night train Milan, Italy to Paris, France

A
fter running to catch the train, Bella and Karen collapsed onto a lower bunk. Stillman and Rune swung themselves onto the two top berths of the six-person couchette. The train jerked, then swayed side to side as it lumbered away from the loading platform in Milan.

Karen giggled. “I didn’t think we’d make it.”

Washed with relief, Bella sprawled on the hard berth, her arms and legs splayed out. “I know Lee wanted to be prepared.” She gestured to the two bags crammed with food and bottled water on the floor of their couchette. “But those heavy suckers nearly cost us our train.”

Bella laughed, thinking of their awkward dash through Milano Centrale with the guys carrying heavy bags of provisions, dodging fellow passengers, small children, and the occasional large pushcart stacked with luggage. Their stop at the small store a block from the station gobbled up precious time and nearly cost them the trip.

Stillman’s head appeared above them over their berth, as he leaned into the center aisle. “By the way, thanks for the treat, Rune.” He stretched one hand out toward Rune, who was perched cross-legged on the opposite top berth.

Rune slapped Stillman’s hand in a “low-five.”

“Thank the artists of Florence, whose paintings I resold at a profit.”

Karen giggled again. She slid out of the berth and stood tiptoe next to Rune’s berth. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him toward her, planting a long, loud kiss on his mouth. “That’s for your part in giving me a trip to Paris. This is going to be a blast, although you did take advantage of those painters.”

Rune mocked offense. “You feel sorry for them? Because I purchased their watercolors at the going rate and sold them to Americans starved for a touch of Europe? Hell, they should thank me. I introduced their art to America. Thanks for the kiss, by the way, but won’t the dude you’re going to marry get pissed at you for stuff like that?”

“He’ll never know,” Karen said. “We’re not married yet, and I intend to enjoy this last summer of freedom. I’d be stupid to not live it up while I’m in Europe. I have a lifetime to be married, but only one summer here.”

Bella stood up next to Karen. She pulled Rune’s head toward her and touched his mouth with a light kiss.

“Hell of an entrepreneur,” Stillman said. He swung down next to Karen and Bella, so they stood side by side in the narrow space between the two triple bunks. Stillman wrapped an arm around each girl. “Now, as they say, it’s a long train to Paris, and we can party down. Where’s the wine?”

The sliding door to the tiny compartment jerked open.

“Hey.” Phillip pushed his way inside, with a gloomy look on his face. “This is no fun, being split up.” He walked into the compartment until he stood beside Bella. “All eight of us could cram together.”

Rune vaulted out of the top berth and stretched his hands toward the ceiling. “Nah. This is way better. I’d rather take our chances and play roommate roulette. Maybe we’ll score and end up with only four and have extra room.”

Bella felt Stillman’s arm tighten around her waist. “Yeah. It’s better. I bet no one shows up.”

“Want to switch compartments?” Phillip asked Rune.

Rune leaned back. “I like it here.”

“Me, too.” Stillman answered Phillip’s question before it was even asked.

Phillip scowled and looked at Bella. “We’re three doors down, if you need anything.” He tugged on the sliding pocket door to close it behind him, but it stuck halfway open. He swore, and jerked on the door.

“Leave it.” Stillman’s voice seemed to infuriate Phillip even more.

Phillip pounded his fist against the uncooperative door and then squeezed through the gap. He stomped off in the direction of his couchette.

Stillman, full of confidence, released Bella and Karen and addressed the door. He jiggled it back and forth until it broke free and slid closed. Bella and Karen sat side by side on one of the lower berths. Rune opened a bottle of wine, took a swig, and then passed it to Stillman, who drank and passed it to the girls. They took turns sharing the wine and discussing which of the cookies they’d try first.

Soon, they heard male voices muttering outside the door. Again, the door rattled and then edged open.

Two turban-clad men with dark complexions looked at the four students with obvious disdain. They consulted their tickets and then entered the compartment.

Stillman and the girls backed up to the window side of the couchette. The men gestured to two berths. They looked at Rune. Without waiting for a response, they tossed their black cylinder bags onto the bunks.

The taller and thicker man nodded in the direction of the girls and spoke loudly in an indecipherable language to his companion. Karen scooted closer to Bella.

Bella squinted at the two men. Following the president’s lead, the U.S. had backed Iraq in its war with Iran. She wondered about the nationality of their cabin mates. They looked Middle Eastern, but that could mean they were from Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Iran, or a host of other Middle Eastern countries. Beginning with the boycott of the 1980 Olympics and now the Iraq-Iran War, the U.S. continued to take sides in that part of the world, meaning her country had made enemies. How did these two men feel about the U.S.? Friend or foe?

Karen whispered in Bella’s ear, “They either think we’re lesbian or want to rape us. But I’m not sure which.”

Bella nodded, her eyes on the two strangers. Then, as abruptly as they had joined them, the strangers strode back into the corridor and disappeared. They left their bags behind.

Rune stuck his head into the hall, then pulled back into the couchette and closed the door behind him. He shot a glance up at Stillman. “You stand guard. I’ll check the bags. Listen first to make sure there’s not a bomb.”

Stillman slid down and cocked his ear next to each bag, his mouth pursed as he concentrated. “I don’t hear a thing.” He took a position in front of the door.

Rune slid one of the bags to the edge of the berth. “Think it’s safe to open?”

Stillman nodded, leaning his head next to the door to listen for anyone approaching in the hallway. His body swayed back and forth with the train’s movement.

Rune pulled on the zipper and pried the top of the bag open. Examining the contents, he burst into laughter. “Contraband.”

Bella slid off the bunk to see for herself. Grain alcohol, folded paper packets, and cigarettes filled the bag.

Stillman abandoned his post to inspect the bag, too. He pulled out one packet of paper, four inches square and half an inch thick.

Rune grabbed the packet from Stillman and opened it. A flat cake of dark brown rested on the white paper.

“What is it?” Karen asked, cowering on the opposite bunk.

Rune grinned at her. “Hashish.” He smelled it. “Yup. Spicy as hell. Want some?”

Stillman moved back to the door and leaned against it to listen. He tipped his head at Rune. “Put it back, man. Those two would probably kill us if we stole from them.”

Bella retreated from the bag and curled next to Karen on the bunk. “I’ll bet they’re Muslim. So much for them being pure in spirit and action.”

Rune tossed the packet into the bag. He wolf-whistled and pulled out a long-stemmed wooden pipe. He waved the pipe in the air.

“Knock it off, Rune,” Stillman said, his ear resting against the door.

Rune threw the pipe into the bag and zipped it up. “Get them away from home and those camel jockeys go berserk.”

“What about all those rules they live by?” Bella wrinkled her nose. The strangers’ bags stunk like perspiration and dust and old gym socks. She looked at Karen. “It may be a long night with them.”

“I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink.” Karen looked as worried as she sounded.

Rune, who had returned to his bunk, leaned his head over the edge and raised one eyebrow. “One or both of you ladies can share my bunk. We could give those junkies something to talk about back home.”

Karen giggled and grinned up at Rune.

Stillman nodded at Bella. “We’ll protect you. Don’t worry.” He plopped down beside her.

Bella felt Stillman’s shoulder against hers. His hand draped over hers, easy and nonchalant.

The train rounded a bend, rocked, and then jerked left with a shudder. The sudden shift sent Bella sliding against Karen, who fell onto the bed. Stillman landed on top of Bella. At that moment, the compartment door rattled open and admitted their two Middle Eastern couchette-mates. The taller of the two spat a string of words at the other, the contempt apparent on his face. He glared at the jumble of bodies. One word of his litany was crystal clear:
infidels
.

The shorter man rested one hand on the edge of the bunk and stared at the duffle bag.

Bella held her breath while the man studied the position of the bag on the berth.

The shorter man stepped in front of the bag. Bella heard the zipper open. The paper packets rustled. The zipper closed. The man gazed at his companion. No words were exchanged. The look in the near-black eyes of the man who stood by the door sent a cold shiver of fear down Bella’s back.

Bella clutched Stillman’s hand. “I’m sharing your bunk tonight,” she said.

Stillman’s eyes didn’t leave the two men. The strangers stretched out on their bunks.

Bella saw Stillman’s eyes flit sideways toward the two girls. He released Bella’s grip on his hand and stood up in the narrow space between the columns of bunks.

Stillman looked at Karen. “Which bag’s yours?” She grabbed her backpack in response. Stillman swung Karen’s bag up to Rune, and then grabbed Karen by her waist and hoisted her up onto Rune’s bunk. Bella tossed her backpack onto Stillman’s bunk. Stillman’s lift sent her flying onto the bunk, which prompted a stream of giggles from Karen.

Stillman moved to the door. “OK to cut the lights?”

Silence.

Stillman slid a horizontal palm across his throat and then pointed to the lights. “Lights. Cut. OK?”

The car fell into darkness. After Stillman joined her on the bunk, Bella felt his arms encircle her. He pulled her body next to his. She could hear Rune and Karen’s bunk creak as they sought a comfortable position on the tiny, hard bunk.

Bella’s mind raced. Thank God she was next to Stillman, his body shielding hers from the strangers. She heard the sounds of a zipper opening and then paper rustling. She sensed more than heard the two men slide off their berths into the narrow center aisle. Even with the sliver of light that seeped under the door, she could not see more than dark shapes. Their scent was strong, though, so she knew they were close to her bunk. She could feel the shallow evenness of Stillman’s silent breaths. Bella pressed harder against Stillman, and his arms tightened around her. Good, he was awake.

Bella heard the creaking of a bed frame beneath her and Stillman. Low whispers and more rustling. She heard a match strike. The telltale smell wafted up, and Bella’s nostrils flared. Rune coughed as if it bothered him. Bella had no doubt that pothead Rune was only trying to rattle the chain of the two men.

A stream of angry words in their native language silenced Rune’s coughing.

Bella heard a second match strike. A cough threatened to erupt from her throat. She held it in. Stillman patted her hand, and then rolled off the bunk.

One of the Middle Easterners grunted in surprise.

“Stillman, no,” Bella said. Two against one—bad odds. She had no confidence Rune would jump into the fight.

Stillman stood next to the bunks, as if daring the other men to attack him.

Nothing happened. No one moved.

Stillman stepped to the tiny window at the end of the compartment. He pushed and pounded on it until it gave way and slid open. He climbed back up into the berth beside Bella.

She snuggled against him, tucking her mouth next to his ear. “Thanks. That was stupid, but brave.”

After they had finished the second pipe, Bella heard the two men settle into their beds. Soon, their snoring replaced the silence in the compartment.

The berth with Rune and Karen creaked. Rune whispered, “You two awake?”

“Yes,” Stillman said in a quiet voice. “Do you think we should take turns sleeping, to make sure they don’t try anything if they wake up in the middle of the night?”

“Damn straight we should,” Rune whispered.

“I’ll take first shift,” Stillman said. “You sleep now. I’ll wake you up in a few hours.”

Bella felt Stillman’s face nuzzle into her hair. “You can sleep,” he said. His breath warmed her cheek.

She put one palm against his cool cheek, then rested her head against his arm. Her lips found his. Soft kisses at first, then harder, with insistence born of relief and, later, of desire. They kissed for what seemed like hours. Stillman slid on top of her, his upper body propped up on his elbows.

Bella couldn’t complete their desire. Not here, with these strangers next to them, not more than an arm’s length away.

Stillman didn’t press her.

She patted her fingertips to her lips swollen from Stillman pressing against her mouth, kissing, nibbling, and sucking. She wondered if they’d still be swollen in the morning, for all to see. She hoped not, but kissing Stillman did more than merely wake the desire inside her. Kissing Stillman made her feel like she belonged. Kissing him, being here in his arms, eased the ever-present ache for her mother and the longing for a family that extended beyond just the two of them, which is all she’d ever known.

Stillman pressed his lips to her forehead and cradled her in his arms.

“Stillman.” Rune’s hiss startled Stillman, who turned his head to see the pair on the opposite bunk. “I can’t sleep. If you want to, go ahead. I’ll wake you up if I get tired.”

“Deal.” Stillman flipped back over and curled around Bella. “C’mon, pretty lady.” His breath warmed her skin. Stillman’s tongue flicked against her neck. “Let’s try to sleep.”

“Mm-hmm.” Bella’s exhaustion surprised her. She curled into his body and sank into the comfort of sleep.

Later, she heard a rhythmic noise. Her eyes flipped open to a darkened tunnel of stale air. Where was she? She felt Stillman beside her and remembered. Hot air hung above them and the hard bunk pressed against her shoulder. The sound of a moan widened her eyes and tightened her muscles.