I ducked back into my own cabin and
shook my husband's shoulder until he woke.
“Jim, there's something going on.”
I sat down on his side of the bed.
“Unnn, there's always something
going on. Let me sleep.” He rolled over and burrowed his head
into his pillow.
“What do you think of Anita?” I
demanded.
“Anita who?” he muttered.
“You know, the pretty blond girl
who's traveling alone. I thought it odd she didn't have a boyfriend
or even just a friend to travel with. But Antonio...”
“You're not going to let me sleep,
are you, unless I play this guessing game with you?”
“Oh, go back to sleep. Barbara will
be up getting coffee. I'll go talk to her.”
My best friend Barbara and her husband
Dennis were with us on this two week small ship cruise down the
western coast of Italy. We enjoyed blue skies with marshmallow fluff
clouds during the day as we visited ancient, picturesque villages
and in the evenings dined on too much pasta, pizza, and tiramisu.
The trip was like a travel brochure. Except for the hostility
between Antonio and Anita.
Jim and I had been on other cruises
and the tour leaders were always friendly, knowledgeable, and
helpful, no matter how difficult a traveler might be. And Anita was
nice. But they avoided each other as if they were in a school yard
and afraid of getting 'cooties' from each other.
Carefully holding my fragrant cup of
coffee, I plopped on a green and white deck chair next to Barbara. I
brought her up to date on what I'd seen.
“That is odd. Yesterday he yelled
at her for being the last person to arrive for the day's outing. And
she wasn't even late. There was still two minutes before departure
time.” She took a sip of her coffee and sighed. “Well, it's not
our problem, is it?”
I shook my head. “Nooo. But if he
dislikes her what was he doing in her cabin? Could he have been
looking through her stuff while she was up here with a wake up
coffee?”
“I haven't seen her yet this
morning, and I can't imagine that nice young man would go through her
things. Why he'd certainly be fired, if he was caught.”
“I'm sure you're right, so again I
ask what was he doing in her room?”
Barbara looked at me over her reading
glasses, “Well if you really need to know why don't you just ask
him.”
Of course I couldn't do that. My
curiosity wasn't that rampant, but I vowed I would keep an eye on him
to see if he did anything else that seemed odd.
Every night after dinner there was
dancing in the little bar lounge. And every night Antonio took turns
dancing with each woman who either didn't have a partner or whose
husband didn't want to dance. Except I realized he never danced with
Anita. But she didn't seem interested in dancing with him either.
She always turned her back to him when he approached her table to see
if anyone wanted to dance.
I pointed this out to Jim and being a
man, he said, “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, you never notice anything.”
The next morning I was quiet as I left
our cabin for my early morning caffeine jolt, in case I'd
see Antonio again. The hallway was clear. I hate to admit
it but I did slow as I passed Anita's door. She must have had the
TV on for I could heard low voices murmuring. At least Antonio
wouldn't be sneaking around her cabin if she was there.
Our excursion that morning was the
seaside village of La Spezia. We were climbing about 100 uneven stone
steps up to the heavily carved doors of a Baroque church. Anita,
like a young colt, hair streaming behind her, was scampering up ahead
of the rest of us, probably trying to avoid Antonio again. She
yelped as she stumbled and fell to her knees. Antonio, his face
pale, scrambled to her side and gently examined her ankle.
At last he was acting like a
responsible tour guide even if he didn't like Anita. But as we
gathered around to see if she was OK, he dropped her foot like
it burned his hands.
Anita's brown eyes glistened with
tears. “I'm so sorry to cause trouble.” She looked at him and
then down at her rapidly swelling ankle.
“Can you stand?” Antonio
demanded. He helped her up. “Can you walk?”
“I'll help her back to the ship.”
I offered. “You need to stay here to continue the tour for the
group.”
Jim and I helped her make her way down
the hill to the dock, across the gangplank and to her cabin. He went
to get ice while I put a pillow under her ankle.
After assuring myself that she was all
right I couldn't stand it any longer. “What is wrong with Antonio?
I've never seen a tour guide be so mean to a client.”
She looked at me stricken. “No, no,
you mustn't blame him.”
“Well, then what's going on between
you two?”
“Please, if I tell you, do not
repeat this.” I promised to keep her story confidential.
"Antonio and I were married the day
before the tour started.”
I almost fell on her bed. I was not
expecting that story.
“We were supposed to leave on our
honeymoon but the original guide for this tour got seriously ill and
couldn't continue. Since Antonio had lead this tour many times, the
company begged him to do it and offered to let me come on the tour
free of charge. We agreed because we thought we could save the money
we would have spent on a wedding trip, but of course, we couldn't let
people know we were honeymooners. It would have been
unprofessional.”
“So instead you acted as if you
disliked each other.” I thought of that old saying, 'Oh, what webs
we weave when first we practice to deceive.' But then I thought of
how much I was going to enjoy telling Barbara this story. After we
got home, of course. I didn't want to let the cat out of the bag
just yet.
The End
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