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Samantha rushed to the rooftop as soon as she woke up the next morning. Today was the day—she was going to see the sculptures she’d studied and drooled over for years. She was going into Florence.
The sun rose through a cloudy haze, leaving a yellow ochre layer over the valley below. There were colors everywhere here; the houses were lemon yellow, rose, salmon, orange; the hills were covered in green, and some flowers were already starting to bloom. The birds were even more gleeful than they had been last night, and her heart rose up like the flock that burst from a tree below her, flapping their way into the light. That's how she felt here, like she was coming out of the dark and sloughing off years’ worth of care.
Not everything about the last couple years had been hard, but aside from the bingo games and sitting in the gardens watching birds, her grandmother hadn't been up to much. It had been isolating, and she’d felt unable to step away even for a day. Now, she could go wherever she wanted. She could travel into the city and not even come back if she didn't want to.
She moved across to the opposite battlement and looked out over the village. Or she could just stay here. This was its own slice of heaven; part of her didn't even want to go into the city today, but would rather just walk the streets, try to talk to these people, and see how it felt to not answer to anyone.
Of course, she did have to answer to someone. Edo would be taking her into Florence. While part of her was disappointed, the practical side of her was relieved that she didn't have to figure out foreign transportation by herself. Having someone to translate might be useful, and it didn't hurt that he was better looking than anyone she'd seen in years—though, again, her society had been limited mostly to octogenarians.
It would be more exciting to have Edo as a guide if he didn't seem so eager to avoid her. He had gone along willingly enough last night, but she had recognized the trapped look in his eyes. Still, he’d shown yesterday that he could joke a little, if she got him going, and maybe she could make him forget that he was babysitting today.
Or she could just ignore him.
She hurried through getting ready and went out to sit on the swing in the grounds below to wait for their 9:30 AM departure. The swing consisted of thick ropes and a wooden slat hung from a beautiful towering tree full of the birds that made her heart sing along with them. It was the most heavenly spot, and she could have just stayed there all day and been happy. She closed her eyes and let herself sway back and forth, just listening, just feeling, just remembering.
Her grandmother had always loved birds, and Samantha had grown up surrounded by her grandmother's paintings of them—it was where her love of art had first begun. Samantha had not loved the birds themselves so much as the swirls of color and texture they were created from.
It was not until the fateful day when her grandmother fell and broke her hip that Samantha learned to appreciate the birds. Well, not even that day really—but that had been the day that started everything, the day Samantha had dropped out of school and gone to take care of her grandmother for as long as it took.
It had taken three years. Three years in which Samantha and her grandmother had enjoyed one another, for the most part, though the last year her grandmother had developed dementia, and everything had become so much harder. Before her grandmother forgot her, before she forgot the names of the birds, she had taught Samantha to listen for their calls, and to be still and enjoy their transient beauty.
Her reverie was broken by a male voice behind her. Her eyes flew open, and she turned to see Edo, dressed in faded jeans and a black long-sleeved T-shirt. The fitted jeans were a nice nod to European fashion, but she'd always heard Italians dressed so much better than Americans, and in the airport it had certainly seemed so. She’d thought he might show up today wearing a button-up. He looked as comfortable in this T-shirt, though, as he had in his more formal attire on the airplane, and just as attractive as her initial impression... before she’d whacked him with her backpack, ruining any hope of impressing him.
She hopped off the swing and grabbed the offending backpack. “Ready?”
“I called your name three times,” he said, shrugging. “I should be asking you that.”
She pulled the straps of her backpack to hoist it a little higher. “I'm good. Let's go.”
“You're taking your backpack? How much do you have to carry?”
Samantha squeezed the straps of her backpack. This backpack helped her feel like a student again, which is what she wanted to be today. She was here to study the work of the Masters, not sightsee like a tourist. “I have my lunch.”
That seemed to surprise him. Apparently he hadn't taken her seriously the day before. Well, just because she'd managed to afford a discounted plane ticket didn't mean she could afford to eat every meal in a restaurant. He had been wealthy enough to purchase a premium ticket, so he probably never had to worry about things like that. His family owned an entire castle, for crying out loud.
He gestured with his head at the drive behind him. “We'll miss the bus if we don't go soon.” Samantha hurried past him without further urging.
The bus was a glorious rattletrap. It was green and white, and Edo dropped coins for both of them in the till as he climbed on.
“Hey, I can—”
Edo silenced her with a look. “I can handle it,” he said. Then he smiled wryly. “My mother made me promise.”
They bumped along, heading down the hill out of the village. It had taken about thirty minutes by car to get here from the airport, but the website for Il Castello Mio had said it would take about forty-five minutes by bus to get into the city. Samantha stared out the window, ignoring Edo sitting beside her. He’d sat close beside her—close enough she could smell his mild cologne—but unfortunately, he didn’t seem to mean anything by getting close, just seemed to be leaving room for others who filled the bus the further they went. Mostly older people, she noticed. Adorable old, wrinkled people with little hats and blue cardigans and striped cravats.
And here she was admiring the geriatrics when she had a handsome younger Italian man sitting right next to her. There was something wrong with her.
Edo's shoulder bumped against hers as he leaned toward her and pointed out the window. “See the church? That's the church where my parents got married.”
“Not in the village? Not in the church right outside the Castello?”
Edo straightened again and shook his head. “Too small. My mother wanted a big wedding.”
They passed the church, with its stonework and its steeples. She would have loved to go inside it. There just wasn't going to be enough time on this trip for everything she wanted to see.
“So,” Edo said, breaking the silence again. “Where are we going today?”
“The Piazza della Signoria.”
His eyebrows raised. “That's your first priority? Not the Duomo or the Medici palace?”
Samantha played with the zipper pull on her backpack. She hadn't planned on explaining herself to anyone while here. And she didn't have to. She could say as much or as little as she liked, because it wasn't really any of his business. “Yep.”
He waited for her to say more, then shrugged when she didn't. He turned away and looked out the windows on the other side of the bus.
Samantha instantly felt bad. He'd been making an effort, asking questions, making conversation—so why had she shut him down? Just because she didn't have to explain herself didn't mean she shouldn't be kind. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t seem to think straight with him sitting so close beside her. She just didn't know how to talk to handsome young men anymore. “I like sculptures.”
Edo turned back but stayed silent, waiting for more.
She took a deep breath and continued. “I used to be an art student, and sculpture was always my favorite.”
“So, the David is also on our list for the day?”
Samantha shrugged. “If not today, then soon. Though I think there will be enough to study in the Loggia della Signoria to keep me busy for today.
“We're going to stay there the entire day?”
“You’re welcome to go back home. Just tell me which bus to take when I'm done.”
“That eager to be rid of me?”
“I thought it would be the other way around.”
His eyes showed something different than she had seen before, something like respect or appreciation. “You got me out of the house and I don't have to drag you all over the city — you're doing me a favor.”
She wasn't sure whether to be offended that he had thought he'd have to drag her all over the city, or to enjoy that new look he was giving her. “I already told you I could do this by myself.”
“Yes, but it could be more fun with company.”
Samantha had no idea what to say to that. Did he think she was fun? Good company? He’d just complained he might have to drag her around the city. She had no idea how to read him. Maybe that's why she didn't know how to talk to younger men—old men just said whatever they were thinking.
It didn't matter, though. She was going into Florence to study the work of the Masters. He could stay or leave her as he wished. Though if he sat this close to her all day, she wasn’t going to get any work done.