All the Way to Heaven

Chapter 4

Just as promised, no more than five minutes later, a man pulled up to the front of the station and climbed out of his little hatchback Volkswagen, waving vigorously at me. I stifled a slightly hysterical giggle as I sized up the guy who had definitely not graced the covers of any bodice-rippers I'd ever seen. A beanpole with laugh lines around his eyes, casually dressed in jeans and a polo-style shirt, he looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, about the age of my dad. He wore his brown hair cropped short and it was definitely thinning on top.

"Hallooo!" Hurrying forward, he reached for my suitcase, nodding repeatedly by way of greeting. "Welcome, welcome. I take you to my house now."

After stowing my bags, he opened the door and stood aside, indicating that I get in. I faltered, the absurd thought that he wanted me to drive making me momentarily immobile.

It took me all of five seconds to remember that the steering wheel was on the other side of the car, and I clambered into the passenger seat, feeling insecure all over again. A prickle of tears threatened to embarrass me even more.

If I did nothing else while in Italy, I was going to find the OFF switch to my stupid tears.

Glancing over at the gregarious stranger as he slid into the seat to my right, I hoped he wouldn't notice my emotional turmoil. But as soon as he closed his door, a new concern arose as a fissure of fear traipsed up my spine. My eyes darted over toward the now empty bench where my surly guardian had been only moments before. Stealthily, I reached for the door handle, clutching my purse to my chest with my other hand. Turning to meet my driver's open gaze, my voice shook ever so slightly. "Please tell me you're Fabio."

A very careless move on my part, a girl alone, climbing into the car of a strange man, day or night. I bit my bottom lip hard as the possible implications of my actions spun out of control in my mind. Instructor Tim would have my neck in a choke hold if he could see me now.

"I am Fabio," the man assured me, smiling broadly, his large teeth glistening in the street lights that had just blinked on outside the station. "I am from Alla Dolce Vita!"

"Whew!" I sighed dramatically, making light of my concern. I held out my hand. "I'm Anica Tomlin. And I'm sorry for thinking you might try to kidnap me just now."

The brief silence that followed was awkward, and then Fabio chuckled. "You must not be sorry for being careful. Especially a beautiful lady alone in the night time." He reached over the gear shift between us to shake my hand, then patted my leg. For whatever reason, the gesture didn't make me feel uncomfortable, only thankful for his graciousness. "But I tell you this; Lucca is full of light and joy. If you look for it with open eye and open heart and open hand, you will find happy here, okay?"

I nodded appreciatively. I could do with a little light and joy and happy. "Okay."

"Okay!" Fabio stated affirmatively and we zipped out of the parking lot.

Fabio operated the little guesthouse where I planned to stay for my first ten days in Italy, taking day trips to visit places like Sienna, Florence, Cinque Terre, and more. After that, I'd move on to Rome and squeeze in day trips to Naples, Pompeii, Sorrento, and wherever else I could, depending on what kind of money I had left.

Fabio didn't live on the premises, which caused a flicker of trepidation over the question of security, but he assured me that his home was less than five minutes away. "I live five minutes from everything of Lucca!" If I needed anything at all, I only had to call. He'd shown me the wall phone in the kitchenette and his number, along with several other important local phone numbers, on a piece of paper tacked up beside it, including the polici, the ospidale, and several words ending in -ria and -teca. Trattoria, osteria. panetteria. Enoteca, discoteca, even a biblioteca. He explained that although local phone calls were no extra charge, there was no international connection.