What's Left of Our Hearts

Clara

Clara was having an out-of-body-experience.

Perhaps not quite as dramatic, but she was still pretty amazed—breath-taken, even.

For the first time in years, she had put herself first, left the incessant noise of her office behind, the never-ending chaos, and even Owen who barely looked up from his desk as she had left the apartment and spontaneously jumped into this last-minute trip.

And now here she was, in their second port of call in the Mediterranean, sitting on a terrace overlooking the Adriatic Sea, breathing deeply. The air was salty and fresh, and the sun was like a gentle lover kissing her shoulders where the brim of her hat did not shelter the skin. She couldn't remember the last time she could just breathe.

She checked the time, the crystals and mother-of-pearl in her watch sparkling on her wrist. What lovely, shiny shackles she had. She took it off and dropped it in the depths of her bag. Tropical print, to match her palm leaf-colored dress. The watch would be there waiting for her when she was ready to hop back onto the hamster wheel and all the problems that no doubt would appear in her absence.

With care, she pulled her thoughts back from New York. The city and its noise could wait a few days more.

This is my time.

"Miss Clara?" said a tan young man with the darkest curls Clara had ever seen. "The group is gathering in the lobby, we will be departing in fifteen minutes." His broad shoulders belied his youth, but the smile he was so generous with was downright childlike. Clara had tipped him well to take care of her and her friends on this trip, and he was proving to be a wonderful attendant.

"Thank you, Diego," she smiled up at him, tilting her hat as she rose. He flashed a dimpled smile and returned to the hotel. 

He was a hard-working kid trying to make a few extra bucks between semesters, and Clara smiled to herself, remembering being young and carefree like that once upon a time. She cast one last glance back over the terrace. The sea swayed seductively, inviting her back out on its waters. Let's go to another magical place, it said.

A memory of another such view flashed in her mind, in a town not much different from this, standing on the balcony of an old family villa overlooking the sea. It was a memory she could only skim the surface of lest it pulled her in deeper. Those were dangerous waters. 

She retrieved her luggage from her room and walked back out in the hall nose-down in the itinerary when she ran into something tall and solid.

"Woah, there," a deep voice rumbled, laughter just beneath his words. Clara steadied herself on a strong torso dressed in a crisp white shirt. "And I thought you could handle your Bahama Mama's," Eric said, amusement curling his lip.

"I can handle them just fine," Clara said, tucking away the itinerary. "Sophie, on the other hand, is a different story. I could have sworn I saw her sleepwalking to breakfast and leaving the restaurant with a full muffin sticking out of her mouth. I definitely did not see you there, though. Maybe go easy on the margaritas next time, eh?" she wiggled her eyebrows.

"One, you know I can handle my drink," Eric said, punching the elevator button. "And two, you know it takes me forever to pack. So there! I have an alibi, and you cannot frame me for murder, or whatever it is you were going to frame me for. However, if my darling wife holds up the entire ship again, I may commit that murder anyway, so she better be done with the muffin and with packing, too."

He draped an arm around Clara's shoulders. "Come on, this is taking too long. Let's get some exercise."

Clara laughed and allowed him to steer her to the stairs as the elevator doors pinged open behind them.

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