All the Way to Heaven

Chapter 9

Madalina was outside l'Aurora changing tablecloths when we pulled up. The moment she recognized me, she dropped her stack of folded cloths on a metal chair and hurried over to us, calling her questions out to the officer through his rolled-down window.

She didn't wait for an invitation, but yanked open my door and bent in to examine me. The two of them jabbered back and forth over the seat back so quickly, I didn't even try to sort out what they were saying. I fumbled with my seatbelt, glad for the push-button release, my hands shaking almost too much to cooperate.

Madalina tsk-tsked, her hands on her hips, shaking her head. "You are here one day and you are in trouble, Princess Grace." The officer got out and came around to stand beside her.

"You come sit at a table and I will help you." She reached for my hand and I jerked it away before she could grab it, holding both palms up so she could see them. She rolled her eyes at the scope of my ineptitude. She spoke as much with her facial features as she did with her hands.

With their assistance, I hobbled over to the closest table under the shade of the large awning. I leaned against the officer, who was only too happy to oblige me, while Madalina positioned one chair for me to sit on and another on which to prop my foot. Then I lowered myself gingerly, longing for the privacy of my room where I could cry openly over my remarkably dumb luck.

"I will help you tell the police what happened," Madalina informed me. Of course. The police report. "He tells me he heard the story from a man, but I told him he must listen to you." She winked at me, and then turned a dazzling smile on the officer who had just dropped into a chair across from me and was opening up a notepad. "Volete espresso, vigile?"

He nodded, but his eyes didn't make it all the way up to meet hers, derailed on their way by the bounty of her bosom. So it wasn't just me. The man was just a perv. But Madalina only grinned cheekily and asked me if I'd like some coffee as well.

"Just water, please. Do you have a straw?" I didn't think I could pick up a glass.

"I bring you water to drink and water to wash. And ice for your foot. You will take off the boot?" She waved a hand at my foot on the chair.

"I don't know," I grimaced. "I'm not sure I should take it off until I'm up in my room where I can lie down." I was a little afraid of what I might find, and I didn't want to panic in public.

"I will bring ice, then we will decide."

The moment she was gone, the officer looked me in the eye and raised his eyebrows suggestively. "How you feel, beautiful lady?"

I smiled back tentatively and took the bull by the horns. "I'm fine. Thank you, officer. Grazie. Lei è molto gentile." I'd committed that particular phrase to memory in an attempt to present myself as a well-behaved tourist as opposed to a rude American, as much of Europe was wont to label us. His grin turned almost lecherous and his eyes dropped to my neckline. Great. How did one turn "You are very kind" into "Do you want me?" Talk about lost in translation. I was greatly relieved when the bells jingled to let us know Madalina was returning.

In her hands, she held a large metal mixing bowl full of water which she brought over and placed on the table beside me. Behind her came her grandmother, carrying a tray with a glass of sparkling water for me, coffee for the man across from me, and a platter of pastries. She took one look at my hands and made a very grandmotherly clucking sound. She patted my cheek gently and said, "Madalina vi assista. He help," before heading back inside.

"I clean your hands and you tell us what happened," Madalina instructed, her tone matter-of-fact, as though she did this kind of thing on a regular basis. She arranged two towels beside the bowl and reached for my left hand. I tried not to resist, but the moment she plunged it into the warm water, I let out a strangled yelp, and jerked my hand away, splashing water everywhere. She eyed me with long-suffering. I glared back at her, breathed hard through my nose, and returned my hand to the bowl slowly, better prepared for the next round of torture.