The Good Left Undone(53)
“What’s wrong?” Josephine looked up from the book she was reading.
“The captain is here. And I accepted an invitation to go for a drive.”
“Stephanie!” Josephine called out.
Stephanie entered their room with her laundry basket resting on her hip. “What?”
“Domenica has a date with the captain.”
Josephine pushed Domenica into a chair. Stephanie dropped the laundry basket. She and Josephine went to work. Josephine untied the rags in Domenica’s hair and brushed out the curls, while Stephanie went through Domenica’s closet and pulled a madras sundress and sandals. The girls helped her into the dress. She slipped into her sandals while Stephanie knelt and buckled the ankle straps. Domenica leaned into the mirror and applied her lipstick.
“Here’s your purse.” Josephine placed it into Domenica’s hands. “There’s cash in the side pocket. You may need it. Go.”
“Wait!” Stephanie said, reaching for her bottle of Joy perfume. She gave Domenica a spritz on the neck. “Scram.”
Domenica returned to the lobby, leaving a trail of vanilla and roses on the staircase. The captain stood and took her in.
“Am I all right?” She touched her hair.
“A vision.”
“Thank you.”
“But you forgot the hat.”
* * *
The Route de la Gineste unspooled like a silver ribbon laced between green hills on one side and a free fall of white rocks on the other. Whenever the road bent into a hairpin curve, a patch of the blue Mediterranean peeked through the vale beyond the rocks.
McVicars passed an ornate castle before continuing up the mountain road. “Napoleon stayed there.”
“Napoleon came to my village too, so the legend goes. His sister Pauline lived on the beach in a villa with her Italian prince. Napoleon made another sister, Elisa, the grand duchess of Tuscany.”
“Generous brother. Took care of his own.”
“Despots are known to take good care of their own families. The rest of us don’t fare as well.”
“You didn’t come to Marseille because you wanted to, did you?”
“I am working off a punishment.”
“What did you do?” McVicars smiled.
“It’s not funny, Captain.”
“You’re not a spy, are you?”
“No. There’s little intrigue in my situation. I went against the teachings of my church on the job. My boss, Dottore Pretucci, had me sent here to keep up my nursing. He thinks the priest will eventually forget about my transgression. But I don’t think the doctor understands my priest.”
“What was your terrible sin?”
“I advised a young mother how to plan her family.”
McVicars whistled. “In a Catholic country?”
“They’re the only countries I know.”
The captain shifted gears in the old jalopy. He took the opportunity to reach for her hand. She did not take it; instead, she turned to him.
“Captain McVicars, are you married?”
McVicars returned his hand to the steering wheel. “Miss Cabrelli! How indecent of you. Would I ask you to go for a joyride if I were a married man?”
“I hope not.”
“You have nothing to fear. I am not married now and have no plans to marry in the future. The promise comes with my personal guarantee. Besides, I gave the good Sisters of Saint Joseph my ring as payment for services rendered to my crew.”
“You’re the talk of the convent and Fatima House.”
“Am I?”
“You have your choice of young ladies. They find you fascinating. Handsome and generous, they say.”
“Thank you. I am all those things.”
“And yet, you’ve managed to remain a bachelor. I suppose if you were to marry, you would have already.”
“What do you mean?” McVicars took his eyes off the road and looked at her.
“A man is set by the time he is forty.”
“Who told you that bit of chum about men?”
“My mother.”
“I suppose you have to listen to your mother.”
“I hope you don’t think this is a rude question. Why haven’t you married?”
“The women that marry sailors make sure their husbands give up the sea. That was reason enough for me to avoid the institution. I like my freedom.”
“So do I.” Domenica took the captain’s hand. “Did you know when you hold someone’s hand, it’s good for their heart? Their blood pressure goes down.”
“I didn’t know I had a problem.”
“And now you won’t.”
* * *
The Café Normande on a hill above Cassis was an old farmhouse with a kitchen garden surrounded by fields of lavender. Domenica heard the low hum of the bees at work on the purple buds as she walked the grounds. She found the highest point on the cliff and looked out over the French countryside. From her perch, she could see the rooftops of Cassis and beyond, where the mountains met the sea. The hot sun felt good on her skin. She finally found in France what she had left behind in Italy: heat. McVicars called to her. She joined him at a garden table where he had set out their lunch.