Kara taps the side of my arm. She points to the Duomo in the distance.
I smile in appreciation, realizing I’m seeing the thing from photographs in our textbooks right now, in real life. The bus passes by unceremoniously, and I try to ignore my disappointment. It’s weird to be so close without any plans to go there. I’d ask if we could stop, but Will has to approve any funds we spend, and I already know what the answer will be. Whatever we have is for the mission, not sightseeing.
“Do you know where we’re going first?” I ask.
“You know, the cool thing about being a disciple is that you don’t have to worry about any of that, right?” She seems cheerful. I notice she cuts her eyes at me as if checking my reaction.
It’s like Kara is constantly testing me, but I’m too exhausted to decide whether it’s just because I don’t know her yet or because I’m starving or— Stay focused. My memory of Ben’s voice talking to Kara last night flickers back into my thoughts. If I’m going to be spending most of my time with her, I probably should try to get to know her better.
“So did you know Ben in Florida?” I ask.
Kara seems momentarily caught off guard by my question. Her expression is pleasant when she turns back to stare out the window, though. She’s quiet for a few seconds. “We have mutual friends.” Her tone is honest, but I can tell she’s choosing her words carefully.
“Josh?” I immediately regret asking this.
“Nooooo,” she says dragging out her answer with a slightly mocking tone. She gives me a funny look, or a look that says she thinks I’m funny.
I pick at my finger that Dolce scratched. You can’t really see the wound anymore, but it still throbs.
I decide to change the subject. “Do they speak English where we’re going?” We hadn’t strayed far from the villa yet, and no one had even mentioned learning any Italian.
“It won’t matter,” Kara says, this time never turning from the window.
Question time is clearly over. I turn away from Kara and spot Shannon and Lily a few rows back, giggling about something together. A pang of familiar loneliness hits me. Italy is starting to feel like Boston did before I met Josh and Heather.
Our bus rounds a bend and glides to a stop in a parking lot, and Kara nudges me to stand. We step off the moment the doors whoosh open. Cigarette smoke thickens around us as the locals pause to light up before veering off in different directions. When we reach a vacant part of the sidewalk, Kara stops to open her backpack.
“Are you ready for this?” she asks, pulling out a roll of stickers. She holds them up. Each circle is a bright yellow smiley face.
“What are we supposed to do with these?” I ask.
“Our goal is to make as many Italians as possible … smile.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m always serious about the Kingdom.” It’s impossible to tell if she’s actually serious, but I accept the fat roll of stickers and smile anyway.
“What am I supposed to say? How will people understand me?” I ask.
“It doesn’t matter. Just smile, be friendly, and give every single one of these away.” She reaches into her backpack again and hands me a stack of cards with words printed in Italian, the symbol of the cross filling the top right corner. Dread creeps over me as I remember the day by the birds sculpture at BU. It was hard enough recruiting when I did speak the same language as everyone else. This is beginning to seem impossible. It feels like that was a year ago, but it’s barely been a month. I think about Josh and his hand covering my eyes. I wonder which direction he and Andrew went in after they got off the bus. I hold on to the hope that maybe we’ll run into them while we’re recruiting.
Kara nudges me away before approaching someone walking into a storefront that looks like a supermarket. I peel off a sticker, place it on the edge of my index finger, and walk up to a short stocky woman in a black dress carrying a canvas bag. I smile and hold my sticker out for her to take, forgetting about the cards in my other hand. She snatches it and sticks it to her bag, then shoots a string of words at me in Italian as she rushes off. I’m strangely elated watching the bright yellow face smile at me as she walks inside.
After handing out more cards, Kara pulls me aside. “This is taking way too long. We need a better spot.” She turns around as if thinking, and grabs my arm. “Follow me,” she says.
We run through the shadowy cobblestone streets where shops buzz with activity. I start to giggle despite myself—I’m running in Italy! Skinny women hover in front of doorways, smoking and chattering in Italian. Restaurants are clinking with lunch preparations where savory aromas leak into the street. I’d give all the money I brought to eat whatever it is they’re cooking. With a sudden twinge of worry, I remember I don’t have access to any of my money right now. I focus on following Kara.
We continue moving toward an opening at the end of the street where the cobblestones are drenched with sunshine. As we approach a large piazza, bells ring from a distant church. Pigeons scatter in gusts across the square. My heart leaps when I see Ben and Todd standing near a fountain. They’re talking to a blond girl who is taller than both of them. I turn to Kara just in time to see her eyes narrow with concern.
“Let’s go say hi,” I suggest, grateful for familiar faces, but Kara grabs my arm.
“Wait,” she says.
The tall girl has a card in her hand just like the ones we handed out. Her legs are so long and frail that they make her seem awkward, like a baby giraffe trying to balance itself. Her effect on Todd is evident. She laughs at something Todd says. Ben is off staring at a statue as if trying to figure it out.
Kara pulls me in the other direction. “We need to get busy. Trust me when I say we do not want to be the only team without any guests at our first meeting.”
We wander backward, deep into a different winding street. My mind starts spinning again. I’m completely disoriented. I try to figure out where we are, but I only see plaques I can’t understand. VIA DEL this and VIA POR that. If Kara left me here, I’d never find my way back. She’s the one with the map and, I assume, the money. I try to clear my racing thoughts and simply follow without questioning. Kara slows down in front of a bustling café packed with locals sipping cappuccinos and espressos while standing against a bar. The crowd overflows onto the sidewalk where a few young Italian guys are talking and teasing one another. I wish I could understand what they’re saying, and I wonder again why no one encouraged us to study Italian before the mission.
Kara walks right into the cluster of guys. I linger outside the group, self-conscious, as if I just violated someone else’s territory. This is just as absurd as addressing a group of bikers outside the seedy bar under the bridge in my hometown. I imagine Kara could stroll into that very bar and no one would bat an eye. She has a commanding presence that transcends any barriers, including language, apparently.
The guys pause as Kara approaches. One of them makes a noise, almost like a friendly hissing sound. Kara peels off a sticker and puts it on one guy’s nose. The group erupts in laughter. There’s another one who’s noticeably different from the others: taller, a little more confident, a lot more attractive, clearly the alpha of the group. I watch Kara figure this out. She pulls off a sticker and walks up to him, stands right in his face, and waits for him to take it. He extracts the sticker from her finger and puts it on his coat, looking to Kara for approval. The others around him begin to circle them with singsong-y banter. Bella, BEL-la. Bel-LIS-sima. Then Kara stretches on her tiptoes and slowly kisses him on the mouth. She pulls away, hands him the entire roll of stickers, and slips the rest of her postcards into the back pocket of his jeans. She gives it a suggestive pat, and walks back to me.
The other guys are laughing and passing the cards around. One of them breaks out in some sort of song. The one Kara kissed seems very pleased with himself.
What in the world is she doing? “I’ve never seen that recruiting method,” I say to Kara.
“Emily
. If you want to succeed in the Kingdom, you’d better prepare yourself to do anything necessary,” she says. She takes my roll of stickers and shoves them into her backpack, zipping it with a calm finality.
I try to imagine Heather’s reaction to this scenario had I done the same thing back in Boston. “What does kissing a complete stranger have to do with our salvation?”
“Everything,” she says, giving me a serious look. Then she laughs.
She must see the concern and confusion on my face. “Emily.” She pulls on my arm. “How many of them do you think will show up?”
“I’m guessing all and then some.”
“Okay, then,” she says with finality. “Let’s go celebrate. You can’t tell anyone else, but I got us some money. And I know a place with the best paninis.”
“What do we do with mine?” I ask, holding up my postcards.
She grabs them from my hands, never breaking her stride. She throws them into the first trash bin we pass, decisively and without a second glance.
* * *
When we return to the villa, full and elated from a day of unplanned sightseeing, I hear Will yelling in anger. As we get closer, every ounce of satisfaction from eating the best sandwich I’ve ever tasted is replaced with a rising nausea.
Will paces near Josh and Andrew in the courtyard; all the others are gathered nearby.
Oh no, I worry. What if we’re in trouble for being the last ones back?
Will holds a stack of cards like an exhibit in a courtroom. “Did you smile? Did you make eye contact? Did you attempt to greet them in their own language?”
Josh is looking at the ground, and Andrew faces Will, who is red-faced and livid. Ben stands to the side as if assisting in this very public lesson. My stomach drops as we inch closer to the courtyard.
“This is not a joke, people. These are souls we are talking about. Lost. Souls.” Will glares at Andrew as if speaking directly to him. “We. Are. At. War. With. Sin.”
I’m scared Will is going to yell at me and Kara, but instead he backs away from Josh and Andrew as if to include us in his lecture.
“Do we not understand this yet? You are the chosen ones—chosen—sent here to bring these lost souls home to Jesus. This is what you signed up for, and if you don’t feel like taking this seriously, then you all can just hop right back on a plane and head home.”
Will makes a disgusted sound and tosses a thick flurry of cards at Andrew, then motions for Josh to stand beside him. I try to catch Josh’s eye, but he keeps his gaze to the ground. Will turns to the rest of us. “You know, this is a good opportunity for a lesson. I want all of you to listen and understand this.” He puts his arm around Josh’s shoulder. “Josh and Andrew split up, and Andrew did not hand out one single card, but Josh didn’t know until they returned here. So somebody please tell me. Who is at fault here?”
Everyone is silent. Andrew stoops to the ground and begins picking up his cards.
“The DP,” Ben finally says. His tone is authoritative, as if he’s assisting Will, rather than simply answering his question.
“That’s correct, Ben. A failure to control your disciple is a failure to the Kingdom. But Josh is new at this, and so I’m going to give him a chance to do something pleasing to God in order to make up for this failure. Amen?”
“Amen.” We all say it.
“Now I want you all to go into your BTs to talk this through. We. Must. Do. Better. Go!”
Kara gives me a “told you so” look, and we rush to our room.
“What was that about?” I ask. I can’t shake the look of shame on Josh’s face.
“Simple. They didn’t give all their cards away.” Kara is feeding Dolce from a cat food bag that somehow appeared in our room while we were out. I can hear Dolce purring and crunching her food in ecstasy.
“But it’s not their fault,” I argue. “It’s harder than it seems for some of us. And we don’t even know the language! No one gave us any instructions before leaving other than to spend as little money as possible actually getting here.” My voice fills our room and I suddenly realize how upset I sound—how upset I feel.
“Why do you think I didn’t make you pass out cards?” Kara is staring at me, her eyebrows raised. “My advice? Stay out of it.”
I’m confused and grateful all at once. My eyes well with tears. I dry them with my T-shirt.
Kara tilts her head as if she isn’t sure what to do with me. “Look. As far as I’m concerned, this mission is every man for himself. And, right now, you and I are fine.”
I breathe in through my nose and tilt my head all the way back. The ceiling cracks spread in every direction like fossilized electrical currents. The room smells stagnant and dank. I want to crawl into my bed and sleep until I wake up at home.
Kara grabs her backpack again. “Come on, Em. Let’s get out of here. I know the perfect place.”
Out of the Bag
At the top of the road, Kara pauses under a brick arch that opens up into an enormous field of cypress trees. The view is startling. The hills below roll out in patchworked squares of diverging green and brown, and villas line the roads that curve downward into distant towns. I pause to pull my damp hair back with the ponytail holder on my wrist. I had no idea Italy would be this hot.
“Ach. Who knew Italy would feel so much like Florida?” Kara says, as if reading my mind. “We’re almost there, though.”
She’s deep into the field, weaving through the trees. They stretch upward in massive dark columns like natural remnants of an ancient time. I finally catch up and settle across from her, just under a block of shade. It’s a small but welcome relief. She opens her backpack and pulls out a sheet of paper from a thick folder. She looks up at me, silent, as if thinking about what to say next. “I know this is supposed to be our BT, but I just want to talk first,” she says, still holding the sheet of paper.
Okay. With Kara, there’s no way to predict what she will say or do, so I blink patiently and hope for the best.
“Let’s start with how you met Josh.”
My mind flashes to the Sin List I burned, to the invasive questions Heather asked about my previous relationship. I’m worried this conversation is headed in the same direction. “We met in Boston. At school,” I say, hoping it’s enough.
“Yeah, I know that. But I’m just curious about the exact path that brought you over here. You came here because of Josh, right?”
“No, not exactly,” I say. Kara raises her eyebrows expectantly. With a resigned sigh, I give in and start from the beginning. I tell her about the coffee shop, and a sense of relief surprises me. So I tell her about the Pictionary game. The origami shapes Josh made for me. The day by the river when Josh asked me to come with him. It all spills out as I tell Kara everything that happened in Boston—everything I couldn’t tell Heather. She listens, patient and quiet, without emotion, chiming in only when I start talking about Heather.
“And how did you meet Heather?”
“She was friends with Josh and Andrew.”
“Was she your only DP?”
“Yes. Well, until right before I left for Italy. I was reassigned to the Leader’s sister—Will’s wife—but we really met only a few times before I left. She’s great, though. She let me leave my stuff at their house so I wouldn’t have to figure out a storage unit.”
Kara arches an eyebrow. “And she was Heather’s DP too?”
“Yes.”
Kara looks away. She seems distracted by the tree beside us. She reaches to pluck a large purple berry from a branch, glances at me, and looks back down at it while turning it with her fingers, as if checking for flaws. For the first time since I’ve met Kara, she seems vulnerable when she asks me what Meredith was like.
“She’s pretty, like model-pretty. And she can be really nice. It’s hard to explain, but people are just drawn to her,” I say, knowing I was one of those people. “She does seem to have favorite disciples, though, and she’s tough on the others.”
; “Were you one of the favorites?”
“I guess, but she never said that or anything.” I’m suddenly self-conscious. “She was always on Heather about dieting and losing weight. She never bothered me about that kind of stuff.”
I search Kara’s face for a reaction. Her expression doesn’t change. She throws the berry away from where we’re sitting. Kara gets quiet before asking in a tone that says it’s the main thing she really wanted to know all along, “What’s she like with him?”
“The Leader?”
“No, Emily. Her husband.”
I shrug. “I never really saw them together that much outside of church events. I mean, they were always together, like in the same room, but they were always talking to different people or doing different things.” Sweat begins trickling down my forehead and back, the shade no longer helping fight the afternoon heat. Heather always controlled the BT by talking and “guiding” (as she called it), and then she would leave me alone to finish my QT and total up an Accountability Sheet. It was always very orderly and businesslike. Not off topic like this. “I’m confused. Is this not supposed to be our BT time?” I ask.
“It can wait. Do you know why she didn’t come to Italy?”
“She said they’re getting ready to move to California.”
“You mean Florida,” she says.
I wipe my forehead. “No. She told me they’re going to Los Angeles. She and Rachel stayed in Boston to pack and coordinate the move.”
“Rachel …”
“Their daughter.” I can hear the frustration in my voice, and I almost start to apologize because Kara looks really upset.
Her eyes dart around as if processing something. She inhales deeply through her nose and gets up while shoving the notebook into her backpack. “Listen, I’ve got to go help with something at the villa,” she says.
“Oh. Okay. Should I come?”
She seems distracted. “No. It’s just for DPs. You should stay here and finish your charts and QT. It’s the perfect place to be alone.”
Those Who Prey Page 13
