Bunny Elder Adventure Series: Four Complete Novels: Hollow, Vain Pursuits, Seadrift, ...and Something Blue

by J. B. Hawker

  “Oh, Taffy! Are you all right?”

  Bunny helped her sister up while offering a napkin to staunch the flow of blood.

  “That cut looks nasty; we need to get you to the ER, right away!”

  The solicitous waiter had run into the café and returned with a first aid kit.

  “Oh don’t fuss so, Bunny! Here, just help me put the tape on this gauze pad and I will be fine.”

  The two ladies managed to pull themselves together enough to eat their lunch, including free biscotti provided by the kindly café manager to make up for Taffy’s accident, then they returned to the convent.

  While Taffy climbed to their room to lie down, Bunny took her journal into the sheltered courtyard garden.

  She settled onto a rustic bench to bring her travel diary up to date and review the itinerary for the rest of their trip.

  Leaving Venice by train the following day for Verona, they planned stopovers in Bologna, Pisa, Rome and, finally, Naples, where they would search for the perfect presepio for Taffy’s collection before flying home to Idaho.

  Bunny was worried Taffy’s injured hand would make toting the luggage around more difficult.

  She hoped it wouldn’t spoil the trip for her sister.

  She was counting on this trip to restore Taffy’s spirits enough to ward off another depression.

  There is no timetable for grief, but mourning can so easily become a habit. Like lying down in wet cement, depression is harder to escape the longer you stay in it.

  In the days before she moved to Idaho, Bunny had felt herself becoming more and more comfortable in her own quicksand of self-pity, so she knew about it firsthand.

  Taffy had made it possible for her to begin to look outside herself and Bunny hoped to help her sister in return.

  Bunny gathered up her things and was leaving the garden, when she was surprised to see her sister coming from inside with a tall, angular religious at her side and a much more professional-looking bandage on her hand.

  “Oh, Bunny, I’m afraid I underestimated the depth of my cut. Sister Bernadetta here is a nurse. When I noticed blood had soaked through the other bandage, I came down to see if the hotel had a first aid kit and the woman at the desk whisked me into the skilled hands of Sister Bernadetta.”

  Taffy held out her arm to display her, now neatly packaged, hand.

  “Piacere,” Bunny murmured a greeting to the nun, self-consciously, before turning to Taffy with concern.

  “Don’t you think we should find you a doctor, Taffy?”

  “Sister Bernadetta assures me I don’t need stitches. She gave me some antibiotic ointment and extra gauze. I should be fine. Let’s go find some dinner, I only nibbled at lunch and I’m starved. I’m ready for some authentic Italian pasta!”

  Chapter Three

  Do not lurk like a thief near the house of the righteous; do not plunder their dwelling place. Proverbs 24:15

  Seated facing each other in the fast moving train, their luggage between them at their feet, Bunny and Taffy were eager to soak up all they could of the Italian countryside as it swept by the windows.

  They had passed through Padua and Vicenza and could now see the village of Arzignano on a hill to the north.

  The rolling foothills dotted with clumps of trees and dark green shrubs reminded the women of the northern end of the Sacramento Valley in California where they grew up.

  The main difference was the profusion of towns and villages. They saw none of the vast unpeopled spaces as were found in rural America.

  “Have you noticed how many towns here in Italy have construction cranes poking up on the skyline?” Bunny murmured while gazing out at yet another mechanical monstrosity juxtaposed incongruously with ancient stone and stucco.

  Taffy didn't hear her sister’s question.

  She was thinking about a conversation from earlier in the day.

  “Bunny, did you hear what Sister Bernadetta was talking about at breakfast this morning? Apparently, there’s been a rash of thefts of precious religious art treasures recently. Last night they hit the Madonna Dell’Orto church right next door to the monastery. Several rare and priceless Byzantine icon miniatures were stolen from the display case, practically under our noses!”

  “How awful! Did we see those stolen icons when we toured the church yesterday? We’ve looked at so much fabulous art, already, that I can’t remember it all,” replied Bunny.

  “Who would do such a thing? Is it the Mafia, do you think? Are they still around?”

  “You mean like in The Godfather? Oh, I hope not!” Taffy shuddered.

  “Let’s talk about something more pleasant. What do you want to do first in Verona?”

  “I know you have your heart set on visiting Juliet’s house, Taffy, but . . . really? I mean, it can’t be her actual house. After all, Juliet was a character in a play. So what would be the point?”

  “Of course, I know Romeo and Juliet weren’t real people, but this is the home Shakespeare is supposed to have used as his inspiration. And there’s a little bronze statue of Juliet in the garden beneath the balcony. It’s said that if you rub its breast you will find true love.”

  “What a bunch of hooey!” Bunny scoffed.

  “Well, there are plenty of people who don’t feel that way. The pamphlet I read said the statue is practically flat chested these days.”

  Taffy paused for a moment, then continued more seriously, “Don’t you ever feel lonely since Eustace died, Bunny? Wouldn’t you like another chance to find your true love? I still miss Walt so much and I know I could never replace him. But, in a year or so, I hope to be ready for a little romance again.”

  Bunny didn’t know what to say, so she merely shrugged without commenting.

  Her marriage to Eustace had been painfully unsatisfying and his death was a release.

  However, she was still grieving for the man she had been certain was her “one true love.”

  She had lost Max, her childhood sweetheart, for the second time, shortly before moving to Idaho to live with her sister, only she had not lost him to death.

  When Max unexpectedly reentered Bunny’s life not long after Eustace’s death, it had seemed like a precious gift.

  He restored Bunny’s confidence she was still a desirable woman. Max breathed life into memories of their youthful past and gave Bunny hope for a fulfilling future.

  That hope had ended painfully when she had been forced to choose between life with the man she adored and obedience to God.

  Max had turned his back on her in anger as a result of their different beliefs . . . or rather his lack of belief and intolerance of Bunny’s faith.

  Still, in her heart, she did not need to fondle a bronze statue to feel she and Max were meant to be together.

  She hated to admit it, even to herself, but on many a sleepless night since Max left, Bunny was assailed by fears her faith might actually be the wishful thinking Max claimed it was.

  She was ashamed she had offered to disobey God by accompanying Max, on his terms, when he fled to the Caribbean, but she couldn’t help wondering: if Max had not rejected what he referred to as her “grand sacrifice,” might they be enjoying a rewarding life together, right now?

  What if this life really was all she would ever have and she had missed her one chance at happiness?

  In the light of day, she realized how foolish those thoughts were and her faith was strong, but in the lonely darkness, sometimes gremlins of doubt whispered their lies into her ears.

  Max Banks, his gray-streaked hair bleached by the sun and windblown, was at that moment on the Atlantic Ocean crewing on the sailboat Zeemeermin owned by his friend, Tenny Opijnen.

  The fractional rig sloop required only a two-man crew, so they were sailing north off the west coast of Africa, a day out from the Canary Islands, with no one else aboard.

  It was hard work crossing the open water from Venezuela, keeping both men on their toes.

  They were both tanned and lean from the d
ays at sea.

  Max squinted against the sun as he gazed across the waves.

  He was looking forward to landing in Puerto de la Estaca on Valverde Island.

  Much as he loved the sea, after having only Tenny's companionship for more than a week, he was ready to see other faces, sit in a nice cozy bar and sip rum and tonic. If all went well, he might even spend a few pleasant moments with some dark-eyed señorita before setting sail again.

  Max had loved the ocean since he was a teenager and his father took him diving for abalone off the coast of Northern California near Ukiah. From that moment his greatest pleasure was to be on or under the sea.

  Banks had become a successful businessman in Houston, Texas, and invested his earnings well enough to take early retirement. The plan had been to spend the rest of his life cruising the seas with his last wife, bride number four.

  The only part of this grand plan which remained was that Max’s last wife was definitely going to be his last wife.

  Never again. Another marriage was not in his future.

  After his most recent painful and costly divorce, Max had tried to return to his roots, even going so far as to reconnect with his first love and first ex-wife, Bunny.

  For a few precious months everything seemed to be working out, until a half-wit lunatic began chopping people up and using their bits and pieces as Halloween decorations around the neighborhoods of the small mountain town where he and Bunny had grown up.

  It wasn’t his own close encounter with the madman that caused Max to leave. He could have weathered that ordeal.

  Max simply wasn’t willing to cope with Bunny’s fanatical religious beliefs and the way she insisted on allowing them to influence everything.

  “What in the world makes a reasonably intelligent person fall for that crap?” Max asked himself.

  “Whatsay?” Max's shipmate asked as he poked his head out of the cabin.

  “Ah, nothing important, Cap’n. What's for lunch?”

  Bunny and Taffy were spending their second afternoon in Verona in a piazza near that city’s ancient Roman arena.

  Musical performances were still held there during the summer months according to the brochure the sisters picked up on their tour of the crumbling stone structure.

  Outside of Rome, Verona is home to the most numerous and intact Roman ruins in Italy.

  It amazed Bunny to see so many of these incredibly old buildings still standing, considering the frequent earthquakes.

  Italy is as temblor prone as California, and the Romans certainly never had that state’s strict modern building codes.

  Taffy had enjoyed their visit to Casa di Giulietta the day before, and both women had dutifully, albeit self-consciously, caressed the bronze breast before moving on to the many other must-see venues Verona had to offer.

  Bunny regretted the need to spend such a short time at each stop on their trip.

  If Taffy weren't so determined to purchase her next nativity set in Naples, Bunny would have been content to spend their whole vacation in northern Italy. Especially since the room in their current convent hotel, Casa Maria Teresa, included an attached modern bathroom.

  From conversations with other guests at the family-style dinner the night before she discovered their monastic experience in Venice was an exception for these convent hotels, rather than the rule.

  Strolling along window shopping down a narrow side street, Taffy spied a tiny store with nativity scenes crowding its dusty display window and urged Bunny toward it.

  “I thought you had your heart set on an authentic presepio from Naples, Taffy?”

  “That doesn't mean we can’t look in here, too, Bunny. Come on!”

  Tugging Bunny’s arm with her good hand, Taffy entered the shop.

  Taffy’s cut seemed to be healing well, but just to be safe she was still keeping it heavily bandaged. It made her hand awkward to use, but protected it from accidental bumps and possible re-injury.

  Once inside the dark, cluttered shop, Taffy’s enthusiasm began to wane.

  This was nothing like the bright, cheerful Hallmark store in Twin Falls where she found her last nativity set. She almost expected to see a giant man-eating plant lunge at them like in the movie Little Shop of Horrors.

  Just as she was about to lead Bunny back out to the street, the shopkeeper, a scrawny, rumpled little man with squinty eyes and a thick scar angling across his bulging forehead, darted out from the back room.

  He seemed about to shoo them away, but stopped abruptly and grabbed Taffy’s arm. He smiled ingratiatingly into her eyes and tugged her toward the back of the shop, speaking earnestly in rapid Italian.

  In alarm, Taffy recoiled from the man’s grasp.

  “Please, whatever are you doing? Let me go!”

  “Scusi, signora,” the man wheezed.

  “I did not notice...did not realize...I have what you come for...see? Eccola!”

  He pulled a package from under the counter and thrust it toward Taffy.

  “What is this?” Taffy sputtered, refusing to accept the parcel.

  The odd little man unwrapped the bundle, revealing a lovely plaster shepherd boy in medieval garb carrying a lamb.

  “You see? I have what you come for,” he insisted, again pressing the statuette and wrappings into Taffy’s hand.

  He lightly tapped her bandaged hand, nodded emphatically and dashed into the inner room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

  “Oh, forevermore!” Taffy sputtered.

  Bunny laughed.

  “Well, no matter what you say, you can still drive men to distraction! Even Italian men, it seems. This is certainly something to tell the folks at home about. Let’s go, Taffy. What a character!”

  She chuckled and turned to leave the claustrophobic shop.

  “Wait. This little shepherd boy is charming, Bunny. Having him in my collection would be a reminder of our trip and a great conversation piece, too. I wonder how much it costs.”

  The figurine had no price tag, but she looked at the prices marked on similar pieces and placed what she thought was a fair, even generous, price under a paperweight on the counter.

  Taffy rewrapped the statuette, tucked it neatly into her capacious tote and the women quickly left the shop.

  As they rounded the corner into the piazza the sisters nearly collided with a dirty, waiflike girl, probably around thirteen years old, scurrying anxiously into the lane they were leaving.

  “Did you notice, Taffy? That girl had a bandage on her hand almost as big and clumsy-looking as yours. With socialized medicine here in Italy, I'm surprised that anyone does their own doctoring.”

  “Sorry. I didn't really notice. I was just thinking about dinner. Shall we eat in a café bar tonight or go back to the convent and have dinner family-style again?”

  Chapter Four

  The enemy boasted, ‘I will pursue, I will overtake them. I will divide the spoils; I will gorge myself on them. I will draw my sword and my hand will destroy them.’

  Exodus 15:9

  Anthony Parma was resting on the balcony of his nephew’s apartment near the Università di Bologna, the oldest university in the world.

  He wore a heavy sweater and his legs were protected against the crisp November air by a brightly colored knitted blanket.

  His nephew Felice’s wife, Paola, stepped lightly onto the balcony and handed the old man a steaming cup of rich hot cocoa before silently withdrawing.

  Taking a careful sip, Parma set the cup gently on a tiny white iron filigree table and continued to gaze out upon Bologna’s famous central towers. His years in New York City, with that city’s rigidly perpendicular skyscrapers, had trained him to expect the same geometric accuracy in all buildings.

  As he gazed upon the two towers before him his eyes strained to correct the buildings’ slight leaning and pull them upright. It was an interesting sensation, rather like trying to see the three dimensional images in those Magic Eye books which were once so popular.

&n
bsp; Anthony Parma delighted in any new sensation remaining to him in this life.

  One of the reasons he had chosen to fly economy class on this trip to Italy was for the opportunity to experience the unfamiliar.

  His other motivation was a wish to honor the memory of his father. The first Antonio Parma had disembarked at Ellis Island after many days at sea crammed into the dank hold of a steamer ship with a mass of other immigrants.

  Economy air travel is today’s version of the steerage class of his father’s day.

  “Zio, scusi, Felice has called with a message. He said to tell you that there is a slight problem. One small part of your Venezuelan friend’s order has been misplaced.”

  Paola spoke apprehensively as she stepped once again through the French doors onto the balcony, ducking her head slightly to avoid the incompletely raised horizontal shutter.

  Parma closed his eyes for a moment before speaking. He seemed to be willing strength back into his frail body.

  “Which small part?” he rasped. “Misplaced how? What is being done to find it?”

  Although the old man spoke quietly, there was steel in his voice and Paola quailed visibly before replying.

  “Felice is on his way here, now. He did not give me the details on the phone, Zio Antonio. But he should be here in a short while.”

  Parma nodded, dismissively, and the young woman scurried back into the apartment.

  

  Back in their room, Bunny and Taffy were preparing for their next day’s journey.

  “That was such a scrumptious dinner, Taffy. I’m so glad we decided to stay in the plaza and eat at that little bar. I know the animal rights people wouldn't approve, but the Veal Marsala was delectable. And did you try the finocchio salad? I thought it was just slices of pale celery until I bit into the lovely licorice flavor of the fennel root... hmm...Would Pinocchio eat finocchio?” she began in a silly sing-song under her breath while repacking her bag for the next day’s journey.