Dinner with the girls that night was a drag and that only compounded to my misery. Charlotte was uncomfortable and tense, barely touching her food. I wish I knew the right words to reassure her, but I didn’t. I needed to throw caution to the wind, and let my destiny unfold.
I came up with a game plan for returning to Pompeii on a more regular basis. I would travel there on Saturday morning and stay ‘till Monday morning. The regular visits would surely help with understanding my real purpose there. Seeing Marcus was an added bonus. Of course, this was assuming Marcus wanted to spend more time with me. After my mysterious disappearance, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted nothing to do with me.
Charlotte was against the idea. No surprise there.
“Nothing will happen, Charlotte. I’ll call you guys as soon as I get back on Monday mornings. Please…I really need your support.” I had to believe that over time, Charlotte would come around.
On Thursday morning I woke to the familiar sounds of the painting coming to life. Without hesitation, I found myself dressing in my emerald green tunic and cloak and leaving a voicemail for work that I would be working from home for the next couple of days doing site visits for upcoming events.
I was in Pompeii within minutes and dashing to the marketplace in hopes of seeing Marcus. The stars were aligned in my favor. I spotted him buying bread from the very same baker I saw on my first day there. I watched him interact with the baker and couldn’t stop the heat that crept up my face. Those broad shoulders and muscular chest; the lean sinewy legs…and those green eyes that twinkled with just a hint of mischief. Wow!
“Marcus, good morning,” I said, shyly.
I was giddy with excitement hoping it wasn’t visible on my face. The ease in which I bumped into him was a sign that I made the right decision by coming back.
“Lexi, good morning. What are you doing here? I assumed you left for Rome.” He smirked wickedly.
“Uh…no, slight change of plans.”
“Hmmm. Lucky for me then. Perhaps I can interest you in a walk? We can breakfast together by the gardens.” He smiled at me while fumbling nervously with his purchases. I bit my lower lip to hide my pleasure at his invitation.
“That sounds lovely. I would love to. Should we find Catina?” I asked, assuming it would be inappropriate to be seen without a chaperone.
“No…unless of course you don’t trust yourself around me.” He bit back a fit of laughter. Was this guy for real? It took everything I had to keep from punching his arm. He was teasing me. I melted like an ice cube on a hot pavement.
“I am capable of handling you on my own, Marcus. We don’t need a chaperone.” I couldn’t get enough of him and I suspected he knew it. Damn!
“Excellent. Shall we?” He turned toward the intersection leading away from the marketplace.
“Lexi, why did you need to leave so abruptly?”
“I, uh…I have an aunt here. She’s very sick and I needed to check on her. I had been gone for so long, I felt terrible for neglecting her.” I prayed he would let the subject drop.
“Your aunt? Well, that’s a relief.”
“Relief? What do you mean by that?” I asked, curious.
“I assumed after our night together, you went back and rekindled your relationship.” He hung his head in shame at his misconception.
“What? Why would you think that?” I was fuming and a few bypassers turned to look at us.
Get a grip, Lexi.
I didn’t want him to think me romantically unavailable. Absurd, I know.
Wait.
He liked me or he wouldn’t have asked about me.
“Lexi, please forgive me. I’m sorry. You were so anxious about the time I assumed the worst. I was jealous. I’m such an arse.” He looked at the ground as we walked away from the marketplace.
“It’s fine. And for the record, I would never take him back.” I suppressed a smile satisfied with knowing he cared.
As we stood face-to-face on the sidewalk, a couple of nosy old ladies in shabby brown tunics paused to listen. Our behavior was completely inappropriate for a young couple that wasn’t married or even betrothed.
“Let’s go eat, I’m starving.” I practically speed walked hoping he would follow.
“Wait. Wait. My goodness. I’m coming.”
“Marcus, did you say you were jealous?” I titled my head up to examine his handsome face for a reaction.
“I’m starving and I know the perfect place. Come on.” His dimples pierced his cheeks as he ignored my question.
Giggling, I hurried along trying to keep up with his long strides.
The gardens were immaculate with an abundance of fragrant flowers, lush bushes, secluded shady hideaways and soothing water fountains. No wonder the people of ancient times cherished their outings to the gardens. We picked a private spot behind a row of trees and sat on the cool marble bench surrounded by spring blooms and chirping birds with the occasional murmuring of a conversation.
The peacefulness lulled us into a magical trance. Breakfast turned to lunch as we ate everything Marcus bought from the marketplace. Likely, his mom was home waiting on the purchases, but I didn’t dare remind him, not wanting our private time to end.
Our conversations never lacked substance and with each passing minute, there was no doubt in my mind about our blossoming fondness for each other.
“Lexi, you realize it’s nearly dinnertime?” he said in disbelief. Did his eyes have to sparkle with mischief all the time?
“Is it?” I stood, pulling him up by the arm. “Come on, let’s go find Catina.”
“So you
do
need a chaperone around me.” He jumped like he had just scored the winning goal in a soccer match.
Men! I laughed shyly and walked away. He caught up to my lazy strides, and fell into step beside me.
We spotted Catina almost right away. She seemed to be in a hurry. Her hair was wet and coiled in braids on top of her head, her pale yellow tunic and matching accessories fit like a glove.
“Catina,” Marcus and I called in unison.
She spun around. “Hello. What are you two doing here…together?” She looked around for our chaperone. She closed the gap between us, hugging me like an old friend. “I was so worried about you, Lexi. Please tell me you didn’t go back to him,” she said full of concern.
“I didn’t. I went to my sick aunt’s. I felt guilty for leaving her alone overnight. She’s much better now so I’m free as a bird.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry, Catina, for running off.” I hoped my lies wouldn’t catch up to me.
“It’s all right, I’m glad to see you again and not back with that cad. I’m sure Marcus is relieved as well.”
She teased him the way a little sister would her older brother. I almost leaped for joy when I caught him beaming with fondness.
I knew I was playing with fire, but how could I ignore what was happening?
Chapter Ten
My weekend trips to Pompeii became my new normal and to my delight, I was a welcome guest at Catina’s house. I let Marcus and Catina assume my absence was due to helping my ailing aunt. Neither pushed for answers.
We made the most of our time together, often at dinner parties hosted by one family or another. When possible, we spent alone time at the Sea of Campania. The more I got to know him, the more I liked him and that scared me beyond words.
I did my best to ignore Charlotte’s questions that constantly whirled in my head: “What next? What do you hope the outcome will be?
If it were up to me, I would snap my fingers and Marcus would be an American citizen living in Los Angeles.
But it wasn’t up to me, was it? So, I focused on learning about the area, and getting to know Marcus on a much deeper level. He seemed willing and eager to let me into his life.
It was well past fall season. Winter loomed around the corner, and yet Marcus didn’t leave Pompeii as originally planned. The weather was growing cooler. Most of the residents had made their way back to Rome or further north, and yet Marcus was still rooted here, surely waiting for me to declare a date for my own departure so we could travel together.
Even Catina was packing her trunks in preparation for the journey
north
as she called it.
I did everything I could to keep my mind from dealing with the inevitable, prepared to tell another tall tale about needing to stay in Pompeii.
Marcus referred to our time together as courtship. He went out of his way to be completely available while I was there. Our conversations were easy and warm and we made each other laugh. I almost forgot we were from two different worlds. Marcus was always the perfect gentleman. He never once attempted to touch or kiss me. Ours was a true courtship built on mutual respect, trust, and the enjoyment in each other’s company. As much as I wanted him—and God help me I did—I felt grateful for the old-fashioned traditions.
I became robotic in my alter life living for the weekends when I could be with Marcus again.
The time had come to tell him the truth. He deserved that and he deserved the option of choosing to be with someone from his world. Someone with whom he could build a future with and raise a family—in Pompeii or Rome, not in Los Angeles where his city was on display in a gazillion pieces as treasured historical artifacts. My heart broke in a million pieces at the thought of him moving on with someone else.
I wasn’t being fair to him and yet I didn’t know how to let go. I wasn’t sure I
wanted
to let go. I should have heeded Charlotte’s advice months ago, but I couldn’t walk away from him then and I still can’t. Despite everything, I feel I’ve made the right decision by coming back.
Once he finds out the truth, he may very well hate me. Could the Universe be so cruel to lure me into this world, infuse Marcus into my life only to have him hate me for keeping such a mind-blowing secret? Was I not giving him enough credit?
Back in my apartment, I called Charlotte and Kate and let them in on my plan to tell Marcus everything. Sensing my distress, they offered to meet for dinner so I could rehearse my speech. That is one of the reasons I absolutely adored them. Regardless of their own feelings about how I arrived at this point, their only concern was me. Kate was still convinced that everything would work out and although Charlotte was a lot more supportive now, she was apprehensive about how well things would shake out once the truth was on the table.
My own trepidation made me miserable and agitated with everyone, especially at work where my tolerance for office nonsense was at an all time low.
The girls and I devised a game plan to keep me busy so I wouldn’t obsess about the weekend that would ultimately determine my fate with Marcus. Actually, my fate was already somewhat determined. He belonged in Pompeii and I belonged in Los Angeles. Period. Our worlds were too different for either of us to entertain the idea of adapting to the other one’s home. What was I saying? Marcus would never consider coming here. He will think I’m crazy and then he’ll walk away, heartbroken and hurt by my betrayal. And I will come home devastated for losing him and more so for hurting him.
I choked back tears determined to think about anything, but my predicament. I bought magazines, books and planned a social event every night of the week so I literally had no time to think about anything. But no distraction could keep me from shutting Marcus out of my mind. As hard as I tried, the ticking of the clock inside my head counting down ‘till Saturday never stopped. Not even in my sleep.
By mid-week, I found myself wide awake at three in the morning. I laid there, the painting beckoning as it had for months. At the first sound of the whistling wind, I got up and headed to my spot in front of the painting. I stood so close the breeze blew my hair.
If only you could talk and tell me why you chose me and why you brought Marcus into my life.
What am I supposed to do? I can’t leave him, I can’t stay with him and he can’t come with me. Are we doomed?
I wasn’t sure whether I was talking to the painting or myself, but on all accounts, I sounded like a tortured soul.
As if the Universe heard my sorrowful pleas, a man with a long dark cloak galloped away from Pompeii. His hair was chestnut brown and blew carelessly in the wind softening the rigidity that encased his body. Bright red fabric tied around the horse’s harness ruffled in the wind. Without even seeing the rider’s face, I knew it was Marcus. He was leaving Pompeii. God help me, he was leaving. I prayed his family was well and healthy and his urgent departure wasn’t caused by devastation, or worse.
“Will I never see him again?” As if my voice traveled through time, he turned slightly in the direction of my tree. I had a good look at his handsome face. He seemed haunted and anxious. His brows were furrowed; his chiseled jaw clenched so tightly it made me ache. Within seconds he was joined by another rider—a woman. Catina. A gnawing feeling told me they were looking for me. That I knew without a shadow of a doubt. But what happened to make them think I’d left the city? My God, what had I done? I had to go back immediately.
For the first time in my life, I felt completely helpless. If I went to Pompeii now, I would need to find a horse and gallop like the wind in hopes of finding them. Probably I’d never catch up. Damn!
At lightning speed, I changed into my purple tunic, deep lavender cloak and matching sandals, called in sick to work, left a message for the girls and practically hurled myself into the painting.
As soon as my feet hit the ground by the tree, I bolted for the city gates. Breathless, sweating, and disheveled, I gasped as I explained to the merchant selling vegetables at the entrance of the marketplace about the life and death need for a horse.
Urgency wasn’t part of his repertoire. After what seemed like an eternity of convincing him of my dire circumstance and promising a handsome price and personal recognition from an esteemed family in the senate, he reluctantly loaned me his aging large horse.
Seriously?
It had been years since I’d been on a horse. I’d never been a graceful rider, but right now, I didn’t care. The only way I was coming off this horse was if it bucked me into a ditch.
We took the narrow road from Pompeii. It led through a thick forest. I prayed with everything in me that this journey had a happy outcome. I couldn’t imagine being lost in the middle of Nowhere, Italy in 59 AD.