Wait for Me in Vienna (34 page)

59

Thomas was love drunk. He had hardly slept on the plane, consumed by an idea that excited him so much that he could barely sit still. He reclined his seat, then shifted it back up, then did it all over again, repeatedly, much to the chagrin of those seated near him.

“I’m getting engaged, you know,” Thomas boasted to the person seated next to him.

He marveled at this unsolicited confession; he wasn’t a particularly outgoing person, not with strangers anyway, but he was just so happy that everything was back as it should be, that he had seen Johanna again and that last night had opened his eyes.

Shortly after his arrival at JFK Airport, he hopped into a taxi and made his way to a shopping mall. He wanted to get a special gift for Johanna, a piece of jewelry that expressed how he felt about her. A special ring,
the
ring with which he could demonstrate his long-overdue commitment to her. It should be as elegant, understated, and extraordinary as Johanna herself.

As he wandered through the mall, looking for a jeweler, he contemplated his proposal. He’d have to think about how to give it her. Maybe he would enlist Paolo’s help. Maybe not. He wasn’t sure. But he wanted it to be memorable for both of them. Maybe Paolo could hide the ring in one of his great culinary creations. Then, at dinner, Johanna could find it; hopefully, she wouldn’t ruin her beautiful teeth by biting down on it too hard. Or maybe he could give her the ring during a romantic helicopter flight over Vienna, or while dining at the Danube Tower Restaurant. He could even rent the whole restaurant, or, or . . . Thomas never finished his thought because, at that very moment, a bullet tore through his heart.

“There was a shooting spree at a New York shopping center,” said the female CNN reporter, visibly upset. “Police are on the ground; the exact number of victims is not known, but we’re told there are several confirmed fatalities.”

The sheet of ice gave way and swallowed Johanna up. Everything around her collapsed. She felt the freezing pain of a thousand icy needles. She couldn’t see; everything was black. She sank deeper and deeper until she hit the bottom of a black hole. Infinite emptiness, hopelessness, and loneliness crashed down upon her. Paolo, Martin, and Linda’s hands reached out to her, but Johanna didn’t want to be saved. Not for a long time.

60

Johanna, Martin, Linda, and Paolo pulled into the long driveway. They’d been invited to celebrate Thomas’s short life with a memorial dinner at his parents’ house.

“Ritzy area,” Paolo said as he gazed out of the window, then squeezed Johanna’s hand. “Are you going to be okay, sweetheart?” he asked. She nodded silently.

Martin parked behind two other cars in the driveway. While Linda, Martin, and Paolo climbed out of the car, Johanna remained sitting, as if rooted to the backseat.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to, we can go back,” Martin said calmly to his sister as he sat down next to her.

“The last time I was here was with Thomas.” Tears streaming down her face, she leaned her head on Martin’s shoulder as he stroked her arm reassuringly.

“You want to go back?” Martin asked again as the front door opened.

Henriette and Karl stepped outside onto the front door stoop. Johanna saw the look of hope on Thomas’s mother’s face.

“No, we can’t go back. Let’s go inside; they’re waiting for us.” She wiped away her tears. Then, with Martin’s help, she got out of the car and walked with him to the front door.

She reached out as Henriette stepped forward to embrace her.

“Oh, Johanna, we miss him so much, too!”

Karl nodded bravely, and as Henriette let go of her, he stepped in and hugged Johanna, too.

“Come on in!” Henriette said, waving the others in, too.

Johanna noted tearfully that Thomas’s mother was doing her best to be cheerful under the tragic circumstances.

Martin and Linda stepped through the door and greeted their hosts warmly. Once Paolo stepped inside, Karl scrutinized his carefully made-up face, complete with mascara, then smiled, greeting him warmly.

Thomas’s uncle, his wife, and other people Johanna didn’t know sat at the large dining table. She shook hands and politely greeted everyone. When Gabriele entered the room to serve an aperitif, she saw Johanna and immediately put the tray down.

“Johanna, so nice to see you!” said Gabriele, unexpectedly embracing Johanna.

“Thomas always said you were like a second mother to him. Did you know that?” Johanna asked.

Gabriele nodded, then immediately burst into tears. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket, wiped away her tears, blew her nose loudly, then picked up the aperitif tray, smiling bravely as she served the guests.

Henriette sat Johanna next to her. They reminisced about the last time they had dined here when Thomas was still alive.

The appetizer was served. Johanna had eaten only a bite when she started feeling sick to her stomach.

“Excuse me,” she stammered, and sprang up from her chair, running as fast as she could to the bathroom. Martin, Paolo, and Michael, Karl’s doctor friend, followed close behind as Johanna slammed the door shut.

“Johanna! How are you doing?” Martin asked through the closed door.

“I’m just feeling a little sick,” called Johanna.

“I thought the appetizer was pretty good!” Paolo cracked.

“Go away, Paolo!” cried Johanna as she hung her head over the toilet.

“Can you let me speak to her alone?” asked the doctor as he tapped lightly on the bathroom door. “May I come in, Johanna?”

Johanna wiped her mouth off with a towel, opened the door, and let the doctor in.

“How are you feeling?” asked the doctor.

“A little better now, I guess,” Johanna said as she sat forlornly on the toilet seat.

“Hmm . . . Have you been throwing up a lot lately?”

“Yes, but it’s just because of everything that’s happened . . . it’s been really hard on me.”

“I can certainly understand that,” the doctor said as he held Johanna’s wrist and took her pulse, then felt her forehead. “Hmm . . . You don’t seem to have a fever.”

Johanna gazed at him thoughtfully, and another wave of nausea suddenly overcame her.

Weeks after the memorial dinner, Johanna found a note in Thomas’s apartment. It was a list.

All the things I would do for you, dear Johanna:

1. Hike up Mount Everest without an oxygen tank. (I would climb it if I could)
   
2. Shave my legs
   
3. Sing lullabies until you can’t bear to hear them anymore
   
4. Accompany you for hours on end when you go shopping (luckily, you’re not the shopping type, but I would do it for you if you were)
   
5. Give you a massage until I got tendinitis
   
6. Dye my hair blonde or pink or any color you want
   
7. Pick you up anywhere and take you anywhere you want to go
   
8. Never let you out of my sight
   
9. Be sad when you’re sad and happy when you’re happy
   
10. Go bungee jumping
    
11. Watch
    Sex and the City
    ,
    Twilight
    , or
    Buffy the Vampire Slayer
    with you
    
12. Warm your feet when we go skiing
    
13. Bring you flowers I picked myself, just because I’m thinking of you
    
14. Take you to every Travis concert, no matter where it is in the world
    
15. Eat organ meats
    
16. Play Romeo on stage, but only if you were my Juliet
    
17. Swim across the Atlantic and Pacific to see you
    
18. Move to Rome, Venice, Istanbul, Dubai, or to your hometown in the country—wherever you wanted
    
19. Fill your closet with wedding dresses so that you always feel like my bride
    
20. Take you to every wonderful restaurant in Vienna
    
21. Avert my eyes from every ad with a model in it forever
    
22. Take you salsa dancing every night until our feet fall off
    
23. Go back to that vineyard and install railings on all their stairs
    
24. Get Paolo to teach me how to cook, too, so that we could spend the rest of our lives feeding each other amazing food
    
25. Travel back in time to take care of you after your parents died
    

EPILOGUE

A few years later

“We’re all so proud of you,” said Martin, gazing at Johanna’s Viennese Culinary Institute diploma as the group sat outside around a large table at Thomas’s parents’ house, sipping wine. They were having an informal celebration in honor of Johanna’s graduating from culinary school.

“I’ll get this framed for you right away,” said Henriette as she delicately plucked the diploma from Martin’s hand and handed it to Gabriele, who took it inside for safekeeping.

“When do you start your new job?” asked Linda.

“And not just any old job, mind you!” Paolo added excitedly. “Johanna got recruited by one of the best Italian restaurants in Vienna: the Cantinette Antinori!”

“Well, I’ll just be working as a sous-chef at first,” Johanna said modestly.

“She’ll be head chef over there before you know it! Her pasta is to die for!” Paolo exclaimed proudly. He paused for a second, leaned toward Johanna, then asked slyly, “And how’s the new love interest?”

“Andreas?” said Johanna cautiously. “He’s fine. We’re taking it slowly. He’s a really great guy and—”

“Your new young man is welcome here any time,” Karl interrupted, tears welling up and glistening in his eyes, as he reached over to touch Johanna’s hand. “Thomas would have wanted you to be happy.”

“And we want you to be happy,” said Henriette as she patted Johanna’s hand.

“Mama, Mama!” Sophie called out excitedly as she ran toward Johanna with a tiny baby hedgehog in hand, her grandparents looking on adoringly. “Look what I found.”

“Oh, how sweet!” Johanna said as she petted the little animal’s tummy. “What should we call him?”

“How about Mr. Quillhead?” lisped Sophie, a broad smile spreading across her face, her ebony eyes sparkling.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Austrian author Lana N. May has already enjoyed several career paths in her life, working as a waitress, a receptionist, a study-program tutor, and a teacher. She has also worked as a tour guide and has a master’s degree in tourism management. Her great passion—writing novels—began as a child, when she devoured books and retold stories. It was also then that she started to write, and she still loves to develop characters and storylines that help the reader escape into a different world. May lives in Vienna.