He kissed her forehead and slowly drifted into a nap, amazed by the
unexpected beauty of their relationship.
All told, the voyage took nine days. At last, they sailed smoothly into the port of
Livorno, and within a short space of time, emerged down the gangplank over the
glistening turquoise waters of the Mediterranean and onto solid ground.
“I quite understand why some travelers kiss the earth after a sea voyage,”
Katerina told her husband fervently. “The thought of doing this again makes me
feel faint.”
“It won't be soon,” he reminded her. “We'll be here until the middle of March.”
“Thank heaven. You know, it's only a little warmer here than in England.”
She snuggled deeper into her shawl.
“You're right,” he agreed. “I suppose winter is winter.”
“I suppose, and this is not the southernmost part of Italy either,” she said.
Though far from warm, the light that trickled down on them seemed stronger than anything she could recall, as though this more southerly climate lent it power. It kissed her face in a teasing way.
Her words might have sounded calm, but her insides fluttered at the sight of
such un-English buildings, brightly colored and clustered close, one behind the other, to the top of a hill. Boats large and small bobbed in the harbor behind them, awaiting their next adventure on the Mediterranean.
“True,” Christopher said, shaking her from her reverie. “Well, love, are you
feeling courageous?”
“Perhaps. Why?”
“I don't speak Italian,” Christopher reminded her. “If we're going to get anywhere, it will be up to you to handle the conversations.”
“Oh, that's right.” Shyness made her squirm, but she steeled herself against
it. “I think I can manage.”
Last month she would not have been able, she knew, but Christopher was
like the Italian sun, all warmth and life-giving brightness, and in his arms, she felt herself blossoming like a spring flower. It took no time at all for the affection and gratitude of our wedding day to deepen and strengthen. This… thing I feel
will be good for our lifetime. I look forward to exploring it every day.
He hailed a cab and she arranged for it to take them to the train station. The
driver, a man on the verge between middle-aged and elderly, quickly loaded the
baggage. The couple took a seat inside and stared out the window at the sight of
their first Italian town. How different this is from London; colorful and sun-drenched, the winter sky a dazzling blue.
Inside the station, behind a marble counter, a young man with curly
sideburns and a few pimples sprinkling his cheeks regarded her with a bored expression.
Katerina took a deep breath and requested in Italian, “Two tickets to Firenze,
please.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I thought you were English.”
It wasn't his business, so Katerina ignored the comment. “When does the
train leave?”
“Two hours,” he replied, sulking that his nosiness had been rebuffed. He
collected her money and sent her on her way.
Katerina regaled her husband with the account as they walked to a restaurant
whose façade was covered in creamy plaster. They sat outside at a wrought-iron
