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“I don’t know if I want to hear that kind of thing or not.”
“I’ll say it again. We could go home and turn this thing over to Fletch and his men…”
“And lose the Clarion.”
“It’s been a long time since World War II; maybe it’s time to leave the wrong to right itself and find a little happiness for yourself.”
“I just can’t,” she said as the sun started to set.
“Not to dump anything more on you, but I spoke with Svoboda in Prague. Interpol, in connection with a couple of alphabet agencies, raided the flat we had there. We’re going to need to come up with a fallback position if they find us here in Naples.”
“Shit! We’re running out of options. London is out, the States aren’t any good for us, Russia is too bloody cold…”
“I figure France or Greece.”
“Yuck. Start looking around and see what you can find.”
“Will do. It’ll take me about a week to get something set up. I’m inclined to look more in the south of France or maybe even Monaco. We both speak fluent French, and your Greek sucks.”
“Personally, I’d prefer Monaco, but it’s a far smaller and more intimate country. I think it would be harder to blend in and disappear.”
“South of France it is.”
“Mia, you should go. You didn’t sign up for some Nazi acolyte to be trying to kill you, and regardless of what you say, you and Carter had something, or at least you could have.”
“You had something with Fletch.”
“Along with a promise to my grandfather. Fletch was a wonderful, mesmerizing dream, and the warmth of what we had is going to need to last me a lifetime. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. I think I’m going to head to bed.”
Mia nodded. “Sounds good. Did we pick up coffee this afternoon?”
“I didn’t. Don’t we have some here?”
“No. Don’t you remember we used it all up the last time we were here? Not to worry. I’ll buzz out in the morning and get us some.”
“Sounds good. I keep telling you to leave, but the truth is, I’m awfully glad you’re here.”
They hugged each other and headed into their separate suites. She looked around. Fletch would have liked this place. It was probably a bit too sleek and modern for his taste, but the bedrooms were on either side of the main living space and there was a generous terrace that ran the entire width of the penthouse. The view was nothing short of spectacular.
Claire stripped out of her clothes and slipped between the sheets naked. They felt soft and cool against her skin. She missed Fletch. She ached for him physically and felt his loss keenly. She was bereft, and decided she most likely would learn to live without him but would never get over him.
Finally, she allowed the tears to fall. She hugged one of the pillows tightly and gave her grief full rein. She sobbed and sobbed, allowing the enormity of her loss to take center stage in her emotions. Finally, when she was spent, she tried to tell him goodbye in her mind and couldn’t do it.
Knowing sleep would elude her for some time, she reached into her bag and pulled out one of Fletch’s shirts that she had brought with her. As she slipped it on, she inhaled deeply and walked out onto the balcony. She thought of the Robert Frost poem and while she did not have a patch of woods, she did have a sea that was dark and deep. She too had a promise to keep, and miles to go before she could sleep.
CHAPTER2
CLAIRE
Acouple of weeks later, a cool breeze wafted the clean smell and sounds of the ocean as it lapped against the shore below, nudging Claire out of her slumber. Sleep had been elusive the night before. The rhythm of the waves and the gentle wind as it rolled up from the shoreline had helped to relax her, but the restorative rest she needed had been hard to find.
Claire sat up in bed allowing the silken bed coverings to pool in her lap. The sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains apprising her that it was another beautiful day on Italy’s southern coast. Coffee. She needed coffee, and they had none. It had become a joke and then a ritual. Each day they’d talk about buying coffee, and then they wouldn’t. Each morning, Mia would go down to the local espresso stand and buy them each a cup of coffee and a bag of assorted pastries… and of course a small box of biscotti. Claire couldn’t hear anyone moving around the penthouse so assumed Mia had made good on her promise to go get them coffee, and hopefully some tasty treat for breakfast. If not, they had bread, butter and eggs—Claire could make French toast.
A gentle knocking on the door made her smile. Mia had probably overestimated what she could carry and now couldn’t open the door. She pulled on the shirt she’d taken from Fletch and had been wearing every day since arriving and went to answer the door. Mia would understand. It was all she had left of him. That and her memories. For having known him for so brief a time, he had left an indelible memory. When she closed her eyes she could remember every touch, every sigh, every smile, even every flash of anger in his eyes.
Trotting out to the door, she unlocked the security locks and deadbolt in order to allow Mia to re-enter their sanctuary. Claire was prepared to see Mia loaded down with all kinds of delectable goodies for breakfast and coffee. Dear God, let her have coffee.
“Thank god, you’ve returned,” she said as she opened the door with a flourish.
