As you'll recall from last week in Trapped in Time II, Vittorio is still missing, and our little band has run across a group of actors, who will escort them to the nearest town. But one of them seems to have his eye on Doll. Hmmm... Don't forget to see what the other Briefers are up to. Their links follow my tale. Enjoy!
I guess that we will now be traveling with the acting
troupe, at least until we reach the next town. Then we can be rid of them, and
good riddance I say.
Shaughnessy’s group consists of four covered wagons,
populated by about a dozen or so actors.
At least, I assume they are all actors, but it doesn’t really matter to
me who or what they are. They set up camp a short distance from us, too close
for my taste, but the others seem to welcome their company, so there is little
I can say.
Shaughnessy makes a gift to us of a chicken. Or, rather, to
me, as I am the appointed chef for our group. Apparently his little troupe is
well supplied with food, as he tells us, and wish to share what they have. Especially in light of Vati’s invitation to
him to dine with us. What else can I do but graciously accept this gift and
roast it for dinner? I suppose I shouldn’t complain so much, but knowing me, I
probably will.
This is such a far cry from our dinners in the jungle, in so
many ways. I have better utensils to cook with, a proper campfire, and actual
spices with which to season the food. I even make a fresh loaf of bread. And
yet it tastes no better than what we had before. In fact, I think it tastes
worse.
Of course I know why that is. Vittorio is not here and
without him, nothing tastes or feels right.
I had hoped that after he ate, Shaughnessey would return to
his people, but my hopes are dashed when Vati invites him to stay longer. Now
here we are, sitting about the fire, the only light in the dense darkness of
the night.
Myron is completely smitten with the Irishman. No, not in
that way. He still has Charlie, and they are still very much together. But
rather he is fascinated with him because he is an actor. I supposed if
circumstances were otherwise, I’d be more interested myself, as both Vittorio
and I have a love for the performing arts, whether on the stage or at the
theater. But right now I find the man an annoying pain in the ass.
Myron and Charlie sit on one side of Shaughnessey, my father
is seated on the other side, while I have removed myself to a spot farther from
them, yet still within the radius of the light. “Tell us more stories about
being on the road,” the besotted Myron begs, for he has regaled them with
anecdotes all during dinner. Places he’s seen, people he’s met, crowned heads
of Europe he’s performed for. I think he is full of hot air, but they seem to
hang on every word as if it is gospel.
“Have you ever been to Paris?” Myron asks. For some reason,
he has the idea that Paris is the cat’s meow of culture in Europe, and all
things French are amazing. At least he’s gotten over his obsession with Italian
things, if you know what I mean.
“That I have, that I have. Performed for the king. Let me
tell you...” And off he goes, rambling about something or the other.
I’m tired of listening. My head and my heart both ache, and
his voice, it grates on my nerves. I rise and slip quietly away, far enough so
that the sound of his chatter cannot disturb me. I stare up into the sky, at
the silent moon, which is close to being full, and I pick out the familiar
patterns of the stars. There is Orion’s Belt, and there the Big Dipper. The “Dog
Star”, Sirius, gleams brightly. How often have Vittorio and I lain together and
stared at this familiar sight?
I sigh, shivering slightly. I should probably return to the
warmth of the fire, but I am not ready for that. Not yet.
I hear a snap behind me. On edge, I spin about, my heart in
my throat.
“Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you,” Shaughnessey
apologizes.
I manage to refrain from growling or snapping out something
that would be undoubtedly rude. Instead, I eye him, wondering why he is here
and what he wants.
“Your father told me of your loss, Adalbert, and I just
wanted to say I’m sorry. I know how it hurts to lose someone.”
“I have not lost him!” I vehemently spit out. “Vittorio is
not lost and you do not know what you speak of.”
He holds up his hand in a placating manner. “I seem to have
stuck my foot into my mouth, haven’t I?” He takes a step closer to me and I
stiffen. “I only want to help. It hurts me to see such a fine young man as
yourself in such pain.”
He reaches a hand toward me and I take a step back from him,
decidedly uncomfortable at the turn this conversation has taken, as well as his
intentions. Who does he think he is? And what does he want from me? We stand
frozen in this awkward tableau until I hear my father’s voice calling my name.
“Doll, there you are, I was worried about you.” He looks
from me to Shaughnessey, but he doesn’t seem to notice anything odd, and so I
say nothing.
“Tomorrow,” Shaughnessey continues, as if nothing untoward
has occurred between us, “I shall put a smile on that handsome face.” He winks
at me and grins. “And that is a promise you can put in your pipe and smoke.” He
laughs and walks away, back toward the fire. My father seems amused. He chuckles.
I, on the other hand, am not.
“Doll, please come back to the fire.” He takes my arm
gently. “There may be wild animals.”
I walk back with him, my concern for Vittorio only
skyrocketing at that thought. Is he somewhere safe and warm? Is he searching
for me too?
to be continued
Now go see what the other Briefers are up to!
Until next time, take care!
♥ Julie
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