Page 73 of No Stone Unturned

“That’s nice,” I said, eyeing it. “But it’s white. You know white and I don’t go together.”

“It’s all I could find in the gift shop downstairs. One size fits all.”

“Thank you. It’ll work until I can get to my other clothes.” I noticed he wore a tacky white T-shirt with the photos of the saint candidates on it. “I see you have a new shirt, too.”

He looked down as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing. “I bought it at the same place as yours. Not much of a selection.”

I smiled as he sat on the bed again, leaning back against the headboard and putting his stockinged feet on the bed, next to mine. He put an arm around me and I rested my head against his shoulder.

“I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to go to Gaeta,” I said.

“That’s okay,” Slash said. “Another day won’t hurt. We’ll wait until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready to get out of here this moment. I hate hospitals.”

“The logical solution to that problem is to stop engaging in dangerous activities like helping little old Italian ladies with runaway carts and playing with flaming propane tanks.”

“Hilarious. Just get me out of here.”

Slash pressed a kiss against my temple. “I’m working on it.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Lexi

When we finally got back to the hotel, Slash ordered chicken soup for me and grilledcaponatasalad with flatbread for himself to be delivered to our room. I was actually happy to be back at the hotel, in spite of the circumstances. One night and I’d already become attached to the place where we’d been the closest since this mess had started. We ate quietly at the table on the balcony. Afterward Slash wanted me to sleep, but I was too restless, so we watched old movies on television with English subtitles, for my benefit, until we both fell asleep.

When I awoke in the morning, the television was off and Slash was gone. The balcony was open and the sounds of the water hitting the shore and people talking from the beach below could be heard. I sat up. My head felt significantly better than yesterday, but my hands were hurting. A quick glance confirmed Slash’s clothes and laptop were still here, so I assumed he’d gone out for fresh air or food. I unwound the bandages from my hands. The burns were tender and raw, but not nearly as bad as I expected. I took a careful shower and when I came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me, Slash was back with coffee andfette biscottate. He’d dressed in light tan slacks and a short-sleeved white polo shirt. Both he and the coffee smelled heavenly.

He immediately took my hands and turned them over, examining the burns. “How do they feel?”

“Sore, but I’m sure your burns are much worse.”

“Mine are okay. I washed and dressed them this morning. They’ll heal.” He pressed a gentle kiss against the side of both my hands. “I should warn you, however, the burns may leave some scars.”

Scars I could live with. “I’m not one for appearances, anyway. As long as everything is in working order, I’m good.”

“My thoughts exactly. Let’s get the ointment and bandages on your hands and eat something. How’s the head?”

“Still attached to my body, thank God. The headache is gone, too. Good thing I have such a hard head.”

He led me to the bathroom where he treated my hands and bandaged them like an expert. After that, we took our breakfast to the balcony. I put on a loose light green skirt and matching white and green T-shirt and joined him barefoot at the small table.

Slash sat reading the paper, leaning back in the chair, his long legs stretched out. He’d thoughtfully put the cream and sugar next to my coffee, so I quickly poured in everything and stirred it with a wooden stick so I could drink it. The bandages felt funny on my hand, but at least they didn’t interfere with the mobility of my fingers, which helped enormously.

Taking a sip of coffee, I leaned over to snatch abiscottatefrom the bag when I noticed the picture on the front of the newspaper. I choked on my coffee, and Slash lowered his paper.

“What’s wrong?”

I swallowed and pointed to the picture on the front page. “Did you see that?”

Slash and I were standing in the middle of the street at the parade. A photographer had caught Slash holding the burning propane tank, bare-chested and looking like a total badass from a movie set. Thankfully, I was in the background, my face barely visible. Good thing, because I was dressed in just my bra and jeans, pulling the manhole cover off with the policeman.

He set the paper down. “I saw it. We’ve been dubbed the Second Saviors of Salerno. A second miracle on the very day of the celebration of the first miracle by the Savior of Salerno.”

“So much for anonymity.”

“I know. I was going to wait until you had breakfast, but I might as well tell you now. We’ve been asked to swing by the mayor’s office before we leave for Gaeta.”

---