Page 68 of No Stone Unturned

At this point, I was running too fast to stop cleanly, and the sandals fought my best efforts to slow my momentum. I managed to jump over a downed drum and avoid a small dog, but I ricocheted off two musicians, lost a sandal, pirouetted, stumbled and fell face-first into the bishop’s lap, slamming my jaw against his knee.

I lay facedown for a moment, trying to catch my breath and process what had happened, when the bishop said something in Italian in a deep voice. I scrambled to a seated position, my cheeks burning hot. I watched in silence as the bishop rearranged the robes in his lap where my face had been, then turned for assistance from a nearby parade-goer for help back to his feet. A small girl picked up, dusted off and returned his miter.

Suddenly I became aware of the pandemonium surrounding me. People were shouting, crying and laughing. I stood, turning around in the middle of the street, apologizing to the bishop and the parade marchers, and trying, in a mixture of English, pantomime and random Italian words, to explain to two policemen what had happened with the wheeled cart and the old woman.

At last Slash appeared, carrying my hat. He looked around at the stopped parade, the scattered instruments, the bishop gathering the pieces of the broken cross, the policemen holding my arm, and everyone talking and shouting at once.

Just then, the old woman shoved her way through the crowd and, to my astonishment, hugged me hard, before she started shouting at the policemen and gesticulating wildly. When anyone tried to get too close to me, she snarled at them like a lioness. Everyone seemed a little afraid of her, even Slash, who wisely kept his distance.

Slash met my gaze across the street and I lifted my hands. “I know this looks bad, but it wasn’t my fault...exactly.”

He finally stepped forward, but the elderly lady came between us. I tapped her shoulder, pointed at my engagement ring and then Slash. “It’s okay. He’s with me.”

The woman eyed him mistrustfully but stepped aside. Slash gently tipped my chin to the side, examining my jaw. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I think. My jaw, however, got up close and personal with the bishop’s knee, and I may or may not have planted my face in his lap.”

Slash raised an eyebrow but said nothing, thank God. A kindly gentleman retrieved the lady’s wheeled cart—now rolling crookedly—and returned it to her.

Slash tipped his head toward the elderly lady. “She told the police you helped her with the cart and it’s her fault it went barreling down the hill.”

“That’s somewhat accurate. I handed the cart off to her after I pushed it up the hill, but a guy on a scooter clipped me and I bumped into her. She didn’t have a good hold on the handles, so it got away from her. If I’d had my tennis shoes on, and not sandals, I might have caught it.”

The policeman started to ask me something in halting English, but Slash interceded, speaking Italian on my behalf, presumably explaining what happened. People started crowding around listening. At one point I heard Slash say “Americana” and everyone burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I asked him, my hands on my hips.

“Not a thing.” He looped an arm around my shoulders. The policemen moved away and Slash began to check out my arms and legs to make sure I was okay.

“Nothing broken,” I insisted. “Just my pride.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,cara.” He placed the hat on my head.

“I may be okay, but I don’t think I made a good impression on the bishop.” I glanced nervously over at him. He was examining the cross, but it definitely hadn’t survived my onslaught.

The bishop saw us staring, so he started coming our way. Thankfully, Slash moved to intercept him, and they started a conversation. At one point during the discussion, the bishop smiled and waved at me. Slash smiled at me, too, over his shoulder.

What the heck?

I waved back warily, wondering what Slash was saying about me. That I was the biggest dork in the universe? That a little black cloud followed me around nonstop and I destroyed things and injured myself and others on a regular basis? Planting my face in the bishop’s lap might be a new personal low for me, though.

While they were talking, I reached into my purse and pulled out all the euros I had, which equaled $316. I pressed it into the elderly woman’s hand. She looked shocked and tried to refuse the money, but I insisted. After a bit of a shoving match, she finally put the money in her purse.

A minute later, Slash returned to my side. People were thankfully starting to lose interest in the sideshow. The elderly woman said something to Slash and he turned to me. “She says you gave her $300.”

“Well, it was $316 to be exact, and it was the least I could do. I would have given her more, but that was all I had in my wallet. I feel terrible.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

I loved him for saying so, but somehow I was involved in a statistically high number of accidents and there had to be some crazy force in the universe that I kept being in the center of them. “Regardless, she lost all her wares and now she has a damaged cart.”

Slash took out his wallet and gave her some additional bills. The woman’s eyes went wide and she tried to press the money back into his hands, much like she had done with me. But Slash insisted, so she finally hugged him, hugged me again and then shuffled away with her lopsided cart.

The policemen eventually shooed us and the other bystanders off the road so they could resume the parade. I assumed that meant I wasn’t under arrest.

“Everything’s okay?” I asked Slash. At least I hadn’t been handcuffed or led away in a police car.

“Everything’s okay. Accidents happen.”

---