Page 1 of The Royal Governess
1
My mother always told me, “Christina, never get into a car with a strange man.” Would that apply to boats too? As I studied the back of Milo’s head, nerves tightened in my stomach. Maybe I should have listened to Mom.
Milo, the man who’d picked us up at the airport, needed a shave and a haircut. Still, the sign in his hands had my name. Newhart. Was this where my panicked decision to escape Pittsburgh had led me? Not only had I signed on for this governess gig in a foreign country, I’d dragged my fourteen-year-old daughter with me. Actually, Lexi was the reason we were here.
Spray hit my face when the boat dove into another wave. Clutching my tote, I blinked furiously. Around us stretched dark water and foamy whitecaps. No land in sight. Fear raked my chest.
“Isn’t this great?” Lexi shouted, her dripping hair flying with each bounce.
Somehow I managed to nod. No way would I let my daughter know how terrified I was right now. How guilty I felt for uprooting her to this summer on a Mediterranean island––or so the ad had said.
If we ended up in a harem in Algiers, it would be all my fault. After all, I was the one who’d answered the online ad placed by King Marco Napolitano. But this was not what I’d pictured when I’d printed off the boarding passes for the flight to Naples, Italy. I only knew that he lived in a castle with his son Gregorio.
At the airport a morose man had stood at the end of the ramp holding the sign. Eyes gritty from the long trip, I’d rushed toward him. “Hi, I’m Christina Newhart and this is my daughter Lexi.”
My extended hand was ignored. He knifed a thumb into his chest “Milo. Where is the boy?” He scanned a note crumpled in his hand.
Oh, right. There was that.I tried to look concerned. “What boy?”
Muttering something under his breath, he shoved the paper back into a pocket. “Come.” Jerking his head toward the sign that saidbagaglio, he took off, dumping the sign. We hurried to keep up. For a guy wearing run-down slippers and a few extra pounds, he could hustle. Grateful for my sensible tie-shoes, I set off after him.
But I would have appreciated a smile. A quick handshake. Some reassurance.
Stop it, Christina. No more snap judgments.
Lexi’s head had swiveled as she took it all in. People babbled around us but no one seemed to be speaking English. I’d followed Milo to the carousel where my suitcase with its red tie had just plopped from the chute. Lexi’s bag wore a purple tie that matched her hair. Grabbing our luggage, we scurried after Milo, who was already disappearing through the glass door. A limo waited for us outside.
After a short ride from the airport, we ended up on a dock. Our baggage was stowed and the boat took off.
So here we were. Looking over my shoulder, I attempted a smile. Nodding as he flicked his cigarette ashes over the water, Milo looked comfortable in his cushioned seat. All was right with his world. Mine was feeling a little unsteady.
Shivering, my daughter looked around her. How hard would it be at fourteen to have your mother take you away from your friends for the summer? But Lexi needed that distance. Although she didn’t want it, she needed it. And I needed it too. “Are we almost there, Mr. Milo?”
“Soon.” Tossing his cigarette butt over the side, Milo lit up another.
I opened my mouth to fill him in on how many sea turtles died from eating debris discarded by humans. Then I reconsidered. Maybe another time. My jaw snapped shut. Up ahead, a man in a knit cap handled the wheel. All kind of instruments blinked on that deck.
This would be a great story to tell my friends back in America. Reena and Maddie would find this hilarious. Well, if we survived.
Tying my scarf tighter around my neck, I turned up the collar of my trench coat. “Isn't this an adventure? Going out on our own?” I chirped to my daughter.
“Where are we?” Lexi’s dark eyeliner was running from the corners of her eyes. Was that from the crazy waves or was she crying? Arms folded across her chest, she shivered in her black jean jacket. Her excitement was wearing off.
“I think we’re in the Mediterranea Sea. Isn’t it great? Well, not in the sea, but on the sea.” Mercy, I hoped we wouldn’t end upinthe sea.
I will not look down. I just will not.
Another watery bump. Another jolt to my stomach.
I looked away. Lexi had given me tons of trouble the past year. And I’d cried plenty––the hopeless tears of a single mother. At least I wouldn't have to go into Principal Weston's office one more time to hear what my daughter had been hiding in her locker. The embarrassment was twofold since I taught at the same school Lexi attended.
“When are we going to eat?” Lexi’s voice held a plaintive note. “I'm starving.”
“I'm sure Mr. Napolitano will have lunch for us. Or dinner.”
“What time is it here anyway?”
“Probably about nine. I think.”
