Okay friends and falcons, today I am going full on brave as I try to handle prompts and events in one single post. You see, it is not only Day 11 of our #JusJoJan event sponsored by Linda Hill, but it is also a Thursday and our good blogging friend Dan Antion of No Facilities is back at his Doors Post Position with the winner of this year’s badge contest. Congrats to the winner! Stop by both of these blogs for more great writing and fun. 

Now, I think we should check in on our sojourners who we left hidden in an upstairs room after Noni managed to break her ankle and was ‘put to right’ by an Italian physician within the Vatican City of Rome, circa the late 1500’s. Let’s see how our friends are doing…

Dechlan sat on the narrow edge of the bed where his sweetheart lay sleeping, wondering how he could ever have been annoyed by the precious sound of her gentle snores. He also wondered what they were going to do about this situation. While they neither wanted nor had to return to their old lives, it was already clear they would never be welcome in this particular landing zone. When she stirred, moaning, Dech put his hand on her head to stroke it tenderly. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment she had no remembrance of the changes in their lives.

“Is it time to get up already?” she whispered. ”Punch the snooze and climb under the covers with me,” she coaxed, reaching up to touch his face. Just that simple movement stirred her leg, and her ankle screeched for acknowledgment of its wretched condition. ”Aaacch!” she cried and tried to sit up, still confused.

“Easy now,” he pushed her back down. ”No time to be delicate. We traveled on a train, were run off by a mad conductor and then forced to jump into some sort of time void where we landed in Medieval Vatican City Rome. During the leap you broke your ankle, and a kind (sort of) Italian doctor fixed it and gave you some num-num juice so you could rest. We’re up in an old room, hiding from the Pope’s soldiers.” He took a breath. ”Whew, I didn’t know I had it in me to be so concise.” When he saw her deep frown lines he tried to smooth them with his thumb and more assuring words, but she pressed her finger to his lips.

“No need, Ramblin’ Man, my mind is sharp in spite of that lovely medicine the kind doctor gave me. Help me to sit up a little, please,” she asked, and of course he complied. Using her left foot as a prop, Noni managed a half-sitting position against he slip of a pillow that Dechlan folded in half to give her more support. She managed it all without offense to the injured foot. They both cocked their heads when they heard clanking and shuffling from below, holding their breaths until the sound of the sideboard sliding across the floor brought them to sharp attention. 

“Do you think the soldiers are back?” she whispered urgently and grabbed his arm. ”I can’t jump from any windows!” she insisted while searching the room for ‘said’ window. The only visible square of light was coming from a small opening high overhead where a dove watched them with keen interest. ”I couldn’t even get my left leg through that!” she pointed to it.

“Hold on, now. I don’t hear any voices. When they were down there before I counted at least three different ones besides the meek doctor’s.” At the sound of footsteps on the narrow staircase, Noni gripped his arm and they both stared at the door. When the handle creaked and there was a loud bump, Dechlan got up and stood beside the bed with his arms outstretched, shielding her from whatever was coming inside. Noni’s thoughts of terror dissolved before her appreciation for him. When the door opened, he relaxed and moved towards it to help the poor man who struggled with the old wood and the tray he was carrying. The sound of clinking was followed by apologetic foreign words as the doctor took the tray to a rickety-looking table that stood against the wall beneath that slip of a window. Her eyes flew to the dove who watched hungrily, and she stared at it menacingly. ”I wouldn’t if I were you,” she muttered under her breath, as the luscious smell of edibles wafted up her nose. 

The doctor came over to the bed and asked a question she didn’t understand, but she made a gesture of sleeping with her hands beside her head and nodded. He carefully pulled back the blanket to examine her foot. Noni didn’t want to look but couldn’t help herself. She’d never allowed things to happen to her without full disclosure, even blood draws and inoculations. Her heart fluttered when she saw the size of her ankle and the deep shades of purple, green and red that circled it beneath the cloth he’d wrapped around it. Dech had his hand on her good foot for support while the strange man assessed his work. When he nodded and patted her hand, smiling, Noni smiled back weakly. He muttered something in Italian that sounded like a question, but neither of them understood. He got up and gestured to the table, nodding again and speaking more words that they didn’t understand. But the implication was clear to the hungry pair and they smiled enthusiastically. Both men helped her to sit up a bit more, and the doc brought over a spare blanket he’d brought along, rolling it up and putting it under her right knee for support. She smiled gratefully and thanked him in the few of the Italian words she did know, “Grazie, grazie,” she said, but soon regretted it when a flood of Italian spilled from his lips so fast she couldn’t capture a single word for her numbed brain to interpret. 

When they both looked at him wide-eyed and stupid, the good doctor took Dechlan’s hand in both of his and looked at her, speaking very slowly, as if that would fix it. How many times had Noni observed her colleagues at the clinic doing this with their patients who spoke no English? She’d admonished them time and again that the patients weren’t deaf or unintelligent. They just didn’t understand the language. But she was able to decipher a couple of words and nodded at him. Neither could wait for him to leave them alone so they could eat and drink whatever it was he’d brought. 

Dech followed her lead and said, “Grazie, Grazie,” bowing with his hands in prayer gesture as the helpful doctor backed out of the room. Once they heard the door below close and the sideboard slide back into place, he pulled the cloth from the tray to see what they had. There was a thin, crusty loaf of bread nestled on a plate with some sliced meat and a few large chunks of cheese. He eyed the deep purple olives that curled around the edge of the plate dubiously. He hated olives, but Noni loved the favorite condiment of her ancestors. ’Good, he thought’, she can surely have my share.’ On a separate bit of cloth there was the most beautiful cluster of black grapes he’d ever seen. He lifted the lid of the small pot where steam curled up in ribbons from the spout and smelled the tea. Dechlan brought the entire tray to the bed and sat beside Noni, feeding her and sharing the best meal they’d had in months. After a few indulgent moments, she touched his arm, and he looked at her.

“I don’t know what happens next, if that’s what you’re going to ask,” he said through a mouthful of bread. ”I wish I could understand Italian. It would help us all a lot.”

“Well, that may not be a problem for much longer,” she said, looking at him hopefully. ”In all that dialogue as he was leaving I managed to pick out a couple of words that might give us reason to be optimistic. When his eyebrows shot up she went on, “I think he said, ‘amico’, which means friend, and then ‘interpretare’, which is a bit obvious. Then he said most definitely, ‘fuga.’ It means escape. I know that one from Nonna…” but he cut her off.

“Wait, don’t tell me, she used it when she chased you with a shoe!” he laughed, and she punched his arm. ”Hmmm…,” he swallowed a bit of meat and offered her a sip of tea. ”I hope it all means he is finding someone who can help us.” Noni nodded and let the warm liquid soothe her parched throat. Nothing could be done until the doctor returned and her foot improved…

to be continued….

Copyright Cheryl K Pennington 2024

The prompt today was olive, brought to you by Kaye.

For all you Thursday Doors fans. This is an oldie from our Atlanta life. Spent a lot of days in the Botanical Gardens. This was the Zen Garden

..

Today’s featured image is also a door from Atlanta, courtesy of the Tiny Doors group that worked so hard to create magic within the city.