PITTER-PATTER, PITTER-PATTER.
Jess opened her eyes. In front of her, in the middle of a crabgrass-infested courtyard, smoke curled from charred embers in a low concrete urn. Windowless, red brick walls surrounded her on all four sides. She looked up. Waxy light filtered down from a gray sky. Water dripped from awnings above her, onto the slick flagstones and puddles by her foot. She tried to move, but her bones ached. Her arms were stiff. A throbbing pressure banged behind her eyes.
“Mom?” she whispered, stretching her neck forward.
She shook herself awake.
Adrenaline sharpened her senses.
“Mom?!” Jess cried out. The three old men, the goblins around the fire—where were they? She threw off her nest of blankets. What did they do to her? She didn’t remember falling asleep. Was she drugged?
“I’m here.” Celeste appeared from the gap between the buildings. She held out a Styrofoam cup.
“What happened? Where is…”
“Massarra? She left early this morning. You were asleep against the wall, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Jess groaned and stretched. The morning air was cool, but warming up, and at least it wasn’t raining. She took the coffee, smelled it, and took a sip. She felt its warmth slide down her throat. “Oh, that’s good.” She looked at the cup. “Did you get some money?”
“A nice man at the cafe across the street, I explained what happened. He gave me some coffee and loaned me ten Euros. Said he could call the police.”
Jess relaxed, letting a small grin creep across her face and took another sip. Her mother could still charm anyone. She stiffened. The police. Her grin disappeared. “And did you?”
“Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first.” Celeste sat on a box in front of Jess and crinkled her nose in an awkward smile.
“Maybe we just go to the American embassy?” Jess suggested. After last night, she didn’t want to risk spending tonight in an Italian jail.
“The hospital first?” Celeste leaned forward to put a hand on Jess’s knee. “Get you sorted out?”
Jess tried to imagine waiting to fit a prosthetic leg in an Italian hospital. “No, let’s get in touch with Dad, or at least, try, and then head to the embassy. I’ve got crutches. We’ll fix my leg when we get back to the States.”
Celeste frowned. “You sure?”
“Going to the hospital will just waste time.” Voices echoed from the street, the growl of a scooter rising and falling as it passed. The city was alive again. It was time to get moving. The night before felt like a dream, a nightmare, and Jess didn’t dwell on the past. “There’s an Internet café three blocks from here, on the other side of Piazza Navona toward the Trevi fountain. We can make calls from there, even get money wired, and it’s on the way to the embassy.”
“Are you sure?” Celeste repeated. She leaned forward and knelt in front of Jess, put her hands on each side of Jess’s waist and held her. “Those men assaulted you, stole everything we had. I think we should talk to the police.”
Jess laughed. “If you remember, I’m the one who assaulted them. They mugged us, but I don’t think they wanted to hurt us.” She poured more coffee down her throat, felt her joints loosening.
“Jess, they took your leg…”
“I know. I shouldn’t have attacked him. That was stupid.”
“It was stupid, but brave.” Celeste squeezed Jess. “And he bashed your head against the wall. Are you sure you’re okay?”
A jackhammer pounded between Jess’s temples. “I’m fine.” She squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled. “I mean, I’ll be fine. I need some water.”
“You mean you didn’t get enough last night?” Celeste laughed. “You’re crazy, you know that? They could have killed you.”
Jess grabbed the crutches and stood, giving the empty coffee cup to her mother. “They weren’t going to kill anyone. They were bullies, that’s all.” She piled the sodden blankets on the bench. So Massarra had left her the blankets? That was awfully nice of her. “Hope I busted that guy’s arm.”
Shaking her head, Celeste stood as well. “I think you might have.”
Swinging forward on the crutches, Jess moved into the gap between the buildings, then hopped along it. People crowded the alleyway on the other side, and all the cafés were open. She glanced at Angela’s apartment, half a block down, and shook her head. At the corner was a military Humvee. A young man in Italian military dress stood by it. The fear and uncertainty of the night before melted into the reassuring presence of other people.