Waltzing on the Danube Read online

  Eleanor didn’t have to be harboring romantic feelings toward the woman to have made an important realization. They were not just the only two lesbians on the ship, but the only two people under the age of seventy-five, period. If she wanted any spry company during the trip, Jeanie was really her only choice. It was a very good thing she didn’t mind being alone, because unfortunately Eleanor knew she lacked the interpersonal skills to win Jeanie back after her initial gaffe. She had no doubt that Jeanie would know how to accomplish such a feat, but of course she had no motivation to share her secrets with the likes of Eleanor. It was a real catch-22.

  Eleanor checked her guide book as she entered the basilica, locating the stained glass window labeled with the number one on her map. With no one to be annoyed, she once more indulged her need to stop at every point on the map in numerical order, and read every sign no matter how mundane. She couldn’t help it. Despite all common sense, if she skipped over something, the feeling of a missed opportunity lingered for days. There was no doubt that her insistence would drive an impulsive person like Jeanie completely insane, as it had all the other women in her past. Yes, it was definitely better for everyone that Eleanor was on her own.

  Rounding the corner beyond the main altar, she came to a small chapel with a glass case against one wall. It was too dark to see inside, but after slipping a few coins into a slot, a light came on to reveal a reliquary containing the mummified hand of Saint Stephen, draped in gold and rubies.

  Eleanor shuddered and took a step back. Her admiration of the beauty and craftsmanship gave way to revulsion. Why would anyone think it was a good idea to keep something so disgusting on display? While the beauty of the church’s architecture were impressive beyond creed or culture, other things, like shriveled up body parts, were somewhat less transcendent.

  I need to get out of here! Eleanor hurriedly checked her map for the exit as her pulse throbbed. There were a few more numbered stops on the tour, but she’d had about enough of churches for now. She prayed she could keep her OCD at bay long enough to make her escape before a panic attack ensued. I should have stayed on the ship.

  As Eleanor stepped outside, a gust of wind whipped at her back and she was surprised to see that the sky had grown dark with clouds. Rummaging in her bag, she pulled out an umbrella. Though she longed for the quiet of her room, the unfinished tour beckoned. She’d committed to taking the tour, and anxiety was already slithering in her belly from skipping the last three stops in the basilica. She checked her book. Next stop: Freedom Square, complete with a Soviet monument and a life-sized statue of Ronald Reagan. Eleanor gave a loud snort. That was the last thing she was interested in seeing. But like it or not, she was better off just following the map.

  The square itself was stately, filled with flowers and plants. The statue of Reagan was exactly as corny as she’d pictured it being, amusing her. She pulled out her phone to snap a selfie as she stood beside it. Eleanor wasn’t typically one for taking selfies, but what else were you supposed to do when faced with a life-sized bronze Reagan? Besides, selfies were necessary when traveling alone, and Miriam would get a real kick out of posting the image to her wall.

  A few blocks behind Reagan was the dome of the parliament building. Eleanor assumed that was her next stop, but a glance at the tour book suggested a different way to walk, by way of the train station. Knowing it was useless to argue with her obsessive brain at this point, she turned away from the dome and headed toward Nyugati Square. A raindrop plopped onto the top of her scalp, and she cringed as it ran down her forehead in a cold, wet line. She opened her umbrella with a snap and quickened her pace as the rain began to fall in earnest.

  By the time she reached the edge of the square, the rain was falling in heavy sheets and Eleanor scurried the last several yards to the shelter of a pedestrian underpass. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, then closed her dripping umbrella and tightened her grip as if it were a club. The underpass was isolated and filled with graffiti, exactly the type of place you should never go by yourself. As she took a step inside, she could see several shadows at the far end. She wasn’t alone after all.

  At that moment, Eleanor heard a woman’s muffled cry and saw the group of shadowy forms descending on a smaller lone figure. Raising the umbrella above her head, she charged the length of the underpass, letting out a loud “Hey!” as she ran. The figures stopped, one doubled over, and then they all ran. They left behind what appeared to be a woman, seemingly unharmed, though Eleanor thought they may have made off with her bag.

  “Are you okay?” she called out as she approached.

  “I…I think so,” was the timid reply.

  Eleanor slowed her steps and lowered the umbrella to her side, then stopped completely in her tracks as she realized, unlikely as it seemed, that she knew that voice. Actually, considering to whom the voice belonged, it wasn’t as surprising as it seemed. Who else would wander blindly by herself into a deserted tunnel filled with dangerous ruffians?

  “Jeanie?” Her voice echoed off the walls, making the shadowy figure jump. Eleanor squinted at the trembling figure, trying to make out her face. “Jeanie Brooks, is that you?”

  Chapter 6

  Jeanie shut her eyes tight and held her breath as the three men approached. They spoke in a language she didn’t understand, but the way one of them tugged at the strap of her backpack made it clear that he intended for her to hand it over. Think, Jeanie! What would Eleanor do? She gulped, tightening her grip on the strap. At that moment, a whooping sound from deep within the corridor startled her and her would-be attackers alike. In a flash, her knee connected with her attacker's groin and he doubled over with a grunt. Her hands flew open in alarm at what she'd done, and all the men ran, taking her backpack with them. Jeanie stared in disbelief as the figure of her rescuer emerged from the shadows, like an avenging angel wielding what appeared to be a sword. “Mercy!” she squeaked.

  “Are you okay?” a strong but unexpectedly feminine voice called out.

  “I…I think so,” Jeanie replied, feeling confused. What is a woman doing here…with a sword?

  “Jeanie?”

  Jeanie jumped. The avenging angel knows my name?

  “Jeanie Brooks, is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me!” Jeanie called out, eyes wide with shock as the angel stepped from the shadows, dressed in a sensible tunic and leggings, clutching the handle of an umbrella in her sword hand and wearing a familiar scowl. Eleanor? “I thought you planned to stay on the ship,” Jeanie remarked dumbly, her mind suddenly blank.

  “I changed my mind.” Eleanor drew alongside her, the scowl changing to concern at Jeanie’s disheveled appearance. “Lucky for you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Jeanie nodded. She straightened her top, which had been pulled askew in her struggle. She could feel the rawness of her hands from where her backpack’s canvas strap had chafed as it was pried from her grip, but otherwise she was unharmed.

  “Was it my imagination, or did you kick one of those men in the balls?”

  Jeanie gulped and nodded again, speechless as she recalled what she had done.

  “What were you thinking?” Eleanor scolded.

  That I needed to act more like you! Tears stung Jeanie's eyes. “I thought it might help.”

  “That's not what I meant. Why were you walking all by yourself into a dark underpass? This is a big city, not Hartsdale or Schenectady, or wherever it is you’re from.”

  Jeanie stiffened. “You walked down here all alone, too,” she pointed out matter-of-factly.

  “Yes, just in time to save you.”

  “Maybe, but that’s not the reason you came down here. You came charging up all of maybe a fraction of a second after I screamed. You had to have been half way through the corridor before you even knew what was going on.” She could tell by the look on Eleanor's face that she'd struck a nerve. This was a woman who clearly hated being told when she was wrong. Which makes it surprisingly fun.

&
nbsp; “Well, that’s some gratitude.”

  “I’m sorry. I am grateful.” Jeanie found it hard to keep a grudge, and the memory of Eleanor swooping in to rescue her drove away most of her earlier annoyance. She got you into the dance classes, too, don't forget. Resigned to wiping the slate clean, she couldn't resist one final jab first. “I just don’t see why when I come down here to escape the rain, it’s foolish, but somehow it isn’t for you, even when you did the exact same thing.”

  “I wasn’t escaping the rain, I was following a tour map,” Eleanor corrected her, as if somehow that made her choices make more sense. “I didn’t need to escape the rain because I planned ahead and brought an umbrella.”

  Jeanie cocked her eyebrow as she stared at the object that dripped in Eleanor’s hand, looking nothing like a sword anymore. Her self-assurance was impressive as ever, but Jeanie wondered if the woman knew how misplaced it probably was when her only weapon was an umbrella. “Well, unless that thing comes equipped with poison in its tip, I really don’t see how you were any less likely to get mugged than I was.” Jeanie bit back a chuckle as Eleanor glared at her silently. Another point for me!

  “Speaking of mugging, we should get you to a police station so you can report this. I assume they got everything: wallet, passport? You’ll need to contact the embassy.”

  Overwhelmed by the onerous tasks ahead of her, Jeanie began to nod, then paused as something fluttered through her memory. “Wait, no. I don’t remember putting it back in the bag.” She grinned as the realization struck. “I left my wallet at the security desk in the parliament building, with my passport inside!”

  Eleanor looked at her, dumbfounded. “So what was in the backpack?”

  “Nothing!” Jeanie laughed. “All I had was a water bottle and a swimsuit. I was on my way to the thermal baths.”

  Eleanor studied her for a moment, a funny look on her face. “Do you have any idea what the odds are against that? I don’t even know if I could calculate it.”

  Something that Jeanie might almost describe as admiration flitted across Eleanor's features. Admiration, or indigestion. Either interpretation was plausible.

  “Honestly, things like that happen to me a lot.” Jeanie shrugged. “Well, I guess I’d better head back to retrieve my stuff.”

  “I’ll go with you. After what just happened, I think we’d both be better off not walking alone, don’t you? Besides, I was just headed that way.”

  Jeanie began to walk back into the underpass as Eleanor took a step toward the outside. “Uh, Eleanor? Parliament’s this way.”

  “Yes, but the map says to go this way.”

  “Just to be clear, this is the same map that told you to walk into a deserted underpass full of dangerous thugs?”

  Eleanor glared at her again, and this time Jeanie couldn’t help but laugh. A perverse part of her actually enjoyed confounding this woman, teasing her until her eyes narrowed into amber slits and her thin peach lips curled into a pout that was remarkably sexy beneath the annoyance. It wasn’t that Jeanie was a rule breaker, but Eleanor wrote the book on following directions. Pushing her buttons made Eleanor flustered in the most enticing way.

  “I’ll have you know, I was following a walking tour. A tour which was interrupted quite suddenly by my having to rescue you. And one that I wouldn’t mind finishing.”

  Jeanie smoothed the smile from her lips, remembering with a slight shiver her avenging angel charging out of the darkness to save her. “I’m sorry. Of course we can finish your walking tour.”

  Eleanor gave her a curt nod. She crooked her elbow toward Jeanie. “Shall we?”

  Jeanie gave the elbow a bemused look as she slipped her arm through. As unlikely as it had seemed earlier in the day, she was setting off to explore the wonders of Budapest arm-in-arm with Eleanor Fielding, after all. The prospect left her conflicted. Eleanor was as stunning as a Botticelli, as intriguing as a thousand-piece puzzle, and as prickly as a cactus. Half an hour ago, Jeanie would’ve sworn she’d be happy never seeing Eleanor again, but now she thought she might not mind getting to know the woman a little better after all.

  They emerged from the underpass just a few yards from the train station, where Eleanor paused to consult her guide book. After orienting herself to the map, the two women set off on a circuitous route back to the parliament building, seemingly stopping every three or four feet to look at some completely mundane piece of shrubbery that the tour book insisted they needed to see. By about the eighth such stop, Jeanie was bouncing on the balls of her feet, unable to reign in her agitation.

  “Honestly, Eleanor,” Jeanie said with a whine. “It’s a rose bush on a median strip. What about this could possibly be worth stopping for?”

  “It says here that this variety was specially cultivated for the millennial celebration in 1896.”

  “I see.” Jeanie stared at the bush, unimpressed. “And are you an avid gardener, or something, that this is fascinating to you?”

  Eleanor shook her head and Jeanie rolled her eyes. “Then why are we stopping? We could cut through that alley and be there in half a second.”

  “Because that’s not how it is on the map.” There was something in the way she said it that made Jeanie refrain from her initial snarky retort and remain silent so Eleanor could explain. “I get…anxious sometimes. Doing things in the right order, well, it helps.” Her eyes were downcast, as if doubting that Jeanie would understand.

  It felt to Jeanie like one of the puzzle pieces had fallen into place, perhaps even one of the corner ones that would make the rest of the picture easier to put together. She felt a sympathetic stirring at the woman’s honest response, and at the pain that etched her face. She didn’t know Eleanor well, but she knew enough to understand that admitting her struggle couldn't have been easy. The fact that Eleanor had confided in her sparked an unexpectedly tender response. “It’s okay. Let’s just stick to the map. Lead the way.”

  They continued their stroll, the dome of the parliament building slowly coming closer as they made their stops. When they arrived at their destination, Jeanie ran inside and emerged seconds later, waving her wallet triumphantly as she raced back down the steps.

  “You found it!” Eleanor smiled, shaking her head with a look of disbelief. “You really do beat the odds, don’t you.” This time, her expression was undeniably one of admiration.

  “I’ll admit, I was a little worried.” Jeanie glanced back up the steps where she had just been. “So, I guess this is where we part ways, huh? Thanks for walking with me.”

  Eleanor’s brow wrinkled and Jeanie was surprised to see what might be interpreted as disappointment in her eyes. “Oh. I guess I—”

  “I guess I assumed. I’ve already done the tour here and I don’t want to throw off your list by having you skip a stop, so—”

  “No! I mean, no, it’s not part of the tour. I mean, the one I was doing ends here, but technically going into the parliament building would be the start of a new tour. And, well, I mean, I don’t have to…”

  “Oh.” Jeanie’s breath caught as she felt an unexpected fluttering inside her chest. “You don’t?”

  Eleanor shook her head. “After what happened back there by the train station, it would be safer for both of us—”

  The fluttering in Jeanie’s chest subsided and she felt a little silly that she’d had that reaction at all to what was at most a friendly gesture. Safety. Two women traveling in a foreign city were safer together than alone. Eleanor was just being practical. It was nothing personal. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too. Safety first, that’s my motto.”

  Eleanor gave her a sideways glance, as though she wasn’t quite convinced of Jeanie’s ability to live by such a motto, but she said nothing. They’d drifted away from the steps as they talked and now were standing at the corner among a crowd of pedestrians. When the light changed, they crossed along with them, then continued down to the cobblestone promenade along the river. After they’d walked several yards, Elea
nor stopped. “Wait. Where are we going?”

  Jeanie shrugged. “On an adventure.” She wilted under Eleanor’s withering stare and suppressed a groan as the other woman whipped out the tour book. “Oh, honestly. Put that thing away.” Jeanie made a swipe for the book, but missed as Eleanor moved it from her reach. “You don’t really want to go on another one of those awful tours, do you?” She swiped at the book again, this time catching it by its corner full-force. Jeanie stared, horrified, as the book was suddenly lifted airborne, gliding in a graceful arc above their heads and across the width of the cobblestone walkway before landing with a splash atop the swiftly flowing waters of the Danube.

  Eleanor watched, mouth agape, as the current whisked her book away. She raced after it, leaving a stunned Jeanie in her wake. Eleanor was a surprisingly brisk runner, and by the time Jeanie caught up with her, her own breath was labored. But the river had moved faster than either of them, and the book was lost to its depths. Eleanor stood motionless, staring at the turbid water of the Danube.

  “Oh, Eleanor. I’m so sorry.” Jeanie panted painfully between words, but the stitch in her side was nothing compared to the white-hot embarrassment that threatened to burn her from the inside out. I can’t believe I threw her book in the river! And just when they’d been getting along so well, too. Eleanor would never want to spend time with her after this, and the stinging sense of loss that accompanied that realization took Jeanie somewhat by surprise.

  The toes of Eleanor’s shoes were inches from the edge of the promenade, at the start of a line of dozens of other pairs of shoes. At first glance they looked real, and Jeanie racked her brain to figure out who had left them there, but she soon realized they were made of metal. Some sort of art? Her usual expertise on the subject failed her. The further art strayed from the Renaissance period, the less attention she paid to it. Unable to make sense of it, she dismissed it from her thoughts and turned her energy instead to something more important: making amends. If only she knew where to begin.