Gaining Visibility by Pamela Hearon

seeming pleased that she understood. “ Sì .”
    Realizing he wasn’t likely a serial killer if he was taking her to Sunday lunch with his family, her heart rate shifted from panic mode to unexpected guest . “Oh no. I can’t impose like that.”
    â€œYou like.”
    Julia looked down at the skirt riding up on her thighs. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t enjoy it. I’m sure they’re lovely people, and it’s very kind of you, but I’m not dressed for Sunday dinner with anybody’s family.” It crossed her mind that her clothes were only an arm’s length away. Was there something she could change into? She loosened her grip on the door handle, intending to unzip her luggage and have a look, but a fast curve made her rethink that action. “Is there someplace we can stop and let me change clothes?”
    â€œNo, no to change.”
    â€œBut . . .” A protest was on her tongue.
    â€œYou look beautiful.”
    Beautiful? Of course, the word was merely part of his woman-appeal jargon, but it hung pleasantly in her ear. She sat back and thought the situation over again. Sunday lunch in the home of an Italian family might be fun. The food would probably be amazing, and it would be a great way to practice her Italian. She’d never see these people again, so what difference did it make what she was wearing? She nodded. “Okay. Why not? That is, if you think it will be all right with your family.”
    â€œIt will be all right with the family.”
    â€œThen thank you for inviting me. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it very much. But after lunch you’ll take me back to town, and we’ll make calls until I find a room.”
    He ignored her comment, but his reaction didn’t make her feel ignored. His smug smile said he knew she was there. This was simply a man used to getting his own way. Julia mentally rolled her eyes.
    They came around another hairpin curve too fast, and Vitale slammed on the brakes to keep from hitting a car at the back of a long line of stopped ones.
    Julia braced a hand against the dashboard and gritted her teeth while the car jostled to a stop. “Where in the hell did you learn—and I use that term loosely—to drive?”
    The line started to move, he threw the car back into gear, and Julia latched on to the door for another wild takeoff.
    â€œI do not learn. I just to drive.”
    â€œWell, that explains it.” She could do a better job, but her toe wouldn’t let her press on the gas pedal at all. She wished Vitale had a hurt toe that would keep him from pressing it so hard.
    He gunned it, and they roared ahead a few more yards. She clenched her jaws and held on, foregoing conversation until they were a safe distance from the car in front of them.
    At last, the obstacle, a minivan with a flat tire, managed to pull far enough off the narrow road to allow others by, and traffic picked up to breakneck speed again.
    They were headed into the hills. The hills I should be hiking today. Patches of purple and yellow wildflowers whipped past her vision. She closed her eyes to keep from getting carsick. Instead, I’m in the passenger seat with a madman at the wheel, going who-knows-where, up and down hills, around blind curves, with no hope of finding my way back to where I started.
    A metaphor for the past couple of years of her life.
    Conversation didn’t seem like the safest option, but a safe option didn’t jump out at her right at the moment, and it might keep her mind off Vitale’s driving skills. Or lack thereof. “I don’t usually dine at someone’s house without taking something. Should we stop and let me pick up a bottle of wine?” And find a nice, safe donkey to ride back to town.
    â€œNo, they have the wine. You are the guest.”
    â€œHow many people will be there? Do you have a large family?”
    Vitale shook his head. “Not large. Mama,