Turkey and Brie Turnovers

. . . welcoming any kind feedback, or if it sucks either way.

THE STORY:

As the wheels screeched down on the runaway Danielle cautiously cracked one eye open, she whispered to her neighbor, “Did we live?”

The calm Englishman who entertained Danielle during her waking flight hours with stories of nine lively grandkids chuckled, “Oh we nailed the landing dear and you can pry your fingernails from the armrest and my hand.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry, but I warned you. Had you volunteered to operate the emergency door 300 rows up you wouldn’t be trying to get the circulation going again in your hand.” They both laughed. She smiled, thankful to have a kind soul at her side. They made their way off the plane, shuffling along, airline cattle as they were, through baggage claim, customs and finally to the waiting mass transit.

“Well this is where we part ways young lady.” He grabbed her by both shoulders and looked into her eyes, “Now remember what I told you, and follow your heart. I expect reports on your progress. I have high hopes for your Danny girl, high hopes indeed!”

She smiled, surprised as the tears welled up in her eyes. She wiped them away and chalked it up to the stress of flying, who gets sentimental over an air friendship? “Thank you Fredrick. I have your email and you have mine. Enjoy those grandkids!” She reached up and hugged him then picked up her bags and walked off towards the bus. 

Frederick stood watching as she maneuvered her way across the street, holding up traffic with one hand, dragging luggage behind her with the other and holding a stack of papers and itinerary in her mouth. “High hopes indeed Danny girl.” His eyes twinkled and like steam into warm air he vanished.

Danielle took a seat and willed herself to calm down, breathing she was beginning the next chapter. The bus wasn’t crowded and she was glad she chose to start her journey in April, prior to the influx of tourists. As she enjoyed the three hour ride the picturesque views looked like impressionist paintings through the grimy bus windows.

Her life in America had become routine, the daily grind of nine to five office work, battling traffic jams every morning, spending the working day processing insurance claims and slowly climbing the corporate ladder. The problem was she didn’t care to see the view atop that particular and ladder. Evenings and weekends were spent catching up on chores and her passion for cooking was limited to herself and occasionally entertaining friends. She knew if she put her work ethic into something she truly enjoyed she would know the pursuit of happiness. Money, while necessary, wasn’t the driving force.   

The incredible urge to wander hit Danielle while watching House Hunters International. As she watched the scenery she decided some time away, a long break was in order and perhaps a month to explore Italy and consider a monumental relocation was just what she needed.

Her phone vibrated, a text from Amy, “wait wait! were you serious about leaving??! ;-) let me know ur okay!!”  Amy was her best friend who would probably now starve to death without Danielle around to feed her. She texted back, “on bus! will send more later tater! miss you already!” She tucked the phone away.

As the bus came to a halt in Amalfi, Danielle stood and stretched, it felt like she had been traveling for weeks. She smiled at the driver as she disembarked, “Prego.” She gathered her luggage around her and spun in a slow circle, spellbound. Hours of research on the internet pouring through travel websites, did nothing to prepare her for the step back in time that washed over her. She turned herself in a circle again, staring open mouthed at the views, it was as if the houses hung from the cliffs, terracotta roofs speckled the side of the mountain with burnt oranges, the sea was deep blue and dotted with ships of all sizes. Realizing that if she didn’t keep moving she would collapse from exhaustion, she took out her papers and made certain she was in the right place to meet Marco, her contact from the travel company. Marco knew she was a foreigner in a foreign land and would need a little direction and help getting settled on her first day.

He could have picked her from a line up, the luggage helped, but even without that she was easily identifiable. She stood in a skirt and t-shirt a light jacket tied around her waist, her hair gathered back in probably what was at one time a tidy twist. Her mouth was open as she gazed at the landscape, he knew it was breathtaking but took it for granted most of the time. Now he looked around with a renewed sense of awe inspired by her captivation. It was paradise on earth. He shook his head and pulled himself out of the wistful daydream and stood. “Buon giorno Danielle?” Danielle turned at the sound of her name in a deep Italian accent. “Yes? I mean Buon giorno, Marco?” She reached forward to shake his extended hand, caught her foot in the strap from her carry-on, pitched forward and on the way towards the cobblestones squeaked, “I’m okay!”

She landed in her pile of luggage and struggled to get up. Marco offered his still outstretched hand and said, “I am not certain how you know you are okay before you even hit the ground?”  

“It’s a habit, I’m not the most graceful gal in the world. A pleasure to finally meet you.” She took his hand and stood, brushing imaginary debris from the front of herself.  

“I trust your trip was good?” He asked, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Yes thank you, it is unbelievable here, pictures do not do it justice.”

His face sobered. “No, they don’t, we are truly blessed.” He clapped his hands together in a praying gesture and put them to his chin, “Come let’s get some food into you. I can’t imagine you’ve eaten much of anything decent in the last day.”

She smiled, “Music to my ears! I am famished and embarrassed to say tired despite my excitement.”

“A small bite to eat, a glass of vino and then I’ll show you to your B&B room for a nap. Tonight you are invited to join me and my friends for an evening out, so you will need your rest.” He tilted his head towards a small trattoria with café tables set on the sidewalk.

He offered her a chair and as she sat he turned to walk inside, “I’ll be right back.” He returned with a plate of cured meats, bread and cheese, two short glasses and a carafe of deep red wine. “Pierdirosso.” He said as he poured the two glasses. Danielle waited and watched as he tore a chunk of bread, grabbed a piece of pancetta and popped both into his mouth. She followed suit. The cured pork was sweet and savory. The bread’s crust hard and rustic contrasted the smooth almost creamy fat of the pork in her mouth. She closed her mouth lost in the heavenly flavors and textures. A soft moan came from deep in her throat. Marco seemed to choke a bit on the wine he was sipping, “I see you know how to savor, that is the most important thing to living in Amalfi, savoring. The food, the vino, the sun, rain, the sea, the people. Enjoying what is offered brings peace to the soul. The people here will welcome you as family Danielle.”

She liked the way he said her name. “I really hope so.” Danielle took a sip of vino and felt it course through her veins, she felt her body relax, her bones softened. They ate more, finished their vino and Marco clapped his hands together again.

“Let’s get you off to Isabella and Gabrielli’s for your rest.” He stood and helped her up then gathered her bags. Danielle stood, woozy not just from a little vino, but the vino and exhaustion swirling in her head. “Yes, that would be nice, a rest. Yes.”

They crammed the luggage in Marco’s too tiny car, then themselves and Marco guided the packed vehicle up the narrow winding road. Danielle found herself gasping at the elevation and the feeling that they would careen to their deaths at any moment. A quick right turn led them down an unpaved road, a villa came into sight and Danielle sighed. “It’s perfect.”