Chapter 3 maybe On the bus

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Somewhere in Italy

Chapter 3 Scene Tara on the bus


Tara realizes that she spoke out loud . She glances quickly over at the man sleeping against the window He stirs slightly when she glances over, appearing to be looking at her through half closed eyes.


"Mi scusi, signora, hai detto qualcosa?"


He repeats in English, "Did you say something, signora?"


"Mi stavo chiedendo se ho comprato abbastanza bacche per il piatto profondo," she answers in Italian and pats the covered basket as if it was filled with groceries from the market.


"I said. 'I wonder if I bought enough berries for the deep dish.'"


"I wondered if I got enough berries," she repeats, and she emphasizes the word berries like buries, and leans into him. He squirms and readjust his hat over his eyes and  pretends to go back to sleep.


He looks at this beauty and his seat mate. She has the look of an ancient Scilian princess, her skin deep in Arabic hue, but her hair is light. He'd love to undo that kerchief. Love to feel the hand that is resting on the basket resting instead on his skin 

 
Tara continues to think in a panic, Did you bury him deep enough. Will this stranger put it together, but it can't how could he, I've never seen him before...I don't thin..." 
Her thoughts go wild as she absorbs this strangers adoration. Oh, he’s not speaking but she’s is very familiar with the energy he is giving off. She instinctively reacts, her breast swelling with a deep breath and an almost pose coming to her hips as she squirms against her will. A mix of excitement and disgust for this stranger for seeing her beauty and wanting to take it. 
 
Next chapter starts
 
Chicago
 
Tara waves goodbye to the old lady don’t wait up. 
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She Killed A Man?

And buried him. That chapter had to be fun to write. Interesting - Stella


 

 

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She kills several before the

She kills several before the book is through...

The opening paragraph is 

 

Somewhere in Italy… a dirty dusty bus in Sicily…

Tara

She is sitting on a seat in a bus, a faded beauty in an over worked housedress, a kerchief in her hair, harkening back to the 50's ala Audrey Hepburn, Doris Day, Sophia Loren.  She sits prim, not stiff, comfortable, slightly smiling, thinking of everything that got her to this point in her life. Her body bounces easily with the curves of the road, a basket on her lap, and a grocery tote at her feet, filled with things she needs, things she wants.  She is looking forward through the dust to the road ahead, a wipe of the front of her dress, down her lap, as if to dust off the memory and start a anew.


Reaching up, she pats her hair and thinks, “Did I bury him deep enough?” 


deb