Sisterchicks in Gondolas! by Robin Jones Gunn Read Free Book Online Page B

Sue.”
    “Yes, but …”
    “Really, Sue, I know those feelings. I didn’t expect my life to go the way it did, either.”
    She tilted her head, as if looking at me through new eyes. “You do know what I’m feeling, don’t you?”
    “Yes, I do. Different circumstances. Similar feelings. You can say whatever you want to with me anytime.”
    She drew inward and lowered her eyes. “Thank you, Jenna. But I feel so bad when I let my feelings take over. I shouldn’t have …”
    “Sue?” I waited till she looked me in the eye. “Shame off you.”
    She blinked. “What?”
    “Don’t let even a pinch of shame settle on you. You’re doing the right thing by being honest with yourself. I’m a safe person for you to talk to. I understand. There’s nothing you need to apologize for. So, shame off you.”
    The implication settled in like balm on her open wound. All the mama-sister-best friend sympathy that grows large in the heart of a native Texan exploded from Sue. She opened her arms wide and wrapped them around me. We hugged each other as two strong women who had weathered demolishing storms, and yet we were still standing.
    “Jenna, Jenna, Jenna, where would I be without you?”
    “Well, you wouldn’t be in Venice, standing on a rooftop.”
    “No, I wouldn’t. And I wouldn’t be clothed and in my right mind, I can tell you that. I would be locked up somewhere in a padded room. Jenna, you’ve been there for me through all of this. Thank you. Thank you for being strong for me.”
    I kissed my sis-in-law on top of her fluffed-up red mane. “Suzanne, you’re going to make it through all this. You’re not going to be carted off to a padded room. You may feel like it some days, but you’re a strong woman of great faith and hope.”
    She managed a hint of a smile. “I don’t feel that way.”
    “That’s okay. Feelings aren’t everything, you know.”
    Sue sighed.
    We stood side-by-side, gazing out toward the brooding blue water in the distance. Sue leaned her head on my shoulder.
    “Shame off me,” she whispered, and I smiled. I knew the power those words had held for me many years ago.
    We remained like that for a while. Silently holding each other up, feeling the heat of the Italian summer day massage our heads and shoulders, urging us to relax. I decided then that a good recipe for healing any sort of broken heart started with equal parts truth and acceptance. Add the patient understanding of a true friend and then let those ingredients rise under the Italian sun. The results were bound to be delicious.

Five

    “A re you hungry?” Sue pulled away from our rooftop shame-off-you session.
    “Hungry?”
    “I’m hungry. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? My mother used to say if you would rather eat than weep it means you’re feeling better.”
    “Then let’s go eat!”
    We made our way down the stairs, changed into cooler clothes, and took the paper with the name of the restaurant Steph had recommended. Sue made sure we had a map and all the house keys, which was a good thing, because my thoughts were on my limited options of cool clothes. I wished I had a flattering skirt to wear like Steph and some of the other women we had seen earlier. Sunday afternoon in Venice just seemed to call for something other thanchinos or jeans. In a supreme effort to pack light, all I’d brought was one pair of each. I also had packed one sleeveless blouse, which I wore now to the restaurant. Shopping was definitely going on my to-do list this week.
    Shopping in Venice
. I smiled at the thought.
    We didn’t pass any shops on our way to the
restaurante
. We did pass several other restaurants. Each of them offered outdoor waterfront eating at small tables. Dozens of afternoon diners were caught up in what we soon learned was a delight of Venetians: long, luxurious dining with friends.
    Sue and I were shown to a table for two at the water’s edge and were handed small menus.
    “This is nice.” I took my seat,