Page 12 of My Stepbrother's Wedding
Dad busied himself connecting his phone to the Wi-Fi, while I kept an eye on the bus, as if it could disappear at any moment. He rang Will, but the call went to an automated system in a foreign language. A text message also failed to deliver. We shared a sigh, and he slid the phone back into his pocket. A resigned expression spread across his face, and he looked around the room, as if trying to get his bearings. “No Will, but at least this place doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Ralph, do you have any Pelagonian money?” Elizabeth asked.
“No, I hope they take dollars.”
“They won’t, mate,” a man with a thick Australian accent said. “I’d be happy to treat you though.”
I turned toward the stranger. He smiled as if he understood how overwhelmed we felt. His olive skin and dark features fit with the locals, but his blue polo shirt and khaki shorts did not. I guessed he was a few years younger than Dad, although he stood a head taller and twenty pounds lighter.
“The name’s Mirko. Your first time in Pelagonia?”
Dad nodded. “We’re trying to get to Malegonia for a wedding, but something happened with our flight.”
“You weren’t trying to fly into Achris, were you? They closed the airport for a NATO summit.”
I shared a sigh with Dad and Elizabeth. “They didn’t tell us anything,” I said. “We landed, and they just pushed us onto a bus.”
Mirko nodded knowingly. “Stuff like that happens all the time here. You’re only about a two-hour drive to the border though. You should make it by evening.”
Elizabeth’s face lit up like a neon sign. Mine probably did as well. Even groggy Dad looked happy at the revelation. Mirko bought us three cups of Americano coffee and a weird snack that fit roughly into the doughnut family. We sat at a table in the corner.
“I fled the old system and made my way to Sydney,” Mirko said. “I come back every few years to visit. This place has changed a lot.”
“I feel like I’m drowning,” I said.
“Yeah, the first year in Australia was like that for me. If you stick around, it gets better.”
“What do we owe you for the refreshments?” Dad asked.
Mirko waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing, mate. I said I’d treat you. That’s how we do it here. You’re my guest, and the guest is sacred.”
“You’re the first person that’s treated us like guests since we arrived,” I said.
“If you know someone, everything is smoother in this part of the world.”
“I’m glad we know you now,” Dad said.
“The pleasure is mine. Who’s getting married in Malegonia?”
“My son,” Elizabeth said. Even exhausted, she beamed with pride.
Mirko raised an eyebrow and nodded. “He’s marrying a Balkan girl, eh? Congratulations. You’re in for heaps of fun once you get there. Speaking of, your ride is about to leave.”
I glanced through the window and saw the passengers climbing back onto the bus.
“We can’t thank you enough,” Dad said.
Mirko patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t mention it. You’ll have a great time at Lake Achris. It’s an amazing place. Best of luck, mate.”
Mirko stepped out the door and disappeared around the corner. I frowned that we had to leave him. He was the only bright spot on the trip so far. I hoped he was right about Lake Achris, although nothing on the trip had been amazing so far, at least not in a good way. We lumbered back to the bus and took our seats. At least we were moving in the right direction. Since we’d already had so many problems on the trip, things had to get better. Right?
Chapter 5
We spent the next hour winding down steep mountain roads. The blinding late-afternoon sun forced me to squint as we traveled west. I felt as queasy and uncomfortable as before, but the brief meeting with Mirko had given me hope I might just survive this debacle. The ride improved exponentially when the bus driver changed the radio from bizarre Balkan music to eighties classic rock. I never thought I’d be so happy to hear Dire Straits.
Traffic slowed as a never-ending column of orange caution barrels appeared ahead of us, along with a terrible patch of road. I doubted you could even call it a road, but the long line of sedans and work trucks navigating the bumpy surface insisted it was. The bus bounced along like an unstable washing machine, slowing frequently to weave through potholes.
We rounded a mountain pass, and a majestic body of water sprawled before us, glistening blue under the bright summersun. It was so wide I mistook it for the sea until Elizabeth chimed in.
