Page 18 of My Stepbrother's Wedding
A man exited the van and introduced himself as Ludwig in a robust German accent. The pastor seemed gentle natured, with blond hair and thick spectacles. He explained that Irena had been a member of his congregation since she was a little girl and that Will had joined the church when he’d arrived from America.
Will a churchgoer? Strange, it seemed, but memories of my stepbrother reading the Bible trickled into my mind. I’d figured that had just been a weird phase. He’d certainly had plenty of those, like when he’d dyed his hair green and worn a dog collar everywhere.
We loaded our suitcases into the van and started toward our next destination. It was hard to see anything on the unlit roads except for the fading lights of Achris City. After half an hour, we entered Irena’s hometown, Enkelana. The place seemed reasonably large, but not a soul was on the street. I wondered if the town was abandoned, until Ludwig turned onto the lakeside. Swarms of people strolled past the waterfront cafés and restaurants, young, old, and middle aged, each dressed in fine clothes and the latest fashion. Apparently the town had more life than it first appeared. We drove half a block and stopped in front of a four-story villa.
“This is it,” Will said.
I stepped onto the curb and noticed the café in front of the villa was packed with strange men and blaring Middle Eastern rap music—not a place I’d want to spend the next week. I gave my stepbrother a sidelong gaze. “I thought this was a private house.”
“We’re renting all the rooms, but the first floor is open to the public.”
“It’s all guys.”
Will shrugged. “Maybe you’ll meet someone.”
I put my hands on my hips and frowned. “I’ve already fought off two attempts to arrange my wedding on this trip, thank you very much.”
I looked at Dad, hoping he’d say something about the villa. Instead, he rubbed his eyes and started for the door.
Elizabeth yawned. “Let’s just check in and worry about everything else later. We’re all beat.”
I wanted to protest, but Elizabeth was right. We were too exhausted to go anywhere else that night. I followed Will as he led us through the smoky café into the villa’s lobby.
He handed each of us a key and motioned toward the stairwell. “Your rooms are upstairs. If you have trouble figuring out the air conditioner, ask at the café. You can drink the water, but you might need to turn the boiler on to take a shower.”
I looked at the key he’d handed me—room 401. “Where’s theelevator?”
“There isn’t one.”
I clenched my jaw and started hauling my suitcase up the stairs. Will pretended to be a gentleman and grabbed it for me after a few steps. I figured he owed me that since he’d dragged the entire family across the globe on this train wreck of a journey. My relief in finding him was fading, and I was back to simply dreading the wedding instead of fearing for my life. I tried to catch my breath as we arrived on the fourth floor.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” He dropped the suitcase by my door.
The earnestness in his voice threw me off. Was he really glad to see me? “It’s good to see you, too,” I said automatically. “Congratulations.”
He hugged me and descended the stairs to help Elizabeth and Dad. I stood frozen for a moment, trying to figure out who this strange young man who looked like my stepbrother was. We’d never been friends, and now he acted like we were family. It all felt so wrong.
A moment later I unlocked the door and stepped in. The room was nice, in a “Where the heck am I?” sort of way. It smelled like new furniture, and everything was draped in white with touches of beige. I slid into bed as soon as the door closed behind me. A night’s sleep would do me good. In themorning, I’d contact Karen and plan my escape. Croatia was waiting.
***
The sun woke me the next day. I had no idea what time it was, as the room had no clock and my cell phone was dead. I staggered out of bed, sore and groggy, and looked out the window at a lakeside paradise. Sandy beaches met gentle waves that reflected the morning sun. After the beach, a grassy common with a flower-lined promenade stretched the shoreline as far as I could see. Locals shuffled along or sat in the cafés that marked the boardwalk.
After brushing my teeth and changing clothes, I went downstairs, where Dad and Elizabeth sat in the café eating breakfast. Dark bags still hung beneath their eyes, but they looked more refreshed than the last time I’d seen them.
“What time is it?” I asked, sitting at the table.
“Nine o’clock,” Dad said. “That’s two in the morning Chicago time.”
“Did you sleep all right?”
Dad and Elizabeth shared a weary look. “We woke up at three,” Elizabeth said. “That’s okaythough, since the coffee here is extra strong.” She held up a tiny espresso cup like the one they’d tried to give us in Italy.
A waiter in a fancy uniform appeared at my side and set a menu in front of me. “You eat?” he asked.
I glanced at the menu. It had a rough English translation that I first mistook for a foreign language. I pointed to a picture of an omelet with the caption “eggz and tost.” The waiter nodded and disappeared.
“We’re supposed to meet Irena’s family in two hours,” Dad said. “Will told me the wedding officially begins when we arrive.”
