“So, how did he do?” she asked eagerly. “I remember you weren’t very optimistic because he was a football player or something, and I know how you hate teaching jocks.”

“He did very well,” Giancarlo answered. “And I don’t hate teaching jocks, by the way.”

“So you say,” she teased him. “But never mind about that. Tell me what he’s going to do now.”

Giancarlo gave another shrug.

“I guess he’s going to go in search of the girl of his dreams,” he offered.

“That is so sweet,” sighed Patricia. “When will he go?”

“He left yesterday,” said Giancarlo. “So he’s already in Rome.”

“How exciting,” she said. “What do you think he will do first? Will he go to her right away?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Giancarlo. “But whatever his plans are, I’m sure he’ll have the time of his life.”

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 26

At that particular moment, far across the Atlantic in Rome, Carter stood in the bathroom of his hotel room, staring into the mirror. He most definitely was not having the time of his life on his first night in Italy.To the contrary, he was overcome by a profound dread that, for some unknown reason, his life was about to come to an end.

It had all started just a short while ago, after he lay down to go to sleep. Exhausted from the long trip, he had just begun to doze off when suddenly he opened his eyes, for he heard a strange noise in his ears, a buzzing sound, like static on a radio. He sat up and put a hand to his forehead, for suddenly it began to feel very strange, as though something was tightening about it. He felt the same gripping sensation in his chest, and he realized that his heart within was hammering away. A cold spike of fear shot through Carter’s gut, and his breath quickened dramatically. He licked his lips and found that his mouth had gone dry.Throwing aside the bedcovers, he went to the bathroom to throw some water on his face.

Now, gazing at his reflection, he saw that his face had gone pale. The skin on the back of his neck and shoulders felt all prickly, and he began to sweat. Something terrible was going wrong with him; he suspected it might be a heart attack. The thought, ridiculous as it might have been, caused him to panic, and his breathing grew even more rapid. He was feeling disoriented, and was certain that he was going to pass out at any moment. He thought of home, he thought of his mother and father, and he thought of Elena. Why, he lamented, had God made him come all the way across the ocean to find her, only to let him die all alone in this cheap hotel room in Rome?