Unforeseen

By Deah Curry

Julie Mercer escapes a relationship disaster and the Seattle rat race to travel throughout Europe on a quest to refresh her soul. From a chance meeting with a history professor who has fortunate connections and an eye for talent, she stumbles into a new career. A medical crisis changes her travel plans, and leads to supportive friends, and a moral dilemma. But it is the terrifying event that occurs one night in a German pub that changes her life forever.

No stranger to being near unexpected dangers, this one held an important difference for Jack MacDubh, who calls it a bonding experience. Could he have just met the love of his life in that pub? There was only one way to find out.

This story of love, independence, empowerment, travel, and adventure mirrors some of the challenges and dangers of today's world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liminal Realities
• Release date: Mar 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005390860

Deah Curry

Deah Curry PhD is a retired psychotherapist, business coach, and educator who specialized in helping women and solopreneurs in the healing arts. As a worrytamer, she worked to empower others with her solid knowledge, proven skills, and creative alternative approaches to contentment and success. Now she is taking that background into the world of fiction, memoir, and personal essay.Dr Deah earned a multidisciplinary masters degree combining teaching, counseling, and health systems at Antioch University Seattle, and a doctorate in psychology at Saybrook University in California. She was given the Jourard Award for research in humanistic psychology by the American Psychological Association. She has lived and traveled in Asia, Europe, and the US.

Book preview

Unforeseen

Deah Curry

Copyright 2022 Deah Curry. All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

This ebook is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living in corporeal form in the here and now or in an alternate Universe, dimension, or lifetime, or to iconic businesses named and currently operating or no longer open, exist mostly in the author’s mind and should not be construed as inhabiting consensual reality. Geopolitical events referenced in this story were mostly imagined prior to actually happening, are noted here for dramatic purposes in moving the plot along, and should not be understood as a journalistically accurate depiction of similar events.

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Dedication

With deep gratitude and respect,

this story is dedicated to

journalists everywhere who

risk their lives to illuminate truth

and strive to also have a life.

Chapter 1 – Portugal

Chapter 2 – Barcelona

Chapter 3 – Offenbach

Chapter 4 – Egypt

Chapter 5 – Hanau

Chapter 6 – Wilhelmsbad

Chapter 7 – Trains

Chapter 8 – Paris

Chapter 9 – Disclosures

Chapter 10 – Worries & Prayers

Chapter 11 – Complications

Chapter 12 – Ireland

Chapter 13 – Landstuhl

Chapter 14 -- London

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Portugal

Julie woke with a start. The sound of waves lapping in the distance was unexpected. A good night’s sleep dreaming about skiing in the Rockies had her momentarily disoriented. One blue eye squinting against the sun glaring through the open balcony door, she didn’t recognize the room she was in.

Uncertain what day it was after too many recent time zone changes with several one night layovers from the West Coast, she checked her phone for the date, then accessed her calendar as the fastest way to know where she was. Ah, the pensione in Praia da Rocha.

She brushed the chestnut brown hair that had escaped the ponytail off her face and momentarily contemplated going back to sleep. A certain defiance got the better of inclination to make it a lazy morning, though, as her sister’s voice poked at her consciousness. Get up, get moving, get this silliness out of your system, she heard her impatient and judgmental sibling prod. Ignoring the critical older sister in her head, Julie threw on her pajama top, ordered a room service breakfast, then scrolled through the news on her phone app trying to push away the doubts that she was doing the right thing by coming to Europe.

Stefanie thought she was crazy. But Julie’s sister never did have much of a restless spirit, nor a niggling sense of unfulfilled mission spurring her from one career to another. No, Stef’s calling as a naturopathic doctor had struck at an early age, and now at 47 she was a pillar of a community. If she could combine travel with work, she might see the allure of being on the road. But leaving one’s life behind to see the world with no agenda beyond finding oneself was foreign enough to Stef. She preferred to stay put where her days routines were more certain and familiar.

That depth of settledness was too confining for Julie whose life ran in ever evolving cycles. She’d spent seven years as a feature story journalist for a small local newspaper. Digging into the issues and challenges people had and how they triumphed against the odds had been enjoyable. Over the next seven years Julie had pursued a fast track master’s degree in psychology, set up a hypnotherapy practice, and explored how individuals sustained or lost motivation to achieve their goals. Then, innately good with money, she used the next seven years combining her listening and problem solving skills in helping others, and herself, work on building financial security.

Julie thrived on variety, change, and challenge. Now at 43, she desperately wanted a get-away from her predictable Seattle life, from her well-paid but soul-draining job at the investment firm, and most of all, from the relationship she recently ended. Her sister’s stable life included a traditional marriage, two kids, a literal picket fence, and a relatively reasonable spouse. She couldn’t understand why Julie had lost interest in Marcus, and that was in good part because Julie had kept to herself the intensity of his attitudes and beliefs that had scared her.

Marcus had been raised in a strictly conservative and religious family, so much that he’d been homeschooled for much of the secondary grades. His mother didn’t approve of what she called the liberal agenda of the social studies curriculum she saw as secular humanism and a danger to the idea of American cultural superiority. She took exception to the teaching of history that questioned the darker ideals of capitalism and exceptionalism, and had a strong belief in the literal inerrancy of her bible.

When Marcus came home from seventh grade with assignments designed to promote critical thinking by questioning what was taught as received wisdom, she pulled him out of school, made him give up team sports so he wouldn’t have to associate with children whose parents were likely devil worshippers since they didn’t attend her fundamentalist church – a group Julie saw as more of a cult than a religion. His mom quit her job as a clerk at city hall, determined he wouldn’t have his mind poisoned with any opinions that went against her anti-science beliefs. His father was a strict disciplinarian, expecting nothing less that unquestioning compliance with everything his mother wanted. Beyond that, dad was fairly absent from Marcus’s upbringing.

In the beginning, Marcus felt resentful and depressed about being isolated from his friends. But the brainwashing kicked in after a few months and he adjusted to his new life. When he reached 17, his parents decided he should get some highly supervised work experience, and sent him into an apprenticeship program sponsored by their church in accounting and computer technology, which he continued studying in college.

By the time he met Julie, Marcus had developed an outwardly accommodating personality, showing her uncommon and even doting courtesy that she’d thought was sweet, if rather old fashioned. He was initially attentive when she talked about wanting to travel a lot, see the world, experience different cultures. He feigned amusement about her liberal politics while making sure to present her with the conservative dogma he thought sufficient to change her mind. As the months went on, that amusement turned to contemptuous ridicule, delivered always with the anachronistic logic that it was the man’s responsibility in a relationship to teach the woman what was correct and how she should think. Julie thought he was joking at first.

The reality was that he had strayed little from his roots. He tested Julie’s suitability as a wife by insisting she agree with him about being a stay at home mom, homeschooling their kids, being deeply involved in his church, and showing good caution about the need for vaccinations and whatever Big Pharma and the AMA was pushing. When the Covid pandemic took hold, she thought his opposition to the vaccines might have some merit, given how quickly they were developed and how frantic the government appeared in promoting them. But as his views became more clearly aligned with anti-science rhetoric, conspiracy theories, and virulent attacks on the country’s pre-eminent infectious disease expert, Julie could no longer overlook Marcus’s views as merely idiosyncratic. He treated her well for the most part as long as she agreed with him, but the least inclination to act on her own mind sent him into an increasing level of fury. Anger of that sort wasn’t something Julie had been exposed to in her own family, and it frightened her.

After seven months of dating as Marcus increased the pressure on her to see the error of her attachment to her independence, she began to feel suffocated with the implications of being tied down to someone else’s idea of how adult life should work. A senior level tech systems engineer for Amazon, he had great job security and was ready for a life partner. Career and community status was important to Marcus. Issues of personal growth, social justice, metaphysical mysteries he looked on as excuses for not working hard enough. He saw himself as the leader in a power couple, and didn’t understand why Julie laughed at that.

For her part, Julie wanted more freedom, not less. She longed to see the world and chase spontaneous adventures. She couldn’t imagine life without a role for spiritual sensibilities in it, even though Marcus called her an atheist. She thought of personal growth as maybe the main responsibility in being human, with working for creating the conditions for social justice a close second. The more Marcus pushed her to adopt his views and agenda, the more she wanted the mutual moral support from a relationship that Marcus couldn’t and wouldn’t provide. So, when she made the decision to quit her third career and head for Europe on a one way ticket, she knew it was time to end things with him.

Over a steak dinner and with some Cabernet courage, Julie wished him well, and said goodbye. She had to repeat it several times, as Marcus couldn’t readily process what he was hearing. But we’re so good together, he whined. Just tell me what I did wrong. I’ll fix it.

There’s nothing to fix, Julie tried to explain. It’s just clear that we are two really different people who see the world very differently, and want to live in completely incompatible ways.

The puzzled look on his face told her Marcus wasn’t getting what she was saying. But I thought you loved me, he protested.

Julie didn’t want to crush him entirely. I think part of me did, Marcus. I loved your courtesy to me. I don’t think I’ve ever known such a gentleman in our generation. And I loved how you missed me between breakfast and dinner. It was flattering to get your affectionate texts during the day. But you also want me to be someone I don’t want to be, Marcus, and I can’t do that. Not even for you.

This is unbelievable, he said, pushing away his plate, no longer hungry. He felt his anger rising, and remembered his mother’s instruction that hurt feelings were never healed with anger. Not taking notice that Julie was not done with her meal, he signaled his readiness for the check, then said, I thought we were building a life together.

I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear earlier. I hope you’ll remember the times we enjoyed together. I know I will, she said, trying to soften the parting, even though feeling more relieved than nostalgic to be breaking up.

* * * * *

Having already quit her job, and various club memberships, Julie set about making final preparations for her new life. She got a new phone number for international roaming, leased her condo, sold her BMW M2, and gave away much of her extensive expensive wardrobe, packing up the rest to leave in storage at Stefanie’s house. She set up a series of bon voyage lunches with friends, and was ready to go within two weeks. She had long ago made the decision to travel light and alone to wherever the Spirits called.

First stop, the southern beaches of Portugal. No one she knew had ever heard of the Algarve. It was perfect. So here she was on a warm, sunny morning, in Pensione Perfeição, with a beautiful southernly view of the Atlantic. Just as Julie had finished a shower and had slipped into a gauzy coral sundress, a soft knock came at the door. Seu café da manhã, senhora, said the male voice. She opened the door, gestured to come in, and handed the young man five Euros while mumbling Obrigado, to his surprise. Apparently tipping wasn’t as expected here as it was in the States. Well, she wouldn’t worry about that now, she thought, pouring cream into the coffee, and taking the bread and cheese plate out to the balcony. The Valencia orange slices she’d save for breakfast dessert.

Inhaling the salt in the cool breeze coming in over the ocean, Julie thought it smelled like a blessed release from the suffocating relationship with Marcus, and a promise of pleasant surprises. She felt almost giddy with anticipation, though resisted rushing to eat and get started. Soon enough, she donned the wide brimmed straw hat with the dress-matching scarf as the hatband, stepped into sturdy sandals, and set out for a stroll. A walk along the red cliffs and time to sort out her life was what she wanted before the beach got crowded. Little did she appreciate her idyllic morning being disrupted by a noisy American couple arguing under a big beach umbrella.

If I’d known all we were going to do is sit around all day, looking at lumps of ground and old junk, I wouldn’t have come with you, said the impatient and clearly ungrateful woman who appeared to be in her early 20s.

Wyleigh, darling, you can’t call yourself cultured and world-travelled if you spend all your time shopping and dancing the nights away, the much older man with grey hair, neatly trimmed beard, and fashionable sunglasses retorted.

It’s boring, Wyleigh pouted.

Must I remind you that my fascination with ancient cultures and lumps of ground, as you put it, have provided very well for you. You never seemed to mind before that I was an archeologist and history professor.

Oh dear, Julie thought as she tried to walk by without eavesdropping more, there’s a relationship that’s not likely to last.

Wyleigh stood up, plunged an arm through the handles of a giant colorful canvas bag. This isn’t what I signed up for when I said I’d come on this trip. I’m flying home this afternoon, she said, making as forceful an exit as one can when stomping across a sandy beach.

Julie heard the man’s exasperated sigh, and was surprised when he commented out loud. Too spoiled, he said shaking his head.

I’m sorry? Are you speaking to me? she asked, uncertain whether he was trying to explain the argument he assumed she had overheard.

My daughter, he said. She never got enough discipline from her mother. Now I pay the price. He sighed again, and she heard his sadness. William Weston, he introduced himself. Care to join me? There is an unexpected vacancy, indicating the low sitting wooden beach chair Wyleigh had just left.

Why not? Julie said, removing her hat and glasses under the huge, gaily striped umbrella. So you’re an archeologist? That sounds fascinating to me. Are you on a dig currently?

No, just a vacation. But I can’t stay away from sites of historical significance. Headed to Sagres, west of here, where Henry the Navigator founded a research center in 1419. He’s not studied much now, but he should be. He was right in the thick of the action as the Moors were advancing in Spain and the Templars were going underground in Portugal.

Wow. I think that’s really interesting. I love learning about the history of a place. That’s pretty much what I’m intending to do for awhile. Be a vagabond through history.

What will you do with what you learn?

Hadn’t really thought about doing anything with it. I’m just burnt out with the rat race and wanting to enjoy my life.

Do you write your friends about your vacations? he asked casually.

Incessantly, and I’m sure they are beyond tired of hearing about the bits of history and culture I encounter here and there. But I can’t seem to lose my old journalistic habits, Julie laughed.

You’re a journalist? There was a small hint of excitement in the question.

Not for a long time professionally, but writing seems to be in my blood. I can’t seem to stop recording my observations and foisting them on others, Julie laughed.

I know a fellow in New York who is looking for a travel blogger with a fresh perspective to visit historical and cultural sites and write about them. If that wouldn’t take the enjoyment out of it for you, it could pay your expenses. I’d be happy to put you in touch, if being a digital nomad for a while appeals to you.

Work for fun? What a great idea. But you don’t know if I’d be any good at it.

I have an uncanny sixth sense about people, William winked, with the unabashed confidence that came with age. Besides, no boss knows if any new hire will really be any good. My friend likes to gamble on intuition.

So do I, she said, and knew the Spirits had started planning her travel life.

Then shall I call my friend and tell him to expect to hear from you? His name is Nast, by the way. Condé Nast.

Julie gasped. For a moment time seemed to stand still. Had she fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole?

I take it you’ve heard of Condé Nast, William smiled.

Who with the slightest involvement in publishing hasn’t? she said, her eyes widening with astonishment.

Condé the 3rd and I are old school chums, and life long family friends ever since. His son, the 4th, is who I’d be alerting about you.

Wow, it’s dawning on me I’d be a fool to pass up this opportunity. You’ll have to thank your daughter for me, Julie said and immediately thought, what a stupid thing to say.

It was William’s turn to be surprised. My daughter?

Yes. If she hadn’t vacated this chair just as I was walking by, we never would have met.

William chuckled. Her assessment of their serendipitous meeting fit well with his philosophy of life. There are no accidents, he replied.

Now please tell me more about Henry the Navigator and what I should see if I go to Sagres.

After an hour listening to the very entertaining professor, Julie felt like she’d known him forever. He was funny, sentimental, straight-forward, and clearly enraptured with sharing his knowledge of history with someone who was really interested. When they parted, Julie offered him one of the business cards she’d had made especially for her travels, with her jealously guarded new phone number and email, and he gave her one of his with Condé the Fourth’s number scrawled on the back.

Let me know how the travel writing works out for you, he said. I’d love to hear how you get on with it.

I can’t begin to thank you, she said. I’d really like to keep in touch.

Chapter 2

Barcelona

Condé Nast Media, greeted the voice.

Hello Cynthia, it’s William Weston. How’s that beautiful baby of yours?

Good morning Mr. Weston, the executive assistant answered. Two new teeth this month. I’m getting no sleep at all, she said in mock complaint.

Don’t worry. That phase only lasts a few years, he teased. Is he in?

Your timing couldn’t be better. He just finished a meeting. Hold one moment, please.

William! How’s the beach? Condé Nast IV was happy to have his schedule interrupted by the old family friend. Are you ready to be beaten again? At squash, he meant. The last he’d seen William was at a vigorous game with his father, the two older gentlemen enjoying their favorite sport.

Condé, I know you’re busy, so I’ll make this short. I’ve come across an American knocking around Europe who loves to write, used to be a journalist. Thought of you telling me you were looking for a travel blogger. Are you still?

In fact I am. What a coincidence.

There are no coincidences, Condé, only unexplained blessings, he laughed.

Your favorite saying, I know. And you think this person wants a job.

Well, no, that wasn’t her plan. But my sense from our brief conversation is that she’d be interesting to read and pleasant to work with.

Give her my number, Condé said. I have a good assignment waiting right now.

Already did. I’m betting you’ll hear from her soon. Thanks, son. See you next month at the family gathering.

Thanks for the lead. Enjoy the rest of your vacation, William. Condé hung up shaking his head. The old professor had good instincts. This should be interesting, he thought.

* * * * *

Julie took the several hours after leaving William to weigh the pros and cons of taking advantage of his connections. She didn’t really want a job right now. But this was Condé Nast, one of the oldest and most venerated publishers in the business. If she blew this off, this chance would never come again. Yet, assignments that weren’t her idea, and hard deadlines, weren’t how she had wanted to decompress from the high stress of the last seven years. It would be nice, though, to not have to spend as much of her own money and have the Condé Nast credentials to open doors she might not have access to otherwise. Still, the last thing she wanted was new pressure. The whole point of this trip had been to be at leisure and get reacquainted with the true self she had buried for so long.

Well, what the hell, I don’t have to take the job if it doesn’t fit in with my priorities, she finally realized as she arrived back at the pensione after the meditative walk. And I can always quit if I don’t like it, and be none the worse off. It was well past lunch time, and she was hungry, but she didn’t want to put this off. Just one more thing to do before making the call.

Closing the door to the balcony to shut out distracting noises, she pulled out her laptop and got comfortable at the small round table across the room from the bed. A quick Google search on Condé Nast would bring her up to speed on the company and its current interests. She didn’t want to sound completely clueless when talking to the descendent of the founder. Julie was surprised to learn that Reddit was a subsidiary of Condé Nast’s parent company. She had never spent much time on Reddit and hoped that wasn’t what this job would be. She found it a confusing and not really user-friendly social media platform.

Finally, at 3:30 PM Portugal time, 10:30 AM in New York, she could stall no longer and tapped in the number William had provided.

Julie Mercer for Mr. Nast, she announced when Cynthia answered.

Hello Ms. Mercer. He’s waiting to speak with you. One moment please.

William Weston has some nice things to say about you, Condé said by way of a hello.

Did he? We had a great conversation earlier today, she said, falling into the unexpected friendliness of the tone the executive had set.

I understand you don’t want a job, Condé continued. I’m interested to know why.

This wasn’t going the way Julie had imagined, and she felt caught off guard. With a brief nervous chuckle, she explained she was really in Europe to unwind, soul search, and regain her sense of freedom after a grueling three decades of non-stop work and the recent ending of a relationship.

Where do you plan to visit while you’re there?

"Well, I don’t have many specific plans yet, but I do feel called to some of the historic medieval towns where my ancient ancestors lived, and see how they’ve survived and thrived into these modern