Runaway Love (4 page)

Chapter Five

The heat in Genie’s face was sufficient to melt the snow all the way to the nearest mountain.  Her sole comfort was that fact that Lorenzo had his back towards her and couldn’t see her discomfort.

Try talking yourself out of this, Hamilton.

“If it snows tonight, all your work will be wasted,” she said.  Oh, brilliant stuff.  Where did you get those wonderful conversation skills?

Lorenzo turned to her with a wide smile and rested on the handle of his spade.  “Lorenzo the fabulous?”

“Don’t,” she said.

He laughed and placed his open palm on his heart. “The best compliment I’ve had all day.”

“You’re welcome,” Genie said in a small voice. 

Lorenzo frowned.  “Now, why are you here making compliments?  I thought you were going to rest.”

“I wish I had now.”  She shrugged.  What had been said, had been said.  She’d paid the price. “I thought I’d nose about a bit,” she said. “Get a feeling of where I’ll be spending my Italian winter.”

Domino appeared from the rear of the barn and bounded across the yard towards Genie.  She backed away, bumping into the door frame just a Domino skidded to a halt a hair’s breadth from the toe of her boots.  He greeted her with a throaty “woof,” and wagged his tail sufficiently wildly to scuff up billows of the snow that remained from Lorenzo’s shovelling.

“Does he have to be so...so...attentive?” Genie asked.

“As I said, he’s inamorato - scusi - eme - smitten.  Yes, smitten.”

“If you can speak ‘dog’, Lorenzo, perhaps you could tell him that I’m saving myself for another.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t mind,” Lorenzo said, once again showing his amusement at Genie‘s discomfort.  “Dogs aren’t monogamous.”

“It seems you do mind rescuing damsels in distress.”

“Rescuing damsels in distress is Domino’s job,” Lorenzo said.

“Wonderful.”

“So, you want to look around, do you,” he said. “Would you like the guided tour, or would you prefer to wander about by yourself?”

“Any chance I could get lost in this vast kingdom of yours?” She flicked her eyebrows.

“Ah, now that is possible,” he said in mock thoughtfulness. “And, if you do, I’ll have to send Domino out to find you.”

“Domino?  Er...on second thoughts...how much for the guided tour?”

He jiggled his head from side to side as if trying to decide. “I think,” he said after a lengthy frowning pause, “it would be ungracious of me to charge you the regular tour fee after such a...uh...fabulous compliment...”

“Don’t, Lorenzo.  Have pity.”

“So, I am honoured,” he said, making a deep bow, “to offer the guided tour to you as un regalo - a gift.”

“Why thank you kind sir,” Genie said.  “But, truly, I don’t want to take up your time if you have other things to do.”

“No problem.  If you don’t mind waiting a little so I can settle the cows.”

“You have to milk them?”

“The milking is finished,” he said, taking her arm. “That’s an early morning task.  I want to make sure they have their food.”

While Lorenzo worked on the cows, Genie took the opportunity to wander around the barn and explore the finer points that were obscured by the darkness - and her exhaustion - the previous night. 

As oddly familiar 'barnmarks' revealed themselves, memories of the events that brought her here, smothered her with a blanket of emotional and physical tiredness.  Passing up on bed may not have been a good idea after all. 

Nevertheless, she had made a different kind of bed and, although she began to wilt, she decided to persevere with her tour of inspection.

The chickens cluck-clucked when she came too close, waddling away, wagging their tail feathers in disgust. “You can make all the noise you want now,” she told them. “He knows I’m here.”

“So now you are talking to chickens.” Lorenzo said, appearing by her side,

“This isn’t my day, is it?”

He was close enough for Genie to drink in his cologne.  She couldn’t name it, but she knew that was now imprinted on her memory.  A month, maybe longer for the snow to melt, he’d said.   A month or more of Lorenzo and his cologne?

It was more than a girl could bear.

“Aren’t they fabulous?”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“How could I?  It’s not
every day someone calls me fabulous.”

“Or the chickens.”

“Ah, si.  The chickens.” 

“And speaking of chicken...” Genie quickly latched on to a new conversational direction.  “...have you always lived here, with your chicken friends, Lorenzo?”

He hesitated and Genie realized, from the way his expression darkened, that she may have hit a sensitive spot.  It really wasn’t her day.

“It wasn’t always so,” he said, slowly.  He appeared to go through a working-up process to put something into words he did not welcome.

“I’m so sorry, Lorenzo,” Genie said.  “I didn’t mean to pry.  Please forget I asked.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “No, no.  Sta bene...sorry...It’s okay.  We always liked the idea of a small farm.” 

Genie felt a jolt when she heard the ‘we’.  His wife, or ex-wife, still seemed to be on the agenda.  Her heart sunk under a wave of disappointment.  Maybe Signora Calderone was just trapped outside.  Then, when the thaw comes, they will pass each other like they used to exchange spies during the Cold War.

At least, that’s how they did it in the movies. 

Genie opened her mouth to ask about the other half of the ‘we‘, but Lorenzo filled it with his words.

“We wanted some degree of isolation too,” he shrugged. “Now, here we are.”

Did this ‘we’ mean wife and Lorenzo, or Genie and Lorenzo? 

Genie decided to adopt the latter.  She liked the idea better.

He straightened his shoulders as though shrugging off the mood. “Things have changed now, though.  It was peaceful here - then we had a terremoto.”

Genie glanced down to check out the ground. “You have earthquakes here?”  This was an adventure she could do without. 

“Of a sort.  It happened this morning caused by an eruption of a scruffy looking creature.”  He flipped his arms upwards in an expanding arc.

Genie laughed.  “Lorenzo.”

“The shock was so great, Domino and I had to hold onto something.”

“I do have that effect.”

“Now, the terremoto will remain until the snow melts...calling me fabulous.”

“Lorenzo!”

“What next, I wonder?”

“Wonder away, because I’m going to think twice about throwing out compliments.”

He made a mock, deep sigh.  “I will try to be strong until the next one.” He blessed her with a brave smile that raised havoc with Genie’s insides and thought processes.  She wondered what damage all these smiles were doing to her internal organs. 

Would she survive until the thaw? 

“Now, where shall we go next?” he asked.

The thought of wandering around Lorenzo’s estate, as small as it appeared to be, flushed out the last vestiges of her energy through her feet.

“Bed,” she said.

Lorenzo’s eyebrows almost hit the roof of the barn.

“That is to say,” she quickly added, “
I’m
going to bed...by myself...not we...I mean...”  She mentally kicked herself for gabbling.

“I think I understand,” Lorenzo said, feigning a thoughtful expression.  

“I’m really tired.” Reluctantly, she backed away, willing her feet to keep on working for the short walk to the bed.  She wasn’t sure whether to say “Good night.”  Seemed silly, really.  It was still morning.  “Just an hour,” she said as a compromise.  She flashed a smile.  “Get my strength back.”

“Good.”

“See you later, then.”

“Certo.”

“Certo,” Genie whispered. 

Chapter Six

Genie drifted out of a near-comatose sleep. 

As her senses slowly resurrected themselves she became conscious of the faint clatter of pots and pans.  She struggled to make sense of who could be in her kitchen.  Had her mother come to take over again?

She prised open her eyes and blinked her vision into sharpness.

“This isn't my room.  Where..?”

Memory kicked in and blew away the clouds of confusion.

“This is Lorenzo’s room - or one of them, anyway.” She shook away the cobwebs.  “And that’s Lorenzo clattering about in the kitchen.”

She rolled out of bed and indulged in a quick shower.  Since that brought the rest of her back to life, she wondered if she had enough sleep left in her to be able to turn it on again later.  “We'll see when the time comes,” she said and trotted down the stairs.

When Genie burst on the scene, she found Lorenzo busy stirring a sauce on the cob.  He was accompanied by a vitally attentive Domino.  Food was in the offing and it needed his close attention.

“Lunch already?” she said.

“Lunch?  No, Lunch is finished.” He pointed at a bubbling sauce on the range.  “This is dinner.”

“Dinner?  You mean evening dinner?”

“I was coming to wake you.”

“Dinner.  I can't believe it.  Have I slept that long?”

“You needed much sleep, I think.”

“How awful.  I am sorry.”

“For sleeping?”  He laughed.  “What do you think, Domino?   Shall we accept her apology?”

It appeared that Domino's trance, induced by the aroma and sight of food, was too deep.  He gave no sign of hearing Lorenzo and made no effort to respond.

“Come, Genie,” he said. “Your appetite is still very much eager to be satisfied, vero?”

“Very much.  Vero.”

“Then, let us eat.” He set about making the final preparations for the feast.

If Genie had any doubts about her capacity to re-engage sleep that night, it was dispelled by Lorenzo's culinary efforts.

The meal consisted of baked macaroni to start, followed by beef cooked in a spicy sauce in the company of broccoli and potatoes, followed by a portion of almond tart, followed by an espresso, and intermittently enhanced with a glass or two of Lorenzo's home-made wine.  All this residing heavily in her stomach was sufficient to bring on drowsiness right there, at the table.  Indeed, she had to stifle a yawn several times.

“Your cooking skills put mine to shame,” Lorenzo.  That was a lovely meal.  Thank you.”

“It was a mix of Italian and English style,” Lorenzo gestured with both hands, palms up. “Because you are English...”

“I am flattered. Thank you, Lorenzo.  But there's no need to worry.  I've grown fond of Italian food over the last few weeks.”

Together, they set about clearing away the devastation typical of the creation of such a sumptuous meal. 

“Now I must go out,” Lorenzo said once the kitchen had been returned to its pristine condition.  “Make sure everything is good.”

“I'll come with you,” Genie offered.  “Take some night air.”

“No.  No.  Stay here.”  He shrugged his thermal jacket over his shoulders.  “It's very cold and I must walk around the fence, too.  I heard wolves this evening--

“Wolves?  My God?  Are they close by?”

“I don’t think so,” he said.  “If they are, it does not matter.  It is very difficult to get through my fence.  So you do not worry, I will leave Domino with you.”  

Left on her own, Genie's imagination delivered images of a giant wolf, drooling at the potential meal before him, with glaring red eyes hypnotizing her into immobility.  The image in her mind was so vivid she felt a cold knot of fear in her stomach.  She moved closer to Domino for protection.  “I think I prefer the wolves of the London.  I can handle those.”  She peered at Domino.  “Are you any good with Lorenzo's wolves, Dom?

He wagged his tail and snuffled.

“Good, then stick close - just in case.”

This was new - palling up with a dog.  “Fear makes strange bedfellows.”

Domino emitted a sound that was a cross between a weak bark and a sigh.

“Oh no you don't, Domino Calderone.  Don't take the bedfellows bit seriously.  I was speaking metaphorically.  No bed for you.  Bed for me only...and now I'm talking to a dog.” 

Shaking her head in despair, she ambled into the lounge with Domino trotting close behind.  To give herself something to do, she placed two more logs on the fire in the walk-in stone fireplace.

It appeared that Domino was a fan of log fires.  He almost scooped Genie off her feet in
his quest to get as close as he dare without bursting into flames.

“A long time since I’ve seen a real fire, Dom,” she said, flopping down on the beige, leather ‘L-shaped sofa unit. “Don’t have them at home.  Clean air and all that.”  She shook her head.  “I’m talking to a dog again.  Almost as bad as talking to chickens.  Worse.”

She lifted her feet from the floor and stretched out.  “This thing is huge.  Bet you could get four people sitting here at the same time.  Probably you too, Dom.” She sat up and surveyed the size once more.  “A little over the top for one guy and his dog.  But, then again, you Italians liked ‘big’, don’t you Dom?”

Jumping to her feet, she shuffled sideways to avoid stepping on Domino and gently eased herself onto the recliner. 
She jigged it back and forth a couple of times to test it out.  “Excellent.”

Further investigation revealed the absence of a TV.  “What do you too guys do in your spare time, Dom?”   

Receiving no reaction from Domino at all, Genie launched herself out of the recliner.  “I’ll bet if a wolf came in here, you wouldn’t even move.”  She crossed the room to the picture window.  “Fine protector you are.”

Peering out, she expected to see more snow-covered mountains towering above the house, glowing white under the moon.  Instead, all she could see was the night sky and a distant mountainous skyline. 

A faint glow filled the intervening gap.

Genie rested her forehead on the window and blocked out the room light by cupping her hands each side of her eyes.   Way down below, she could see the lights of a village or town. 

“This place is built on the edge of a cliff,” she said, stepping back. “Is it safe, I wonder?”

“Quite safe,” Lorenzo offered.

Genie spun around. “Don't creep up on me like that, Lorenzo.  You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Mi dispiace.”

His grin caught Genie's breath and held onto it for several seconds.  “Your house...it's on a cliff.  That's scary.”    

“You should see the view in daylight.  It will take your breath away.”

“Hmm.” You’ve already done that all by yourself. “Come to think about it, I suppose I should have realized.” She recalled the hard climb, with the windscreen wipers fighting a losing battle against the build-up of snow.  The blizzard seemed to grow even more violent the higher she drove. “The road up here is devilishly steep.”  Then the sharp curve, followed by a bone-jarring thump.  Hello ditch.

“So, down there - that town--”

“San Rafaele delle Montagne.”

“That's a mouthful and a half.”

“No one says 'delle Montagne' - except the tourists who come for the skiing.”

“I think I'm going to side with the locals.”

Lorenzo crossed to the fire, stoked it and added another log.  Sitting down on the couch, he asked, “Is that why you have come here in winter, Genie – to ski?”

“Heavens no.  I can't see myself struggling to the top of a mountain, risking my life skiing down it, and then struggling back up again.”  She chose the recliner, kicked off her shoes, lifted and folded her legs so they join her.

“Forse, you have some other reason?” Lorenzo said.

“Perhaps...” Genie hid her discomfort well.  She had always avoided talking about herself.  It made her feel uncomfortable, even among her friends.  However, Lorenzo's search for answers was reasonable.  Given her intrusion into his privacy, she owed him some sort of explanation.  “I...I just wanted to get away for a while,” she said.  “Wander around Europe.  See the sights.  Have a bit of an adventure.”

“So, now your adventure has been interrupted.  You crashed your car and you are trapped here.  You must wait to continue your adventure.

“Oh, I don't know, Lorenzo.  I'm a city girl born and bred.  Living on a farm is new to me.  That can count as an adventure...sort of.”

“Of course.  And in your city--”

“London.”

He acknowledged her with a slow dip of his head. “In your London, do you have work?”

Here we go.  He’s prised open the lid of the can is open now and he’ll go on scooping out its contents.  She will have to find answers.  Answer the safe ones; hedge on the dangerous ones.  That’s the plan.

“I'm a freelance photographer,” she said.  That was easy.  The truth always was.

“Vero?  You have photographs in magazines?

“Some."

Lorenzo narrowed his eyes. “You did not want to be a freelance photographer in Italy?”

Genie wrinkled her forehead and gave a brief nod.  “Well...yes.”

“But you do not have your
camera.  Did it remain in your car?” His expression was one of concern.  “Will the cold not affect it?”

He’s a regular Sherlock Holmes, this Italian farmer.  What clue’s he
going to pick on next?

Genie hesitated, flipping ‘Yes/No’ thoughts.  Should she tell him?  It’s pretty certain Lorenzo isn’t in cahoots with those others.  So, why shouldn’t she tell him?  There’s no logical reason.

'Yes' won.

“My camera was stolen,”

Lorenzo jerked upright. “Stolen?  How?”

“I was attacked on the road,” Genie said.