The House by the Cypress Trees

by Elena Mikalsen

  Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? And that puppy, tucked against her chest, so pathetic-looking. She was obviously running away, but who was she running away from? Did she look frightened? He should’ve insisted on driving her. Hopefully, she got herself and her dog safely to wherever she was headed. But what if she didn’t?

  Daniel parked the car next to a small coffee shop and ordered an espresso. He tried to go over his presentation one more time, jotting down notes and counterarguments to the board.

  But who was he kidding—this day’s plans were ruined.

  Chapter 3

  With her beginner’s Italian, Julia bought a few slices of ham for Lizzy at the small market downstairs, filled with morning shoppers. She was about to return to her building when her stomach growled as she inhaled the aroma of freshly baked dough from the pizza shop next door.

  She entered the shop with some hesitation, reciting Italian words in her mind. The man behind the counter in a white starched apron chopped vegetables, his knife and fingers moving fast.

  “Buona giornata,” Julia said to the man. “Due.” She pointed at the thick slices covered with mushrooms and gooey cheese. Her stomach warmed in anticipation.

  Yet, he didn’t move, continuing his folding task.

  “Due?” Julia tried again. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Nothing worked right for her in this country.

  “That’s not how you order pizza in Trastevere,” a voice behind her said, a tone of humor evident.

  Julia sighed and turned. A know-it-all. She was about to walk out and give up on food when something about the tall, overdressed-for-the-pizza-shop man seemed familiar.

  “It’s you,” she said.

  He recognized her also—she saw it in his eyes.

  She pointed her index finger at him. “You tried to run me over this morning.”

  “You popped out in front of my car.” He shrugged, took off his gray jacket, and threw it casually on a wooden stool.

  “You have to pay attention to pedestrians when you drive.”

  “You have to pay attention when you walk around Rome, or you’ll get run over by people much less careful than me. Especially with the dog in your arms. I did offer you a ride.” He sat down. “Where were you running to, anyway?”

  “None of your business.” She remembered the Brit spoke Italian. “Hey, you owe me. How do you get a slice of pizza around here? Or is that not possible in Rome?”

  “You point to the kind you want, then you spread your hands and show the size of the slice you want him to cut. Like this.” He got up, approached the counter, and engaged in the pantomime apparently required in this shop to get a pizza.

  The man sprang into action, slicing the pizza, placing it in the oven to heat, and speaking briskly in Italian that was too much for Julia to understand.

  “You want me to order for you?” her helper asked.

  “No, I got it.” Julia marched up to the counter and repeated the gestures she’d just seen. She guessed she would now have to be civil with the guy who had nearly killed her and her dog. She turned around and attempted a smile in thanks.

  “Daniel Stafford,” the man said, stretching his hand toward her.

  She hesitated a moment, then shook his hand. “Julia Ramos.”

  Daniel picked up a small bottle of wine from the refrigerator, opened it, and poured two glasses. He sat down at the counter and pushed one toward her.

  “Thanks,” Julia said, as she sat down and took a glass. “You sound British.”

  He nodded. “I am. I do again apologize for almost running you over this morning.”

  “Apology accepted,” she said, taking a sip.

  “So, will you tell me who you were running away from?”

  “I wasn’t,” she said.

  He raised his brows. “Looked like it. I was impressed with how you knew your way around Trastevere, however.”

  “Thank you.”

  “First time in Italy?”

  “First time anywhere.” She took another sip of wine. “Yes, I know. I’m too old to be traveling for the first time. But at least I’m here.”

  “Where in the United States are you from?”

  “Texas.”

  He whistled. “A cowgirl?”

  “Sure.” She rolled her eyes. “All Texans are cowboys and cowgirls. And what are Brits, then?” The wine made her brave.

  “We have bad teeth, eat terrible food, and are all related to the Queen.” His eyes danced with a smile.

  “Well, you seem to have average teeth and you like this good food.” She sat up straight. “Are you really related to the Queen?”

  He dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “Everyone in England is, in some way. So what are your favorite sites in Rome so far?”

  The heat rushed to her cheeks. She had hardly been anywhere yet. And now she was stuck with the dog. “I arrived yesterday. I haven’t seen anything yet.”

  She walked over to pick up their pizzas. She would have preferred to take it to go, but she had no idea how to ask. “How do you ask for take-out?” she asked Daniel, handing him the plate.

  “You don’t ask for take away. Not from this guy. He’ll never sell to you again. You eat his pizza here. If you are in a hurry, you eat it fast.”

  Julia bit into her pizza. Her mouth filled with the hot crusty dough and the tangy tomato sauce. “Oh, this is better than I expected.”

  “Why Rome?” Daniel asked, taking a small bite of his slice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said you’ve never traveled before. Why pick Rome as your first destination? You don’t seem to like it much here.”

  Julia bit her lip. Should she tell him? He was a stranger. But then, what did it matter? She’d never see him again. “I received a painting for my birthday, of a small house on Lake Garda. I came to find this house and the person who sent it.”

  He wrinkled his forehead. “You came to Italy to search for a house? And you don’t know who sent it? What if it’s a serial killer?”

  “A serial killer looking for a middle-aged teacher from Texas?”

  “First of all, you are not middle-aged, and second, you don’t know what a serial killer may look for.”

  Julia thought a moment. Oh, what the hell. “It’s not a serial killer. I’m sure.” She stopped him from talking by raising her hand. “I was adopted from an Italian mother, so I believe she is trying to get in touch with me.”

  Daniel shrugged. “How do you know she is not a serial killer?”

  Julia choked on her wine. “What’s wrong with you?”

  He handed her a napkin. “I’m sorry, I have a terrible habit of making inappropriate jokes. I didn’t mean that.”

  “No, it’s fine. I suppose you may be right. I know so little about her. She might as well be a serial killer.” She giggled. “I guess I’ll find out when I meet her. You must think I’m being ridiculous.”

  “Not ridiculous. Rather adventurous of you. You go abroad and make it exciting. Well done. Did you search her up on Facebook or Instagram or anything like that?”

  “I tried. Nothing.”

  He looked at her, examining. “You do look Italian, now I think about it.”

  “In what way?”

  He touched her hair. “It’s your hair. Long and dark.” He looked closer at her face. “Your skin is just the right shade of Mediterranean olive, and your eyes are blue. Very Italian.”

  She turned away, uncomfortable at this examination but thinking his words over. He’d just described all the features she’d always believed made her look like a perfect mix of Mexican and German: her shiny dark hair, brown skin, and blue eyes. She couldn’t believe she had been so blind.

  “So you know little about your Italian mom. What about your dad?” Daniel asked.

  Julia shook her head. “I know nothing about my Italian dad at all. Don’t even know his name. Don’t even know if he is Italian.” She needed to switch the topic. “So what brings you to Rome
? You don’t look like a tourist.” She pointed at his gray, well-tailored suit.

  “I’m here to pitch plans for a new museum building.”

  “Are you in construction?”

  “In architecture.”

  “An architect? How romantic to build in Rome.”

  “Not as romantic as it sounds,” he grumbled.

  She wanted to ask more, but he looked away, clearly avoiding the conversation.

  “Would you like another?” Daniel pointed at her empty plate.

  “I would, but I have to go,” she said and got up.

  “Where is your dog?”

  “At home,” she said. “That’s why I have to go.” She pointed at her bag. “I have food for her.”

  “Good luck finding your house and your not-serial-killer mother.” He smiled.

  Julia waved goodbye and walked out, shaking her head. “Strange man,” she said quietly. She was sorry to go, as she walked to her apartment building. He was the first person she had met on this trip. He was the first man who had noticed her in a long time. But she had a responsibility to Lizzy at the moment and no time to spend with strangers. Especially not handsome strangers.

  She returned to the apartment and found the little pup awake, walking around the bathroom. Lizzy wagged her tiny tail upon seeing her, and it melted Julia’s heart. She needed to hurry and place Lizzy for adoption. Any minute she’d fall in love with the mutt, and then what would she do?

  Julia fed Lizzy tiny pieces of meat and watched her eat with pleasure. After she was done, she hugged her tight and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Lizzy. You know you are my baby. I wish I could keep you, but I can’t. I have to be off on a long trip through Italy, and then I’m back to fly home, and I can’t bring a dog from another country. Please forgive me for sending you away. Someone will adopt you and love you very much.”

  As she packed the wiggling pup into her backpack, she wiped her tears and reassured herself that she was doing this for Lizzy’s sake. She almost believed it.

  ****

  The dog shelter Julia found online seemed smaller than she’d expected. How did this building fit all the Roman dogs needing adoption? She shrugged and went in. The stench hit her so hard, she almost dropped Lizzy.

  “What is that smell?” she asked the receptionist, a large woman with a stern look on her face, scrolling through something on her phone.

  “Cleaning, madam. We clean after animal,” the woman replied. “You want dog or cat?”

  “No, I’m sorry, I can’t adopt. I have one I need to surrender.”

  The receptionist looked at Julia in confusion. Julia placed the puppy on the counter in front of her.

  “I rescued Lizzy, this puppy, from a man who was abusing her. I can’t keep her, you see. I’m only a tourist. I wondered if you could take her and find someone to adopt her. I don’t know what all the procedures are here, though. Sono Americana.”

  “Si, Americana,” the woman grumbled. She took Lizzy and set her in a cardboard box by her feet.

  Julia watched with some concern as the clerk kicked the box underneath her desk. “Why are you putting her in there?”

  “She need health inspection.” The woman turned her attention back to her phone.

  “But is she safe under your desk?”

  “She is good.”

  “Do I need to fill out any paperwork?”

  “No, you go. We have dog. Grazie.”

  “Are you sure that’s all you need?” Julia’s heart thumped in distress. She was new to Rome and the Italian rules and policies, but this didn’t seem quite right. She could no longer see Lizzy, and she was desperate to get one last glimpse of her.

  “Yes, all good. You go. Goodbye.” The receptionist waved.

  “Can I use your bathroom?” Julia asked.

  “The toilet is for workers.”

  “I’m so sorry, but it’s an emergency.” Julia was not leaving this so-called animal shelter. Not until Lizzy was safe.

  The woman opened a staff entry door and pointed to a dirty curtain. Julia attempted a smile and entered the curtain, finding herself in a filthy closet-like room that housed a toilet and nothing else. Her stomach lurched. She tried not to breathe and stood still until she heard the other door close behind the woman. She poked her head out and took a few steps out into the hallway. Julia had to see this entire place before she could leave Lizzy here.

  As she guessed she had only a few moments, she took a few quick steps in the direction opposite the door by which she’d entered. She soon saw an entry into a courtyard filled with cages. There was no worker visible. She peeked into one of the cages. Several dogs lay or sat on the floor with no space between them, panting. The dogs were thin, their eyes glossy, their fur matted and missing in many spots. There was a rotten stink of infection and pus coming from the cages. She ran back, hoping not to vomit before she got to Lizzy. Hoping she’d get to her in time.

  “Can I see the puppy for a second, please?” she asked the woman, holding back tears and vomit.

  “Why?”

  “I want to take a picture to share on Instagram. As part of my vacation memories.”

  The woman groaned but bent down and got the dog. Julia took it as calmly as possible, pretending to get her phone ready. Then she hugged the squirming puppy and ran out as quickly as she could. There would be no one chasing her this time, but her feet still ran in terror from the place. And from the fear she’d almost killed her dog.

  Her dog? Lizzy couldn’t possibly be her dog.

  “Mom, what am I going to do now?” she asked by habit, when she closed the door of her apartment behind her a little while later, Lizzy safe in her arms.

  Chapter 4

  It surprised Daniel, but the pizza with the American cheered him up a bit. Maybe the day wasn’t a total waste. He’d return to the meeting and figure it out. There had to be a way to salvage these negotiations. He’d call the London office on the way, speak to Roger—not for advice, more for mentorship—and then sort it all out.

  He wondered what Julia was doing in Trastevere. Such an unlikely spot for a tourist. And her first time in Italy, too. No wonder she couldn’t manage to order a pizza. He smiled as he opened the car door and sat down. She was rather amusing, standing there so confused about why no one understood her order.

  The next few hours turned into a blur as his meeting with the board utterly fell apart. They were adamant about the building not being what they wanted, not fitting into Rome’s architectural skyline. He turned speechless as the board rejected the plans, a warning alarm sounding in his head, ordering him to stay calm. The chairman drew out his words, slowly pointing out everything they hated about the team’s design. He gritted his teeth, thanked them for still giving the firm their confidence, and promised to send them the sketches of the new plans in three months. He said some bullshit about producing a design that would better fit “into the spirit of Rome.”

  As he rushed out, he walked straight to the Gents’, closed the door behind him, and punched the old stone wall until his knuckles bled. This was a massive failure. His team would hate him. Roger would never promote him, or would possibly even sack him. As he left the building, Daniel couldn’t think of any way to fix this or to tell anyone back in London.

  After he drove back to Trastevere, he set his phone on Do Not Disturb, stopped at a small market, and bought two bottles of red wine and some sort of cheese. The wine would lessen the pain. At least for a while. Tomorrow would be the day to fix all of it: Roger, the team, his niece.

  He walked through the doors to his building. Then he paused and turned.

  “You know,” he said, feeling a mixture of annoyance and surprise, “I’ve been traveling for my firm for eight years and have never met a single person more than once. But I’ve bumped into you three times in twenty-four hours. What’s that all about?”

  “An unpleasant coincidence.” Julia shrugged. “I have a rental here.”

  Why didn’t she stay in a hot
el, like a proper tourist? “What are you doing with this dog, anyway?”

  “A puppy,” she answered, adjusting the dog in her arms. “Her name is Lizzy. She had to be rescued from a jerk who was abusing her. Right before you tried to run me over.”

  “Is that why you ran like someone was chasing you? You can’t be rescuing dogs in Italy. Your customs won’t allow you to bring her into Texas.”

  “I’m not planning to bring her home.” She set the puppy down, and it wobbled over to Daniel.

  “What do you mean to do, then?” He scratched Lizzy’s chin, and she licked his fingers.

  “Find her a shelter sometime soon.”

  “Not sure if you are informed, but Italians are a bit neglectful about their animal welfare.”

  “I’m informed. I went to their shelter already. It was horrid, and I had to take her back. What is it with this country?”

  “You are not a big fan of Italy, I gather.”

  “Not at all. But I hope to find something better for her. Do they have private no-kill shelters of some sort?”

  “They have plenty of private shelters, owned by the mafia. The shelter you found may be your best option.”

  “Absolutely not,” Julia replied in a firm tone. “I’m sure another solution will turn up. I have a few more days here.”

  “Are you always this optimistic?”

  “Not always, and even less in Italy. But now I’m a pet owner, so I have to be.”

  “Better get her a lead, if you are a pet owner.” Daniel pointed at Lizzy, clumsily walking away from Julia.

  “Oh, shoot.” Julia ran after the dog.

  Daniel suffered a pang of regret as he proceeded up the stairs. The plan was to leave tomorrow first thing, extra early, in fact. Away from this flat. Away from the board. Best he got to Mandy’s as quickly as possible. Which meant he’d likely never see Julia again. What was she going to do with that puppy? He looked at the bottle in his arms. What if? He hurried back downstairs.

  She was still in the lobby, wrestling with her pet, struggling to stuff it into her backpack.