“Where is he?” Amelia tried to keep her voice steady.
Renaldo looked away.
“I’m not quite sure. Signor is a kind man. He is here often, whenever his mother needs him. Sometimes he just comes by to surprise her, often bringing with him a small gift. He is a good man. And generous. Very generous. He has given archery lessons for centuries to underprivileged children. He teaches them how to shoot and then gives them their own quivers, bows and arrows. He even gives them suitable clothing to wear on the range. He does this anonymously through his foundation.”
“He sounds like a good man,” Amelia said, her hand running across her stomach.
“And so loyal.”
Amelia felt her pulse slow slightly.
“Come signorina, we must go here.”
Renaldo pointed at a massive dark wooden door on the far side of the house.
“That’s where our elevator is.”
Amelia followed Renaldo. Despite the fact that the marine layer had burned off and the sky was bathed in shimmering sunshine, she felt so chilled she had to pull her little white sweater tighter. Renaldo turned around and smiled.
“Don’t worry, Enrique is quite skilled. He’ll get you where you want to go and present you with clear directions about how to return.”
As if by magic, the large wooden door swung open and revealed tall, embossed, golden elevator doors. A dark haired man in a braided maroon military style outfit trimmed in gold piping and epaulets stepped forward as the doors parted. He touched a white-gloved hand to his hat and bowed slightly.
“Enrique, this is Signorina Amelia.”
Amelia smiled.
Renaldo proceeded to give Enrique directions in staccato Italian. Both men nodded vigorously and waved their hands wildly as they conversed. When they were done Renaldo turned to Amelia and bowed.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Signorina. I wish you the best of luck on your journey.”
“Thank you.”
“This way, please.”
Amelia followed Enrique into the elevator. As soon as he pressed the black button at the bottom of the panel the elevator car descended into a clear tube that reminded Amelia of the little silver capsules that used to carry money from the drive-in booth in the parking lot to the teller’s window at the bank when she was small. Gerard used to take her with him each time he cashed his paycheck so she could watch a neon colored lollipop shoot through the tube along with his crisp green bills. She smiled at the memory.
“It is the best, yes?” Enrique said as the elevator departed. “State of the art rocket capsule. Will take you anywhere you wish to go.”
Amelia’s eyes widened at the sound of a large boom resembling the noise a car made upon backfiring.
“Do not be alarmed, Signorina. We are totally safe. We will now travel at warp speed.”
“Impressive.”
Enrique beamed.
“Thank you. Now,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “I give you this special card. It states that you are an official visitor. So no harm will come to you. I’m not saying you would otherwise face trouble, just that it’s good to have. You present this card to anyone you meet and they will offer whatever assistance you need.”
“Help me? In the underworld?”
Enrique shifted on his feet.
“Of course. What you think, that the underworld is not as civilized as where we have come from?” He shook his head.
“We have rules there. Strict rules. This card is like diplomatic passport – issued by Venus.”
“Venus?” Amelia asked faintly.
“Venus. She will be your protector while you’re visiting.”
Amelia exhaled. She knew that the last thing Venus would want to offer her was protection. Still, Renaldo had confirmed what Cupid had told her, that he was close with his mother. Perhaps once she found out Amelia was carrying his child she would warm to Amelia as well.
“You said I could ask for directions if necessary. But I don’t speak any other languages beyond English and elementary Spanish. Don’t the gods and goddesses speak something else?”
Enrique chuckled.
“Who do you think invented languages? Still, you are correct Signornia; we do not know all of the nuances of modern conversation, its styles or expressions. But not to worry, you will be understood.”
The elevator landed with a thud.
“Thank you, Enrique, it was lovely to meet you.”
Amelia stepped out of the elevator and into the underworld as Enrique pressed the button that carried away her only escape route.
****
After her disquieting conversation with Aphrodite, Venus had taken off for her farm in Provence. She’d been planning to stuff lavender leaves into small sachets a Belgian seamstress had sent her in 1699 then have a salade Nicoise out on her terrace. But after a few minutes of looking out at the fields of sunflowers, anxiety had overwhelmed her. So she’d headed for Rome, with the thought that walking its seven hills would calm her body and therefore force her mind to relax.
Part way through a brisk trot across the first of the hills, Venus had become too distraught to continue her journey. Instead of the usual sense of pride in her homeland, she’d picked up on the lethal level of self-hatred that was beginning to take hold among her descendants. Sidewalk cafes were empty. The few tourists who were at the Trevi fountain were jokingly asking each other if they should purposely toss their coins to the side of the water instead of in it so as to ensure they’d never have to return to the lifeless Italian capitol again. But worst of all were the dispirited Romans, whose collective malaise seemed to be summed up by a t-shirt vendor who grumbled that the Italians were now neither fighters nor lovers.
Venus’s eyes filled with hot angry tears as she thought once again of the shame Cupid had brought upon their people. She was tempted to return to the Japanese monastery and give him a piece of her mind. But that would do nothing to salvage the situation, nothing to alleviate the fact that she could feel her reign as the goddess of love slipping from her hands. She walked past a statue of a mounted horseman, his weapon in the air. She too would not surrender. What she needed was a plan.
She sat down at a café, under a red and white striped umbrella, and ordered a Campari and soda. As Venus sipped her drink she pondered her options. Her initial plan, to keep her problem to herself, was clearly no longer an option. It was a matter of time before her fellow gods and goddesses returned to the upper world for a soccer match or shopping spree and discovered the lack of baby animals and the small number of pregnant women.
Venus sighed. She knew that despite her desire to follow Aphrodite’s advice about keeping her problem to herself, the situation had grown too big for her to handle. There was, she now realized, the distinct possibility that much of the animal world could perish within a year if there were no new babies born. And the effect that would have on humans and plant life…well, it was best not to think about that. At least not yet. She shivered despite the heat.
She drained her glass and sighed. It was clear she was going to have to seek special permission from Jupiter to readjust the mating season, which both the Roman and Greek gods had always agreed would be tied to the vernal equinox. Because such a change had never occurred before it needed the stamp of approval of the reigning god.
Venus was annoyed with herself. Here she was, thousands of years old, and yet she still needed her father’s stamp on her professional activities.
She pulled the red cocktail straw from her drink and dragged it across the clear tabletop. Surely this was not how Cupid felt about her? Why he had sought the company of the matchmaker? She put the straw back into the empty glass and shook herself. Of course her relationship with her father was in no way parallel to her dealings with her son. It must be the strain of her current predicament that would allow such a thought to even cross her mind.
“Something to eat, Senora?”
Venus absentmindedly accepted the menu in the waiter’s
outstretched hand. She ordered a Caprese salad and a bottle of San Pellegrino water, to be followed by an artichoke pizza. That had been her comfort meal ever since she’d discovered Mercury’s fondness for other women.
Mercury. Venus leaned forward in her chair and grinned. That was it. She would ask Mercury for a list of his most promising messengers. Then she’d give them a crash course in archery, like she had done with Cupid and Inuus all those years ago, and arm them with her gold tipped arrows. She’d enlist Inuus to help her.
After all, centuries of working for her had surely taught him the types of matches she favored. And she had promised him a promotion. Now that she’d seen Cupid with Amelia, she realized that it was not Inuus’s fault he’d been unable to carry out her command to pair Amelia with that homeless man. If anything she owed Inuus an apology.
“Is the signora satisfied?” The waiter asked smoothly as he whisked away Venus’s empty plate.
She looked into the man’s chocolate colored eyes and smiled.
“Almost, signor. Almost.”
****
Enrique stood to the side as Venus boarded the elevator, which she’d called to pick her up in Rome. She’d pointed at the black button, indicating she wished to visit the underworld, as she stepped to the back of the car. During the brief journey to the underworld, Enrique stood silently at his post. When the elevator landed with a thud, Venus stepped to the front of the car.
“Grazie,” Venus said as she stepped forward.
“Ciao. I hope you find your visitor quickly,” Enrique called out.
Venus whipped her head around. What visitor was Enrique referring to? As she opened her mouth to question him the elevator doors slid shut and the car careened skyward, bound for the upper world.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
As soon as she stepped into the underworld Amelia felt like she’d been transported into a walled paradise full of stone statues, roses, peonies, orchids, irises and lilies. Brilliant pink, red, orange, yellow, purple and white blooms clung to high walls that housed bubbling fountains, carved benches and flowering trees.
Everywhere she looked, Amelia saw breathtaking natural beauty: small sheep grazing in the distance, snow capped mountains pushing against the horizon, and lush green leaves scraping a cerulean sky.
And the fragrant air. It was the sweet smell that most surprised Amelia. That and the cool breeze that reminded her of the marine layer which blew in off of the Pacific on June mornings.
Amelia inhaled as deeply as she could. When she was young, Gerard had taken her and Stella on a scientific expedition to the south of France. As a special surprise he’d convinced some of his colleagues to let his wife and daughter tour the facility where French perfumes were created. Although it had been many years ago, Amelia had never forgotten the intoxicating scents, something she had never again encountered until touching down in the underworld.
Amelia reached out and ran her fingers softly along the petals of a deep purple orchid. She smiled as she felt the oil on her skin. The whole garden seemed to be enveloping her; the moist air clung to her face and hair like dew. She opened her mouth as though she could catch a drop, the way she’d captured snowflakes on her tongue when Gerard had taken her skiing at Big Bear in an attempt to make her forget her mother’s absence.
She walked over to a tall bench and sat down. Although she’d had the impression she was alone, she now saw shadowy figures, apparently dressed in some sort of togas or robes, in the distance. They were slowly making their way across the landscape. Amelia twisted her hands together in her lap and waited. She had absolutely no idea what she should do next. Sit and wait for the figures to draw closer, or go after them so she could ask directions about where to find Cupid?
She sighed. This impulsive trip to the underworld was so unlike her. Then again, so was having an intimate relationship with a man she hadn’t known for years, not to mention carrying his child. All of this erratic behavior was yet another result of what she’d come to think of as the Colin Cumin effect. She shook her head as she reminded herself that she needed to stop thinking of him as Colin Cumin, mortal financial advisor, and begin to acknowledge he was Cupid, Roman god of love.
Amelia stroked her belly and wondered what Cupid would say when he found out about the baby. She’d have to make it clear she was seeking him out for the child’s sake, not as a means of attempting to ensnare him. She bit her lip. What she needed was a bit of writing therapy. Her questions about what it would be like to carry the baby of a god could wait.
She slipped her hand into the small pocket on the side of her dress and withdrew a tiny notebook. She wrote quickly, her words painting images of the garden, her hopes and her many fears. When she was done she closed her eyes and sighed with relief. Knowing that her words could be shaped into precise sestinas gave her the illusion she could control at least some bits of her life.
She rubbed her eyes. When she opened them she noticed that the figures in the distance were gone. She exhaled slowly. Sitting in this oasis, though pleasant, was not the reason she’d come to the underworld. She was going to have to leave the safety of the walled garden and venture out into the unknown terrain. She’d have to trust what Renaldo and Enrique had told her, that she would be able to find her way back to the elevator to the upper world.
Amelia stood up, brushed off her dress and began walking toward the stone wall where she believed the shadowy figures had disappeared. As Amelia walked, she noticed the sound of birds singing. She had never heard so many of the winged creatures – it was almost like she was in an aviary. As she walked on trees seemed to appear at her sides, folding out into the distance, all of them full of singing birds.
She knew she should be frightened, yet she felt oddly at peace. The garden, which seemed to stretch out for miles, reminded her of something she’d read about, though she couldn’t quite recall the title of the book. On and on she walked, still alone in the vast expanse.
Pink and orange butterflies landed on her shoulders, accompanying her until she finally reached the stone wall. She was shocked to discover that the stone bore the same pattern as the wall that surrounded Venus’s villa. As Amelia pushed through a bottle green wooden door that stood in the center of the wall it finally occurred to her where she had read of a similar sanctuary. The ground upon which she stood reminded her of everything she’d read about the Garden of Eden. She smiled to herself; clearly the Romans had a talent for recreating the best life had to offer.
****
Mercury was worried. For years his underlings had been warning him that the advent of the pony express would bring him nothing but trouble. But he’d refused to listen, and their concerns had been replaced by fears about the ramifications of train travel, trucking, telephones and telegrams.
He’d laughed at the time, reminding them once more of the important and irreplaceable nature of their work. Now, though, he had to admit they were right when they brought him their latest worries: between overnight courier services, e-mail, texting and voice mail, messengers like himself were clearly being relegated to a smaller corner of the modern world. It was true, there would still be flowers in need of delivery and a few die-hard romantics who would refuse to give up their love affair with handwritten letters, but by and large Mercury was beginning to realize his relevance was fading fast.
He looked over at the young woman waiting for him on his butterscotch leather couch. He felt a flash of annoyance as he saw her pushing back her cuticles and blowing a lock of hair to one side. With a sigh, he realized that the one thing he could never have accused Venus of was boredom. She was always fully present, passionately engaged in everything she did. He smiled to himself as he recalled how exhausting yet exciting life had been with her. She was forever burning down a forest in anger or churning up a hurricane to get a point across.
“Mercury?”
He tilted his head. He must be going mad; the thought of Venus had made him imagine she was whispering in his ear. He looked over at t
he young woman on the couch. She was now swinging her foot back and forth, gazing listlessly at the ceiling.
“Mercury.”
He jumped at the feel of a hand on his shoulder.
“Venus!”
As she smiled, Mercury saw the light bounce off of her hair. Before he could control himself he’d reached up and gently tucked a lock behind her ear. She reached forward and kissed him on the cheek.
“How are you darling?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow in the direction of the young woman. “Am I interrupting something?”
“You’ve come to rescue me,” Mercury replied.
He pointed at the open French door through which Venus had entered his home.
“Go out to the garden and find a comfortable chair. I’ll be right out with a bottle of Taurasi. It’s from that vineyard we visited on our way to Capri.”
Venus smiled slightly. She grabbed a rose from the trellis attached to the wall and rubbed its petals along her wrists.
Matching Wits with Venus Page 20
