I eat mine, a rather tasteless beef stir-fry, but just as I’m handing my tray back to the hostess the plane literally drops in the air.
She almost falls on me, catching herself on the back of my chair as the plane lifts again.
My stomach lurches, and it’s all I can do to not throw up.
“Apologies, passengers,” the captain speaks over the loudspeaker. “Just hit a bit of unexpected turbulence there, should be right for the remainder of the journey.”
Should be right, he says. My stomach doesn’t believe him, and I spend the remaining hour of the trip clenching the armrests, with my eyes closed, willing my heart to beat at a normal pace.
If I didn’t have to fly again in my life, I’d be happy. But flying is the only way to get home again, and the thought terrifies me.
Finally, we’re in Rome, where the airport is just as impressive as Frankfurt. The wait doesn’t seem too long, or perhaps I’m just getting used to it? I’m not sure. Either way before long I’m on an even smaller plane to a place called Brindisi. This flight is the worst of them all.
The captain warns us that due to the weather there’ll be a lot of turbulence on this flight, and the small plane is buffeted and bumped around. When we finally land in Brindisi I find the nearest seat and sit down, clutching the arm rests and sucking in huge breaths of fresh air.
Whoever invented planes was mad, I decide. If humans were meant to fly, we would’ve had wings.
“Excuse me, are you Savannah Moss?”
I look up into the kindest brown eyes I’ve ever seen.
This man must be in his early thirties, I guess, with short curly dark hair, and a well-toned body.
Hot.
“Are you Savannah Moss?” he repeats, holding out a photo, and I realize I’ve been staring.
I glance at the photo. It’s me, from our family photo, last Christmas. Dad must’ve emailed it to Stefano.
“Yes.” I nod.
He smiles, and his whole face lights up.
“Over here!” He calls to someone else, and I turn to see another man, with very similar features, but a little older, striding towards us. Another super attractive guy. He’s carrying a sign, and I realize it has my name on it. Are they other farm hands, I wonder. Will I be working with them on Stefano’s farm?”
“I am Marco Ricci,” the man says, with a very strong Italian accent. “And this is my brother, Stefano.”
Stefano holds out his hand, and when I take it I’m pulled to stand, while he puts a hand on each of my shoulders and pulls me in to kiss both of my cheeks.
“Oh.” I can feel my cheeks burn in surprise.
“So good to meet you!” Stefano says, in his equally strong accent.
“Your father has told us so much.”
I frown.
“My father said I had to catch a bus to Ostuni.”
Stefano waves his hand as though to dismiss the idea. “And what sort of hospitality would we be offering if we made you catch a bus on your first ever visit to Italy? No, no, no. We come, my brother and I, to pick you up, and show you some of our beautiful country.”
“Oh.” For the first time in my life I’m speechless.
“So,” Stefano says. “First we find your luggage. It’s been a big trip for you, no?”
I nod. “Yes. Very long. Maybe sixteen hours, or more?” Right now, I’m too tired to think straight.
“Okay, let’s find your luggage.”
I follow behind, ever so grateful there is someone to take control of the situation now, and I can just do what I’m told.
“Was it a good flight?” Marco asks me.
I nod. “I slept most of the way over from the U. S. and then the flights this morning have been pretty short, really.”
Marco nods.
“Are you hungry? We could stop for food on the way home.”
I shake my head. “I just ate on the plane.”
We reach the luggage carousel and I see that my flight already has bags going round, I spot mine and grab it, and as Stefano takes it from me our hands brush, and I feel a strange zing travel up my arm.
“Oh,” I say again, and cringe. Of all the times to become speechless it has to be now.
Stefano smiles, and my knees go weak.
“So you’re friends with my dad?” I’m finding it hard to believe that this gorgeous man in front of me is the same age as my father, surely it’s not possible.
Stefano nods. “We met when I was a boy, studying in the US. He was in his last year of University, and I in my first, so he was my mentor for that first year.”
“So you’re not the same age?”
Stefano laughs, a lovely deep sound.
“No, no, no. He was on his second degree, I think? And I was a year younger than most in my grade.”
I feel a ridiculous wash of relief that I’m not attracted to a man my father’s age. I’m not entirely sure why, but that just seems kinda icky.
Marco and I follow Stefano through the airport and out into the car park. He leads me to a chunky SUV, with a baby seat in the back, and I’m reminded of Dad’s comment that part of my chores will be babysitting. Ugh.
“Are you all right?” I glance up to see Stefano looking at me, and I realize I’m pulling a face.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Just thinking.”
That’s when I see he’s put my bag in the convertible parked next to the SUV, and Marco is climbing into the back seat.
“You will sit in the front?” Stefano asks.
“You drive a convertible?” My eyes are wide, and I can’t keep the shock from my voice.
“Only when he wants to impress a lady,” Marco says with a laugh.
“Impress a lady?” My brow furrows as I climb into the front seat. “Aren’t you married?”
“Married?” Stefano looks at me. “What strange stories has your father been telling you?”
I try to remember exactly what my father said about Stefano, and I realize I don’t actually remember a whole lot.
“Um… you have a farm,” I say. “And you want me to do some babysitting.”
Stefano shakes his head for a moment, before bursting into laughter. “Your father hasn’t changed, has he? Still a trickster.”
A trickster? I’ve never known my father to play tricks, ever. Not even on Halloween, when it’s almost obligatory to play tricks.
“We have an olive grove,” Marco says, leaning forward from the back seat. “And no children. Though our brother does have a wife and children, and he lives on the property, too, in the masseria.”
“Masseria?” I ask.
“It’s a big old fortified farmhouse, many centuries old,” Stefano continues the conversation. “My brother and I live in the bachelor pad, and our parents have a small cottage not too far from the farmhouse.” He glances at me, as he pulls out of the car park and we begin to head along a highway. “But you have not even looked around.” He raises a hand. “Do you like what you see?”
I look out of the car, and lift my gaze above the cars and the road immediately around us.
“Wow.” I breath the words. This place really is like a picture postcard, or something from a tourist brochure. White buildings step their way up the hillside, with a brilliant blue sky behind them.
“It’s a beautiful place, no?” Stefano looks so proud that I’m impressed with his city, and I nod.
“Beautiful.”
“Wait till you get out into the countryside,” Marco says between us. “That is even more beautiful than here.”
It doesn’t take long to leave the city behind and wend our way through green hillsides, almost all of them covered with row upon row of small shrubs.
“They are olive trees,” Stefano says, seeing me looking at them. “There are approximately fifty million olive trees in the whole of Apulia, and we own ten percent of them.” His chest is puffed out as he speaks, his voice clear.
“Ten percent?” My brain does a quick calculation. “Five million olive tre
es?”
He glances at me and laughs. “Do not panic, Savannah. We own many farms throughout Apulia, and they are all worked by their own families. You will only need to help out on our farm.”
“And we will teach you all you need to know,” Marco says. “Do not stress. It is easy, when you know how, but perhaps a little tricky to start off with.”
I nod, breathing a sigh of relief. Marco’s eyes are very friendly, and I find myself pulling my gaze away, my heart pounding.
I’m here to work, and then go home. I can’t mess that up. And I’m pretty sure flirting with the boss and his brother is one super-fast way to mess that up.
I imagine being sent home in disgrace because I seduced the boss. What on earth would my father say then?
Maybe he’d send me to a nunnery. I have no idea if that’s even possible these days, but with the money he has, I’m pretty certain he could probably afford to create one, just for me.
But these next twelve months are going to be damned hard if I have to work under their gaze for the whole time I’m here.
Soon I can see another city in the distance, more white-washed buildings rising up above a solid stone wall, which seems to emerge out of the landscape.
“Is that Ostuni?” I ask.
“That it is,” Stefano smiles at me again. “We won’t be visiting there today. There is plenty of work to do. Harvest time has just begun, and we have olives to collect.”
Shortly afterwards we turn off the main road, and start to venture away from Ostuni and towards the coast.
“That is the Adriatic Sea,” Stefano says, pointing to the thick band of vibrant blue on the horizon. “We will take you there, too. When the hard work is done.”
I nod. I’m not sure I like the idea of waiting until the hard work is done. Don’t farms have constant hard work that needs to be done, all year round? It sounds rather like we’ll never get there at all.
Not that I can do anything about it.
We follow the road only a short distance, before turning into a winding gravel driveway that passes under an archway of green. At the end of the archway is what must be the masseria, the farmhouse Stefano mentioned. It’s a sprawling white-washed building, vines growing up columns and across the balcony. It looks like a rich person’s house.
Stefano drives past this building, and a small white-washed cottage behind.
“That is where our parents live,” he says.
A short distance beyond that, sheltered by a garden of tall trees, is a third building. It looks more like a barn that’s been converted into a house – windows installed all around, and a verandah attached to the outside.
“Here we are,” Stefano says, as he brings the car to a stop. “What is it they say? Home sweet home.”
I climb out of the car, and Stefano grabs my bag, and leads the way inside.
“You will be staying here with us. My parents do not have space in their cottage for another person, and this will save you from sleepless nights with my nieces.” He grins, and I force a smile. How will I be able to sleep at night, knowing they’re just in the next room?
But then I dismiss the thought. They’re both older than me, and probably think I’m just a kid. I remember the twelve long months I have to work, and I’m determined not to do anything to jeopardize that. Best I just get these twelve months over and done with, and get on with my life.
Inside the place looks recently renovated. The walls and ceilings are white, the floors tiled, not dirt, I think with relief, and then instantly feel foolish that I ever thought such a thing.
Stefano leads me to my room. It’s small, with a double bed, and a bedside table and lamp, and a large cupboard on one wall. There’s a bookcase with some books on it, some language dictionaries, I notice, and a few more tourist brochures of the area.
He sets my suitcase on the floor, and moves to pull aside the large curtains on the opposite wall to reveal floor to ceiling windows.
“There is a door here,” he says, opening it. “Which leads out onto the pool. You are welcome to swim in the evenings, when the day’s work has been done.”
I peer out the door at the huge pool, and notice the pool is in a central courtyard, other doors also leading out onto it.
“And this.” Stefano pulls my attention back into the room. “Is your own bathroom.” He opens a door I didn’t even notice and leads the way into a large bathroom, with a bath, separate shower and toilet.
“Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee, something stronger?” He raises a brow and I’m really not sure if he’s serious or not about that something stronger.
“Ah, coffee, thank you.”
He nods. “Marco will make it for you,” he glances at his brother, standing in the doorway, and grins. “For now, we’ll leave you to unpack and freshen up. Tonight we’ll be having dinner with the whole family. They are very keen to meet the daughter of my old friend James.”
“Oh. Okay.” I cringe at what a weak response that is. I wonder what Dad has told them about us. What is there to tell?
“Tomorrow we will be getting straight into work. There is much to do, and we’ve wasted an afternoon already.”
Marco and Stefano disappear out the door, and I realize I still haven’t called home.
“One thing,” I call, poking my head out the door.
They both turn.
“Can I call my dad? My phone doesn’t seem to work over here.”
“Ah, of course!” Stefano says. He looks at his brother. “Marco, you can deal with that? I have to get back out and see how they’ve gone with the harvest today.”
Marco grins and looks at me. “Come on, I’ll show you the phone.”
Stefano leaves, and Marco takes me to the living room where the phone is attached to the wall, and disappears into the kitchen to make me a coffee, I guess.
I dial home, and get a strange message in Italian.
I hang up and try again. There’s the strange message.
I venture into the kitchen. “Um, Marco?” He glances up at me.
“Yes.”
“I think I’m doing something wrong.” I feel like such a fool; I can’t even use the phone. How hard can it be? “I tried putting in the number, but I’m getting a message in Italian, and I can’t understand what it says.
Marco follows me back to the living room, and I show him what I’m doing.
“Ah, I see.” He hangs up before the message even starts playing.
“You need the international code for America,” he says. He pulls out a phone book and flips through, finding the page. It’s all written in Italian, of course, but the numbers I recognize, and so when he points out the right one I can at least read that myself.
Marco waits while I type in the correct code, and then my father’s phone number. There’s a moment’s pause, and then I hear a ringtone.
“It works! Thank you!”
Marco grins. “Don’t worry about it,” he says with a wave, disappearing from the room.
The phone seems to ring for ages. I’m almost convinced he won’t pick up when there’s a crackle on the line and my father’s voice echoes across.
“Hello.” At the sound of his voice I feel a weight in the pit of my stomach, and blink back tears. All I want to do right now is go home.
“Hey, Dad. It’s Savannah.”
“Savannah! You’ve arrived in Italy?”
I nod, and then realize he can’t see. “I’m at Marco and Stefano’s place.”
“Fantastic news.” There’s a rustle and a pause. “That’s earlier than I’d calculated. You should’ve just got to Ostuni by now.”
“Oh, well they came to pick me up from Brindisi.”
“Ah, I see. That’s very lucky. How was your journey?”
“Fine. Long. I’m so tired.”
“You’ll be wanting to have a good sleep tonight then. Plenty of work for you tomorrow. And I hope to hear back that you’re working hard, Savannah. These people are all hard workers. You need to p
ut in as much as they do.”
I nod again. “I’ll do my best, Dad.”
“I’m sure you will. Now. Your mother isn’t here at the moment so you’ll have to talk to her later.”
“I’m calling from Stefano and Marco’s phone right now,” I interrupt. “My phone doesn’t seem to work.”
“No international roaming,” my father says. “It’s part of your lesson, Savannah. So I’ll need to point out while I’m thinking about it. I’m giving your allowance to Stefano. I’ve told him not to give you any until you’re pulling your weight, I don’t want you to think this is some sort of holiday, funded by your parents. You’re there to work.”
I frown, but I’m too shocked to say anything, and what good would it do anyway?
My father continues. “When you get your first pay, then you can sort out the international roaming yourself. It’s expensive, sending texts and photos to your friends, so just keep that in mind.”
I’m so grateful that Stefano seems to be a nice guy. He went against my father’s wishes and picked me up from the airport, instead of making me catch a bus. Surely he’ll give me my allowance without too much fuss.
“Right.”
“Very good. I’m glad to hear no complaints. Now I’ll let you go, I have a very busy day ahead of me here, and I’m sure there’s plenty to do tonight in preparation for your day tomorrow. Say hello to Stefano and his family from me.”
“I will.”
“And Savannah.”
“Yes?”
“Your mother and I love you, very much. We know you can do this.”
All of a sudden my throat catches, and my eyes begin to water. I have to swallow back the lump to be able to speak again.
“Love you too, Dad. Miss you.”
“Work hard, and enjoy yourself. This experience could make you, Savannah.”
There’s a click, and the line goes dead.
I hang up the phone, wiping my eyes with my sleeve.
What would I be doing if I were home? Catching up with Brylee perhaps?
No. I shake my head. In class, studying law.
The thought is enough to make me clench my jaw. I’m not going back to that. I will work hard, and I’ll see this year through, and I’ll find what it is I really do want to do with my life, so when I go home I can do it.
Her Double Punishment Page 4
