“Now it’s all winter?.” He sounded far too pleased at that idea for comfort.
“Forse.”
“Don’t make any more guesses.” Genie said. “Next it’ll be all year.”
“Ah, no. In summer the snow melts.”
“Well that is something to look forward to.” She squeezed her palms together in a praying gesture. “I really don’t want to wait that long. Please tell me there’s a way out – a secret passage, or something, known only to you. Anything.”
Another chuckle. “Mi dispiace. No secret passage.”
“Where's a secret passage when you want one?” Genie said.
“We can do nothing,” he continued. “You're stuck here and...” He shook his head in despair. “I'm stuck with you.”
“Wonderful.”
He frowned. “Not wonderful. I live here alone. I'm used to being alone. Now you are here. Not wonderful.”
“You're right...you alone...and me. Not good at all”
He narrowed his eyes and appeared to give her comment thought for a few seconds. “You do not need to worry,” he said. “I have no urges for you.”
Oh yeah. How long will that last? “A month is a long time,” Genie said, wondering if her arm would be long enough to keep him at length. Urges have a way of urging their way to the surface. “All winter is a long time.”
“The time will pass.”
“Okay. While we’re waiting for the time to pass - and the snow to thaw - how’ll we survive?” she said. “Are we going to have to eat each other?”
“No. I have plenty of food. I will not need to eat you.”
“That's a relief.”
Suddenly, Genie had an epiphany. When a pass is blocked, it's a two-way problem.
“Excuse me,” she said. “If I can't get out, then no one can get in, is that right?”
His facial expression switched to suspicion mode. “You are running away from someone?” he said.
Yes she was - from just about every male in the universe - especially the last lot. But that was for different reasons. Now's not the time to dump it all out on a perfect stranger - even if he is perfect. Better to hedge for now. “Not exactly...” Great start Genie Hamilton.
“Are you in trouble with the police?”
“No, no,” she said vigorously, shaking her head vigorously. That was stupid. Vigorous is a dead giveaway. She tried a laugh. It was a nervous laugh. Even she could hear it was a nervous laugh. “Not as far as I know, anyway.”
“What difference does it make?” said her new, unwilling host. “If the police want you, they will have to wait until the thaw comes.”
“I promise,” she said wanting him to believe her. “I'm not in trouble with the police. On the contrary--”
“As you say,” he said. ”Anyway, it's your business.”
“Truly, I--”
He held up his hand in a ‘Stop’ gesture. “Now you are here, you can’t live in this straw for the winter.” He stepped forward, lowered his hand and held it out to her. “It would be better if you came to my home. It’s warmer in there, and the aroma is more pleasing.”
She took his hand after a brief hesitation. His grip was firm, sparking off little electric shocks rippling up her arm. “I feel I'm imposing,” she said.
He nodded. “Si. You are.” He softened his stark words by resurrecting a half-smile on one side of his mouth. “But, even if you are an axe-murderer, being chased by the police, we'll have to put up with such impositions.”
At least this Italian farmer had a sense of humour. “If it'll make you feel any safer,” she offered as she started to make her way out of the straw with his help, “I wouldn't know one end of an axe from the other.”
“All axe murderers say that.”
“Do they? You've met some, have you?”
“Probably - and, when I am certain that you really don't know one end of an axe from the other, I'll teach you how to use one.”
“Great. I always wanted to be an axe murderer.”
He released that delicious chuckle of his.
Which, in turn, released unmentionable things inside Genie.
“Now fate has forced us together, perhaps we should share our names. I am Lorenzo Calderone. How are you called?”
Fate, is it? Well fate must be laughing at her right now. Here she was, running away from men, only to end up trapped with one – with no escape. It will be interesting to see how 'fate' played out this capricious game of hers.
“Pleased to meet you, Lorenzo Calderone. I am Genie. That’s spelt with a G.”
“With a G? You spell Jeannie the Italian way?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It's spelt, G-e-n-i-e.” She resisted offering her family name. Just in case, even in this isolated spot, it meant something.
“G-e-n-I-e,” He laughed a deep, breath-stopping laugh. “Ah una Genia. I thought Genii came out of bottles.”
“True - and I did - in a way.”
He kept his grin in place, ready for additional amusement.
“I'm a test-tube baby.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise and the grin faltered. “You joke.”
“No. I'm serious. Since a test tube is a sort of bottle, my mother thought it would be fun to christen me Genie - with a G.”
“You English,” he said.
“It's different,” Genie said. “I like my name.”
“Brava,” he said. He formed a brief thoughtful expression. “I think...so do I.”
Genie steeled herself against the smile she knew would come.
It did.
Her steel melted under its heat.
“Andiamo,” he said. We'll go to my home now.”
Genie released his hand to rummage in the straw for her backpack. “Lead on Lorenzo Calderone,” she said, grasping his hand once more.
“I think, since I am in the company of a Genie, forse, I should make three wishes.
“Hmm,” Genie responded. “Be careful what you wish for.”
“Vero.”
In for a penny-- Correction. In for a snowed-in Italian Euro. A penny, a Euro - either will do - and a beautiful Italian farmer. Fate has played her a fascinating hand.
This is going to be a bit like one of those end-of-the-world movies with us playing the last two people on earth.
Just what do the last two people on earth do with themselves for a month or two?
Genie supposed fate would provide the answer – in time.
Chapter Three
Lorenzo put his daily chores on hold to prepare breakfast for Genie while she undertook, as she called it, “a major transformation”, in the bathroom. A myriad of thoughts, doubts, decisions, and worries tumbled through his mind as he worked. His unexpected guest had turned his comfortable world upside down.
For some time now, he had not wanted, nor had he sought company. Nevertheless, he was respectfully patient when it came. Everyone in San Rafaele delle Montagne knew this and honoured it. The locals understood why he had virtually disappeared from their midst, and honoured that too. Indeed, Lorenzo had been touched by how they shared his sorrow. Yet, in recent months, he had reached the point where he never expected casual visits to last.
By the same token, his occasional visitors had fallen into the habit of never expecting to stay long.
In any event, the catalogue of casual visitors could be counted on one hand. They consisted, mostly, of people making deliveries and a regular weekly visit from Bernardo Testa, the local Commissario of Police, 'when he was passing.' Since the road to Lorenzo's farm ended at Lorenzo's farm, both accepted Commissario Testa's 'passing' for what it was – an excuse.
Always, his stated aim was 'to make sure his good friend, Lorenzo was in sound health'. Nevertheless, if pressed, he would 'reluctantly' share, with 'his good friend', a glass - or two - of Lorenzo's home-made wine, fermented from his excellent grapes. While doing so, he wasn't above trying a little matchmaking on behalf of one of the local beauties - whether
or not the said lady was aware.
Other than these moments, Lorenzo's own company was sufficient for him. Domino and his livestock injected as much additional life into his farm as he wanted.
However, this new visitor could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be seen as casual. She was here for the long haul. It will mean a major adjustment in his lifestyle. He faced the prospect with some apprehension. He had become very set in his ways - almost fossilized. He wasn't sure if he wanted to adapt his carefully protected status quo to an intruder - even one as attractive as Genie.
If Anna could see him now, she’d laugh at his predicament. Since they’d known each other practically all their lives - the final eight years married - she knew his thoughts almost before Lorenzo thought them.
He stared out of the kitchen window at the stark deep blue sky framing the snow-clad mountain peaks. “I miss your clairvoyance, Anna,” he said. “What would you have to say about our guest, I wonder?” He turned his attention back to preparing food with the beginnings of a smile playing around his lips. “Frankly, I don't know what to say, either.”
After all, what could he say when on the one hand he mourned the disruption of his lifestyle and, on the other, looked forward to sharing the breakfast table with...with... this Genie, with disturbing eagerness?
Domino's doggy mind appeared to run along the same track. He kept his distance from Genie, clearly sensing she had trouble relating to him. Nevertheless, Lorenzo surmised the St. Bernard considered this condition to be temporary.
Knowing his canine companion as he did, he could see that he was working on a plan to solve this unrequited love situation. He'd shown the signs that this was his strategy from the moment he discovered the girl.
Ordinarily, after their completing their daily early-morning chores, Domino contented himself by flopping down in front of the log fire.
Not today.
Fresh from the drama in the barn, he had followed closely while Lorenzo showed Genie to a bedroom she could claim and during the quick tour of the more important facilities. Grand tour over, Genie disappeared into her new bedroom. Domino settled down to set up a vigil outside the bedroom door, clearly enraptured by the faint sound of Genie splashing about under the shower.
Lorenzo didn't join Domino in his vigil. However, his imagination kept him at the bedroom door in spirit, while his hands set to work preparing breakfast.
Such persistent thoughts angered him however. Angry that this girl's childlike sexual magnetism ignited fires within him that had lain dormant for longer than he cared to admit. Angry that the protective wall he had so carefully built around himself was so easily breached.
“What am I? A frustrated teenager?”
He punched the work top with both fists. If he was like this now, what would continued close contact with this vibrant waif do to him?
By the time he finished his culinary preparations, Lorenzo had managed to come to somewhat fragile terms with his emotions. He hadn't actually killed them off. He believed he had them contained.
At least, they were until Genie appeared dressed in clothes Lorenzo had provided from Anna's wardrobe.
The last time he had seen these garments his wife had been inside them. Indeed, when Genie swept into the dining room he hallucinated she was Anna. The shock almost stopped his heart - dead.
Thankfully, the vision was fleeting. It rapidly cross-dissolved into Genie's fresh-faced beauty. The grime from a night buried in straw - and the accompanying 'odore di' barn - had been washed away by the shower. This, almost glowing Genie, decked out in body-hugging shirt and jeans, launched a surge in his chest so powerful he thought it might burst.
Genie's eyes lit up when she saw the breakfast. “All this for me?” She glanced at Lorenzo's lonely cup of steaming coffee. “Where's yours?”
“I had my breakfast about an hour before you made your dramatic entrance.”
Her laugh was infectious, and Lorenzo joined in.
“Come.” he indicated the chair positioned at the opposite side of the table. “Sit. Eat. Buon appetito.”
His amusement lingered as he watched her fork down the food. Eggs, ham, home-made brioche and coffee disappeared with alarming speed.
"When did you last eat?" he asked when her plate was almost empty.
She shrugged and pointed to her very full mouth. As soon as she cleared the latest load, she said, “Been on the road a day or two. Only had snacks.” She picked up another brioche. “Hardly anything yesterday. This is great. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I smelled all this.” She held up her brioche. “These're hot, too. Lovely.”
“I'm glad you like them,” he said.
On the road? Just what was this slip of a girl doing driving around in the Alps in the middle of winter? It was patently obvious that she was running away from someone or something. She had even shown signs of fear. An intriguing mystery. A mystery that will not give him peace until he solved it.
He studied her closely as if half expecting the mystery to reveal itself in front of his eyes.
Time will tell.
There's that look again.
Genie guessed he was weighing her up – wondering about her. She didn't mind, really. On the contrary. At least she looked more presentable now. For some unsettling reason, his impression of her was important. She wanted to look good for her Italian host.
That was a new idea.
Looking good for anyone had never been a priority. She had always expected people to accept her for how she was - and who she was as a person. What-you-see-is-what-you get was her firm motto.
Her mother had despaired over her lack of interest in dressing for effect. It never stopped her from trying to convert her daughter, however. She completely ignored Genie's pleas, and kept up the pressure even as Genie advanced through her twenties. The battle intensified every time her mother showed up with indecently-priced clothes and accessories for this or that once-only event.
Silly.
Unnecessary.
Wasteful.
She always gave in and wore them, of course. It was the price she had to pay for pleasing her mother.
The jeans and shirt Lorenzo provided, on the other hand, were right on the button. She always felt at home in casuals. These jeans could be a little more snug, however - better to show off her assets. On the other hand, the shirt did its job well – embracing her body closely in all the right places.
Lorenzo's appreciation clearly showed in his face. The flutter in her chest signalled how pleased she was that the way she looked clearly pleased him.
Nevertheless, she pretended not to notice Lorenzo's frequent glances. “Making a pig of myself, aren't I?” She pointed at the few items of food still awaiting her attention. “Sorry about that. Forgot myself.”
"If it will help you to regain your strength..."
"A lot of good that'll do me stuck here."
"I'm sure we can find a use for it," he said with a smile.
“Mm-Mmm,” she said doubtfully through a mouthful of brioche. “I'm not sure I like the sound of that.”
She did, however, like the look of one Lorenzo Calderone.
Now that she had more time to study him up close-up, she really enjoyed the view. Genie drank in his ruggedly handsome face, tanned by an outdoor life around the Italian Alps. Dark, almost black, eyes, beaming out from beneath sleek, black eyebrows spoke to her of his aura of power and sensuality.
He wore his inherent strength with unconscious ease. Shorn of his bulky winter clothing, she could see a taut, finely-toned body lying beneath his shirt and pullover. He exuded a quiet strength that somehow made her feel safe.
Silly really.
How on earth could a stranger give her feelings of safety? She hadn't seen a white charger in the barn - only cows and chickens.
That thought disrupted Genie's appreciative survey of her host.
This is a farm
Farms are 24/7 sweat shops.
Was that what he meant
about 'using her strength'? Did Farmer Lorenzo intend that she pay for room and board as a farm hand?
Some of the Lorenzo's glow suddenly lost its vitality.
Maybe she ought to tell him that farming wasn't her bag. The closest she ever got to any farm was in her 'First Readers' in school - not counting her night in Lorenzo's barn. Both were enough to make her thankful that she was born and bred in the city.
Maybe she and Lorenzo could work out a deal. She would earn her keep - say - in the kitchen. She could cook up a storm when necessary.
The trouble with that idea was, judging by this breakfast, Lorenzo was probably a better kitchen whiz than her. He was Italian, after all - and food is the alternate religion in Italy.
However, there was a huge up-side to all this. Here she was, alone with a fabulous
Italian specimen of the male species, an en-suite shower, and an Olympic-sized bathtub, a wickedly comfortable bed - already checked out with the bounce test - and, on top of all that, breakfast on tap. She could get used to this.
That is, if all this wasn’t surrounded by a farm.
Then, of course, there was the question of whether he knew who she was? If he did, his ready acceptance of her invasion in his life could have been stimulated by an ulterior motive?
And yet... Maybe - just maybe - living out in the sticks like this - in a foreign country, to boot - how could he know?
She sighed. Be nice if he didn't.
Have to let things play out. Then we’ll see.
She sealed her decision with a mouthful of brioche.
Domino's snuffle distracted her. She swallowed hastily. “Just what is the matter with that dog of yours? He stares at me all the time.”
“I think he's fallen in love with you.”
“Well, he can jolly well fall out again.”
“Too late.” His grin showed how much he was enjoying her discomfort. “You've got his heart.”
“Really? When he doesn't get mine, he'll soon lose interest.”
“No, Genie. Domino will not care about that. When a dog decides to love you, he does not expect you to return it. No condizioni. Scusi - eme - conditions. Yes, no conditions.”
“How nice. Unconditional love.” Genie fought hard not to let a scoff escape her mouth. “Bully for Domino. That might work of him.
Runaway Love Page 2
