Genie gripped the door handle. It felt cold to the touch. She imagined the outside of the door covered in a thick layer of ice. “Am I crazy, or what?”!
She spent a few uncertain moments contemplating the stupidity of leaving a warm house for the bitter cold, snowy Alpine night. Memories of happy times with Lorenzo also filtered through. She felt a lump form in her throat and the wetness in her eyes threatened to brim over. It was not so easy running away this time. After all, Lorenzo hadn't actually done anything to her. Just lied, that's all.
Perhaps he didn't want a romantic entanglement anyway. Perhaps he didn't care who she was.
“Oh, yeah. Sure.”
Anyhow, there was his wife. After all this time, Genie still didn't know anything about her. And Lorenzo didn't seem predisposed to reveal all. She shrugged. “Let him keep his secrets,” she said. “I don't care anymore.”
She snuffed sardonically. “Lying to yourself now, Hamilton. You're getting a lot of practice tonight - that's if the porker you dropped on Domino just now counts.”
Enough.
Make up your mind. A warm lie or the cold truth?
She sighed loud enough to wake the household. “Too late now. Have to love you and leave you.” She swallowed hard but failed to dislodge the rock in her throat. “'Bye, Lorenzo the magnificent.”
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and slipped into the wall of cold.
“That's it,” she whispered, gently easing the door closed behind her. “The die is well and truly cast now.” She paused for a few seconds. Some doubts still hovered around in the background but, otherwise, the 'die' was in pretty good shape. “Got to get some travelling done before Lorenzo wakes up.”
She padded across the yard and stopped at the barn.
This is where it began. There had been so much promise - and now, so many happy memories in such a short time. “I'll hang on to those happy memories,” she said, her words transforming into visible clouds of condensation billowing from her mouth. “I won't let his clever hard-to-get tactics last night darken them.”
“Concentrate,” she said. “Let's see about this pass.” She uttered a small prayer that sunshine over the last few days was on her side, stepped through the gate, and into the woods.
She more certain now. “It was the right thing,” she whispered. She giggled, marginally on the hysterical side. “Why am I still whispering?”
The clear sky with a quarter moon, bounced reflections off the stark white snowy landscape producing an eerie ambient glow. It also clearly marked out her path to the pass between the snow-covered trees. Her spirits rose. She was going to make it.
As she progressed, the snow gradually deepened causing her to lift her legs ever higher. Her ungainly goose-step both slowed her down and quickly sapped her energy.
“If it's thick here, what about the pass?” she said. Her little guardian devil began to chant “Go back. Go back. You're not going to make it.”
“Stop it. Go away. Of course I am.” She took a deep breath to get her lungs under control. However, her legs were soon going to be a problem. They were already tiring. She decided to try something different and began pushing her feet through the loose snow close to the surface instead. It helped a little.
“What I really need is a pair of snowshoes.”
She stopped, primarily to catch her breath, but also to consider the possibility of returning to Lorenzo's place and borrowing snowshoes. “Too dangerous.” For all she knew, Lorenzo could be up milking Gloria and Beatrice by now.
She was about to resume her enervating journey when the echoes of an eerie howl bounced off the surrounding mountains. “What on earth..?” Her hackles sprung to life causing a shiver to ripple through her body that had nothing to do with the cold.
She peered into the deep shadows among the trees, scanning up the mountains each side.
Nothing moved.
Again, the howl pierced her ears. “That's a wolf.”
Genie shivered. It was the first time she'd heard a real one. The wolf howls she'd heard in the movies were not half as scary as this.
There it was again.
She concentrated on the howl to try to get some idea of how far away it was - and how many there were. The echoes distorted both distance and number. Was one wolf howling or a herd.
Herd?
Not a herd, you idiot. What is it? Pack. That's it. Pack. Pack. A pack of wolves.
“Who cares what they're called. They're here.”
Perhaps if she were quiet, they wouldn't hear her.
She squinted and stared at the deep shadows among the trees. They seemed to form and reform shapes. She hallucinated their red eyes glowing in the dark, sizing her up.
Evil red glows.
“You've seen too many movies, Hamilton.” She looked up at the sky. “It'll soon be light,” she said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Maybe wolves don't hunt by day.
Do they?
Why hadn't she paid more attention to nature films on television? Did they sleep during the daytime?
Another frightening howl.
It was closer this time. She was sure it was.
Genie's heart racked up a frightening pace, driving her lungs to pump fast and shallow. “I'm going to end up as dog meat,” she whispered.
Chapter Thirteen
Lorenzo stopped to listen to the faint wolf howls. Satisfied that they weren't close enough to be of concern, he continued to make his way down the stairs as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing Genie.
As he entered the kitchen, he smiled, remembering the previous evening's meal. Yes, Genie did know her way around a kitchen. He'd seen her culinary skills in action often enough. Every time they prepared a meal together, she demonstrated her ability to throw a good meal together.
And, 'throw' was the appropriate word. Her only shortcoming was that she had no patience. Even when working together on a complex dish, she rushed everything and barely disguised her impatience as he savoured each stage.
“It's almost like you're worshipping the food,” Genie told him.
“Put some love in the preparation,” he said, “and you'll love eating it.”
“Is that an Italian saying?”
“What else?”
“You just made that up,” she said, in mock disapproval.
But, last evening's meal was a solo effort and, speed notwithstanding, it was excellent. She really did have talent.
“I must get her to do that more often.”
The remembered images of Genie's prowess abruptly morphed into Genie in the lounge, falling into his hands. It was a memory that filled his mind all night. She felt as if she belonged there - right there in his arms. The feeling was warm and exciting and, at that moment, he'd wanted it to be true.
He was sure she wanted it, too. He saw it in her face. He felt it in his hands. She made no attempt to release herself from his grip.
How ready he'd been to give in to his feelings and her open invitation, and yet, he knew he could not - should not. To have done so would have invited serious hurt for both of them. After she leaves, she would look back and see him as someone who simply took advantage of their situation.
As for him, he would be left with another hole in his heart.
First Anna, then Genie.
Anna.
Anna and Genie.
He rolled the thought around his mind - then screwed his eyes shut against the guilt burning through his body. How could he even think like that? It was a betrayal. It was like...like...he had a wife and a mistress. And yet, he had neither.
Besides, hadn't he promised Genie that he wouldn't take advantage right back in the beginning. In the barn. That promise was made to himself too. True, fate - or whatever other twist of nature - had thrown them together. But that same fate had fixed it so there was no escape. There was no choice.
What if they both had a choice? Would she still be here? And if she were, would she still be as willing?
; No. The timing and their situation was wrong.
When there's a choice...Then we'll see.
Suddenly, he was eager to see her. He wondered how she'd be when she woke up. Perhaps Domino would sense her mood and give him an early warning.
“Where is Domino?”
He frowned, realizing he hadn't seen his canine friend in his new post - outside Genie's door.
He whispered a call from the foot of the staircase, in case he'd been too preoccupied to notice. When his four-legged companion failed to appear, he tried the lounge.
Before Genie came on the scene, the fireplace in the lounge had been Domino's favourite early-morning spot. The ashes still gave off some warmth and that suited him fine. He' was always pleased to see Lorenzo. His tail said so. However, he was remarkably unwilling to haul himself up from his warm spot to give Lorenzo a proper greeting.
This morning, he and all forms of greetings were conspicuous by their absence.
“Domino,” Lorenzo called.
No response.
“Surely he's not outside.”
He found his canine companion in the entrance hall, prone, staring at the front door.
“Che successo?” Bending down to pat Domino's ample chest, Lorenzo peered at the door as though it would give him some clue as to what was on the other side. “Heard the wolves, did you? They're too far away, ragazzo. There's no danger.”
Domino snuffled and maintained his vigil.
“You don't trust me, do you?” he said, reaching the latch and easing open the door. “Move back, boy,”
Domino obeyed only when the door was about to hit him on the nose. He grunted and snuffled, rose to his feet, and slowly backtracked.
Lorenzo opened the door only sufficiently wide to enable him to peer through and scan the yard and the fence. Domino joined him, pushing his nose through and trying to widen the crack by rocking his head from side to side.
“See? Nothing.” The muted clucking of the chickens in the barn underlined the truth of his observation.
He forced Domino back and closed the door. “C'mon, let's get breakfast.”
Domino resumed his position in front of the door.
“Please yourself,” Lorenzo said and headed for the kitchen, thoughts of a piping hot espresso warming up his mind.
Chapter Fourteen
The crisp, cold air took advantage of Genie's immobility. She felt the icy air eating its way through her clothing and attacking her skin.
“I'll be a block of ice if I don't get a move on,” she stuttered through teeth that sounded like they were sending out Morse Code.
Should she move? Were wolves attracted to moving targets or still ones? Moving targets were more likely.
Or was that sharks?
The thought of sharks stimulated the disturbing question of other predators that might be circling her; sizing her up. She'd heard something about bears. No. Bears are okay. Bears hibernate in winter.
“Unless those darned wolves woke them up.”
She squinted and peered into the blackness of the forest. Nothing appeared to be moving in there. Maybe they were tensed, ready to pounce, deciding which bit to eat first.
Genie's hackles hadn't had this much exercise since she saw her first horror movie - something about zombies - when she was thirteen. She'd sneaked off with Josie, her childhood friend, each telling their parents that they were out playing with the other and, instead, went to the movies. It had been a dare - each betting the other that they wouldn't be scared.
They didn't talk about the bet afterwards - or the zombies.
In fact, she couldn't remember them talking at all.
She'd slept with the light on that night.
Now, her hackles were on a different mission. They were telling her to go back. It was safe behind Lorenzo's fence.
Oh yeah - and how safe would Lorenzo be?
Wasn't he another kind of wolf in waiting?
Wolves or no wolves - and whatever else might be lurking about in the forest - she had to move on.
She focused attention on her ears to offer up one last intense listen.
Silence.
Perhaps the wolves had given up on her.
On the other hand, they might be silently stalking her. When the time was right, they'd jump out and bark “Surprise! Surprise!”
Genie cracked her frozen lips with a smile. “Nothing like a bit of humour - and whistling - when you're scared,” she said. She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Now move, Hamilton. You can't stay here forever.”
After a final furtive look around, and breathing a tuneless whistle, she pushed her left foot through the snow, then her right - and resumed her trek.
She buried time – and the wolves - under the concentration she needed to keep pushing her legs through the deep snow. She had no way of knowing how long she had been travelling, but she sensed that time and distance was out of proportion. Too much time; too little distance.
She muttered a few unladylike curses under her breath at the thieves who stole her watch. “On the other hand,” she said, dragging in a reluctant positive thought, “Perhaps it's better not to know. Might depress me.”
She continued her slow progress, stopping frequently to listen for danger - and to catch her breath. Only when she finally struggled into the pass proper, did she feel she could relax.
The pass was a gigantic fissure - giving the appearance that someone had chopped a mountain in half with a giant axe. The walls were mostly vertical and, although Genie made out some snow-blanketed vegetation clinging on precariously here and there, the pass was devoid of trees. There were no hiding places for predators of any species that chose to hunt her.
“Thank God for that,” she said, studying the entrance to the pass behind her. “Okay Mr. Wolf - you've missed your chance. Go find Red Riding Hood instead. She'll help you out.”
The pass did provide a downside, however.
The cold felt even more intense, almost as if the proximity of walls to each other created an elongated refrigerator. Having already nibbled through her layers of clothing, it now forced its way through her skin and muscles, and gnawed at her bones. Even the heat of her body generated by the enervating toil of pushing her way through the snow couldn't keep it at bay.
As for her feet...they were stinging fiercely, snow boots and three pairs of socks notwithstanding. Soon, she knew the cold would turn to moisture and, then...
“Frostbite, gangrene, amputations - my God, I should have stayed in bed.”
Remember the plan, Hamilton.
“Onward!” she said with more bravado than she felt.
Her concentration to force her feet through the snow, for what seemed like hours, was so intense that she almost fell into a mountainous pile of snow. At first glance, it appeared to reach all the way to the sky.
Genie took a deep breath and quietly complained at the latest setback. “How am I going to get past that?” Was the entire world against her?
Her little Devil sprang into action. “That's Lorenzo's avalanche. He was right. You'll never climb that. Go back.”
“No way,” Genie said. “Get lost.”
Genie cast her mind back to her journey weeks before. She couldn't remember scaling a mini-mountain like this. But, then, the blizzard she had to battle through wiped out all senses except the driving passion to seek shelter. At the time, she wouldn't have known if she was walking uphill, downhill, or on air.
On closer inspection, the snow-covered hill didn't quite reach the sky. In fact, it seemed to her to about 15 meters.
“That's only about eight or nine times taller than me.”
And that incline - it looked almost friendly.
“Piece of cake.”
“What if the climb is too tough and you can't make it?” said her little Devil. “What then?”
“Oh shut up,” Genie answered. “If I can't get over it, I'll...I'll...tunnel through it.”
The idea tickled her. “Now that would be something
.”
The humour of the idea died as suddenly as it sprang into life. A frown wrinkled her forehead as she stared at the snow on the hill. “Please let there be something solid under that lot.”
Lifting one foot ready to test the snow mountain, she paused. “Look at that,” she said, eyeing her leg held straight out in front of her. “I could have been a ballet dancer; maybe even a Kung Fu fighter.” She thrust out a large cloud of condensation from her mouth with a short laugh and plonked her foot down on the slope. It hit something hard just beneath the surface.
“Can't be rock,” she said. “Doesn't feel like it. Perhaps it's ice, or snow pressed together.”
Whatever it was, she could walk on it.
She tried one or two wary steps up the hill.
It held.
“It's going to be okay,” she said with relief and started the climb.
It was tough going. Dragging herself up the steep slope sucked at her remaining energy with the force of a vacuum cleaner. She was nearing exhaustion and she had only travelled a few meters. Only her determination not to give up kept her going. “Switzerland, here I come,” she breathed to accompany every other stamped down foot.
As she neared the top, the going got easier. The snow was harder under her feet and, before long, she could almost walk on the surface.
“Snow shoes are for the wussies,” she said.
To her relief, she saw the crest about two meters away.
Her excitement took over. Throwing caution aside, she pushed herself to walk faster.
It was a mistake.
Her feet slipped on hardened snow and her body slapped face down on the surface, bruising her chest and punching the air from her lungs. Almost immediately, she started to slide back down the slope.
Genie dug her fingers into the snow. The traction soon ripped apart the fingers of her gloves, shattered her nails and tore at the flesh on her fingertips. Fighting against the pain, she continued to dig at the surface until, finally, her slide halted.
Afraid to move, she persuaded her screaming fingers to hold on, held her breath and waited. The palpable silence enveloped her, infiltrating her senses with a feeling of peace and comfort.
Runaway Love Page 8
