“You’re hot and sleek.” He curled his arms around my shoulders and thrust in one last time. Deep inside me, his body shuddered with spilled pleasure and his teeth sank into my shoulder. His trapped voice escaped against my skin in a low, intense moan.
Ecstasy unleashed from earthly boundaries.
*
Spent, he rolled back on the soft rug, blinked, and cracked a grin. Words took flight once again.
“Look,” he said, pointing out the window.
“I don’t see anything . . .”
“The sky has darkened to a perfect level of intimacy, luv.” He got up and offered a hand. “Come on—time to eat.”
I opened a bottle of Umeracha Shiraz and set the table while Gabe tossed a salad of scrumptious veggies and cheeses. I warmed up a loaf of bread and dumped al dente fettuccine in a skillet with goat cheese, sautéed Portobello mushrooms, and a couple of secret ingredients.
We sat at the table while Tess slept in her bed by the fireplace. In the frenzied passion of our lovemaking, I hadn’t noticed her till now. My glass toasted Gabe’s above her loud snoring. Laughing, I wished him buon appetito.
“How come English doesn’t have a word for it?”
“You mean the equivalent to buon appetito?” I asked him, rolling some fettuccine around my fork.
“Roight.”
“Interesting. What do they say in the States? ‘Enjoy’ I guess is one of the words. ‘Dig in’ if you’re with friends or family. But you’re right; every language I know except English has a way of wishing happy eating.”
“Bon appétit in French,” Gabe said.
“Buen provecho in Spanish.”
“Japanese?”
“Itadakimasu,” I said and bowed.
Gabe broke into one of his deadly grins. “Have you got any more?
I nodded. “Dutch, Greek—I think that’s it.” I looked at him, smiling. “Eet smakelijk!”
“Is that Dutch or Greek?”
I chuckled. “Dutch. The Greek version is kali orexi.”
He poured me some wine. “I bet after a few glasses of this stuff we can make up some words.”
“Pretty powerful, eh?” I said, sipping the rich wine.
“Perfect with the pasta.” He reached for some bread to wipe his plate clean and got every last bit.
“What would you like to do after dinner?” I asked.
He leaned back in his chair. “A second helping of the appetizer would be nice. But I need to have a walk with Tess before it gets too late. Would you like to come?” he offered.
“Go ahead,” I told him. “I’ll have the kitchen cleaned up by the time you get back.”
“Don’t worry about the kitchen. I’ll take care of it in the morning.”
I shrugged and finished the last bit of my fettuccine. “It’s OK. I don’t mind doing it now.”
“I should be cleaning up, Porzia, you did all the cooking.”
I winked. “Tomorrow you can do both for me.”
“Breakfast?”
“Deal.”
“Turn on the TV if you’d like. Get a taste of Oz entertainment.”
“OK, I will.”
He pushed off his chair and called Tess up. Startled from deep sleep, she waddled up to him and let him clip the leash onto her collar. Gabe handed me the remote control, kissed me, and walked away. I followed the sound of his fading footsteps and managed to struggle with the remote until it gave up and, blessed gadget, turned the TV on.Drowned by the sound of water quickly filling the sink, I hardly paid attention when a newscaster’s grave tone forecasted extreme weather conditions and the possible connection between Aboriginal end of millennium prophecies and the current meteorological phenomenon.
Barely listening, I rinsed the dishes and loaded up the dishwasher. I dried my hands and poured the remaining wine into my glass.
“. . . It’s now official, the race will be going on despite a record heat index expected to hit the Alice Springs area. Organizers believe the extreme weather conditions won’t be a deterring factor in the choice of itinerary for the Oz Endurance.
“As of now, Gabe Miller hasn’t been available for comment on the rally of the millennium—”
In my ribcage, a rapacious claw squeezed my heart until blood and tissue sponged out through clenched talons.
I grabbed my wine, reached for the remote control, fiddled once again, and finally managed to turn the volume up. Hypnotized by the images rolling on the screen, I sat down on the edge of the sofa.
“The atmosphere is heating up in preparation for the Oz Endurance, the end of the millennium ultimate challenge.
“The event is staged to follow a ruthless itinerary of 3000 kilometres spanning Oz’s most difficult terrain, part of which consists of off-limits, legendary Aboriginal sacred grounds.
“The weather conditions are expected to be extreme.
“Heat, heat, heat . . . lethal for human and machine.
“A centennial weather pattern last witnessed at the end of the 1800’s is estimated to slowly surge in the next couple of months and build up to record-high temperatures.
“The Aboriginal tribe—guardian of the sacred-ground segment of the course—associates the weather pattern with ancient legends undisclosed to the non-initiated. After long negotiations they have finally agreed to a select group of individuals.
“Who is to face such a grueling test?
“Only those who live by the rules and obey the rules as nature dictates will be called to participate.
“The list of names is to remain secret until the tribe’s wise man deems it to be a propitious time. Invitations will follow suit, but speculations are already flying about Gabe Miller resuming his career for such a challenge.”
*
The images on the screen shifted to a short report on Gabe’s suddenly interrupted career.
I shifted and sank deep into the sofa’s welcoming pillows and gave the TV my undivided attention.
Pictures of a very young Gabe rolled on-screen while the voice droned on about his steady and consistent rise among the racing circuits. In less than five years he had climbed from victorious regionals to triumphant nationals. When Gomi joined the Miller team, their first victory in the Australian Safari catapulted them into the international scene. In their first attempt at the Paris–Dakar, they arrived second. The following year, they won. And then they successfully completed an encore and won again, two years in a row.
At the peak of such an accomplished career, Gabe spent one year meticulously working on a custom-built vehicle. Finally he drove it and crashed, putting an end to his brilliant future. A sequence of images of the almost-deadly accident reeled on my heart like an intolerably heavy rolling pin: the vehicle reduced to a heap of burnt, crunched metal; the racing number folded on itself, barely readable in a distorted crease; Gomi’s devastated face as he briskly followed paramedics carrying a gurney with an unrecognizable Gabe strapped onto it; Clark’s sleep-deprived frown impatiently waving journalists away in front of a hospital.
And now this last chance.
The news ended and a cheerful commercial jingle for pet food mocked my sense of despair.
“Oh, Joséphine, what have I gotten myself into?” I lamented and drained my glass.
Oz . . . Wizards . . .
All of a sudden I understood Evalena’s warning and her question about fairy tales. The Wizard of Oz is one of my favorite stories.
CHAPTER 36
The front door opened and Tess ran up to me. The chilled shadow of late winter clung to her fur. She burrowed her nose in my hands, and I felt pure sour panic rise up my throat. Choking, I hid my face in her thick coat. Oddio! I inhaled brisk winter and damp upturned soil.
She felt soft and alive.
Gabe added wood to the fire and then sat down next to me
to unleash Tess.
Enveloped in panic, I barely lifted my head; in a whisper I asked him about the Oz Endurance.
“Where did you hear about it?”
“On TV.”
“What did they say?” he demanded as his head snapped to the screen.
“That it will be going on despite the expected extreme heat.”
“So—it’s official?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“Bloody hell.” He grabbed the remote control to search for more news.
“What exactly is it, Gabe?”
No answer.
“Gabe?”
He turned the TV on mute, tossed the remote back on the coffee table, and cast me an unfocused look.
“It’s a race, Porzia.” He ran a hand through his hair and air rippled like water. I felt adrift, impotent against the sweeping tides.
With effort he resumed, “A race that will go through Aboriginal sacred grounds near Alice Springs for the first time in history.”
“How long has there been talk about it?”
He shook his head, “Oh, forever—years.”
“Why now?”
“Because not only is it the end of the century, but the end of the millennium as well. And according to secret legends, a favorable time.” He sighed before continuing on. “You know how weather comes in patterns like that El Niño phenomenon. When is it? Every seven years or so, roight?”
I nodded and tucked my feet under my hip.
“Last time we had heat like that was at the end of the last century. Only this time it will be even more powerful because the millennium is coming to an end as well. We’re exuberant people, Porzia. Leave it to Aussies to come up with the idea of an end-of-the-century endurance challenge to go out with a bang!”
“Exuberant doesn’t do you guys justice, Gabe. This race makes the Paris–Dakar look like a beach walk.”
Gabe smiled and reached over to ruffle up my hair. “I love the way you see things sometimes.”
“Are your guys involved?” I blurted out.
“Not yet.”
“Would you like to be?” I asked in a breath, staring straight into his blue eyes. I tasted the fever that burned in his soul. Heat reached up from within and unleashed its power.
His eyes spiraled into pools of impenetrable darkness. “Yes.”
An immense power surged in the ensuing silence.
With a deep suspicion of inadequacy, I realized I faced an unequal enemy. This fever, consuming him from within, was his nature. This true essence that made him the man I loved might ultimately destroy his life.
Evalena’s warning rang through my mind: He leads by example, Porzia. Beware. Now I understood. Gabe might not be Xavier, but he was showing me the way through the portal of my own fears. And how to walk beyond.
“But I don’t think I will.”
“Pardon?”
“They won’t call me.”
I blinked and absorbed his words. “Why not?”
“Luv, don’t ask.” He pulled me into his arms. I untangled my legs and stretched my body on top of his.
“I won’t ask,” I conceded, surfing the tide that had suddenly changed its course. “Thanks,” he whispered, caressing my hair.
We held each other in silence while the fire warmed us up.
Mute images from the TV rolled on. Tess whined in her sleep, and Gabe’s heartbeat drummed steady against my ear.
“Ready for bed?”
“In a minute,” I answered. I wanted to bask in this eye in the middle of the storm for a while longer.
“We’re getting up early tomorrow.”
“Why?” I lifted my head. “We have nowhere to go.”
“In that case, we’re getting up even earlier so we don’t have to hurry to get to Nowhere.”
I shot him a confused look. “What?”
He smiled. “Nowhere, South Australia.”
“Is that a real place?”
“You got that roight.”
“You’re making it up.”
“Naw! Fair dinkum, we’re going to Nowhere tomorrow.”
“Where is it?” I realized the silliness of my question and broke into laughter.
“Out that way.” Gabe pointed to the front door.
“Is Tess coming?”
“Where?”
Still laughing, I answered my own trap. “Nowhere.”
“Yes, luv.” Gabe swept me up defying physical laws. “She’s been before.”
In a fit of giggles I managed to ask, “Tess has been to Nowhere before?”
“Twice.”
In the warm atmosphere of his bedroom, serenaded by the crackling fire, we crawled in bed and began to kiss.
Our lovemaking unfolded like a sinewy riverbed slowly filled by warmed, sun-melted snow.
*
In the middle of the night I rolled over and stretched a hand on Gabe’s side of the bed.
Cold.
I blinked to adjust my eyes to the darkness. The dying fire cast a faint amber glow across the room, offering barely enough edging between shadows and darkness.
“Gabe?”
No answer.
I shifted back on the mattress and went back to sleep.
Minutes later, in that horizonless limbo between sleep and seraphic dreams, I sensed him. His cold body pressed against mine, and my dreams scattered like basement creatures exposed by a suddenly switched-on light.
“Were you outside?” My voice sounded pasty.
“Yes. Needed some fresh air.”
“You’re cold,” I mumbled.
“You’re not.” He planted a kiss on my bare shoulder. “Go back to sleep, luv. We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Buona notte, amore.” I drifted back to sleep.
*
The following morning the smell of coffee startled me from my dream realm. I yawned and focused, manifesting Gabe by my side of the bed. Steam blurred my vision, my nostrils twitched, and I zoomed in on the cobalt blue coffee mug only inches away from my face.
“Time to get up.” He waved the coffee under my upturned nose.
With slow-motion, wading hands I made a futile attempt to reach for it. “What time is it?”
“Seven.”
“I still have jet lag.”
“This will help.” He set the steaming coffee mug on the nightstand. “Drink up and I’ll be back shortly to see if you’re awake. We need to pack a few things and be on our way. Tess is ready to go.”
I lifted myself up and cupped the hot mug with both hands. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee laced with cream reached my nose. I sipped, careful not to burn my tongue with the scalding yet welcome concoction. I had reached the bottom of the mug when Gabe walked in carrying an empty travel bag and smiled. “You look much better.”
“Like I’m awake now?” I set the coffee down, pushed the covers off, walked up to him, and gave him a quick hug. “What all do we need to pack?”
“Not much; clothes to layer, hiking boots or sneakers, comfortable socks, and a jacket.”
I nodded, reached for my luggage, and helped him with the packing.
After a quick shower and a light breakfast, we loaded Tess in the back of the Rover and took off to . . . Nowhere.
In the brisk early spring morning only a few sheer clouds hung low in the crisp cerulean sky. A radio station broadcast a Midnight Oil special while the enchanting scenery quickly changed right under my spellbound eyes. Nature crept up to the edge of town and suddenly took over. Right outside Adelaide fragrant eucalyptus trees led the way toward a destination I knew nothing about.
Gabe was being mysterious.
I glanced at the back of the vehicle, stuffed with camping gear, and met Tess’s ecstatic face.
> We stopped for gas beneath a bright yellow sign warning of kangaroos crossing. In a small hut that doubled as convenience store, Gabe paid in cash for the gas and a dusty bottle of lukewarm water. The weather was warming up and our car was the only one in sight.
I was glad to be with him.
The radio buzzed and we lost Midnight Oil when we drove off the main road to edge the dry bed of what, eons ago, must have been a river. On our right, the desert stretched like a roll of endless burlap. What a postcard it would have made.
“I don’t believe my eyes.”
“Pretty impressive sight, eh?”
“Are we going out there?” I asked, pointing at the desolate expanse.
“Not all the way in. Nowhere is about another 25 kilometres east,” Gabe reassured me. “Another half an hour and we should be there.”
When we arrived at the park center, a smiling Aboriginal man, with skin the color of rich cocoa, welcomed us. He gave us directions, a receipt for the camping fee, and a colorful pamphlet featuring bright photos of several poisonous creatures and emergency contact numbers.
Oh, merda! I thought as I read about how to act in case of a kangaroo attack. How to dislodge limbs from the mouth of a voracious crocodile. How to apply pressure to the bitten area in case of a poisonous snake or spider bite until the nearest hospital is reached.
With my body postured as far as possible from the window, I glanced at the dormant scenery of beige dried brush, throat-gritting sand, and distant faded orange hills edging the horizon like an unaccountable mirage, and worried.
But then, slowly, I noticed a tiny bell-shaped purple flower here, a scurrying of tiny prints there. Wings flocked above us, and I realized that in its own unhurried way, in a monochromatic expanse, the desert lived and gave life. To better observe I scooted closer to the window and even rolled it down to inhale deeply the parched scent of dried brush. It reminded me a bit of the warmth of Italian Septembers when the farmers cut the dry golden wheat fields and trap summer in the packaged, dried hay for the ensuing cold season.
Among The Cloud Dwellers (Entrainment Series) Page 40
