I discovered the old cliché that the company you keep means everything to be absolutely true. Gabe turned out to be a blast to camp with, and Tess was an incredible example of how to just relax and enjoy the moment.
We set up camp in a clearing away from main roads, civilization, and any possible trace of human progress. We explored, with Tess ecstatic to discover this plant or that bush. Gabe proved to have an immeasurable knowledge of the surrounding nature, from animal tracks and what they meant as far as hunting or migratory patterns to herbal folkloristic stories and remedies. I was intrigued and fascinated by the simplicity of life in the outback and stunned at the amount of life actually dwelling in such harsh territory.
No TV, no phones. The radio in the Rover was perfectly functional, but we chose not to use it; willingly we surrendered and forgot civilization. Our pace slowed, our words acquired stronger meaning, and Nature began to communicate with us.
Through the wind, the birds, the clouds, with infinitesimal messages, the Mother reached us. Shy and curious at first, a gentle breeze brought echoes of distant scents. A scurrying of fast paws told us we were being closely watched, perhaps accepted. The crumbs of bread we left out disappeared, and the warm wind coiled around our bundled bodies and kept the fire alive and crackling. Glad to have spectators, the sky stunned us with a breathtaking sunset and we watched in awe, silently taking long swigs of chilled beer. We roasted sausages on a warm fire and cozied up in heavy wool blankets in the company of an eagerly darkening sky. Tess barked at invisible shadows. Stars twinkled shyly at first against dusk and then brighter and more confident as night empowered them, opening up an unlimited display. Of course, it was all backwards from my familiar Floridian sky, but once I persuaded Gabe to humor me and take a look at it with his head between his parted legs, the firmament flipped back to almost normal.
Time slowed until it didn’t matter anymore. Destiny took a break from unfolding and pleasure stirred, branding our hearts as our bodies merged and melted in the darkness. In the far distance, right above Earth’s rim, an electric storm flared in a wild dance. It scared Tess so badly she burrowed her nose between us and then fell asleep at our feet, reassured, warm, and safe.
CHAPTER 37
I woke up to stark silence. I sat up, pulling the sleeping bag up my bare breasts trying to remember where I was.
“Gabe?”
Silence answered.
With irrational, unexplainable, rising panic drumming out of control, I realized I was alone in the middle of Nowhere, Oz. I tightened the grip on the silky fabric of the sleeping bag until my knuckles turned white with effort. Struggling not to give in to fear, I brushed aside the thought of wondering where such intense panic could be coming from and chose to be my practical self instead. A poor choice to make as the ensuing events would later reveal, but no matter how powerful the warnings, I still hadn’t gotten used to trusting my intuition. Only when we truly stare at our enemies in the eyes do we learn what we’re capable of, or not.
I scanned the tent in search of a note he might have left me. And found nothing. With practicality failing miserably against the overpowering surge of intuition, I succumbed to it. Despite my fears, I closed my eyes. I inhaled deeply against my clenched hands stretching the tight grip I had of the sleeping bag and then exhaled, relaxing my shoulders, opening my eyes. The tent looked somewhat brighter, but I knew this to be just an optical illusion. Something told me I was alone and he was nowhere nearby. Not spiritually, at least. Tess felt intangible as well. The call for magic was the only present vibe along with my frightened breathing. But one annihilated the other. In the darkness, at the bottom of my cozy sleeping bag, my bare toes curled. Yes, bare—just like Venere in the Uffizi. I was about to step off my shell to face the Wizard of Oz wearing no ruby slippers.
I slit my head through the thin fabric split of the tent and scanned my surroundings. Outside nothing had changed.
The fire had died to a meager scattering of ashes. The Rover stood dormant, parked about ten yards from me at the end of a double trail of tire marks. Now, that was a thought. I dropped my eyes and scrutinized the campground dirt for foot and dog prints, only to find neither. It was as if Gabe had taken flight.
The wind stirred and brought words. He can’t take flight. Not with his broken wings.
Chilled to the bone, I realized that It had heard my thoughts.
I stood, stark naked, paralyzed with what I believed to be my fears. I swallowed and tasted focus instead.
It is when we are most afraid that we are most alive, with all our wits stretched to their limits and beyond, clawing for survival. With inadequate blindness fighting the dark unknown, we resort to the other senses—including the sixth—the portal to magic.
I was sure I had not imagined the vibe. It felt familiar and recurrent, like a persistent nightmare.
Or a watchful, silent guardian: A warrawarra who held the power of Gabe’s breath.
I recalled it in the yellow-eyed snake biting his own tail surrounding the naked woman in the tarot card of Le Monde and in Eingana, the goddess. I recognized its powerful barrier, in a flutter of wings, when I tried to scrutinize Gabe’s privacy. It had spilled from Gabe’s mouth speaking of having defied death in a thick, almost unrecognizable, Aboriginal accent. It awoke us from a distant nightmare shared in the privacy of my own bedroom, and finally, had stared at us through the disturbing eyes of a cat, coiled in a flowerbed in New Orleans.
Yes, I faced an unequal opponent.
But why opponent?
I had only one way to find out.
This time I would not barricade my will behind fear. And so I rose to the challenge and met it. Consciously aware that a pinch of ignorance in the face of my inadequacies might turn out to be a crucial advantage, I summoned the power and rose from the quicksand. As Evalena had explained, in the gap between heartbeats I stepped out of the tent with only my hair as witness. My feet met the warm, packed desert dirt as I caught the tail end of my incoming breath and cast my question.
“Who are you?”
“I’m the wind and the messenger.”
I exhaledand stretched the space with silent words once again. “Where is Gabe?”
“On the outer land’s edge. In the timeless. You must let go of him.”
“Why?”
“Your journey.”
I inhaled. With my left hand I caught hold of a web of fears, rolled it around my fist, and finally cast it aside. With my right hand stretched outward in front of my heart, I shielded and spoke. “No.”
“He is not the answer.”
Something pulled and I took an involuntary step forward into the timeless. My face pushed through and caught the midst of a spinning tornado. I could see nothing, but I held my ground. Despite the spiraling force, I braced myself and focused. With all my strength, through my connection with Joséphine, I called upon my magic lineage. My chest swelled, filled, and when I felt about to burst, I pushed at the whirling wind, willing it to stop.
It barely slowed down.
I searched for a gap, a portal, for a moment when I could leap. The warrawarra’s power seemed unfazed by my attempt and soon regained speed. It was going to pull me in and all of a sudden I wanted out.
“No!” I screamed.
I drew back as a dog barked.
I spun around and saw Tess at my side. Gabe followed at a distance of at least sixty feet away from me still. Tess’s barking had covered my scream and dissolved the mystical sinew, but it was too late.
Gabe had crossed over. From the distance separating us I observed him as he approached me and Tess, already at my feet. His step held the determination and will of someone ready to leap once again. His energy hummed with years of suppressed drive now finally released.
And I as well had taken my own step.
I reached down to Tess and scratched her floppy ears. “I
owe you one, Tess.”
Life’s warning of bends in the road can be as inexplicable and sudden as a wind in the desert.
And then time resumed its rhetorical course.
The day to return home approached.
The star-filled night glittered and dimmed against the city lights fanning off the horizon.
Gabe fell silent on the drive home, his eyes focused on the desert road ahead.
On the back seat, tucked snugly on my folded sleeping bag, Tess’s ears twitched, and her tail flicked in her sleep, probably dreaming of chasing desert creatures.
I stared out the Rover’s window at darkness moving like a black screen on fast-forward. My own image, reflected off the spinning blackness, stared back and didn’t recognize me. I felt different from the Porzia of few days back. I tuned the outside off to focus within. The desert had changed me. I felt a deeper connection and respect for Mother Nature, Her eternal strength and survival powers. I discovered I didn’t need comforts to appreciate what life offered. And most of all, I had faced a wizard with my own magic. I had embraced my powers, extinguished my fears, and as a prize, I survived. But at what price?
Prize and price: only one letter distinguishes the two.
I turned to study Gabe’s sharp profile. Long strands of hair grazed his forehead, brushing against his darker brows. Like gems framed by thick eyelashes, his eyes glimmered dark blue, focused on his driving. His straight nose reminded me of the Greek gods of Benedetta’s myths. His defined lips curled relaxed, and the dark stubble he had let grow in the desert left the dimple on his chin barely visible.
“You cold?” he asked, interrupting my observations.
“No. I’m fine.”
He took his eyes off the road and looked at me. “Tired?”
“Not really. Hungry.”
His sensuous lips broke into a grin, and his eyes shifted back to the road. “After a week of campfire food I reckon Miss Gourmet is ready for real food?”
“Miss Gourmet?” My right eyebrow arched in mock disdain.
“Just teasing, luv.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m afraid you might have to wait until tomorrow for a real meal. We have another couple of hours before we get home, and by then the shops will be closed for the night.”
“How about restaurants?” I teased.
“I need a shower and a slow ease back into civilization. Can’t do mobs of people tonight. Please forgive me.”
“Good point.” “We can see what we have at home and maybe throw something together.”
I nodded. “As long as there is wine, I’m fine.”
“Got heaps of that. If I remember roight, there might be a couple of Umeracha’s bottles left.”
“No, you don’t,” I said, incredulous.
The headlights of an oncoming car lit his crooked grin. “Oh yes, I do.”
“Great!” I replied, getting excited. “Now we really don’t need civilization.”
“When you have me?” he teased.
“And the wine you provide,” I shot back. Then I looked at him for a second and asked, “How long is it going to take us to adjust to people again?”
“It depends. After a week in the desert, I’d say a couple of days at home and you should be fine. Since this was your first time, the impact might be more intense and you might end up needing more than a couple.” He looked at me. “Just take it easy and don’t force anything, luv.”
“How about you?”
“No worries. I’ll be fine in two days tops.” His face got serious. “I remember times when it would take me weeks.”
“Weeks?”
“When I trained I would often be gone a month or longer at a time. Got really focused and absorbed with the outback. Runners talk about that plateau they reach where heartbeat, breath, and stride merge into one and endorphins kick in. The run becomes effortless and one could keep on going to the edge of the earth. The same happened when I drove out there, Porzia. It’s a bitch to unwind from it. When we competed, Gomi used to go into retreat for weeks to snap back. I personally miss it. Even the pain of coming down from it. He doesn’t,” Gabe added. “Gomi’s happiest under the hood of a rig down at the shop.”
Adelaide’s lights sparkled in the far distance as I listened to him speak of his driving days and tried to understand. Occasionally I would ask him a question and noticed that even if the answer would somewhat upset me, he never faltered. His honesty was brutal.
I wondered if I had the strength to truly defy the gods.
“Gabe, I know I don’t have the ability to fully grasp the depth of your experience, all that you’ve done in your life before I became part of it.” I took a deep breath. “I will not pretend to know something I have not experienced. Hell, before that night at Umeracha, I had no idea who you were and honestly had no knowledge whatsoever of the racing world. I still don’t know much about it. But what I do know is that some people live a life fueled by passions. One of mine is for food and wine and the compelling urge to write about it, to share my knowledge and discoveries with people out there, to educate them to appreciate the pleasures and passion of gourmet food and wine.
“Yours is to race. Even after what happened to you, you’ve kept that passion alive.” I struggled to find the rights words to continue on. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that our passions have found a way of merging and getting to know one another. I respect yours and love the man you are deeply. I’m also grateful you’ve made me part of your life and showed me how Earth and Nature are so incredibly beautiful and unselfishly giving. I had never been camping before. I’ve never seen a desert night sky. The moonlight is so much more intense away from artificial light. I’ve never felt the smoky scent of a campfire tickle my nostrils as food roasts and never felt my body glow in the heat of the bright flames. It was just as you said it would be. I glimpsed the origin of time, life, and the beginning of this ancient land, thanks to you.” I sighed and found the courage to continue. “But it was a lot more than physical. Out there my fears were transformed into another passion that has been dormant within me. Now I can move on, into this new realm, confidently and somewhat eagerly. Only I don’t know how to express my gratitude.” Frustrated, I dropped my fluttering hands in my lap.
His hand caressed my cheek, and I gave in to his loving fingers. “You just did, luv.”
CHAPTER 38
It didn’t take long to unload the car, and the most pressing thing to deal with then was finding a hot shower. We washed the days of desert camping away but instead of lingering in the rejuvenating water, our stomachs reminded us it had been way too long since our last meal. I cut my shower short and got into some comfy clothes before heading into the kitchen to try to figure out something for dinner.
With my head stuck in the fridge, I eyed the miserable selection in front of me: a couple of shallots, parsley which needed to be used soon, tomatoes at their ripest. Gabe promised to set the table if I could come up with a miracle and left to unpack our bags.
I moved to the pantry and found penne pasta and vodka. An idea stirred in my head, and I smiled, thinking of my father’s favorite recipe—Penne alla Vodka, a perfect ending to our adventure.
Soon the kitchen was filled with mouthwatering aromas.
“Smells great, luv.” Gabe walked in and began to set the table, then opened a bottle of Umeracha Shiraz and poured us each a glass. We toasted to a great desert adventure and the warm feeling of being back home. I took a sip and allowed the thick wine to coat my palate. It brought back memories of my last visit to Australia. I looked at Gabe over the rim of my glass. “I will always associate this wine with meeting you.”
“I think we should skip eating.”
“Not tonight. I’m hungry.”
He reached for my hand, slowly pried my fingers from my glass, and brought them up to his mouth. His sensuous lips opened and closed around
my fingertips, and his teeth nibbled, shooting scalding flames of lust through my inner core. I took his face in my hands and brought his mouth a breath from my lips. I looked straight into his clouding eyes and lowered my mouth to brush his, barely giving him a taste.
“Gabe. Amore mio—you’re gonna have to wait because I’m hungry, and I would like to eat.” I rotated my hips against the hardness of his body that instantly responded to my teasing. I pulled away and sat in my chair. As if nothing had happened, I took a forkful of penne in my mouth and invited him to sit as well. He was staring back at me through thick eyelashes, his mouth parted, his eyes still clouded by desire.
“Eat up. It’s delicious,” I told him, chewing my first bite.
He sat, took a forkful of the penne, and brought it up to his lips. “Not as good as what I had in mind.”
“Try it and then tell me.” I knew he would love my sauce.
In no time, he had dusted his plate up and gotten up for seconds. I laughed and poured us more Shiraz. He returned to the table with a second plateful and asked me if I wanted more.
“No, thank you.” I leaned back and sipped the wine. “Don’t forget to mop up all that good sauce.”
He did and then offered me the first bite. I brushed his fingertips as I bit into the soaked bread and looked at him, silently promising dessert.
The mantle clock struck midnight.
“Come.” He offered me a hand.
Not worrying about cleaning up, we walked back into the bedroom where our hands spoke eagerly, silently.
*
We must not have moved at all during the night because the pale morning light found us deeply asleep in the same position. I stretched the full length of my body against his. Gabe’s solid arm wrapped around my waist, holding me tight. His heartbeat drummed softly against my curved back while his breath teased loose strands of my hair.
It tickled me.
I giggled.
He stirred, tightening the grip of his arm around me.
Among The Cloud Dwellers (Entrainment Series) Page 41
