Runaway Love (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The magical moments on the ice - the intimacy of the day - melted the instant they drove Genie's Mercedes away from Federico's garage.  They had been distracted by Federico's colourful tour of the work he had undertaken to transform her car into showroom 'newness'.  But, the moment she turned on the engine and put the car in motion, Genie experienced a subtle change in temperature.  She felt it.  She sensed Lorenzo felt it too.

The Mercedes signalled Genie's final step to freedom.  Now, she had the means to leave whenever she wanted to.

Until now, she had a comfortable excuse.  Without a car, the avalanche might just as well be still blocking the pass. 

Not anymore.

They drove in silence as Genie struggled with 'whens'.

When should she tell Lorenzo?

When should she drive away?

When will she make up her mind?

When her plan to tell Lorenzo she intended to leave the following day popped up, her heart protested.  It wrenched so fiercely, it jerked her body.

“Oh!”

“Something wrong?” Lorenzo asked.

“Genie shook her head.  “No.  I'm all right.” She didn't know how to explain what happened, so she didn't try.  With the heavy silence broken, however, Genie made an attempt to shift their respective moods.  “This was a lovely day, Lorenzo.  Thank you.”

Lorenzo smiled and played his part in the mood shift. “I'm glad we could find the time to go,” he said.  “It was very refreshing.  What is the expression?  Just what the Doctor ordered.  Is that right?”

“It's right - and you're right,” Genie said.

The conversation died and the black mood enveloped them once again.

As they drove through the gates of Lorenzo's farm, Genie decided that it would be the height of discourtesy to leave immediately after such a lovely day.  Okay, so she had her car back.  Yes, she could drive away whenever she wanted to.  But, it didn't have to be right away.  After all, as Lorenzo said, she had choice now.

Choice.  That's it.  She could choose when.

It didn't have to be the next day.

No.  Of course not.  In a day or two, perhaps, when things have settled back to normal.  Then would be the best time.

She felt better already. 

“I'll reward you for making this day so special,” she said to Lorenzo, “by cooking tonight's dinner.”

“After so much exercise, I believe I could eat a whole pig.”

“Pork it is, then.”

In the days that followed, things returned to normal.  Nevertheless, the kiss, the ice dance, and the presence of Genie's Mercedes hovered, unspoken, in the background.  There were times...hesitations.  The occasional lingered gaze.  Heart-racing, breath-stopping moments.  Should-they, shouldn't-they moments. 

Nevertheless, reality always intervened.  Both knew that Genie would be leaving soon.  Why take things to a high level only to be left with deep wounds.  On each occasion, both stepped back from the brink and those opportune moments fizzled out.

From time to time, she allowed thoughts about leaving amble through her mind - testing them, observing how they felt.  The involuntary long shuddering sighs told her.  Leaving did not feel good.  The image of her waving goodbye to Lorenzo and Domino almost brought her to tears.

“Silly,” she berated herself.  “I can't stay here forever.”

Could she? 

Mucking out the cow shed, hunting for eggs, milking the goat - forever? 

She tried to dismiss the 'forever' concept with a shake of her head.  It stubbornly refused to erase itself.

“Come on, Hamilton.  A farmer's life is not for you, and you know it.  I'll go when it seems right for Lorenzo and me.”

As each day revealed itself, Genie fell into the habit of creating some memories of her snowed-in experience.  In between her designated chores, she made a photographic record of the farm, the house and the various beings - human and animal that inhabited it.  Many of the photos included Lorenzo - both posed and candid, and somehow, Domino managed to get into most of them.  He turned out to quite a camera hound.

Now and then, no doubt tired of being the model, Lorenzo insisted on taking photographs of her and Domino.  She didn't resist too much.  After all these images are going to be all she'll be left with when she returned home.

About mid-morning of the third day, Il Commissario, “call me Bernardo,” Testa arrived.  He wasted no time in seeking and receiving attention from the camera's beady eye.  Exuding his rank, he posed with an imperious air.  He stood at attention, uniform immaculate, cap beneath his arm, and jaw thrust forward not unlike a certain Italian dictator of yesteryear.  However, occasionally, Genie managed to grab a few candid shots of a more relaxed
Bernardo.

  Later, she learned two things about San Rafaele's illustrious Commissario di Polizia.  First, he was an inveterate flirt.  Posing for Genie gave him the opportunity to bask in her attention.  On- and off-camera, he flirted good-naturedly - full of Italian male hubris - and with outrageous humour.  Even Lorenzo laughed at his antics.

Although Genie fielded his attention with grace and touch of humour where appropriate, she would have liked Lorenzo to show at least a smidgeon of jealousy.

  However, later, Genie learned the second thing about Bernardo - confirming Lorenzo's earlier comments that he was a dyed-in-the-wool matchmaker.

While Lorenzo was out of sight, hunting for a bottle of - as Bernardo put it - “Il vino eccelenti del Signor Lorenzo,” he sat down close to Genie and patted the back of her hand.  “Everyone in San Rafaele talks about you,” he announced.

“What about?” Genie said sharply, alarm bells ringing.  Could they have found out about her?

He made a serious nod. “They say how wonderful it is that you have made Signor Lorenzo live again.”

Genie's sigh of relief was almost audible.  “Is that all...I mean, really?”  She shrugged.  “I don't know about living again.  We are only friends.  That's all.”  Why did she say that?

“Good.  He needs a close friend...a close friend who is a woman.”

“Yes, but--”

“Mio amico, Lorenzo will be very sad if you leave,” Bernardo interrupted, driving in a large nail.  “But I am a practical man.  In my experience, I meet many people who do things that make them sorry later. 

“Yes, I'm sure,” Genie said uncertainly.

“But, if you believe you really must leave mio amico,” he continued, “I will be honoured to personally attend to your safety - if you must leave us.”

“Thank you, Bernardo.”

“Everyone will be sad, if you leave,” he said.  “Even I.  I will be very sad.”  He shook his head.  “But most of all, mio amico Lorenzo will be very, very sad if you leave.”

His English was far from perfect, but it was obvious that he knew the effects of stressing “if”.  It was working too.  Genie experienced a stab in the heart every time he used it.

“I wonder what's taking Lorenzo so long,” she said, eager to change the subject. “Perhaps I'd better go--”

“No.  Un attimo.”  He retrained Genie with a light touch on her arm. “Since Anna,” he continued, “You know Anna, his wife?”

Genie nodded.

“She is dead now.”

Genie repeated her nod.

“When she die, mio amico, Lorenzo, he die too. 
He is much loved in San Rafaele and everyone sad there too.”  He shook his head to show his sadness. 

Genie remained silent to respect Bernardo's sad moment.

Suddenly, he broke out in a wide grin, lighting up his face with a brightness that threatened to eclipse the sun. “Now you come.  You come and he lives again.” He laughed briefly. “Now everyone in San Rafaele happy again because mio amico Lorenzo is happy.”

“We...I..,” Genie started, wrestling with her true feelings about Bernardo's matchmaking.  On the one hand, she felt trapped.  It was just like home.  Everyone tried to match her with passing males there too. 

On the other hand, on this occasion, the other half of the match was Lorenzo.

That was a whole different story.

Bernardo patted the back of Genie’s hand. “You are good for mio amico Lorenzo,” he said.  “But, he will be very sad if you leave.”

The good Commissario missed out a 'very' that time, but, he didn't leave out that 'if'.  It had all the effects of Chinese water torture, dripping incessantly on the same spot on her head.  She felt the beginnings of a headache.

Genie took a deep breath and blew it out slowly through pursed lips.  What could she say?  Nothing.  She opted for something simple.  “I wonder what's taking Lorenzo so long.”

Bernardo nodded and patted the back of her hand again in a fatherly way.  'Mission accomplished' was written all over his face.

Two more days passed and Genie and Lorenzo somehow avoided the topic of her departure.

There was a slight change in the general activities, however.  When work permitted - more truthfully, with Lorenzo's good grace - Genie took time out from her duties to pay an occasional visit to San Rafaele. 

From the first visit, Bernardo's lecture about the local depth of pleasure the 'San Rafaelians' felt about her as 'La Signorina di Lorenzo' was borne out.  She was bowled over by the attention of local members of the populace.  They treated her as though she had been around all her life, engaging her in vigorous, friendly conversation.

“I ran away from all that attention only to get more of it here,” Genie told herself.

But, she had to admit - this kind of attention was a lot more pleasant. 

These people appeared to be genuinely pleased, even excited, to see her - and their enthusiastic demeanour rubbed off on her.  They didn't have hidden agendas - at least not as far as Genie could tell.  They appeared to take her at face value.

What a blessing that was.

The resultant rapport deepened by the second as they worked at trying out their English with various levels of success, and Genie responded with her limited Italian.  Their mutual linguistic efforts brought much amusement.

“You have become quite famous in San Rafaele, it seems,” Lorenzo said.

“Ah no,” Genie retorted.  “I am only basking in the glow of your fame.  Without you, I'd be just another tourist.”

During subsequent visits, Genie’s chats with the locals became increasingly long and complex and the early casual acquaintances swiftly blossomed into real and open friendships. 

As a result, Genie fell into an unreal state.  It was easy to believe that this was her life now.  Indeed, as immersed as she was in the companionship of Lorenzo and the genuine friendliness of the San Rafaelians, she had found it difficult to even think about it ending.

On every visit, Genie made a point of visiting Fabiana and Violetta.  Sometimes it was to engage Fabiana to take care of her hair, and even to make the odd purchase from Violetta, but mostly her visits were social. 

It hadn't taken her long to find a shop that had the capacity to print digital pictures.  The owner knew who she was, of course, and immediately rocketed her discs to the top of the pile.  Since her happy-snapping had taken up all her discs, she bought four more, just in case.  There was no way she was going to destroy the precious images of Lorenzo and Domino on the discs she had.  She'd download them onto her computer when she got home.

Right away, she sorted out the pictures she'd taken of San Rafael's finest at the Questura.  Sergeant Antonelli almost snapped to attention when he saw her and called everyone together to look through the photographs.  Bernardo with his usual sixth sense fully charged, trotted down the stairs a few seconds after her arrival. 

He paid close attention to those, taken at Lorenzo's farm - particularly the photos of him and Genie together. 

“Better not let your wife see those,” Genie said.

At first, Il Commissario frowned, probably weighing up whether or not it would be a good idea.  Then a smile broke out.  “She will like.  She has a - how you say - a wide mind.”

Genie managed to control a smile and her tongue.  Correcting Il Commissario's English in front of his men would not go down well at all.

Seeing the open enjoyment of these men shuffling through their photographs made her think of her own feelings studying Lorenzo's paintings.  How she wished Lorenzo would start painting again.

Her promise with Anna, She had to fulfil it.

“Bernardo,” she said, “is there an Art supplies shop around here anywhere?”

He furrowed his brow.

“You know a place that sells paints - for Lorenzo?” She moved her hands to trace out a square shape.  “Paintings?”

“Ah.  Comprendo.  Quadri.” He moved his lips like an opera singer in preparation for getting them around foreign words.  “Pain...tings.  Si, si.”  He moved towards the door and beckoned.  “Come.  Come.  I show you.” 

The Art Supplies shop was a mere three minutes walk.  Bernardo insisted on coming in with her and delivered an official-sounding instruction to the bemused elderly shop owner.  Genie, once again, heard the immortal words, “La Signorina di Signor Lorenzo.”  With that, the owner nodded at Genie, kissed her hand.