Runaway Love (6 page)

“Chhhamilton.”  Lorenzo's 'H' had a rough edge to it.

“That's better.   Now, one more time to make sure you get it right.”

The milk continued to jet from Gloria in bursts as Genie made her fingers follow Lorenzo's instructions.  She looked up at Lorenzo for approval in time to see him shaping his
lips to create the word.

Genie started to giggle.

Lorenzo was instantly infected especially when Domino forced his way in between them, snuffled and turned his head from side to side several times.  Their laughter soon escalated to the upper slopes of 'Mount Uncontrollable'.

Both had to catch their breath once the humour of the moment faltered - although the occasional spurt of giggling tended to lengthen the wind-down process. 

Eventually, Genie resumed squeezing the last drops of milk from Gloria's first teat.

“That's very good, Signorina 'Amilton,” Lorenzo said breathlessly.

  No, no, Lorenzo,” she said.  “Say it properly.  Hhhamilton.  It's Hhhamilton.”

“'Chhmilton,” he said, a grin breaking out.

“Ohhh!”

Lorenzo laughed.  “I'm making a joke with you,” he said.  “Hhhamilton.   Hamilton.  Hamilton.”

“You knew how to say it all the time.”

“You were very serious,” he said.  “I wanted to see you smile.”

“That's because milking cows is a serious business.”

“And a laugh is good,” Lorenzo said.  “Domino and I don't find things to laugh at much.  You brought laughter with you, Genie.”

“Flatterer,” Genie scoffed. 

“I mean it.  You are...how do they say?  A breath of fresh air.”

”As if the air isn't fresh enough up here already - except in the cow shed, that is.”  She patted the side of the bucket.  “So now, where do Gloria and I go from here?”

“You do the same with the other teats.”

They fell into an easy silence as Genie worked to complete her milking chore.  By the time she finished, she felt confident that she had become a skilled milkmaid.  She patted Gloria's rump.  ”There's a good girl,” she said.

Genie examined the milk in the bucket.  She's experienced a profound sense of achievement.  “That was quite something, she said.”  Looking up at Lorenzo, she saw the heart-flipping intense pleasure in his face.

“Brava, Genie,” he said softly.

She didn't know how clever it was, but Genie melted at his compliment.  Yes, she was used to receiving compliments.  But they were rarely genuine - if ever.

This one was.

She glowed. 

She stood up as Lorenzo lifted the milk-filled bucket.  It was such a good feeling - this moment of triumph - that she wanted things to be good between them. 

She also wanted to be able to trust him. 

“So, have you heard of us famous Hamiltons' before, Lorenzo?”  Her tone was casual but beneath, she could feel her tension rising.

“Your family is famous?”  His eyes widened in surprise.

“Not especially,” she said quickly, trying to downplay her comment.

“I don't think I have heard the name before.  If you are famous--”

“We're not.  It was just a figure of speech.”

He frowned.  “Why did you ask such a question?”

Genie shrugged.  “I have no idea.  Silly question really.  Forget I asked.”

“I will try to forget,” he said, nodding slowly.  “Sometimes, you confuse me, Genie.”

“That's because I'm confused most of the time.  Now,” she said, in an effort to change the subject, “what delights are you preparing for me next?”

“Of course.  Next.”  He held up the bucket. “We must not drink the milk like this.  I must take it to the machine to be pasteurised.”  He hung his head.  “I regret to say that I am ignorant of the fame you 'Amiltons' have.”

“You deliberately mispronounced my name, Lorenzo Calderon',” Genie scolded, deliberately dropping the final 'e' in his name as punishment.  “It's Hhhamilton.”  She stuck out her chin to simulate an imperious air. “If you're going to take my family name in vain, I shall forbid you ever to say it again.”

“Even if I let you milk Gertrude again?” 

Genie nodded once briskly and kept her smile in place.  “Even then.”

While Genie enjoyed the banter, she still wondered how truthful Lorenzo had been.  Others had lied to her in the past and, before she knew better, she had trusted them.   Such liaisons always ended in anger and recriminations.  Betrayal is a shattering experience and Genie had enough to last a lifetime. 

No more.

“I shall practice your name until I am perfect,” Lorenzo offered.

“Perfect.”

You're perfect now, Lorenzo Calderone.  At least as close as anyone can be.

And that kind of thinking, Genie Hamilton, makes this situation a perfect mess.

Chapter Nine

Over the following days, Genie settled into helping Lorenzo on a regular basis.  Her previous plan hadn't worked out.  Lorenzo was an accomplished cook and insisted on practicing his kitchen skills every day.  Therefore, Genie realized that the only way she could compensate for her keep was to help out on the farm.

While she'd never been afraid to get her hands dirty, farm-style dirty hands were of a variety she would have preferred to avoid. 

Nevertheless, this particular dirty-hands medicine definitely went down easier with a spoonful of Lorenzo. 
He was still curious about her, however, and dropped the occasional direct, or indirect, question into the conversation.  Sometimes, caught off guard, Genie responded.  At other times, she managed to field those with a joke, or an abrupt change of subject.  Each time, Lorenzo had gone along with her.

Nevertheless, it was a little unsettling at times.  While she understood his curiosity, and even berated herself for her paranoia and her churlishness for not being more open, past, bitter experiences created a strong wall that was difficult to breach from either side.

Conversely, despite the forbidding-looking fence; despite the towering mountains; despite the blocked pass, she felt she could breathe.  She felt a sense of freedom and safety, stronger than she had experienced in a long time. 

The brilliant sunshine of the previous few days helped.  It was notching up the temperature a degree or two.  The air was still crisp but the snow on the ground began to show signs so losing its fight to stick around until spring proper.

“I'll bet the skiers are worried,” she told Lorenzo, with a short laugh that was meant to disguise the sense of disappointment rising in direct proportion to the melting snow.  If the snow was thawing in Lorenzo's yard, then it would also be thawing at the pass.   She may have to leave earlier than expected.

These mixed feelings about leaving served to cause her some disquiet.  “I'll be all right when the time comes,” she told herself without conviction.  

In the meantime, life on the farm was made all the more palatable by Lorenzo.

From the start, he had welcomed her involvement and delighted in showing her how to do
many of the daily tasks necessary to keep a small farm going.  Whatever the activity, Genie got a big charge out Lorenzo's encouraging statements.  He commended her for every success.   She loved it and basked in the open pleasure on his face.  She found that wanting to please him drove her to immerse herself in making a success of each new task. 

The sense of achievement was okay but Lorenzo's praise was icing on the cake.

Just being with Lorenzo was icing on the cake.

“I could get used to this,” she kept telling herself.

Although most of the time, they went about their daily tasks separately, given the size of Lorenzo's estate, they were never very far from each other and Genie sought every opportunity to keep Lorenzo in sight.  She soon worked out his routine and re-ordered her's so she could be relatively close to him and keep up an ongoing banter.  

Besides that, if she got into trouble, he was close at hand to rescue her.  She tried her little-girl-lost routine once or twice just to have him near her.  After a while, however, she could see by his smile that he knew exactly what she was up to, so she had to change her tactics.   After all, if she cried wolf too often, when she really needed help, he may be slow to respond - if at all.

No. 

He'd respond.

Right away.

He always did.

“I
am
getting used to this.”

Lorenzo aside, Genie's natural curiosity motivated her to get a kick out of this new lifestyle.  There were so many things to explore that were totally outside her experience.  “Try anything once,” had long been her watchword.  The thought that her 'mantra' might include working on a farm would have taken a million light years, in her former life, to present the merest glimmer seen through the most powerful telescope on earth, to come within sight of her mind.

“Can't think what I'll do with farming skills back home,” she told Lorenzo during an egg hunt in the barn.  Genie had turned egg collecting into a contest to see who could collect the most.  Even with Domino's help - he had nosed out three - Genie was two behind Lorenzo.

“Perhaps you could take them up as a hobby,” he said.  “Be a spare-time farmer.”  

“Fat chance,” Genie scoffed.  “Where I live, I'd have to travel a long, long way to find a farm, let alone work on one.”

“That sounds like an excuse.”

“There speaks a man who has a farm en-suite.”  She tossed her head back to show how offended she was. “Anyway, I’ve never seen you do anything else besides work around the farm.  What about your spare time.  Just what does a Lorenzo Calderone do in his spare time?”  She launched herself at the white oval shape nestling in some straw.  “Got one,” she said.

“Brava.”

“So?” she said, scanning the floor.  “Surely you like to do something else to take your mind off work.”

“I have no time for hobbies,” he said.

“All work and no play, as they say, makes Lorenzo a dull boy.”

“I'm a dull boy now, am I?”  He mimicked Genie's offence gesture.

“No. That's not what I meant–“

“I know the saying.”  He shrugged.  “I used to paint.”

“Paint?  What?  Houses and stuff.”

“In a way.”

“In a way?” Genie said, planting herself in front of him.  “What sort of answer is that?”

“A sort of honest one.”  He gave her an innocent grin.

Genie wrestled with the usual devastating effect. 

“And I'm also sort of honest when I tell you that have more eggs than you - even though there are two of you.”

“Bragger.” Genie threw herself back into the game.  “Andiamo Domino.  More, more.” 

Besides egg hunts, there were those other special times.  They made joint assaults on the greenhouse to select vegetables for evening meals.  Even the walk-in cold room felt warmer when they were together.  Despite that, they spent as little time as possible choosing meat.

The first time Genie had seen the vast array of different meats in the cold room she accused Lorenzo of unnecessary animal slaughter.

“I don’t kill animals,” he said.

“Then how--?

“I buy it.  There is much here now because it is winter.”

“I’m sorry.” Genie said.  “It’s just that I hate the thought of killing animals?”

“And do you eat meat?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then we are both hypocrites.”

Within a very short time after Genie’s arrival, she and Lorenzo established a routine.  As the working day slipped over the horizon with the sun, Genie accompanied Lorenzo in the kitchen honing her Italian-style cooking skills.

While her prowess in the kitchen improved rapidly, her Italian language skills moved at a much slower pace.  Lorenzo schooled her where he could and she used what she knew at every opportunity.  Meanwhile, Lorenzo's English, thanks to constant usage, improved in leap and bounds.

Three weeks into her enforced stay, two big changes occurred.

First, Lorenzo delivered some great news. “That phone call was from my friend Commissario of Police Testa.  He has your robbers in prison and has in his possession your camera, passport and credit cards.”

“Oh how wonderful, Lorenzo, Genie said.  “I can't believe it.”

“He is very devastated that they had spent all your money before he could catch them.”

“Oh, who cares about money?  Tell him I could hug him.”

“He'd enjoy that, but perhaps, it's best not to offer.  He may expect you to honour your promise.”

“He deserves it.”

“He told me he will personally make sure your stolen items are kept safe.  You can collect them from him when you are ready.”

“Thank you so much, Lorenzo,” she said.

“Niente,” he said. “Nothing.”

“Yes it was.  It was everything.”  She reached out and brushed down his upper arm gently.  “All this...everything you've done...everything.  Thank you.”   She tip-toed and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“The Italian way is both cheeks,” he said, offering his ignored cheek and sporting a grin than can only be described as roguish.

“Far be it from me to ignore tradition,” Genie said, and honoured the Italian way.

That evening, still buoyant from the good news, Genie
took over the kitchen.

“Out, out,” she said, ushering Lorenzo towards the door.  “The kitchen is mine this evening.”

“No, no, no,” Lorenzo said in mock protest, putting up only mild resistance.  “I'm too young to die.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”  She used the door to assist in ejecting Lorenzo.  “You'd better find your First Aid box while you're waiting.”   She shut the door.  “Just in case,” she shouted.

After pausing for a few moments listening at the closed door to make sure Lorenzo moved away, she rubbed her hands together vigorously and set to work. 

She'd already raided the cold room for some beef to grind up and the greenhouse for tomatoes, onion, peppers, and parsley.  This, together with the cheese and pasta that was always available, she soon produced a succulent baked spaghetti.

Genie's ultimate reward was the delight on Lorenzo's face as he wrapped his mouth and tongue around the first forkful.  She thought it made the effort worthwhile - in spades.

“Excellent,” he said.  “Complimenti.”

“Grazie,” Genie responded.

“I believe I will not need to dress up warm this evening,” he said.  “When I go out to secure everything for the night, your pasta will keep me warm all by itself.”

“I'll come out with you.”

“No, Genie,” he responded waving his hand over the remains of their evening meal.  “Tonight, you are in charge of the kitchen, non è vero?”  Standing up, he added, “Just make sure there's a hot coffee waiting for me when I come back.”

“Yes Master,” Genie said.  Me too.  I'll be waiting for you to come back.