His curls bobbed when he shook his head. “My father does not allow pictures. The villagers know that. They have been warned.” He still held the phone. And he was dangerously close to the fountain.
The villagers had all disappeared. What was this? “All right. No need to get dramatic. I won’t take a picture.” I held out my hand.
Slowly, he handed my phone back and stood waiting until I shoved it into my bag.
“Please understand,” Gregorio said slowly. “My father likes to remain ‘below the radar.’ That’s how it looks at it. I am so glad you have come here, Signora. But we have rules. My father was very worried about my future. Especially after Reginaldo.” He sat down next to us. Once again, we were a threesome.
“What about Reginaldo?” I had to ask.
“My father thinks his time with me was useless.”
I cringed. Would I have to weigh every academic choice I made? No way did I want to be judged “useless.”
“This is the best day I’ve had in a long time,” he said so seriously that my heart went out to him. “Do not make a mistake. Please.”
Now, that sounded ominous. The sun slid behind a cloud and the landscape dimmed.
After ten minutes or so, the limo arrived. If Milo thought it strange to see Gregorio’s haul of fruit and vegetables, he said nothing. The bags were stowed in the trunk. All the way back to the castle the car was filled with their earthy, fresh smell.
By the time we reached the castle, my excitement had mellowed into exhaustion. The day had been full––from class and the dungeons to meeting Marco’s girlfriend and the trip to town. With a huge yawn, Lexi disappeared. Making my way through the cool, quiet halls, I eventually found the kitchen.
“May I please have a tray tonight in my room?” I asked Constanza, the cook. This called for a lot of hand gestures. Thank goodness a tray was sitting on a side table. She was shelling peas at the kitchen sink, her arms and hands brown from the sun.
“Si, si.” With a wave of her hand, she nodded.
“And one for my daughter?” I added.
“But of course.”
“Thank you.” On my way to the room, it hit me that the staff probably watched our every move. Anyone from outside might be viewed as a possible threat.
The elevator seemed to move so slowly. Falling back against the rich wooden paneling, I inhaled Marco’s cologne, a heady mix of man and a rich spicy scent no doubt brought from far away.
The Orient. Or the moon.
Maybe I’d gotten sunstroke today.
Later, stretched out on my bed after a quick dinner tray, I relived my day. Maybe I should have been intimidated by everything I’d seen. The tower, the dungeon and nearly having my phone taken away…again. But nervous excitement kept me sleepless. I wandered to my balcony more than once to stare at the moon and eat truffles.
9
The soft summer air held a hint of moisture as I made my way to the stables. Had it rained during the night? The grass looked dewy and the bushes drooped with moisture. To have so much greenery around me felt like a gift. Reaching out a hand, I swept the leaves of what looked like a camellia bush. Yes, definitely damp. I pressed my wet palm to my dry jeans.
This place was pretty darned amazing. If I were home right now, I’d be walking briskly around my neighborhood for exercise before heading off to teach summer school classes. But my neighborhood never looked like this–naturally wild and beautiful. No cheery little brick homes were set along the pathway. No black mailbox sat waiting for the mail carrier who always came promptly at two thirty. No, this was another world.
And I had no place in it. Not really.
Staring down at my boots, I was glad I’d tossed them into the suitcase. My instincts had been right, even though they almost took me over the weight limit. Horseback riding certainly hadn't been on my mind when I left home.
“Good morning Rudolfo.” I greeted my elderly teacher as I entered the stable.
His face creased into a sunburst of wrinkles, his faded blue eyes twinkling. “Good morn-ing.” I smiled at the effort he made to speak English.
Inhaling, I savored the rich smell of hay, horses and everything that went with them. Strange how I was coming to enjoy the stables.
When I first suggested the riding lessons to Lexi, she would have no part of it. She was in eighth grade, the age when other girls can be cruel. Baring her arms during the summer had about killed her. Although we’d worked for months with a therapist after the accident, Lexi still didn’t accept them. Could I blame her? How would I feel to have the purplish burns running up my arm? And I did not want to subject her to more surgery. Acceptance was the only route and maybe some more grafts when Lexi was ready.
Rudolfo disappeared into Tesoro's stall. I could hear her nicker softly. On my way out, I’d stopped in the kitchen to grab some carrots. Now I pulled them out of my shirt pocket.
