CHAPTER 178: CHAPTER 178 STUCK CLOSE

The hair dryer was high-pitched wheeze rings in her ears as Danica brushed and brushed her hair beneath its heat. With each stroke her heartbeat settled to a more even pace.

He had sounded so strict.

But then she felt he didn’t mean to be. Lorenzo didn’t seem to be a bad man.

Danica finished her hair and knew that the only way to restore her equilibrium and forget about her troubles for a while was to play the piano. Music was her escape. It had been her only escape.

When she came back downstairs, Lorenzo had disappeared. She wondered where, but her fingers were itching to play. She sat down at the little white upright, lifted the lid, and with no preamble launched into her angry Bach Prelude in C Minor. The music blazed through the room in hues of brilliant orange and red, burning away any bad thoughts and setting her free.

When she opened her eyes, Lorenzo was watching her. “That was incredible,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” she said.

He took a step closer and stroke her cheek with the back of his finger, then tilted her chin up so she was lost in his magnetic gaze. His eyes were the most spectacular color. Up close she noticed that the irises were a darker green around the edge, while toward the dilating pupil, they were lighter, like a fern in the spring. When he leaned down, she thought he was going to kiss her. But he didn’t.

“I don’t know what I did to upset you,” He said.

She placed her fingers over his mouth, silencing him.

“You did nothing wrong,” she whispered. His lips pursed into a kiss against her fingertips, and she removed her hand.

“Well, if I did, I’m sorry. Now, do you want to go for a walk on the beach?”

She beamed at him. “Yes.”

“Okay. You need to wrap up warm.”

**************

*LORENZO*

Danica was impatient. She practically pulled me down the stony path. At the bottom we stepped onto the beach, and Danica could contain herself no more. She released my hand and ran toward the raging sea, her hat flying off and her hair whipping in the wind.

“The sea, the sea!” she cried, and twirled around, her arms in the air. Her earlier pique was forgotten, her smile was wide and her face bright, lit from within by her joy.

I strode across the coarse sand and rescue her discarded woolly hat.

“The sea!” she shouted again above the roar of the water, and she gesticulated wildly, her arms like a crazy windmill, welcoming each wave as it crashes to the shore.

It was impossible not to smile. Her unbridled enthusiasm for this first-time event was too appealing and too affecting. I grinned as she squealed and danced back to avoid the breakers on the shoreline. She looked ridiculous, dressed in oversize Wellingtons and an oversize coat.

Her face was flushed, her nose pink, and she was utterly breathtaking. My heart clenched.

She ran toward me with childish abandon and grabbed my hand. “The sea!” she cried once more, and dragged me to the crashing waves.

And I go willingly, surrendering myself to her joy.

**********

They walked hand in hand along the coastal path and stopped by an old ruin.

“What is this place?” Danica asked.

“It’s an abandoned tin mine.”

Danica and Lorenzo leaned against the chimney stack, staring out at a choppy sea that was crested with white surf as the chill wind whistled between them.

“It is so beautiful here,” she said. “It is wild. It’s calming.”

She was happier. She felt safe.

That was because she was with Lorenzo.

“I love this place, too. It’s where I grew up.”

“In the house where we are staying?”

“Yeah.”

“With your family?”

“Yes.” He answered.

“How many are you?”

“Just me. And my parents. I’m an only child.”

She noticed he looked reluctant to talk about his family so she didn’t push it.

“Come on, let’s walk into the village. We can have lunch.”

“Village?” Danica had seen no sign of any dwellings on their walk.

“Yeah. There’s a small village just over the hill. Popular with tourists.”

Danica fell into step beside him.

“The photographs in your apartment, are they from here?” she asked.

“The landscapes. Yes. Yes, they are.” Lorenzo beamed. “You’re very observant,” he added, and from his raised brows Danica could tell he was impressed.

She gave him a shy smile, and he took her gloved hand.

They emerged from the path onto a lane too narrow to have sidewalks. The hedgerows on either side were high but cut back from the road. The brambles and bare-twigged bushes were orderly and trimmed, and here and there they were covered in clumps of snow. They walked down and around a sweeping corner, and the village of Valon appeared at the bottom of the lane.

The stone and whitewashed houses were like nothing she had ever seen before.

They looked small and old, but charming nonetheless. The place wad quaint pristine with no trash anywhere.

Where she came from, there was garbage and construction debris on the streets, and most of the buildings were built from concrete.

At the waterfront two stone quays stretched out to embrace the harbor where three large fishing boats were moored.

Around the waterfront were a few shops, a couple of boutiques, a convenience store, a small art gallery, and two pubs. One called The Watering Hole, the other, The Two-Headed Eagle. A sign hung outside, bearing a shield Danica recognized. “Look!”

She pointed at the emblem. “Your tattoo.”

Lorenzo winked at her. “You hungry?”

“Yes,” she replied. “That was a long walk.”

“Good day, sir.” An elderly man in a black scarf, a green waxed coat, and a flat cap was leaving The Two-Headed Eagle. He was followed by a shaggy dog of indeterminate breed wearing a red coat with the name BORIS embroidered in gold across the back.

“Father Trewin.” Lorenzo shook his hand.

“How are you doing, young man?” He patted Lorenzo on the arm.

“Good, thank you.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. And who is this fine young lady?”

“Father Trewin, our vicar, may I introduce Danica, my...friend, visiting from overseas.”

“Good afternoon, my dear.” Trewin held out his hand.

“Good afternoon,” she said, shaking his hand, surprised and pleased that he would address her directly.

“And how are you enjoying this place?”

“It is lovely here.”

Trewin gives her a benign smile and turned to Lorenzo. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that we’ll see you at Sunday service tomorrow?”

“We’ll see, Father.”

“We lead by example, my son. Remember that.”

“I know. I know.” Lorenzo sounded resigned.

“Brisk day!” Father Trewin exclaimed, moving on from that subject. “Indeed.”

Trewin whistles to Boris, who had sat patiently waiting for their pleasantries to cease. “In case you’ve forgotten, service starts at ten sharp.” He gave them both a nod and headed on up the lane.

“Vicar is the priest, right?” Danica asked as Lorenzo opens the door to the pub and ushered her into the warmth.

“Yes. Are you religious?” he asked, surprising her.

“Of...”

“Good afternoon, sir,” said a large man with red hair and a complexion to match, interrupting their conversation. He stood behind an impressive bar that was hung with decorative jugs and pint glasses.

There was a burning log fire at one end of the pub and several wooden high-backed benches on either side of a line of tables, most of which were occupied by men and women who could be locals or tourists, Danica didn’t know. From the ceiling hang fishermen’s ropes, nets, and tackle. The atmosphere was warm and friendly. There was even a young couple kissing at the back.

Embarrassed, Danica looked away and stuck close to Lorenzo.