We drove through small clusters of houses separated by short stretches of wooded hillsides, pulling over at will to take in the vistas before us. The orderly groves and orchards were fewer and farther between and the native flora pressed in on either side of the road. The wet summer had kept things growing and thriving much longer than usual, and everything was still green and lush, in spite of October being halfway gone already. But when there were breaks in the trees, the world lay spread out at our feet, and we didn't hesitate to stop and take it all in. The world seemed peaceful and timeless as we made our way along the mountain road. The sun arched up into the sky, stretching toward its zenith, casting an autumnal glow over everything before us. The constant presence of the Lima River ducking in and out of sight made me feel like we were dance partners, pressing together then pulling apart again.
After Romigi's sad story, we moved to gentler tales from our childhood, and when we'd been on the road for over an hour, Paulo voiced another question I'd been dreading all day.
"So, Ani. Do you have a boyfriend back home in America?"
The question in and of itself was harmless enough. I dreaded it because my answer would only lead to more questions, and I was so thoroughly enjoying myself that I didn't want to head down that extremely rocky road. I took a fortifying breath and let it out with my answer.
"No." I didn't look at him, but the silence in the truck made me want to cover my ears. And then my mouth to hold back the words that were inching their way forward from the back of my throat. I knew what he was trying to do by letting the silence linger. And my instinct was to fill that void with incriminating words. Finally, I simply threw it back at him.
"What about you? Do you have a girlfriend back home in America? Or here?" I still didn't fully understand the relationship between him and Madalina, but I didn't think they were officially an item.
"No."
Great. That worked like a charm. But as luck would have it, just then the river came into view again. I began expostulating on the whimsy and beauty of it, and Paulo, clearly as enthralled by it as he'd claimed to be, smiled broadly at my exuberance.
"I wish there was a way we could go down there," I sighed.
"Actually, we are almost to La Lima where we must leave the river behind. There is a place right before the town where we can get to the water. Would you like that? And maybe we will have something to eat while we are there." He patted the rattan basket beside him. "And I have a surprise for you when we get there."
Several minutes later, he veered the little truck off the highway onto a narrow road that zigzagged back and forth to rival Lombard Street in San Francisco. I just held on. We passed a few buildings, perhaps a few homes, and soon reached the end of the road that dumped us onto a grassy patch sloping down to the rocky riverbank. Paulo parked, came around to my side with my wheelchair, and held it steady for me while I managed to clamber into it with some finesse, Margarite's basket on my lap. He pushed me as far as he could before the ground under us became too soft and I made him stop and pull me back away from the pebbly sand to where the grass started. There was a sturdy looking table, but no bench, beneath a tree close by and he offered to park me in the shade, but I wanted to sit in the sun for a few minutes first.
"Sit and enjoy." Paulo took the food basket from me and set it on the ground beside my chair. I closed my eyes and tilted my face up to a gentle breeze.
We were the only people down there and the rushing sound of the river seemed to ebb and flow hypnotically around me. Nature's soundtrack. The leaves in the nearby trees swishing against each other, the burbling of the water where it ran shallow over rocks close to shore, a myriad of different bird songs punctuating the ceaseless motion of the current.
"This is a good time to sit with your eyes closed, I think." Paulo murmured beside me. I didn't open them, but grinned appreciatively. After a few moments, I turned to find him seated on the ground beside my chair in much the same basking posture as mine, his eyes closed, too, arms resting on his knees.
Paulo Durante was decidedly much more appealing to me today than he'd been on the train. He was much more appealing to me than he'd been the day he rescued me on the wall around Lucca. And he was even more appealing to me than he'd been in my drunken languor at Lazzaro's poolside. And at l'Aurora when he stole my pastries. And in the olive grove when he explained invaiatura. More than on the terrace just a few hours ago. Every time I saw him, in fact, he became more appealing to me than he'd been the last time.
Oh, Ani. What are you thinking, girl?
Paulo opened his eyes and caught me staring at him. I blushed—I could feel it—but I didn't look away.
"What are you thinking about, Ani?" he asked, echoing my words almost verbatim.
Well, I wasn't going to tell him that. "Paulo, thank you for this chair, for thinking of me, even when I wasn't kind to you. You went out of your way for me, and I still don't fully understand why, except that you're an all or nothing kind of guy. But I don't think I've properly thanked you for this, for last week, for everything. So, well, I mean, thank you." I pressed a palm to my chest. I could feel my heart thudding a bit madly beneath my palm. "You constantly surprise me, you know?"
He cocked his head at that, brows furrowed in question. "Why do you say that? I am an open book. Predictable as sunshine in Tuscany." He waved a hand heavenward.
I shrugged with one shoulder. "Maybe you are. But maybe that's why you catch me by surprise so often. You seem to be exactly who you say you are, and I keep waiting for—no, expecting—you to do something that proves you're not. But you surprise me again and again by not living up to my expectations." I snorted at how silly that sounded, but it was the truth.
He turned to gaze out over the water, a small smile tugging on one corner of his mouth. After a few moments, he said, "I think perhaps that is the best compliment anyone has paid me in a very long time, Ani." We both spoke a little louder than usual to be heard above the rush of the water, but his voice was husky, catching on my name, and I looked away. "I hope I never live up to your expectations." He reached over and ran a finger down the side of my calf, stopping at the top of my boot. "I will try to keep surprising you."
Then he reached into his back pocket, pulled out an envelope, and laid it on my lap. "Surprise."
"My credit card!" I exclaimed, ripping the flap open and pulling the tri-folded insert out. Glued to the page was a shiny new plastic card with the boxy VISA logo emblazoned across it. Holding it up, I chortled gleefully. "Look, Paulo! I have money! Now I can buy us lunch today!"
He smiled and nodded, but said, "You are not buying lunch today, Ani."
I wrinkled my nose at him and clutched the card to my chest, considering what this meant. I had my passport, I had my license, and now I had access to cash. All I was waiting for was clearance from my doctor—what was his name again?—and I could... go... home. Like a balloon with a tiny pinprick, I felt myself deflating, suddenly wishing for more time here, more time to get to know this man beside me. Something in his expression made me ache to reach over and touch him, and when he looked away toward the water, I could see his throat working like he was swallowing hard.
"Thank you," I murmured. "Did you get this from Isa or did you go ask Cosimo for it?" I cringed at the thought of the latter.
Paulo guffawed, but it wasn't really a friendly sound. "No. I did not ask Cosimo for it. Not even if you paid me." He picked up a smooth pebble from the ground beside him and rolled it between his two palms. "When I told Isa about our plans, she thought you might want it today for our drive, in case you saw something you could not do without. So last night I went to her place to pick it up for you."
"And there you go, surprising me yet again." I tucked everything back into the envelope it'd come in and slipped the whole thing inside the small clutch I was using, an extra purse I'd packed for when I needed something small. It wasn't ideal for a day like this, but it was better than using Madalina's method.
Neither of us said anything for several long minutes, but finally, he rose and stretched his arms over his head, filling his lungs with air. It took every ounce of willpower, but I kept my eyes glued on the far bank, glad for what little peripheral vision we humans had. Then he scooped up the basket from the ground between us, made for the table under the tree, but didn't quite clear the back of my chair, jostling me a little when he bumped into me. He released an embarrassed grunt, and I bit my lip to keep from giggling at his clumsiness. It was nice to know I wasn't the only flustered one here today. I did turn to watch him walk away and sat up straight, frowning.
"Paulo, are you limping?"
He grinned at me over his shoulder, his expression almost guilty. "Only a little, cucciola."
"Your toe?" I recalled how awful it had looked yesterday. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten all about it. And the poor guy had been driving with a clutch for the last hour or more. "How bad is it?"
Paulo grimaced as he said, "Well, it was tolerable until I kicked the wheelchair with you in it just now."
"Oh, no!" I released the brakes and maneuvered across the bumpy grass toward him. When he sat gingerly on the edge of the table instead of rushing to help me, I knew he was hurting badly.
"Why didn't you say anything this morning?" I asked and drew up in front of him. "We could have taken this drive another day. I'm going to be here for at least another week, you know."
He leaned forward to look me in the eye, bracing both hands on the edge of the table on either side of him. "I am fine, Ani. Just give me a few minutes and some of Margarite's food. I'm fine," he repeated.
"No, you're not, Mr. Tough Guy. Right now, you're pitiful. Look at you, all sweating and shaky."
"I am not shaking. And I am only sweating because I had to push you in the soft sand, and regardless of what your Cosimo says, you are not a little sparrow." He puffed out his cheeks and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.
"Ah. Still not funny." I rolled my eyes.
"Hm. I will have to try harder then."
I crossed my arms and scowled at him. "And he's not my Cosimo."
His eyebrows went up a little, but he let that go. "I think perhaps you are more of a swallow than a sparrow, Ani, fearlessly flying so far from home." He reached over and tugged on one of my curls.
"Nice save, Paulo. Nice save. So seriously, do you think you'll be able to drive?" If he couldn't, we might be stranded after all. Perhaps not on a desert island, but stranded all the same. Although, glancing around me, I could think of worse places to be stranded. And worse companions to be stranded with.
"I can drive. You do not have to look so afraid." He chuckled.
"Well. Good. Fine." Suddenly flustered, I dug around inside my purse, retrieved my travel-sized tube of ibuprofen and poured out a few of the little red tablets into my hand. The basket of goodies sat close at hand on the table beside Paulo and I flipped open the lid and reached for the bottle of water. After unscrewing the cap, I took a dainty sip to wet my suddenly dry mouth, and handed it to Paulo, along with the pills.
He took them all without arguing, guzzling almost a third of the water before setting it down on the table beside him. He eyed me stubbornly. "Stop looking at me like that."
I didn't stop. "We should go home. You need to put your foot up. You need ice. You might need to get that x-rayed. We can do this another day."
"We will take it easy going home. We have time, yes? And remember, I am determined. And stubborn."
"Paulo."
"Ani."
"Don't 'Ani' me. You are hurt. I'm serious."
"Don't 'Paulo' me. I am serious, too. It is onetoe on one foot. I only use it when I need to shift gears and it is a very easyclutch, I promise."