Even in scruffy jeans, work boots, and a plaid flannel shirt halfway buttoned up over a salmon t-shirt, he looked remarkably suave and put together. His strides were long and purposeful, and I was surprised to see a broad smile on his face. His eyes quickly scanned the group of women in greeting, but his focus stayed on me until he was right in front of me, giving me no choice but to bring my chair to a stop. Isa, bless her heart, stayed with me, hands still gripping the handles at my back.
"Ani! Mia passerota!" Cosimo put his gloved hands on both armrests, leaned down, and kissed my cheeks in greeting. Without straightening, he smiled beatifically, his eyes locked on mine. "I am so glad you have come to join us on this fine day."
Isa cleared her throat meaningfully and Cosimo shot her a quelling look over my head.
"I am deeply sorry for my bad behavior last night. It was only that I was very worried for your safety because of the late hour and I had no way to reach you. Will you forgive me?"
Clearly, Cosimo wasn't one to hold grudges. And clearly, too, Isa had already given him the what-for about his part in the whole event.
"Of course," I said, my tone careful.
"Come, ladies!" He straightened suddenly and skirted my chair to take over for Isa. "We need your help, your sharp eyes, and your quick fingers." His cheerfulness actually grated on my nerves a little. Cosimo, for all his polish and style, epitomized a human chameleon. One minute throwing a temper tantrum, the next charming and sweet, and then a moment later, amorous and sensual.
He parked my chair under the shade of a tree already picked clean before taking Margarite's basket from me. He set it in the front seat of the truck to keep the bugs from getting to the food before the humans had a chance. I watched as all around me the activity resumed, the women finding their places in the well-oiled machine. As soon as the men were finished raking the olives from one tree, a few women worked to wind up the nets beneath it, scooping all the fruit into one corner and dumping the whole pile onto a blue plastic tarp to be sorted through. Then they'd spread the net beneath another tree farther along the row ahead of the men and their electric rakes and return to help with sorting, slipping right back into the middle of whatever conversation was going on. I joined Isa on the ground in front of one of the piles of olives to be sorted. Margarite sat her bulk on a low stool across from us, and others settled in around us. Claudia sorted olives, too, but she often rose to help with nets, to speak encouragingly to the men, to converse with her husband over the quality and quantity of the fruit. I could tell they were both deeply invested in the process, and I was glad to be able to slip into the proceedings with hardly a glitch.
Isa showed me what to look for, clucking sadly over the ratio of olives we were throwing away compared to what we kept. The crates around the tarp filled incrementally as we worked, and I grew accustomed to spotting evidence of the larva-riddled fruit without having to break them open, and by noon, I no longer even made a face when I saw one of the little white worms.
The whole large group sat companionably together to share in the glories of Margarite's food basket. Ham and cheese on ciabatta rolls, grilled vegetables on wooden sticks, fresh-squeezed lemonade so sweet and refreshing one couldn't help but let out an "Aaah!" after the first sip. She topped off the lunch with a surprise, having sent one of the young men up to the house to fetch a cooler already packed and waiting in the kitchen; coconut gelato topped with honey-glazed pear spears. I was tickled to cross one more flavor off my list.
Cosimo sat across from me with several of the younger men during the meal, but when Margarite began dishing up the frosty treats, he stood and helped serve them all around, insisting Claudia stay sitting. When everyone had a dessert, he came and sat down on the ground beside me. I glanced across at Franco, who'd been busy all morning and had only greeted me with a simple "Buon giorno, Anica." He nodded warmly at me now and went back to the conversation he'd been having with Benito.
"You have forgiven me, Ani?" Cosimo asked, his voice low, intended for my ears only. "Because I miss your eyes on me. Your hand in mine. Your kisses on my—"
"Cosimo, please," I muttered. "Not here." Not anywhere, I didn't say.
He reached out a long finger and ran it down the length of my thigh, making me twitch. "Later, then. Tonight. After the work is done for the day."
Oh great. Once again, it looked like Paulo had been right. Cosimo seemed to have gotten the wrong message about me. But I nodded politely, not wanting to make a scene, and didn't pull away when he reached up to tuck a loose curl back behind my ear.
"You look like a sunflower with your big hat. Like sunshine." He cupped my cheek briefly, and then rose with the others as they prepared to go back to work. "Until tonight, then, passerota."
By the time the last of the nets was rolled up for the day and the crates of good olives consolidated, I was feeling my rough night and the hours spent out in the sunshine. My nose was pink in spite of the repeated applications of sunscreen and my back hurt just like Isa had promised it would. But otherwise, I felt exonerated. Franco and Claudia made a point to thank me for my help, insisting I'd kept up with the rest of the women.
When we made it to the top of the driveway, we skirted the house to go in the back door from the terrace. The sun was just setting over the hills in the distance and we were greeted warmly by Margarite, who had a wonderful meal waiting for us. We all washed up quickly, and having discovered my crutches leaning against the foot of my bed, I headed back outside with them, happy to find that using them came a little easier today. We all sat down around the long table outside and ate ravenously of Margarite's fare.
I wondered with an aching heart what Paulo was doing, whose table he was sharing, and longed to have him here with me instead. I was desperate to know how things had ended last night between him and the two men at the Lazzaro table, and if he would come tomorrow afternoon as he'd planned, to help with the picking. I hoped he'd call me this evening.
Cosimo was behaving like a perfect gentleman, speaking respectfully to me, and refraining from any suggestive overtures. I couldn't tell if he was just tired, or if he was being careful, knowing that things between us had shifted. But in all honesty, I was too weary to care, and when dinner was over. I thanked my hosts for letting me share the experience of the day, hugged Margarite, who, to my pleasant surprise, had joined us for the meal, and hobbled inside, Isa following on my heels, ever the excellent hostess.
I decided a bath would help ease my stiff muscles before getting into bed. I owed the folks at home an email, and would tackle that afterward. I knew Tish would be just about climbing through the Internet if I didn't write her about my day with Paulo, but I wasn't sure what to tell her at this point. I needed to hear from Paulo.
"Is there anything else I can help you with, Ani?" Isa asked as she scanned the room.
"If... if Paulo calls, will you please come get me? Even if I've fallen asleep. I really would like to talk to him."
She cocked her head. "Why don't you call him? Would you like to use my phone?"
I thought about it for only a moment, and then nodded. "Do you mind?"
She laughed good-naturedly and hurried off to dig it out of her purse where she'd left it all day. When she returned, she wore a concerned expression. "Paulo has called three times today, Ani. Twice, there was no message. The last time he asked me to have you call him right away, that it was urgent. I am so sorry I did not check my phone earlier." She handed it to me, pointing to his number already pulled up on the screen. "That was almost four hours ago."
I thanked her, my mind spinning out of control. I lowered myself to the edge of the bed and hit the send button. Isa slipped out of the room to give me some privacy.
The phone rang five times, the foreign mee-beep reminding me of The Roadrunner cartoon, before going to Paulo's voicemail.
I left an apology for not getting back to him sooner, hung up, and tried not to worry. I waited a full five minutes before trying again. Again, it went to voicemail. I didn't leave another message.
I'd take a shower first, foregoing the bath for the sake of expediency, then try again, as long as Isa didn't need her phone. But twenty minutes later, the call went to voicemail, too.
Isa poked her head in a few minutes later, her eyes wide with questions.
"He isn't answering his phone," I told her.
"You keep it for now, Ani. If you do not hear from him tonight, you can try first thing in the morning. Or maybe you can try Madalina?" I had thought of phoning her already, but I didn't want to drag her into things prematurely, if at all. If the urgency was simply a result of how things had ended last night, she didn't need to know about it.
"Isa," I hesitated only briefly before plowing ahead. "I hate to ask, but did Cosimo tell you what happened last night? Or did your dad?"
"Nothing happened," she shrugged and crossed her arms against the quickly cooling night. "Papa told each one to go home to bed and they could sort things out on Friday when Paulo came again. Of course, Cosi was still angry, and I am certain Paulo was as well, but I do not think it has anything to do with his reason for calling now. He tried to call you on the house phone as well, leaving two similar messages."
I was too agitated to fall asleep right away, even as tired as my body was. My mind played out every imaginable scenario that could be labeled urgent. I sent an email to my parents telling them about the day in the groves, about the scenic drive I'd taken with Paulo yesterday, leaving out any of the mushy details, of course. Then I wrote to Tish and gave her the slightly filled out version of it all, only briefly touching on the blossoming romance, and not mentioning the discussion about long distance relationships. Nor did I mention the fact that Cosimo had been up and waiting for us.
At nine o'clock, I tried Paulo's number one more time. "Paulo, it's Ani again. I'm worried. Will you call me? Please? It doesn't matter how late it is." I sounded as anxious and uncertain as I felt, but I didn't care. We'd agreed we wanted honesty from each other yesterday, and if he was at all serious about pursuing a relationship with me of any kind, I couldn't do it any other way. I sat staring at the phone in my hand, willing it to ring, ring, ring.
Instead, there were three taps on my door. "Come in," I called, expecting Isa, checking to see if I'd heard anything yet.
Cosimo entered the room. He cleaned up nicely, I had to admit. His hair was still damp from a shower, swept back casually from his face, and the long, open-necked linen shirt he wore over black pants, sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, gave him a bit of an artist appeal. As much as he was not the man I wanted to see right now, I wasn't blind. And he was really, really easy on the eyes.
"Hi, Cosimo." I stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, but my crutches were sprawled on the blanket beside me, so unless he moved them, there wasn't room for him to sit next to me. He'd have to take my wheelchair or the chair in the corner. Or he could stand. I wasn't expecting visitors and I wasn't up for playing games tonight.
"Ani, it is a beautiful night. Will you come sit on the terrace with me for just a short while, or perhaps by the pool?" He must have sensed my wariness, because he stayed standing just inside the open door, thumbs hitched in his pockets, his shirt hem bunched up over his wrists.
I had no desire, whatsoever, to go sit down by the pool, though. Not only because of the memories it evoked from last weekend, but because the night had turned chilly, regardless of how beautiful it was. I should probably just tell him no, but I felt some obligation to at least be courteous to him. The household was still awake, and I supposed the terrace was the most public place to be. It was better than in here, regardless. I was surprised he was showing any discretion after he'd been so free with accessing my room in the past.
"Okay. For a little while. I'm waiting for a phone call, though. I'll have to take it if it comes through." There. That would give me an out if I needed one. I could always fake a call coming through if things got ugly.