The House by the Cypress Trees

by Elena Mikalsen

  He observed her for a few minutes, his skin itching with nerves, wondering how bad a decision he was making. In the end, the idea of drinking his wine alone and beating himself up all evening about the meeting and losing yet another girlfriend still didn’t seem appealing.

  “Hey, Julia,” he called out from the stairs, his stomach suddenly flipping.

  She turned to face him, her face flushed from the struggle with the dog, her mouth opening in surprise. He was struck by a sudden desire to hold her, to feel her arms around him, her lips on top of his. I’m losing my mind, he thought, sweating slightly. He wiped his forehead and set his package down.

  “I had a thought,” Daniel announced.

  “About what?”

  “If you are not busy tonight and you don’t mind leaving the dog for a few hours, I can show you some sights. You can’t go inside the Colosseum in the evening, but you can see the outside, and there’s a lovely walk around the Forums.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I already accepted your apology. You don’t have to play tour guide.”

  “I’m not. This isn’t an attempt to apologize. It’s a rather selfish ploy for company. I appear to be having a bloody awful day, well, two days, but giving you a tour of Rome might brighten it up a bit. So will you accept my non-apology offer?”

  She nodded. “Sounds good. Thank you,” she said.

  “Can we meet here at eight?” Daniel asked.

  “Sure.”

  He waved to her and went back up. Oh, God—did he plan a date? Could he really call that a date, he wondered? No, it was more of an evening where an architect showed a tourist around. Nothing wrong with that.

  A great deal was wrong with that. Only yesterday, he threw a woman out of his flat. The last thing he needed was another one to deal with. No, he’d back out. He’d meet Julia tonight at eight, and he’d explain that something else came up in his business schedule. He’d wish her the best of luck. Maybe give her a small gift of sorts. Chocolates from that little shop across the street would work. Women liked that sort of thing. He needed to pick up a gift for Mia anyway, so he might as well pick up two.

  In the end, he paced in his flat for a while, his heart pounding with indecision, then drank a glass of wine to calm his nerves, changed his clothes, tended to his bloody knuckles, and went to meet Julia downstairs. As far as he was concerned, his life was shit, and a few hours walking around the ruins and eating good food in the company of someone who didn’t know him well was exactly what he needed. And anyone who disagreed could sod off.

  As he waited, Daniel worried for a moment she’d changed her mind, but then he inhaled her perfume. She smelled like a summer garden, and it made him remember his careless summers in Italy, and sunshine, and happiness.

  “Something wrong?” Julia asked, her forehead wrinkled with worry.

  “No, nothing.” He caught himself. “I was working out the fastest way we should reach the Forums.”

  She smiled then, and he stared at the loveliest little dimple on her right cheek.

  “Let’s cross the street, and we can catch a taxi there.” He pointed.

  “What about your car?”

  “I thought, perhaps, you’d prefer the taxi to my driving.”

  She laughed, and there was that dimple again. He went quiet as they walked, but he couldn’t stop staring at her red polka-dot dress. It ended just above her knees and swayed around her legs as she walked. He had never gone out with a girl in a polka-dot dress before.

  “How about we start with the tour of the Roman Forums and then decide where you’d like to go next?” He tried to focus himself on the task at hand.

  “That sounds great,” she said, turning her head and smiling again. “I’m grateful for anything you can show me.”

  They took a taxi, and Daniel pressed himself against the side door, strongly aware of the heat of Julia’s skin against his. Her face was against the window as they drove through the city, and he answered her questions without understanding what he was saying.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I asked—what is it that you design?”

  “Anything urban.” He straightened up. “Hotels, colleges, museums, businesses. My firm specializes in fitting modern architecture into old cities, helping new buildings mold into the old structures, meeting city codes. Mainly helping convince the cities modern buildings won’t damage any historical sites.”

  “Must be a challenge in Rome.”

  “A tremendous challenge.” He concentrated on explaining. “Anywhere they break through the ground here, they find the remains of the ancient city. They built the new city right on top, in layers. You must have any new area of excavation examined for the possibility of historical ruins.”

  The taxi stopped and let them out near the long stretch of steps. They walked up as Daniel explained, “Michelangelo designed these steps and the square on the top—Piazza del Campidoglio. This is the Capitoline Hill, and I’ve read it offers the best view of the Roman Forum.”

  He watched her face as she took it all in: the sculpture, the view from the top, the flowers around the steps. Julia’s eyes lit up, and her cheeks flushed with the heat and excitement. Her hair hung loose about her neck this evening, and a strand was stuck in the neckline of her dress. He had a strong desire to use his finger to pull the strand out, but he knew better. His stomach filled with warmth for her he couldn’t quite explain.

  It wasn’t that Daniel wished to have sex with her. Of course, he did—she was a beautiful woman and looked striking in that dress, with her cleavage showing just enough to drive him crazy. It was more that he wanted to spend the rest of the night learning all about her. What was it that made Julia Ramos travel all the way across the ocean based on a painting? Why did she rescue a little mutt in a foreign country instead of partying like all the other American tourists?

  “I had no idea how much of the Forums were actually left,” Julia marveled as they reached the top, leaning on the railing, looking out at the ruins sprawled in front of them.

  “It’s very impressive. Here is the Temple of Saturn.” He pointed.

  “Is that where they celebrated Saturnalia?”

  “Yes. They also kept state treasure there. Oh”—he pointed to the right—“here is something for you to see. You notice those small rocks in a pattern, in rows, right over there?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “That’s Basilica Julia, well, the remains. A building named after Julius Caesar.”

  “It’s incredible that this is all still standing here,” Julia said.

  “Especially after being used as a cow pasture during the Middle Ages.”

  “I wish I had come to Rome sooner, too. It’s so beautiful.”

  “You know, I’ve been coming to Italy for so many years, but never to Rome. I regret not coming here as a young boy. I would’ve loved to explore the ruins as a teenager, imagining the empire in all its glory.”

  They walked down from the hill, past the flowering azaleas, then through the ancient stones, and Daniel felt the weight of the day lift. It would come back to him tomorrow—his failure. But he was willing to let it go tonight. The day turned cooler, and the city filled with the lively evening crowds. Julia seemed happy, and it was all too perfect to think of anything else.

  He noticed her asking him a question only after she touched his arm.

  “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I was lost in thought.”

  “I was asking how you designed a building to fit into this ancient architecture of Rome,” she said. “I can imagine the Italians being strict about not allowing anything too modern to come into their city.”

  How did she know? How did she understand something he apparently struggled to grasp? “I didn’t design the proper building,” he said, picking a petunia flower for her and gently placing it in her hair. “The design I proposed to the museum board was wrong. Too modern.”

  “Oh,” she gasped, her eyes large, holding on to her flower. “I�
�m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” he said. “We have to redo it. We made a mistake. I made a mistake. I didn’t present our vision well, and I failed to see theirs.” He went quiet, remembering his failure, his stomach roiling with embarrassment. “Would you like to grab a bite to eat?” he asked, just to have something else to talk about.

  “I’m not hungry, but I’d love a gelato,” she said. “I have had none since coming to Italy, can you imagine?”

  “Really, not one? We must remedy this.”

  He knew just the place. A classic shop with just a dozen flavors, near a small piazza where local teenagers hung out in the evening by a fountain. Daniel had noticed it the night before as he wandered the streets. He assumed she’d order some fruity flavor, but she surprised him by requesting two scoops of nocciola and zabaglione. He ordered himself a zabaglione for the slight buzz of alcohol it offered and enjoyed seeing her eyes pop in surprise when she tasted it. As they sat at the small table by the gelateria, he looked into her eyes and saw his face and the buildings behind him and the sky and the moon, all reflected in them. And he wished he could gaze into them forever.

  Daniel worried it would get awkward when they walked back into the building late at night. He was dying to kiss her. Yet this wasn’t a date, and he was a disaster of a partner. Julia seemed too good a person to get entangled with him. He stood firmly three feet away from her, ready to give a quick nod of goodbye and rush away from her.

  But her eyes still sparkled, and his body pulled to her as a magnet until his lips touched her cheek lightly. Oh, bloody hell, had he no self-control at all? Her skin was warm and velvet-like. He wanted the kiss to last forever.

  “Good night, Texas,” he whispered, withdrawing reluctantly and touching her lightly on the shoulder. Daniel rubbed his lips, her scent and the taste of her skin still on them, as he rushed away. He walked up four flights of stairs without stopping and went straight for the remainder of the wine.

  He woke sometime in the middle of the night, as the wine wore off, regretting kissing her and getting his feelings stirred up. He paced around the flat again and thought of her and the dog.

  The dog! Daniel almost kicked himself. Julia was trying to get rid of it. Why he didn’t think of this before, he didn’t know. It would’ve been an excellent present for Mia. It was certainly cute enough to cheer her up. Any child loves a puppy.

  No matter, he planned to get up early anyway. He’d wait for Julia in the lobby, bound to run into her as she walked the dog. Then he would offer to take the mutt to Tuscany with him.

  Chapter 5

  As far as dates went, the evening with Daniel wasn’t the worst date Julia had ever been on. In fact, she thought that he managed to make up quite nicely for the fact he had nearly killed her and Lizzy earlier in the day. He did have the strangest habit of staring into space with a rather moody expression on his face. She enjoyed the gelato, but was somewhat glad when it was time to get back to her normal life, in which she did not stroll the streets of ancient Rome with handsome British architects.

  Perhaps this wasn’t even a date. He took pity on her, a lonely American tourist. Never been anywhere, couldn’t manage to order a pizza, stole an Italian dog—how pathetic. Well, whether she called it a date or not, she did enjoy it. It would make for an interesting story to tell her friends back home, either way.

  Julia worried it would get awkward when they walked into the apartment building. They were never going to see each other again. Was she supposed to give him a hug? She shivered nervously. What if he decided to kiss her? But as they approached the rickety elevator, he moved far away from her. A simple goodbye then. Whew.

  Julia opened her mouth to thank him just as he stepped forward, leaned in, and kissed her cheek. Before she had a chance to react, he ran away, his long legs taking the stairs three at a time.

  “Uhm, goodnight,” she called after his disappearing legs.

  Strange man. Julia touched the cheek he kissed. It felt nice, but she was certainly no judge of kisses. She could judge smells, and Daniel smelled incredible. The scent of his cologne still lingered in the air, and she inhaled it, making sure no one was around to see.

  What floor was his apartment on? Didn’t matter. It’s not as if she’d ever see him again. No point in wasting her time thinking about a man she couldn’t be with. She waited a few minutes, then followed upstairs.

  Back in the apartment, as the puppy licked her paws happily, sprawled out on Julia’s sweatshirt, Julia touched her painting again on the nightstand. Two days in Italy and she had come no closer to finding her new mother. In fact, now it seemed that she was as far from Lake Garda as in Texas. She changed into pajamas, poured herself a glass of water, and climbed into bed with Lizzy next to her, the puppy curling up into a small furry ball on her blanket.

  “I don’t need another mother, do I, Lizzy?”

  She propped herself up on the pillows next to the dog’s tiny body, staring at the ceiling. It was pitch dark in the room, but the street noises continued. No one ever slept in Rome. The tram screeched on its rails. Two women argued. A group loudly discussed something, laughing at each other’s jokes. Julia missed her friends back home. She missed her parents. She missed her aunts and uncles. Her cousins. This trip may have been a giant mistake.

  Hot tears began to roll down her cheeks. “Why did you have to leave me all alone, Mom? It’s not fair. I tried so hard to keep you alive longer.”

  Lizzy woke and climbed up awkwardly on top of Julia’s legs. She moved, accommodating the dog, petting it. “It’s okay, baby dog. You are lonely for company too, I understand. It’s just you and I, I guess.”

  The reality was that nothing she did to care for Mom had saved her life at the end. For five years, she and Dad fought against the dementia that slowly ate through Mom’s brain, destroying everything in the kind woman who had spent all her life making sure Julia felt loved every single moment.

  As she curled under the blanket later that night, the warm body of the tiny dog pressed against her chest snugly, and she let it. All Julia had left to do now was find where the painting came from. She guessed Dad expected her to move on as he had done. Yet, somehow, it felt he had given her up, wanted little to do with her. Did he think she no longer needed a father now that she was grown up and old enough to have her own family? She wished she could explain to him that wasn’t true; she didn’t want to be without him at all. He believed he’d finished his job of raising her. Or maybe he didn’t even want her to be part of his family any longer? She supposed she had to be grateful for all he had done and couldn’t ask for anything more.

  Sometime after the noises outside died down, Julia woke to the puppy’s whimpering underneath the bed with a puddle next to it. She had taken Lizzy out to the building’s small courtyard garden twice in the night already, but maybe puppies needed to go more than she realized.

  After successfully sneaking again down to the garden and back to the apartment, she made the dog a new makeshift bed.

  The dog finished the rest of the ham while Julia gave up on sleep, showered, and dressed in a bright yellow summer dress she’d bought for Italy, back when she thought she’d be doing nothing but walking around Rome, snapping photos of fountains. It was only then that her stomach reminded her that she herself hadn’t eaten a meal since yesterday’s pizza. It was still dark, however, too early for any of the coffee shops to open. She lay down, hoping for another nap.

  Being a pet owner wasn’t easy. Is that what she was now? Absolutely not! She was only keeping Lizzy until she found a safe place for her.

  A loud knock at the door startled her.

  “Who is it?” she asked, approaching cautiously. She checked her phone. Barely five in the morning.

  “Signora, this is Marco Giordano. I’m the owner of the appartamento. I need to speak with you, per favore.”

  “Oh, great.” She sighed and opened the door. What was she thinking, renting an apartment anyway? She’d never done anythin
g like this before. But she’d never traveled before, either.

  Marco shook her hand and pushed himself in. She was glad she’d closed the bedroom door and Lizzy was safely out of sight.

  “Signora Julia, your neighbor, he says you bang the door all night and wake him up, and when he want to tell you about it, he sees you with a little dog.”

  “What neighbor?”

  “This neighbor right here, Signor Pena. He is an old man—he wants sleep at night, you understand?”

  Julia noticed for the first time that her apartment adjoined another with a small door and both led to an outer door that she likely had been closing not so quietly all night as she took Lizzy out. Her stomach somersaulted with worry for Lizzy and for herself.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize I made noise last night. I was out to have some drinks with friends,” she lied. “I’ll make sure to be quiet, very, very quiet from now on.”

  “And what about the dog? We say we don’t accept dogs. It’s very clear. We can’t have dogs.” He shook his forefinger at her.

  She backed away a bit, Marco’s body looming aggressively over her. He was not letting it go. “What dog? I don’t have a dog. I’m only a tourist, how would I have a dog?”

  “You no have a dog?”

  “No, of course not.” She laughed, the fake sound painful even to her own ears.

  “Signor Pena say he saw a little white dog, a baby. How do you say? A puppy.”

  “Marco, where would I get a puppy here in Rome? I’m just here for a few days, and then I’m off to Florence. I don’t have time to bother with puppies.” She wondered if her nose began to grow from all the lying.

  Marco’s body began to turn toward the stairway. Her lies were working. Hope grew in her chest, and she straightened up, brazen now.

  She pushed it further. “Look around, Marco. Do you see any evidence of a dog? A puppy being here?” She pointed to the hallway.

  Then her body froze. The door to the bedroom creaked loudly and opened as if by magic. Except it wasn’t. Lizzy wobbled slowly on her pudgy legs toward her, wagging her tail. As Julia stood still, trying to come up with the right words for the situation, Lizzy squatted and produced a small pungent puddle in the middle of the stained wood of the hallway’s floor.