by Rimmy London
“You’re welcome, dear. It was my pleasure,” Her voice was beautiful, and heavy with accent. She left as quickly as she came, and my growling stomach didn’t care to know who she was. Givanni was silent as I ate, and I hardly noticed his presence, finally feeling full after the last bite.
“Dat wuth amading,” I said, trying and failing to get the words out right. A smile stretched across his face.
“Nonna is a genius in the kitchen, the only problem being that she knows it.” Admiration showed through his complaint.
I rubbed my tongue against the top of my mouth, trying to revive it. “Ith sthe yourd g-r-an-d-mo-th-er?” I asked, dragging out the last word to make certain I got it right. Givanni nodded.
“She is. She has lived with me for the last few years, ever since my grandfather passed away. She acts grateful, but I am really the one who should be.” After that amazing meal, I was inclined to agree with him.
“This ith your home?” I asked. He glanced out the window, nodding. My eyes followed his, looking out on wide-open country.
“I’ve had your things put in storage until we can find a more secure location for you. I hope you’re okay with that.” Givanni fumbled with his hands, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. “Loriel, I’ve been working for over a year, trying to find out what might be triggering these attacks. With my team, and, it’s - it’s something not even Marco knows.” He fell silent, although I was pretty sure his comment had been a request for confidence. I laid back on the pileup of pillows, my eyes suddenly drowsy, not even noticing the latch of the door as Givanni left the room.
* * *
With my cell phone pressed to one wet ear, my dad was still digging at the details of my night. “Dad, really, I’m okay,” I wrapped a cotton towel around my freshly washed hair. “The storm caused a power outage, and I was frightened because I thought I heard something. So I stayed the night at Givanni’s house… with him and his grandmother.” I knew how it sounded, and even though I felt guilty for lying, I was uncomfortable telling him too much. Why did he have to be so good at ‘getting a feeling’? He’d tried calling me a dozen times while I was dreaming away. But it became obvious he wasn’t worried about the same thing.
“How well do you know this fella?” I smiled, not being able to put the word “fella” with Givanni. “I know you’re an adult, I just thought you would have called one of your roommates or a friend that you had maybe known for longer. I got the impression that Gi-van-ni,” He stumbled through the unfamiliar name. “That he and you were just acquainted from work.”
“My roommates are all spread out. They moved back home after graduation. Hawaii, Texas, Colorado - none of them were from California. But Givanni is just a friend.” I rolled my eyes. It sounded false even in my own ears. Staying the night at a young, attractive, single man’s house because I was scared by a storm. Right.
“Well, sorry that storm wasn’t so fun for you. It worked out fine for me. A few more like that and the cows’ll have a real nice pasture come summer.” Encouraging the new conversation topic, we talked about cattle and ranch life until finally saying our good-byes. It was strange to keep so much from him. He had always been my compass when things went wrong. From guiding me along the steep trails on cattle drives to helping organize a dozen college applications. He took things calmly and plotted the best path through it. But this was different. I gathered my wet hair to one side and folded my arms under my chin, my skin still warm and damp. Steam wandered from the bathroom, bouncing off the ceiling like a balloon low on helium. A tentative tap sounded on my door.
“Come in,” I pushed myself into sitting position, slowing at the reaction from my injured forehead. It throbbed, protesting the movement. “I’m awake,” I encouraged. Givanni leaned in, checking my face before entering. I wondered what he was looking for in my eyes - and if he found it. He strolled a lazy circle before sitting on the edge of my bed. I noticed the set of his mouth, a little crooked like his jaw was clenched. It was easy to see he had something important to say. I waited patiently.
“I hope you know,” he finally spoke - so slowly that I leaned in a bit closer. He was staring at the floor and so much time passed that I wondered if he might have fallen asleep. “That you can trust me,” He turned to face me. I took a breath, about to explain myself, but he continued quickly. “I know why you kept running, and it was the smart thing to do. But Loriel…” He paused long enough for me to turn a bit red in his stare. “I would never let anything happen to you. This is not your fight, and I won’t let you be dragged into it.” He said the last words with anger tingeing the edges, and although I was thinking that I had already been dragged in, I appreciated the message.
“Okay,” I said quietly, nodding like we’d made an agreement. Relief flooded through his face and seemed to weigh him down like lead. In a matter of seconds he looked nearly asleep, his chest rising and falling and his eyelids drooping as he stared in a trance toward the door. I wondered suddenly if he’d slept at all in the last couple days. Here I was relishing my comfort, and Givanni was probably nearing exhaustion. His head dipped forward with an intake of breath close to a snort, and I couldn’t help but muffle a laugh. He looked back at me with a smile lifting one side of his mouth.
“Givanni, you don’t have to stay up just for me, you know. I feel very comfortable here. Really, you look exhausted.” He chuckled, although it died quickly and turned into a yawn. Looking back at me, his eyes squinted in concentration.
“Your head really does look better,” he said, blinking a few times. I flinched as his fingers touched my forehead. He mumbled a quick apology, pulling his hand back in reaction before replacing it, pressing lightly on each side and tracing his fingers atop the cut that was already beginning to scab. I watched his eyes, feeling increasingly nervous. Maybe he’s a doctor. I hoped. When he finally took in my expression he leaned back instantly. I relaxed my tense hands, attempting to smile. His words came out in a jumble. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I should have asked you first.” His face was flushed. “When I bandaged that cut it really did look bad and I was hoping I was right in not stitching it.”
Of course.
I felt like shaking myself silly - of course, he was acting professionally. I tried to smooth things over. “No, I’m sorry,” I fumbled. “I didn’t know it was you who had - I just thought… that…” I stopped, not sure how to finish. Now it was his turn to look confused.
“You were talking to me when I put the bandage on. You don’t remember?” I felt my cheeks redden.
“I talked to you?” I asked, my eyes following patterns on the flower spotted quilt. “What did I say?” Chancing a glance at him I suddenly wished I hadn’t. His mouth was stretched out in a wide grin.
“Well, what did you think I was doing then?” he asked. I tried to pull out the right words, but they stayed lodged inside. “Loriel, you are important to me. I want you to feel completely comfortable around me here and at work. We are obviously great coworkers, and now I can add great friends as well.” I took a deep breath, letting it all out in a gust and wrinkling my nose, barely stopping myself from sticking my tongue out at him. He laughed again and this time I joining him, the replay in my head making me shake even more. We built on each other, laughing until there was no breath left. Falling back on the bed, he folded his arms behind his head. “But really, you hardly said anything coherent.” Still hiccuping my laugh away, it took me a minute to realize he was answering my question. “You talked about your dad and about Briar, whoever that is, and about the ocean. The thought of the ocean during a storm scares you.” He turned his head to the side and smiled at me. I sunk into the pillows, trying to recall the conversation that had to be locked somewhere in my brain.
“You’re a liar. I don’t remember any of that.”
He huffed, sitting up. “It’s still true, even if you don’t remember it. At least you didn’t say anything embarrassing. Sometimes I have to edit when a patient asks what they
said - it can get pretty funny.” My eyes widened, and I suddenly hoped he was telling the truth about me. Standing with a stretch, he walked toward the door.
“My horse,” I said.
He turned around. “Huh?” I grinned, enjoying his confusion.
“Briar is my horse back home. I got him when I was twelve.” He smiled, nodding and closing the door behind him. Sinking back into the pillows, I tried to revel in the image of his face without admitting what I was doing. He was a co-worker. He said it himself. But even with my heart warming at the memory, I couldn’t ignore all the questions that surfaced. The main one being how a CEO to a large oil company could be moonlighting as a doctor. No matter how I tried to connect them, the two ideas just didn’t seem to mesh.
* * *
“Now, dear, I hope you know that it is completely your decision.” My stomach twisted as we reached the picturesque little beach house. It was much more than Givanni had described. In fact, his words had been ‘old cottage’. This was more like a vacation rental. A nice one. “If you would like to make other arrangements Givanni will be back around dinner, but you’re welcome to have a look around.” Nonna left me standing by the open door, half a mile’s walk from their home, and made her way brusquely back up the sand path. I paced through the house, beginning to notice Givanni’s perfectionist tendencies. Various shades of neutral, splashes of color and art with a refreshingly organic flavor spotted the designer whites and tans. Jumping as my pocket vibrated, I snatched my phone out.
“So, what do you think?” Givanni asked. It was surprisingly good to hear his voice.
“It’s incredible,” I mumbled, glancing out the row of windows overlooking the sand. “Givanni, I don’t know if I can let you do this. At least let me pay you for rent.”
“Loriel,” he interrupted. “I want to do this. Nonna prefers to stay at the house, and really it’s just been sitting vacant for a year. I’ve never planned on renting it.” I sighed, my lip shaking as I looked over the stone floors, granite counters. It would be so easy to feel safe, especially when I knew who lived next door.
“I don’t know how I can ever possibly repay you…”
“That’s not part of it,” he said. “Don’t feel like you owe me anything.” A dry laugh escaped my lips in a gust.
“I owe you everything, Givanni. I owe you my life…” My voice cracked, and I swallowed.
“Sometimes you can help people, Loriel. Sometimes you can’t. Let me do this for you. It’s more secure than anything else you could find, with a passage to Shellbrook that we are working on simplifying. Well, really it’s not even accessible yet. If you want to make other arrangements that’s fine, but now there’s no rush. Okay?” Finally, I agreed, not sure what else I would do. I was sure he’d heard the emotion in my voice, the way he mumbled something like condolences and rushed off the phone. I was left to stand gazing at a gift like nothing I had ever been given.
I crossed the front room in a daze, sliding the patio door open to the distant sound of waves, carried on the ever-cool breeze. It felt natural to leave the door open, like nothing from outside would be undesired. The ocean was close but hidden by hills of sand and tall clumps of grass. I set off to see it, my feet sinking in the sand as I walked. Atop a small dune, I met the beginning of a trail with a scattered rock wall to one side and ocean beyond. My new backyard. The rocks lined up in a makeshift wall were massive, and I made my way to the nearest one, its top almost reaching my shoulders. There was a marking on one side that reflected in the sun. Rubbing one hand curiously over the small bluish square I pulled the security card from my pocket, the one I now kept with me at all times. Turning it in my hand I watched the computer chip flash.
My little card.
The thing that had started all this mayhem. The moment I had been given it my world had come under attack. I envisioned the elevator door Givanni had shown me, and was suddenly certain this seemingly insignificant marking on a rock had meaning. A few days ago it would have been nothing. I smoothed my hands over the boulder and my fingers grazed an opening too perfectly uniform to be natural. Switching my card to the opposite hand, I fumbled it against the rock, jabbing unsuccessfully before finally pushing one end into the small crack. A heavy grinding erupted and I jumped back, un-wedging my feet from the rock while the ground opened up to a gaping hole at my feet. With my teeth clenched I knelt down and sunk one hand into the chilled darkness below. The grinding sound returned and the stone cover pushed at my arm just before I snatched it away. The hole sealed with a small puff of sand. Perhaps it was the passage? The one that needed to be simplified? I laughed. Definitely needed to be simplified. I couldn’t imagine many people fool enough to jump into a black hole under tons of rock. Why would they possibly need an underground tunnel? I mused while taking the sandbox stairs to the beach. It sounded a bit ridiculous, and I couldn’t imagine explaining something like that to my friends - or to anyone really.
Sunk down in the sand, my eyes roamed over the waves, their graceful arches crusted with foamy white. Time passed in seagull cries and ocean breeze, and soon I became aware of feet pressing through the dune behind me. Givanni stopped next to me with glossy shoes in one hand and his eyes on the sea. A bubbling fan of seawater grazed my toes, but my gaze lingered on Givanni. His face was tense and didn’t smooth when he exhaled. “Loriel, I’m going out of town Monday,” He glanced down at me. “We need to find out where all this is coming from.”
“Your team?” I guessed, hoping he missed the sadness in my voice. He nodded, and I felt like I shouldn’t be so nervous to ask the next question. “How long will you be gone?”
“Two weeks,” he said quickly. Then, shaking his head he looked out at the waves. “Closer to three.” Three weeks sounded much longer than it was. I tried to cheer the crushing, sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“The first week we’ll be in the southern tip of California,” His eyes settled with decision. “And after that, we will most likely leave the country.” I nodded my head slowly and rhythmically until reminding myself to stop. Of course, they would go to Italy. To their only unknown. To the address Marco wouldn’t explain. And in Italy, I had no doubt they would find answers.
Chapter 5
My fingers drummed on the marble counter as I tapped each with its reflection. Nothing to distract my thoughts. The weekend had never seemed so long, with each minute stretching anxiously on before giving way to the next. Less than 24 hours. Givanni would be leaving in less than twenty-four hours. My to-do list had turned into curly borders on a blank paper. Having paced the house all morning, I was making myself crazy trying not to worry about him and what he would find. What was he up against? My gaze wandered to the back patio, and suddenly the drumming stopped. I wrote one word on the empty page and headed for the door.
Tunnel.
My flip-flops sunk unevenly in the sand as I twirled my blue security card. Here it was. A mystery. Something that could fill my mind. Givanni had said the passage would be repaired as a safety precaution, but not one word about it since. I scooped a handful of sand and dropped it in the opening. It bounced off stone not far below, ticking like static off its surface. Crouching down I imagined all the possibilities. I wanted to jump in. It felt like reigning in wild horses as I tried to get control of my imagination.
What was I thinking? It could just be some kind of storage area with absolutely no way out, leaving me stuck underground. I shook my head as the stone began to grind closed. It would have been crazy. As I peered over the opening something slid from my sweatshirt pocket. My phone plunged into the last sliver of darkness before it sealed. Jumping up I pulled the card from its slot and replaced it, not sure if that would work. But the stone obediently slid aside, and I leaned over the opening, bracing one hand on the opposite edge. I reached in and my fingers grazed the top of the phone case. Sliding one foot in closer, suddenly the sand underneath rushed away like an avalanche. The stone began t
o slide closed. I fought to keep my feet under me, but it was like trying to stand on ice. Slipping off the edge, my hands clenched at the air. I twisted toward the opening, and the sky above me closed off with a thundering crunch. I landed flat on my back, my breath exploding from my lungs. I was clutching at the ground by the time I sucked in a mouthful of cool air. With a slow breath I tried not to panic at the tiny space I was wedged into. I lifted my phone and flashed its light around the rock. Not bothering to select a number, I pushed call. Nothing. But the light had scanned a passageway leading down on one end, with two metal rungs in view. “Okay,” I said out loud. “That’s the way down.” My voice sounded closed in, and I tried not to think about the many things I needed to survive. Even the light from my phone would only last until the meager amount of battery life drained out.
I crawled to the edge and peered down. The darkness was sticky, and it clung like a giant black creature to ever surface. It left me feeling trapped. And very alone. But I wasn’t about to sit in a cramped stone coffin and await rescue. Instead, I swung my legs over and started down the metal ladder. It was an impressive distance down, at least 30 rungs by my panicked counting. When I reached the bottom my toes jammed into the ground and I winced in pain. The light from my phone offered only a shadowy tunnel ahead. Glancing at the screen my heart sunk at the 5% posted by the sliver of battery life. Flashing the beam around me, I clearly had only one option. Follow the path. I switched the light off and walked ahead, careful of the rocks jutting from the top and sides of the makeshift tunnel. I kept my hands outstretched and walked with the caution of a performer on a tightrope. It was easy to imagine being trapped forever, and pushing those thoughts out of my head became harder with each passing minute. Or hour. I couldn’t tell, my mind was disoriented. It was strange to realize how much I used the sky to tell time - underground it was irrelevant. Nothing would change when the sun went down, and nothing would change when it came up again. There was something else the sun provided that I had begun to miss very much, and even though I had begun to sweat, my body shivered with a dead, sinking cold.