Among The Cloud Dwellers (Entrainment Series)

by Giuliana Sica

  I splashed cold water on my face. I looked in the mirror and realized that none of my previous names had come up in the regression. I was Porzia, with my face, my personality, my flaws, and my baggage of timeless memories. To try to be any of those women would mean to regress literally, in this life and perhaps acquire more baggage. To try to find Xavier would mean limiting my choices in partners to somebody that fit his profile.

  Wrong.

  It meant I had embarked on a quest of self-discovery, to learn to love myself—including my magic powers—and ultimately merge again with my true love. That’s what Evalena meant.

  Good luck, I silently mouthed to myself in the mirror. But the awareness of sharing a time-defying bond with someone flared through a secret part of my soul I had no idea I owned and filled it up for the first time in ages. Warmth radiated from my navel outward like a spreading aura, heating my body from the inside out.

  I bowed my head in acceptance and secretly smiled as I chose to take my second wayward step and walked back to my seat self-consciously, musing that I might actually glow in the dark. I wished I had a volume knob to turn it down.

  The movie screen flickered azure lights against the seat.

  Gabe was still asleep. I adjusted myself sideways against his chest, kicked the slippers off, and closed my eyes. I snuggled my face against his chest, brushing the softness of his T-shirt with my cheek, and inhaled musk and spice. His heart, beating strong and steady beneath my ear, comforted me.

  *

  I woke up to his hand smoothing my hair. I usually don’t fall asleep on airplanes.

  We had crossed the Pacific and were following the Australian coast toward Melbourne, now less than a couple of hours ahead according to the video screen.

  Gabe got up, gently readjusted me on the seat, and covered me with the blue blanket.

  With a hand, he wiped sleep off his face and quickly combed his hair back. “I’ll be roight back,” he whispered.

  I watched him walk away. I wanted to sleep more, but they were turning the lights on and I could smell coffee.

  Ahhh . . . coffee.

  Gabe came back as I struggled with the blanket; it insisted on wrapping itself around me. I must have looked a mess. He didn’t seem to notice, just balanced two cups of coffee in one hand and peeled me out of the blanket, making it look like the easiest thing in the world. Then handed me coffee—sweet, creamy coffee.

  How did he know?

  “I never sleep like that.” His eyes held a spark of involuntary admission. “You’re an unexpected, precious gift, Porzia. I know it’s hard to believe, but I think you understand.”

  Gift? I kind of liked that. I nodded.

  “I’ll ask the flight attendant to seat us together on the next flight home,” he invited. “So you can hold my hand again.”

  I laughed.

  Once we landed in Melbourne he waited for me to clear Customs, and we walked to catch the other plane hand in hand. So I ended up next to him all the way to Adelaide.

  As we settled back in our seats he took my hand in his again and held it until the end of the flight.

  Maybe he really is afraid of flying, I mused.

  “Clark is picking me up at the airport. Have you got a lift to the winery? I could drive you up there if you need me to, I’m sure he won’t mind,” he offered.

  “Clark?”

  “Clark’s my father. I’ve taken to calling him by his first name. He told me it makes him feel way too old to have a son my age.” He winked mischievously.

  “How old are you?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Thirty-six. And you?”

  “Thirty,” I smiled. “I’d love to meet Clark, but I’ve got a ride to the winery. Thank you for offering.”

  “How long will you be up there? Have you got a number I can ring you?” He reached for his wallet and handed me a business card. “That’s my work number roight there.” He took the card back. “Here—let me write my home number on the back.” He scribbled numbers on the back of the card and handed it back to me.

  I rummaged in my bag and found a small brochure from Umeracha Winery. “I’m planning on being there about five days. I’ll be busy for the first few with the wine presentations, but I’m sure if you’d like to come along, they’d be glad to have you there.”

  “Get settled and give me a ring when you have a moment.” He brought my hand to his lips and gently kissed it. “Until then, I want you to know I’ll be thinking of you.”

  I found myself responding naturally to the unequivocal message in his eyes. Mesmerized, I leaned forward. Shrouded by fear my true feelings skimmed behind my half-parted eyelids.

  “Your eyes are getting greener—Porzia.”

  Dangerous warning but I couldn’t care less so close to his delicious grin. I found myself responding in a rush of arousal—irrefutably sexual arousal. “Well then, you’ll need something to fuel all that thinking,” I whispered, bringing the hand he had just kissed to his heart. My fingers found the smooth swell of his chest. In a daze, I fist-filled his shirt and tugged, pulling him closer to me. I tilted my head, parted my lips, and closed my eyes.

  I kissed him.

  My lips met his. I let them dance slowly—tease, like a butterfly on velvet petals. I tasted coffee, coffee much more bitter than mine, on the tip of his tongue as I dared explore deeper. I felt his hands cup my face, pulling me even closer, and the kiss flared. Heat, lust, and passion twisted and braided in a struggle to possess us.

  He became the aggressor and I the consenting victim. I moaned against his mouth, overwhelmed with burning emotions. My insides melted into hot lava, running scalding, liquid paths. His heated scent enveloped me, seduced my senses, and teased my animal instinct until a primal beat began to pulse between my legs. His hands left my face to follow the curve of my shoulders down my arms where they gripped and pulled me against him.

  My hands became an obstacle trapped between us. I slowly moved them up, my lips never leaving his mouth, until my heartbeat pressed madly against his. His hand reached the nape of my neck and yanked a fistful of hair.

  “That’s supposed to help me think?”

  My lips throbbed against his words.

  His mouth moved to brush my throat. Slowly I opened my eyes and saw his incredible hair tease my chin. I plunged both hands into those thick strands of golden silk, pulling his head back up. I hungered to taste his mouth again.

  Suddenly I felt my brain bounce around in my head as the plane tilted and slowed down, dipping toward the ocean below.

  “I think we’re landing,” Gabe said, his voice thick against my mouth once again.

  “Where are we?” I blinked, totally lost.

  He laughed and pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes shifted to clear aquamarine, his hair remained an untamed mess. He looked sexier than ever.

  “If this is what it’s like to be bewitched—”

  “I’m not a witch, Gabe, why do you think—”

  “Yeah? What was in that panino you gave me?”

  “Nothing! If you feel like you’ve been bewitched, maybe it’s because you want to.” I was only half joking.

  “It’s OK, plenty of antidotes in my outback supplies stash . . .”

  “I’ve never heard that one before,” I laughed.

  “I’ve never been kissed like that before.” His serious eyes caressed my mouth.

  “Yes, you have,” I told him. “Perhaps you just don’t remember.”

  He raised a questioning eyebrow. “What would make me forget?”

  “Death.”

  Seats in upright position; we were landing.

  CHAPTER 5

  I had instructions to keep my eyes open for a sign with my name on it, but Gabe saw Clark before I could even begin to look around for Dom, my driver. My eyes followed his and stumbled u
pon a sun-parched version of the man holding my hand.

  Clark stood tall and solid, wearing a timeless smile matched by a faded denim shirt that looked just as old. Where Gabe’s eyes still reflected honesty, Clark’s wore an astute smart-ass look, framed by myriad laugh lines that appeared to deepen as we got closer to him. He looked at me as he would at something exotic on his plate, wondering if I were good to eat or if he should just ask for the check, go home, and fix a Vegemite sandwich.

  I held his gaze.

  Gabe briefly let go of my hand to shake his father’s.

  “Hey, son! How was the flight?” Clark asked.

  “Not bad, thanks. I slept most of the way.”

  Clark’s eyebrows went up. Way up. “I’ll be stuffed! You slept?” He looked at me.

  I grinned.

  “Yes. I did. Clark, this is Porzia Amard. Porzia, this is my father, Clark Miller.”

  Clark re-orchestrated his eyebrows, smiled, and extended his hand. “It’s indeed a pleasure to meet you, Miss Amard.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Miller. Please, call me Porzia.” I returned the firm handshake.

  “Well then, splendid! I’m Clark.” He turned to look at Gabe, still holding my hand. “Is she the reason you slept?”

  “Yes, she is,” Gabe mused. “She gave me a panino.”

  “Ah! That explains it,” Clark conceded, bringing my hand to his lips, amusement in his voice. “I have no clue what he’s talking about,” he said, kissing my hand, “but if it cures his high-altitude insomnia then I’m all for it. Welcome to Oz, Porzia.”

  Charming old devil, I thought, taking my hand back. “Thank you.” I would leave him wondering about the panino mystery a while longer.

  “What brings you all the way Down Under?” Clark asked as we walked to collect our luggage.

  “Wine.”

  “Excellent!” He took my left arm under his right and patted my hand. “We have heaps of beer as well.”

  “Do you now?” I smiled, as I caught sight of a flustered man waving a sign with my name on it. I waved back at him. Gabe followed my gaze to a very relieved Dom.

  “Miss Amard? I’m terribly sorry. Please forgive me. Traffic was horrible on the way over,” he panted, pumping my hand.

  “Please, no reason to apologize. I’m glad you’ve made it here safe.”

  “Yes, yes. Thank you. I’m parked right outside—will I be driving everybody back to the vineyard?”

  “Oh no, we have our own car, thanks,” Clark answered. He let go of my arm to follow Gabe to the carousel as it started to move.

  A freezing winter wind hit us outside. I wrapped myself inside my jacket and shoved my hands deep inside my pockets where my fingers closed around a few more Baci chocolates. Benedetta must have slipped extra ones in there. I was about to say good-bye and follow Dom when Gabe took my arm and pulled me aside. Clark winked at me. Feigning nonchalance, he loaded bags into a top-of-the-line SUV parked a few car spaces behind Dom’s Jeep.

  Gabe sieved his hands through my hair and held my head while he kissed me, keeping his eyes open. I know because I didn’t close mine either. I just looked at him. I kissed him back.

  “I’m going to remember every moment spent with you until I see you again.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Ring when you have a chance. If I don’t hear from you in about two hours, I’m calling you.” He smiled.

  “OK.” I pulled my hands out of my pockets and gave him a chocolate. “Eat it on your way home,” I said and hugged him. The hell with freezing. I kissed him one more time, forgetting the cold, warming up under his touch. I closed my eyes and melted against his heat.

  It took a lot of control for both of us to come out of it; his hair was all messed up again. Did I do that? With my fingers?

  Dom and Clark shook hands. It was time to go.

  Clark dangled car keys in front of Gabe. “Would you like me to drive, son?” he asked with a smirk. He waved at me. “It’s London to a brick I’ll be seeing you again—”

  I blew him a kiss, walked to the Jeep, and climbed into . . . the driver’s seat. A puzzled Dom held the opposite door open for me. Of course. They drive on the other side of the road. How silly of me to forget.

  I was silent on the drive back to the winery. Having slept incredibly well in Gabe’s arms, I didn’t feel too tired even after such a long journey. But I needed a few moments to assess what had happened to me. To us. Was there even an ‘us’? A somber palette of winter monochromatic colors shrouded Adelaide. The trees were mostly bare, and above us pregnant clouds shifted slowly against a low ceiling, reminding me of drowsy elephants.

  Dom quietly hummed along with the radio.

  I thought of Gabe. I closed my eyes. I thought of Xavier. I opened my eyes. Maybe I should stop thinking of both . . . but what would I do with my eyes then?

  We left Adelaide behind to climb up the hills. The road was wet; it must have rained minutes earlier. Homes became sparse and the landscape waxed foreign to my Florida-accustomed eyes. I felt ages away from home. Winter crawled under my skin, frosting whatever trace of Florida sunshine I carried within. The clouds dropped much lower and loomed so closely over me I struggled with the urge to reach out and touch them.

  I tried to remember what the weather had been like the day Xavier died. I frowned in effort to focus on the background instead of his lifeless body slumped at my feet. I recalled the castle courtyard paved in damp gray cobblestones. No rain that day but wetness still lingered around. It must have been the end of winter, still cold enough to make one long for spring as a distant mirage. Xavier would never enjoy warmth again.

  I wondered what had happened before that day. What brought us to love each other so? I could make up so many ways. I had opened a theater door in the middle of a movie playing, taken a peek at the screen, and shut the door again. There seemed no beginning, no end. Just a few strategically placed images scattered on a black velvet background.

  A majestic eagle split a seam amid the grayness of the low clouds. It made me think of Gabe. Now he felt real. His deep voice, thick with his Australian accent when he said my name, rippled along my skin raising my hair from head to toe. How easy it had been to just let him hold me. Sometimes it takes months to fall into such a safe trust zone. Sometimes it never happens. With Gabe it had been instantaneous.

  Endless rows of knotty, bare vines announced our approach to Umeracha Winery. A solid two-story mansion with a wrap-around porch stood at the end of a long, curved, gravel-paved driveway. A couple of caramel-coated dogs barked and chased around the Jeep as it slowed.

  “Welcome to Umeracha, Miss Amard,” Dom announced, bringing the car to a stop in front of the main entrance.

  Beverly Jourdain’s freckles spilled abundantly across her perky nose as she greeted me at the door and fussed around me like a busy bee on a ripe blossom.

  We had met over a year earlier in Barossa when I came to write an extensive article about the Australian wine scene for In Vino Veritas. They had been there to receive a prize for their Cabernet. I remembered Frank, her husband, as a somber bear of a man, not nearly as gregarious as his wife. Beverly and Frank had three sons: Luke and Ronnald took after Frank, but Nicolas, the youngest one, had Beverly’s sparkle twinkling from his eyes beneath an untamed mane of auburn hair.

  The main house smelled of lemon-scented wood polish. Votive candles napped on a rustic sideboard. Resigned sepia family photographs dozed on the dark wood walls.

  I walked with feet of felt to my room on the second floor. Down below, a naked garden slept through winter. I found it hard to make out what kind of tree those stark branches belonged to, even harder to imagine eventual buds on such knobby limbs. Impossible to imagine magic blooming in my barren life as well, I grimaced. Least of all true love.

  I reached inside my pockets where I found a lonesome Baci chocolate and the dice key ch
ain I had bought at the Pensacola airport. I unclasped the dice off the key chain and rolled. Two. How sad. Irrationally I had hoped for an immediate answer to all my problems. I unwrapped the chocolate and read the quote as I chewed the delicious morsel: “This being is free from servile bonds of hope to rise or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though no lands, and having nothing, yet hath all”. Interesting.

  A spacious bathroom hid behind an alcove screen. A large tub and plush towels beckoned me to run a bath. It was too early to go straight to bed, and I wanted to call Gabe. After the bath, I thought . . . and then, sleep.

  I sat on the edge of the tub and turned the water on. In a small basket a scrumptious selection of herbal bath gels captured my attention, and I poured an entire lavender bottle into the steaming waters. I quickly undressed and sank into the bubbly, scented water and closed my eyes. Too tired to even think, my mind drifted and my limbs relaxed, absorbing the heat until the water finally cooled down.

  I felt much better afterwards. I was wrapping my hair in a towel when the phone rang.

  “Porzia, I have a . . . uh . . . Gabe? . . . on the line. Shall I put him through?” Beverly’s voice asked politely.

  “Yes, thank you.” Excited, I sat on the tall bed and noticed my naked feet could not reach the rug. My toes had shriveled in the bath down to the look of semi-comatose raisins. How attractive.

  “Porzia.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Hello.”

  “Hey, you got there alroight?”

  “Yes, it’s beautiful up here. I even saw an eagle on the way up.”

  “You did?” he asked, surprised.

  “Yes.”

  He switched the subject. “Hey, you didn’t tell me the chocolate had a quote hidden in its wrap.”

  “What did it say?”

  “‘Leap and the net will open. The key to change is to let go of fear’.”

  “I believe that may be meant for me.” I smiled and repeated the one I had found.

  “If that’s about me it’s not accurate,” he commented inscrutably and switched the subject again. “Do they have you drunk yet?”