Alcina
Ineeded better places to hide.
I would walk to one side of the grove.Lo scorpionewould suddenly be there.
I would run to another. He would already be leaning against a tree. His eyes on me. A grin on his face.
I would hide in the kitchen of the factory, and as soon as my foot would hit the outside of it, he would be standing there.
I left Anna’s villa. He waited outside of it.
If I moved left, he moved left. If I moved right, so did he.
We were dancing a dance I was unfamiliar with.
He was tripping me up, his moves (or motives) at odds with my safety, but my heart raced and my breath became shallow every time our eyes met and we somehow completed a step.
“Bad, bad heart,” I whispered to myself, picking pistachios from a tree that was rooted on a steep mound of volcanic soil. As I picked, I kept muttering to myself, having a conversation. No one else was around but me (lo scorpionehad been sent to help Uncle Tito do something medical with an animal),and if I could not work this out, who could?
I felt like a puppet on a string, some unknown force the master of my emotions.
How could I want a man who was so was bad for me? A man who probably had his mind set on taking me back to New York and delivering me to hell?
At the same time—all of the feelings that rushed through me at the thought of him were heavenly. Sometimes when I caught him staring, I felt like I could float.
“Don’t move!” The order came at me in Sicilian.
My hand stilled midway toward a branch. A lazy breeze moved through the air, touching the sweat on my skin, making me feel feverish when I registered the tone of the voice, who it belonged to, and the hiss of a serpent from below.
I wondered how close to my legs it was, but I did not want to even look. It had probably wedged itself within the crack in the rock, looking for shade. I should have checked, but I had been preoccupied.
My shears were balanced against the rock a ways away, and from my peripheral, I saw him move forward, snatching them.
Theviperahissed.
“Get off the rock, Alcina,” he said. “Adesso.”
My legs were trembling. I couldn’t move.
“Adesso!” he snapped.
I closed my eyes and jumped from the rock onto another, barely making it. I held on to another pistachio tree, trying to steady myself.
Theviperahad been next to my ankle the entire time, while I picked the pistachios. I probably would not have known what had hit me until it was too late. It was camouflaged against the rock, trying to hide from the sun.
It coiled itself into a tight S, its tongue scenting the air, ready to strike.
Lo scorpionewatched it with hard eyes, the shears open and ready. He had a long-sleeve shirt slung over his shoulder, and he waved it away from him. Theviperastruck out at the fabric, andlo scorpionesnapped the blades. The snake’s head fell to the side.
I made the sign of the cross. “I did not even see it.”
He nodded and came toward me, opening his arms.
“I can get down,” I said.
I had walked these groves many times, certain of my footing and how it worked with the terrain, but when I went to step down, my knees gave out.
He caught me and started carrying me toward a more populated area with ease.
