Chapter IX: Allegro Appassionato Part 1
Thursday, July 4th, 09.00 a.m.
Jarod and Erin started on Thursday morning, heading for Frank and Maureen De Rossi's ranch, where they arrived about half-an-hour later. The weather was fine and there was a sweet scent in the air as they covered the last miles of the private street that, from the state road, led to the house; all around, as far as the eye could see, there were vineyards and pastures.
Spotting the large house, Jarod didn't hide his appreciation:
"It's amazing!" he cried, "And big: how many rooms are there?"
"Counting the lodgings for the servants, 26 rooms", Erin explained, "Besides, there are the independent guest houses, which accommodate up to twelve people."
On Erin's advice, Jarod parked his Corvette under a massive wooden carport sheltering a number of other cars; in the meantime, a woman with short hair of a warm titian red had appeared on the threshold, simply dressed in jeans and cotton shirt. She approached them smiling and Erin, getting out of the car, ran to her, hugging her.
"Erin, sweetie!" the woman cried; she hardly looked in her early fifties, but she was about ten years older, "I am so happy to have you here!" she turned and watched Jarod in appreciation while he was walking towards them, "And in good company, I see!"
Erin introduced them smiling:
"Mom, this is Jarod O'Donnell. Jarod, my mother Maureen."
Maureen shook hands with him:
"Irish! Céad mila failta."
Jarod put on an embarassed look:
"I'm sorry, Mrs De Rossi, but I don't speak Gaelic."
Maureen's smile didn't fade, on the opposite, it even widened:
"Thousand times welcome, Mr O'Donnell", she translated.
"Thank you", he answered, grinning at her and deciding he liked her, "But please, call me Jarod."
"And I'm Maureen", she said, taking him and her daughter by the arm, "Come in, the rest of the clan wants to meet you."
On the doorway, the butler, impeccably dressed in a dark suit, was waiting for them.
"Carl, this is Mr O'Donnell, my daughter's guest. Please, take care of their baggage", Maureen ordered him graciously. The butler nodded, then he bowed to the newly arrived couple:
"Welcome home, Miss Erin. Welcome, sir."
A little uncomfortable because he wasn't used to such deference, Jarod gave him only a friendly nod, but Erin answered easily:
"Thank you, Carl. How's your family?"
"They're fine, thank you. Jasmine finally chose the wedding day: September 15th."
"Good! Remind her that I promised her wedding gown as a present."
"I'll do it, Miss Erin. Thank you."
Maureen took them to the elegant drawing room, where a very old woman was sitting in a chair, her short hair white like snow; she was reading a book, but hearing them arrive, she lifted her glance and smiled, recognising Erin:
"Erin, cuore della nonna (grandma's heart)!" she cried in Italian, standing up and approaching them, arms wide open, "Come stai (How are you)?"
"Benissimo, nonna (I'm great, grandma)", Erin answered in the same language, hugging her, "May I introduce to you Jarod O'Donnell? Jarod, this is my grandmother Francesca."
Jarod took the old matriarch's hand and kissed it gallantly:
"Nice to meet you, madam."
"My pleasure, young man", Francesca assured him, "Erin, you've got good tastes, indeed!"
Erin laughed:
"Grandma, don't embarrass him!"
"Oh, at my age I can say it openly, when I appreciate a nice guy!" the elderly lady snorted, winking at Jarod, "Don't you agree, Mr. O'Donnell?"
"Jarod", he corrected her, as he preferred using as less as possible the fake names he chose, "I agree, but something tells me you have always spoken your mind freely, even when you were young."
Francesca burst into laughter:
"You're right, caro mio (my dear)! I've always been very forthright!"
At that moment, an elderly man entered the room, followed by a younger one; the resemblance between them was incredible, and Jarod realised he was looking at Giovanni, the patriarch of the De Rossi family, and his son Frank. Both men hugged Erin lovingly and greeted warmly Jarod, who was beginning to feel a little stunned from all these meetings; but it wasn't over yet, because a few minutes later, they were joined by Erin's brother, Sean, with his wife Dolores and their children Christopher and Carmen. Sean, a man of about Jarod's age, very big and sporting a tawny mane like his mother's, lifted his sister and flung her around, booming that he hadn't seen her for a far too long time. Dolores, a pretty Hispanic woman a couple of years older than Erin, greeted affectionately her sister-in-law, and so did her nephew and niece. The four of them welcomed Jarod warmly, making him feel immediately accepted.
Later, he and Erin headed for their lodge to unpack, taking momentarily leave; going outside, Erin led Jarod through the large courtyard behind the main building to a smaller edifice, which he descovered being a completely autonomous lodge, completely equipped. Unlike the drawing room where they had been welcomed, which had an important and valuable forniture, this accommodation was simple and homey.
As he entered the bathroom, tiled with mosaics inspired on the Greek-Roman art, Jarod stared amazed at the bathtub: it was round, embedded in the floor like a swimming pool and large enough to comfortably host two people. Hearing his bewildered cry, Erin joined him.
"Do you like it?" she asked, somewhat hesitant, "I got it installed last year because I wanted a hydro-massage here, like at home..."
"It's... sybaritic", Jarod answered, turning to face her with a naughty gleam in his eyes, "Let's try it out."
"Giving my family a shock?" Erin laughed, "Why not? Both my mother and my grandmother would approve..."
Jarod took a step towards Erin to wrap his arms around her, but at that very moment someone knocked at the door of their lodging. Both made a wry face, then looked at each other laughing, recognising the same disappointment in one another's face, like in a mirror.
"Who's there?" Erin asked.
"It's Chris, Aunt Erin", a childish voice replied, "I'd like you to see something."
Erin crossed over to the door and opened it; the boy entered carrying a big tome, which looked quite old, and showed it proudly to his aunt.
"I found the O'Donnell's coat-of-arms", he announced in a triumphant tone. Jarod looked at Erin rather confused, and she explained:
"Our Chris here is fond of genealogy and heraldry. He went back on the family tree both on the De Rossi side and the O'Leary's, up to the great-great-grandparents of my grannies, and he sorted out also the family trees of the royalties of France, Austria and England."
"Yeah", Christopher confirmed proudly, "and in this book you can find the coats-of-arms of all the prominent families of Ireland. Jarod, did you know that the O'Donnells were Earls of Donegal?"
"Aehm... as a matter of fact, I don't even know what Donegal is", Jarod admitted.
"It's a region in the north-west of Ireland", Christopher explained, opening the big book and leafing through it till he found a map of the Emmerald Island, "See, here it is", he pointed it out.
Jarod took care to look very impressed:
"And do you think I might descend from these Earls?"
"To verify it, we should go back on your family tree to the time of the last Earl of Donegal, which isn't easy, but in any case you belong to that clan because you bear its name..."
As Christopher resumed leafing through his big tome, for the first time in his life Jarod felt like an impostor. Being a Pretender, he had always dropped in a role very easily: navy officer, coroner, ranger, plumber, fireman, FBI agent, university researcher, policeman, doctor... But now he was fooling a boy, and with him a whole family that had welcomed him very warmly.
"Here you are: the O'Donnell's coat-of-arms", Chris announced, showing him eventually the painting of a red cross in yellow field, held by a hand, "And this is the O'Leary's", he turned a few pages and showed him a white shield, with a blue ship in the upper half and a red lion in the lower.
"Incredible", Jarod murmured, truly interested, "The O'Learys were Earls, too?"
"Not always the chief of a clan had a peerage, but was respected anyway", Christopher answered, "Also the O'Leary."
Erin had followed the conversation between them with a smirk, but sensing Jarod's uneasiness, she decided to dismiss dismiss her little nephew.
"Thanks for the information, Chris", she said gently, "but now we should finish unpacking. We'll see you later, so you can give us more details about the O'Donnells."
"Okay", the boy immediately accepted, beaming because of the interest he was guessing in the adults, "See you later!"
When Christopher left, Jarod sighed:
"Your family is so nice to me... I really don't know how to repay them."
"Just be yourself", Erin suggested, choosing once more to ask no questions, "Above all, they appreciate spontaneity, as much as I do."
Jarod smiled at her gratefully:
"You are both wise and beautiful, mi querida (my dear)."
Later, after they had finished unpacking, Erin took Jarod to visit the main house: next to the drawing room, there was a large dining room, easily transformable into a ballroom, and a formidable library; there was also a noticeable collection of videos and DVDs, with a huge TV receiver. There were mostly westerns and thrillers, but also science fiction, action and romantic movies, as well as documentaries about the most different topics, from astronomy to nature.
"My mother's fond of these", Erin explained, pointing to the westerns, "John Wayne is her hero. These instead are my father's favourites", she went on, pointing to the thrillers, "According to him, Callaghan is the best."
Jarod looked out of the window and glimpsed a black horse trotting in a paddock, a couple of hundred yards away from the house. Erin followed his glance and smirked:
"That's Black Thunder, my brother's stallion. We all like riding, except granny Francesca who is terribly afraid of horses", her smile widened, "I wonder how my mare is, Tara."
"We can go and check", Jarod suggested, "Besides, I'd like to take a ride."
"You ride?"
Jarod had never tried, but he was a Pretender. How he could do something he never did before, not even Sydney had ever been able to explain. It was a natural gift, a genetic predisposition. He had a photographic memory and great mimic skills, though he couldn't believe there was nothing more. Furthermore, the talent had to be spotted at a very young age and carefully trained.
"Not much", he answered, "Besides, it's been a long time since I have."
"Okay", Erin smiled, because she really wished to take a ride, "After lunch we'll ask Peter, the stable master, to find a docile horse for you."
For lunch, they had Irish treats, tasty but light, which Maureen had personally cooked. On the evening, there would be a rich outdoor buffet, prepared by a catering enterprise, so it wasn't a good idea eating too much during the midday meal.
As they finished their lunch, the children were allowed to go out and play in the garden, while the adults headed for the drawing room for coffee and spirits. Jarod tried grappa, a typical liqueur from Northern Italy that Giovanni De Rossi's firm produced in a small quantity, and appreciated it much, even if he refused a second glass explaining he wasn't used to spirits.
About one hour later, Jarod and Erin headed for the low and long construction where the horses were sheltered, and a black man, jovial and plump, greeted them jovially; Erin introduced him to Jarod as the stable master, Peter.
"You'd like to ride Tara, I suppose?" Peter asked, flashing a big smile to Erin.
"Yes, but I'll saddle her personally", the young woman said, returning his smile, "And I'd have Silver Flower for Mr. O'Donnell."
"I'll go get them", Peter said, moving away. Erin explained to Jarod:
"I chose for you a very quiet gelding. If it's been a long time, I don't want to give you a wayward horse that could unsaddle you just for meanness."
"You're right, you'll never know", Jarod agreed.
While they waited, they picked up the saddles from the storeroom, where they found also boots of Jarod's measure, while Erin put on hers; then, they prepared their horses. Jarod watched Erin and copied her doings perfectly, and finally Silver Flower, a nice drappled grey, was ready at the same time as Tara, a wonderful dark red mare with black tail and mane.
They mounted; always watching Erin closely, Jarod was able to direct his horse as if he had been doing it his entire life... except for one detail.
"Relax your shoulders", Erin advised him, "If you won't, tonight they'll hurt."
He followed her recommendation immediately and Erin smirked, shaking her head:
"You said you were not much, as a rider, but I see you manage it very well."
Maybe for the first time in his life, Jarod felt actually proud of his talent; not even Sydney had ever made him feel like this, treating his particular skill very matter-of-factly.
They spent the rest of the afternoon riding around, trotting or galloping over pastures, woods, meadows and streams; when they came to a small mere, they dismounted and took a walk, breathing in the scents of the sunny country.
They returned in time to get ready for the party, where all the workers and the servants of the ranch had been invited to; for this reason, the De Rossis had chosen the buffet solution: the only one who would have to work on this evening was the deejay, whom the hosts had hired for the dancing.
For the occasion, Erin wore the white eyelet dress she had purchased in Mexico six weeks ago, sporting a wide skirt long almost down to her ankles; the tight stringed bodice left her shoulders bare, and a red sash hugged her waist. She gathered her hair in a simple high ponytail and decorated it with a great white daisy. It was a romantic as well as sexy outfit and when he saw her, for the umpteenth time Jarod felt charmed by her beauty.
But he, too, looked very attractive, in his light cotton shirt of an unusual ice-blue, open at the neck, and tight pearl-grey pants. The hot glance Erin flashed him would have melt down an iceberg.
The hosts welcomed their guests on the threshold, inviting them to go to the garden and help themselves with food and drinks. They could have sandwiches and open sandwiches with different stuffs, pizza in several varieties, vegetable pies, potato-salad, little rice treats, cheese, sliced ham and salami, and fruit jellies, fruit salad, tarts, ice-cream, cakes; to drink, there were fruit-juices, wine, beer, cider, soft drinks and water. One had only to pick up his favourite.
In one corner of the large garden stood a low platform: the dance floor, with coloured beams lighting it and big loudspeakers all around; nearby was the deejay, who played great music, both disco and country. Everybody danced, from the children to the senior people, among them Giovanni and Francesca.
The party was great and easy, and Jarod had much fun.
At eleven o'clock, the lights went off and the deejay turned the music down to a background level. It was the arranged signal for fireworks, which Frank had choreographed personally. In the bright and starry night sky blossomed golden rains, silvery willows, rings and globes of sparkling colours, accompanied by more or less noisy sound effects. Several times, the crowd uttered an astonished ooohh!, and at last Frank earned a big ovation.
After that, the music resumed, and people danced until almost two o'clock in the night, when the guests began to take their leave, a few at a time. Erin and Jarod, too, bid goodnight to friends and relatives, and headed for their lodge to sleep.