"This is it. The perfect special place," Lina told Edith Anne, who was snuffling around an azalea bush. "Stay there, this won't take long."
She dropped the bul dog's leash. Obediently, Edith planted her wide bottom on the ground, then seemed to reconsider and, with a doggy sigh, relaxed into a ful , stretched-out recline, her halfclosed eyes watching Lina with sleepy semi-interest. The nearest oak was also the biggest. Lina approached it careful y in the buttermilk moonlight, careful not to trip over the intricate knots of exposed roots that proliferated the area around the base of the tree. Unexpectedly, they seemed ominous, cal ing to life visions of grasping tentacles and writhing snakes.
"Stop being ridiculous," Lina said in the tone she reserved for generic perfume solicitors. The sound of her voice dispel ed the disturbing vision, and the oak shifted back to its familiar, solid self. Lina extracted the smal lump of dough from her pocket. She looked around the courtyard. No one was stirring; even Edith Anne had stopped watching her and was snoring softly. Lina crouched down and placed the dough bal in the vertex of two especial y thick roots that intersected at the base of the tree.
Lina looked around her again. Certain that except for the snoring bulldog she was alone, she dipped her fingers into the glass of wine and flicked red drops over the dough. It felt good. Lina smiled. It felt right. Stil smiling, she wet her fingers again and playful y rained the excel ent Chianti Classico al over the base of the ancient tree. Stifling girlish giggles, she continued splattering wine on the gnarled roots until the crystal goblet was empty. Then she squared her shoulders and cleared her throat.
"I would like to say something before closing this remarkable recipe ritual." Lina grinned at her intentional al iteration, but she quickly schooled her features to appear more sober. She certainly hadn't meant any disrespect, but grinning and giggling at the end of a goddess invocation ritual would probably be considered a faux pas. Lina began her speech again.
"Demeter!" The word came from Lina's mouth with such power that the sound of the goddess's name carried across the courtyard, making Edith stir and flutter her eyes before resituating her stocky body and continuing her nap. Lina swal owed hard and softened her voice. "My name is Carolina Francesca Santoro, and I want you to know that I have enjoyed your ritual very much. I think the dough wil make excel ent pizza, and I'm looking forward to trying it." Her impromptu speech reminded her of the reason why she had felt the need to experiment with the recipe, and while remembering Lina was amazed that she had ever forgotten. The lines on her forehead deepened and her shoulders slumped.
"I hope it's good. No, I more than hope it's good - I need it to be good. I can't lose my bakery. It's my responsibility; too many people depend on me. Demeter, if you're listening, please send me some help. In return I'l ... I'l ..." Lina stuttered and then blurted, "wel , damnit, I don't know what the hel I could possibly do for you in return." She shrugged her shoulders. "And I apologize for my use of common English swear words. How about if I just say, one mature woman to another, that I would real y appreciate your help and I would return the favor if I could." Satisfied, Lina closed her eyes, visualizing the final words of the ritual.
"O Goddess of the plentiful harvest, of strength and power and wisdom, I give You greeting, and honor, and thanks. Blessed Be!"
At the words, blessed be, Lina felt an overwhelming sense of release, as if - Lina's lips twitched - as if her prayer had been heard and answered. Logical y, she knew that wasn't real y possible, but she did believe in the power of positive thinking... self-fulfil ing prophecies... feng shui. Her lips tilted upward. She believed in the power of la magia del 'Italia.
Lina drew in a deep, cleansing breath, and her eyes sprang open in surprise. Enticing sweetness fil ed her nose. What was that smel ? Lina took another deep breath. It was wonderful! Scenting the soft wind like a wary deer, she sniffed her way around the oak. And came to an abrupt halt. In between a tangle of roots halfway around the tree grew one perfect flower. Its stem was thick and long, the width of a garden hose, and it stretched up almost two feet until it morphed into a huge bel -shaped cup with scal oped edges.
"Oh! Aren't you lovely. It's too early for a daffodil." Lina shook her head and automatical y corrected herself. "I mean narcissus." She could hear her grandmother scolding her, not by their common name, bambina, cal the bei flora - beautiful flowers - by their formal name, narcissus. But by whatever name she cal ed it, the flower was certainly unusual, and for more reasons than just its early blooming. Transfixed, Lina squatted in front of it. The blossom was a luminous, creamy yel ow color, as if a piece of the moon had fal en to earth and bloomed that night. She couldn't remember ever seeing a narcissus of that size. If she bal ed up her fist it would fit neatly inside the cupped bloom. And its perfume! Lina leaned forward and took a long sniff. She hadn't remembered any of her grandmother's flowers smel ing like this one. What was that scent? It was il usively familiar, but she couldn't quite name it. Lina took another deep breath. The fragrance made her heart beat and the blood rush through her body. There was something about that fanciful aroma that fil ed her with a youthful yearning, and suddenly she remembered her first kiss. It had been many years, but she easily recal ed that the kiss had contained this same sweetness. She sighed. The blossom smel ed like what would happen if moonlight and the innocence of spring had mated to create a flower.
Lina blinked in surprise and huffed through her nose, sounding a little like her dog. She was certainly waxing poetic and romantic. How bizarre and unlike herself - wel , unlike herself at fortythree anyway. She used to be romantic and dewy-eyed and blah, blah, love, blah, blah. Until life and experience and men had cured her naivete*. Lina narrowed her eyes at the flower. Romance?
Why was she thinking about that? She'd sworn off romance on her fortieth birthday. Finished. Through. Ka-put. And she hadn't regretted her decision.
A vision of her last date flashed back through her mind - Mr. Fifty-Something Successful Businessman: divorced twice, four dysfunctional kids - two from each marriage. The best thing that she could say about him was that he was consistent. During their entire very expensive dinner at one of Lina's favorite restaurants he had whined and complained about how much child support and alimony he had to pay his two hateful, money-grubbing ex-wives, who had never understood or appreciated him. Before the main course had been served Lina had found herself empathizing with the ex-wives.
And that experience summed up men in her age range. It was a cliche' that was, unfortunately, true. The good ones were taken - or gay. The rest of them were balding has-beens who spent their dates complaining about past choices. Or, like her ex-husband, had chosen newer, more perfect women as their mates. Women who were able to nurture more than stray pets. Women who were able to bear children...
Stop it! Lina scolded herself. Why was she thinking about that! Her ex-husband was ancient history, as was her desire to date and play the game. Quite frankly Lina would rather stay home and bake a cake. Or walk her dog. Or pet her cat (if he decided he was in the mood for petting). No, she hadn't regretted giving up on romance. Her eyes refocused on the unusual narcissus. It was just a flower, just a beautiful, early-blooming flower. And she had just had a very long, weird day, which explained why she was feeling odd. Maybe she was hormonal. She made a mental note to ask her mom about the change next time they talked.
A teasing breeze stirred the narcissus, bringing another wave of its sweet aroma to Lina. Just one more little sniff. She'd take one more smel , then she'd col ect Edith Anne and take herself off to bed where she belonged. Balancing on the bal s of her feet, she leaned forward, cupping the heavy blossom in her hands. As she brought her face closer to the flower, the area within the bel -shaped bloom rippled.
Lina blinked. What the hel ? She leaned closer and peered into the open cup. Like water down a sluiceway, shock caused al feeling to drain from her body. She was staring, not into the center of the narcissus, but straight into the face of an amazingly beautiful young woman. The woman's large violet-colored eyes were opened wide, her hair was in wild disarray, and her lovely lips were rounded as if she had been caught in the middle of uttering a terrified Oh!
Lina tried to move, but her body refused to obey her. She was frozen, transformed into a living statue. Fear pulsed through her and she felt her heart leap painfully in response, and then it was as if she was being pulled from her body by a giant vacuum cleaner. For a moment she was actual y able to look back at the immobile shel that was her physical self before she was yanked forward and into the blindingly bril iant light that pulsed at the center of the expanding narcissus blossom. Lina's mind rebel ed as her consciousness whirled down the circular shaft. She tried to cry out. She tried to stop. She tried to breathe, but there was nothing except the sense of motion and a wrenching feeling of displacement. Just as she was sure she would go mad, Lina felt an enormous tug and she popped from the shaft and slammed into something. Tears swamped her eyes, making it impossible for her to see more than vague, blurred images. Automatical y, she gasped for air. Drenched in vertigo, her arms flailed around until they col ided with the grassy earth against which her butt was resting. Struggling to anchor herself, she let her body col apse, arms spread wide as if she was embracing the ground. Lina pressed her face into the grass. She was shaking and panting, and she seemed to be trapped in some kind of silken netting.
"Get it off me! Get it off!" Stil panicking she tore at what was entrapping her. "Ouch! Merda!" The distinctive pain of roughly pulled hair penetrated her frenzy at the same instant her vision cleared. She was, indeed, lying against the grass-covered ground. Her hands were tangled in a thick mass of rich mahogany-colored hair that was so long that it fel to her waist. Her waist. Blinking away tears, Lina gazed down at "herself." Sucking in a deep breath Lina opened her mouth and screamed her best slasher-horror-movie-girl scream.