*LORENZO*
“Sure.” Jenkins presses his remote, and a clay flies into the air about one hundred ters in front of us.
Danica gasps. “I will never hit that!”
“Yes you will. Watch. Stand back.”
And I feel like showing off. She’s a better pianist than , she can cook better than , and she beat at chess.
“Give two birds, Jenkins.”
“Yes, sir.”
I put on my glasses and ear protection.
Then open and load the barrel with two cartridges and mount my gun. Ready.
“Pull!”
Jenkins releases two clays that soar up in front of us. I squeeze the trigger and pop off the top barrel, then the second, hitting both clays so that they shatter, the shards falling to the ground like hail.
“Shot, sir,” Jenkins says.
“You hit them!” Danica exclaims.
“I did!” I can’t help my smug grin. “Okay, your turn.” I open the barrel and stand aside for her.
“Feet apart. Your weight on your back foot. Good. Look at the trap. You’ve seen the trajectory of the clay, you’ll want to follow it up in a smooth movent.” She nods vigorously. “Mount the stock as hard against your shoulder as you can. You don’t want any recoil.”
“Okay.”
I’m amazed that she’s following what I’m saying.
“Right foot back a bit, miss,” Jenkins adds.
“Okay.”
“Here are your cartridges.” I hand her two, and she loads them into the chamber and charges the gun. I stand back.
“When you’re ready, shout ‘Pull.’ Jenkins will send up one clay, and you have two chances to hit it.”
She gives an anxious glance and mounts her gun. She looks every bit the country woman, even in her woolly hat, her cheeks rosy and her plait hanging down her back.
“Pull!” she shouts, and Jenkins releases a bird.
It sails up before us, and she fires first one, then the second shot. And misses.
Both tis.
She pouts as the clay smashes on the ground several feet away from us.
“You’ll get the hang of it. Have another go.”
A steely glint appears in her eye, and Jenkins steps forward to give her so pointers.
On the fourth clay, she hits it.
“Yes!” I shout in encouragent. She dances over to .
“Whoa! Whoa! Barrel down!” both Jenkins and I exclaim simultaneously.
“Sorry.” She giggles and opens the gun.
“Can I have another shoot?”
“Of course. We have all morning. And it’s ‘shot.’ ”
She beams at . Her nose is pink, but her eyes are bright and lively with the thrill of a new experience. Her smile could lt the hardest of hearts, and mine fills with elation. It’s so gratifying to see her enjoying herself after all she’s been through.
************
Lorenzo and Danica sit in the trunk of Mr. Jenkins’s car, their legs hanging over the back, sipping coffee from a thermos and eating pastries with so kind of at inside.
Danica thinks it’s pork.
“You did well,” Lorenzo says. “Twenty out of forty clays isn’t bad going for a first ti.”
“You did much better.”
“I’ve done this before. Many tis.” He takes a sip of coffee. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes. I’d like to do it again. Maybe when it is not so cold.”
“I would like that.”
She smiles as her heart skips a beat. He wants to do this again, too. That’s a good sign, surely. She takes a sip of coffee.
“Ay!” She grimaces. “What is it?”
“No sugar.”
“Is it that bad?”
***************
*LORENZO*
Danica takes another cautious sip and swallows. “No. It’s not that bad.”
“Your teeth will thank you. What would you like to do now?”
“Can we walk by the sea again?”
“Sure. And then we can go for lunch.”
Jenkins returns. “The trap’s all packed, sir.”
“Great. Thanks for this morning, Jenkins.”
“It’s a pleasure, Don...sir.”
“I’d like to take my guns back to the Hideout and give them a clean there.”
“Of course. You’ll find all you need in the case.”
“Excellent.”
“Good day, sir.” We shake hands. “Miss,” he says, and he touches his fingers to his cap as a slow flush spreads across his cheeks.
“Thank you, Jenkins,” Danica says, and when she gives him a brilliant smile, his cheeks redden more. I think she has a new conquest.
“Shall we go?” I ask her. “Is it your gun?”
“Yes.”
She frowns.
“Jenkins keeps it for . By law, it has to be locked up. We have a gun cabinet at the Hideout.”
“Oh,” she says, her confusion obvious.
“Ready?” I ask to distract her.
She nods.
“I’ll have to take this ho.” I hold up the gun case. “And we can go for a walk on the beach, then sowhere nice for lunch.”
“Okay.”
I open the car door for her, and she gives a fleeting smile as she climbs in.
That was close. Just tell her.
Every day I don’t tell her who I am, I’m lying to her.
Fuck.
It’s as simple as that. I open the boot and place the gun case inside.
Just fucking tell her.
I get in beside her, close the car door, and glance across at her.
“Danica...”
“Look!” she exclaims, and points through the windscreen. Before us stands a magnificent buck deer, its coat gray and long, appropriate for the winter months, its usual white spots hidden in among its fur.
Where the hell did it co from? It’s less than four years old, judging by its size, but it sports an impressive set of antlers, which I know it’ll shed over the next couple of months. I wonder if it’s from the fallow deer herd we have at the Mansion or if it’s wild. If it’s from the Mansion, how did it get out? It peers down its imperious nose, fixing us with black eyes.
“Wow.” Danica whispers.
“Have you ever seen a deer?” I ask.
“No.”
We stare at the beast as it flares its nostrils and sniffs the air.
“Maybe the wolves ate them all,” I whisper.
She turns to and laughs, head back and free. It’s such an endearing sound.
I made her laugh!
In the nearby field, Jenkins starts his Land Rover, spooking the buck. It rears back, turns, and bolts over the drystone wall into so scrubland.
“I didn’t know there were wild animals in this country,” She says.
“We have a few.” I start the car, feeling that the mont to tell her is lost.
Damn.
I’ll tell her later.
And deep down I know the longer I wait, the worse it’s going to be when I finally spill the beans.
My phone buzzes in my jacket. It’s a text, and I know it’s from Carla.
That’s another issue I have to deal with at so point. But right now I’m going to take my lady for another walk on the beach.
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