The memories of Adaline (Jacob Frye x OC)

Chapter 6; My dear friend

My dear friend
October 1861

Matteo Lastra kept his word. And not only once, but every time I returned to Italia. Whenever my father travelled to Rome to deal with his diplomatic bussinesses, I joined him, and over the years we visited many cities, so finally I got to see Venice and Naples, and once even the island of Sicily. And there were weeks that I spent in Firenze, with Matteo. I was the happiest at that time...

"I have to go!" his deep voice broke the silence, permeating the kitchen with the scent of freshly cut rosemary. Matteo's home was a place in which I had a lot of good memories by the time I was twenty-two years old. It brought me pure calmness, just like the man himself. The house was built on the border between Firenze and the forest. It had so beautiful shades of colour. Chocolate, beige and some pearly white. Oh, and the porch that led us to the soft grass covered yard. If the sun was rising, then we admired the golden birch trees, if it was setting down, then we admired the orange coloured land. But it did not bother me if the sunset was covered by gloomy clouds, or if the rain soaked the ground. The only thing that really mattered to me was who is sitting next to me on the porch.

"What?! Where do you have to go?" I looked questioningly at the man, as I wiped my hands on the apron around my waist. Meanwhile, he was already lacing his boots.

"To the Basilica di Santa Croce. We run into unexpected problem with the Templars." he said in a hurry, but at least he answered my question. And speaking of questions... When did he open the door of his bedroom? How did he know that he was needed in the city right now? And why could not the solution of the problem wait a few more hours?

"And so early? It's still dawn..." I reminded him that it was barely six o'clock. Only a few rays of the sun peeked out from behind the horizon, so there was autumn greyness outside.

"Then why are you in the kitchen instead of sleeping?"

"Because I'm baking rosemary bread, as I told you yesterday! And the dough will not rise if the flour is in the sack and the eggs are in the basket." I smiled and continued kneading the dough. Moments like these were so dear to my heart. There were mornings when I woke up early, just so that freshly baked bread could be on the table. And as for the rosemary bread, Matteo loved it. He found my baked masterpiece especially tasty when I also made scrambled eggs with mushroom. I was more than happy to bake or cook for him anything he wished, and I noticed that he really enjoyed watching me hustle and bustle around his kitchen. These were times that, if I could, I would have stretched them out to infinity, like I did with the dough. There were moments when my thoughts were wandering, but not far away. But here, in this house. I daydreamt about how it would feel if in the future my arrival to Italia was not the start of another autumn journey, but a return home. Here, into Firenze, into this house. Into his arms... "Go, don't worry about me! But please, be careful!"

"As always... I hope that the problem will not spread any further, and then I can be home by noon." and with that he already was on his way. Faster than the wild wind.

The seventh and eighth hours of the day passed, but I was not bored for a single minute. While my bread was in the oven, I was spending time outside in the kitchen garden. A few years ago the area was still covered with grass, but during my visit last year, Matteo welcomed me with the surprise of planting some of my favourite herbs near the south side of the house. There was not only basil and thyme, but also oregano and parsley. And a week ago we sowed chard and dill seeds. That day, hidden in a humourous comment, I told him that before I couldn't have imagined him picking tomatoes or pleasing me to a boquet of freshly picked spinach. Then, his answer was that he would harvest a whole hectare of grapes by himself if it would make me happy. But I did not want a vineyard, not even a bunch of grapes. My heart desired something entirely different...