There are lesbian characters in this story. If that’s not your cup of tea, switch to coffee and read something else.
Rating: There are some scenes that maybe should be rated R.
Synopsis: After a year of being in Greece, Janice and Mel return to Mel’s home in South Carolina to attend a seasonal family tradition. Not everything goes as planned.
Other information: This story is complete, but it’s not the end. I have at least one more Janice and Mel story in me. I just can’t promise when I’ll get it posted, since this one took over a year to finish.
Author’s notes: Mel’s mother and aunt are my homage to the Sugarbaker sisters (Designing Women). I’ve read this story over so many times, looking for mistakes, I am satisfied that I’ve missed some. Also, I sometimes slip into omniscient voice so I may have missed correcting that. Other than that, I hope you enjoy the story.
I want to thank Mary D (AUSXIP) for her comments, corrections and advice.
Spoilers: The Xena Scrolls. FIN never happened.
*****
Janice Covington was not a deep sleeper. Years of napping with one eye open on her father’s and, eventually, her own digs had programmed her to become alert at the slightest sound. It was a self-defense mechanism from spending a majority of her life in situations where she was the only female on site in areas where indigenous male workers and the occasional hired, properly educated, English speaking men didn’t see a woman for months and weren’t exactly big on consent.
All that changed a year ago when a lovely, statuesque, built-like-a-brick-shithouse, southern belle named Melinda Pappas walked into her life. Melinda’s initial presence was unexpected and unwelcomed but by that evening, Janice and the bespectacled beauty had agreed to become business partners. Janice, an archeologist, would continue to excavate sites where she expected to uncover antediluvian artifacts and Mel, an expert in ancient languages, would translate
the written texts, if any. While Janice could read some early European and African idiolect, Melinda’s expertise was properly deciphering ancient syntax.
Their shared obsession, however, was the pursuit and discovery of more Xena scrolls, which were parchments containing the chronological documentation of the journey of Xena of Amphipolis, written by her traveling companion, Gabrielle of Potidaea. The bard left chronicles of her and her warrior’s escapades all over Greece and locations in different parts of the known world at that time. Finding all these anachronistic scrolls was the obsession of Janice’s father, Harry, because he wanted to prove their existence and believed the enigmatically powerful Xena was an ancestor of his and therefore Janice’s. Upon Harry’s death, the obsession automatically passed on to his headstrong, determined daughter. Janice’s quest for the scrolls was her top priority, right behind living down the notoriety of being the daughter of “Harry Covington, grave-robber.”
Unfortunately, not only did she inherit his passion to legitimize the scrolls, Janice became heir to his reputation, as well. She was aware that her father had occasionally engaged in shady archeological practices to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads but he never, to her knowledge, actually “robbed a grave.” That’s why, when Melinda came along, not only did Mel validate that the pursuit of the scrolls was not just chasing her father’s chimera, Mel validated Janice, as well.
Although Janice was a scholar in her own right, with a hard-earned doctorate in the male-dominated field of archeology, Mel’s presence vindicated Janice’s legitimacy. Melinda Pappas was a proper, highly educated, genteel woman with an esteemed, aristocratic bloodline which said to Janice that what she and Harry had dedicated their lives to, was not a foolish pipe dream, that it was a credible pursuit. It certainly wasn’t that Melinda had more credibility than Janice but the Pappas name, in the United States, was recognized and acclaimed. Melinda’s recently deceased father, Melvin Pappas, was the Nobel Prize winner in 1924 for anthropology and Dean of the University of South Carolina. Her older brother, Ridley, just barely missed earning the bronze medal for fencing in the 1936 Berlin Olympics. Her younger brother, John Melvin, was a Navy pilot who flew Douglas SBD Dauntless bombers and was stationed on the distinguished aircraft carrier, USS Enterprise. Her mother, Julianna Pappas, was Columbia’s most revered socialite, known for her lavish soirees at their Longcreek Plantation estate, in the elite suburb of Blythewood.
Well-bred Melinda’s unwavering faith in the usually ill-mannered Janice became a balm to Janice’s damaged soul. In the year they had been professionally partnered, the two women who could not have been more personally incompatible, somehow made it work. To the point where the street smart, closet lesbian Janice had fallen hopelessly in love with the brilliant but, at times, densely clueless, apparently heterosexual Melinda.
Janice knew she never should have accepted Mel’s invitation to return to the States and spend the Fall harvest festivities with Mel’s family in Columbia. She knew she was courting trouble, but she couldn’t say no. Just being around the cultured, adorably awkward, beautiful southern belle made Janice want to be a better person even if her amorous feelings were unrequited. So…here she was.
Their flight into the New York Municipal Airport had landed early that afternoon and they spent the night in a room at The Carlyle, in the city. It was a large, luxurious room with two double beds and was more extravagant than anything Janice had experienced at this point in her life. The plan was to get settled into the room, go out to dinner, and spend the rest of the evening sightseeing. After a sumptuous meal, both women decided they were too exhausted for a night on the town and, instead, retired early to get a good night’s rest before their final leg of the journey, the train ride to South Carolina in the morning.
Janice discovered that being in Mel’s company made her feel safer. She didn’t know why but she felt a sense of security with Melinda that she never felt with anyone else, not even Harry. So, Janice easily fell asleep with the obliviously beguiling Melinda, softly snoring in another bed a few feet away from her, on her mind and Janice’s dreams were anything but chaste.
She was nuzzled from behind, enveloped in a gentle but firm embrace by Melinda’s enticingly naked body. Janice felt the erect points of Mel’s nipples as they pressed against her back. Melinda’s hand pushed strands of Janice’s long, blonde hair away from her neck, nibbling and kissing the area which caused goosebumps to instantly erupt all over Janice’s skin. Melinda then moved her hand down Janice’s shoulder and arm and slid her hand to Janice’s breast, cupping it through her threadbare t-shirt.
This dream seemed to be better than the others she’d had. The sensations felt so real. As Mel manipulated Janice’s nipple, she also slipped her thigh between Janice’s, tucking Janice’s rear end tightly against her and started a rocking motion that prompted a flood of wetness to coat Mel’s leg. Janice moaned loudly and began to breathe heavily. Mel’s fingers left Janice’s breast and danced sensuously down Janice’s torso and settled into folds of liquid heat.
“Oh, Jesus,” Janice gasped and covered the hand causing such a delicious friction. That, combined with Melinda pushing forward and Janice pushing back into her, was helping to raise the temperature of the dream. This wasn’t going to take long, Janice thought. Except in her fantasies, she never climaxed; she would awaken just before.
No one was more startled than Janice when she reached an explosive orgasm, stronger than anything she’d had with anyone else or even given herself. Just as Janice was moaning, “Oh, Mellllll…” as the tremors were subsiding, the husky voice behind her said, “Yessssss, Gabrielle…”.
Janice’s eyes popped open and suddenly she was wide awake. She lay motionless for a moment while she tried to calm her breathing and realized, it was not a dream, the body behind her was real and she had actually had sex with…
Janice scrambled out of bed and turned on the room light. Her expression resembled a deer caught in headlights. “You’re…you’re not Mel.”
“And you’re not Gabrielle,” a shocked Xena responded.
*****
Janice paced, trying to ignore an uninhibitedly naked Xena who sat on the side of the bed. Xena looked around at the lavishly decorated room. “What am I doing here?”
Janice stopped and looked at Xena, the archeologist’s eyes automatically zeroing in on the warrior’s exposed breasts. Janice tried to speak, had a couple false starts and grabbed the white bathrobe draped over one of the two chairs in the room. Regardless that it was Xena’s spirit, it was still Mel’s body and since Mel wasn’t there to give her permission to look, she felt protective of Mel’s modesty. She threw the bathrobe at Xena. “Please put that on. You’re too distracting, otherwise,” Janice told her and swallowed audibly as Xena rose to her full, imposing, gloriously nude height and slid into the plush housecoat, belting it around her waist. “What are you doing here? What happened to bring you here?”
“I have no idea. Last thing I remember, I was snuggling up to Gabrielle and then I was with you.” Xena chuckled when a sudden blush colored Janice’s cheeks and a look of panic returned to Janice’s visage. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”
Janice turned away and took a deep breath, her body still tingling from the powerful climax. “No, it was…it was…that’s not the point.” She whirled back around, frustrated. “You shouldn’t be here. We’re not on a dig where the scrolls are involved, we’re not dealing with anything involving ancient gods or goddesses, we’re on vacation, thousands of miles away from Greece.”
Xena shrugged. “It is odd.” She sat down on the bed again. “Where are we?”
“We’re in New York.” Reacting to Xena’s blank stare, Janice added, “In America.”
“Where is America? You said thousands of miles from Greece. So…Japa? Chin? Brittania?”
Of course she wouldn’t know America, Janice thought. “America is a new-ish country, discovered about fourteen hundred years or so after you. If I had a world map, I’d show -” Janice stopped. “Wait, how are you speaking English?”
“Speaking what? What’s English?”
“The language you’re answering me in.”
“I’m speaking Greek. And so are you.”
“I’m not speaking…wait, you’re hearing Greek?”
“Yes,” Xena said, mildly exasperated.
“Weird. We’re both speaking and hearing each other in our native languages.” She looked away and absently scratched her chin in thought. “If archeology ever fails me, I’m going to investigate Minkowski’s space-time continuum theory,” she mumbled, more to herself than Xena. Returning her focus to Mel’s ancestor, Janice said, “We have to figure out why you’re here and Mel isn’t and how to get
Mel back.”
“Yes, because the sooner I can get back to Gabrielle, the better.” Xena’s smile was downright salacious.
Janice studied Xena momentarily. “So…you and Gabrielle really were lovers?
That’s why she’s so important to you.”
“Lovers?” Xena appeared to mull over the word. “Yes, that and so much more. Gabrielle is my friend, my partner, my lover, my conscience, my moral compass…Gabrielle is my everything. I am nothing without her.”
Janice took note of the reverence in which Xena spoke of Gabrielle. “You’re in love with her,” Janice concluded.
“Deeply.” Xena smiled. “See? Not the ‘useless tagalong’ you continued to think even after I told you she wasn’t the last time I got called here,” she admonished.
Janice looked duly chastised. “The last time you showed up it was to stop Ares from escaping his tomb in Macedonia. We aren’t anywhere near any of your former stomping grounds so what could possibly be the reason you’re here now?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you.”
Janice picked up her fedora from the dresser, plopped it on her head and reached for her pack of cheroots. She then remembered Mel’s aversion to the odor of the small, tapered cigars. “Mind if I smoke?”
Xena tilted her head in question. “Opium? Valarian? Sativa?” she asked.
“What? No.” Janice then remembered that a majority of the plants, leaves and seeds dried and smoked in Xena’s time were hallucinogens or antidepressants. She withdrew a brown, stick-like item from a container and displayed it in her hand. “This is just tobacco. It was discovered and cultivated first in Mesoamerica, about fifteen hundred years after you. It’s harmless.”
“Most of what is smoked is a member of the Nightshade family,” Xena said, wisely. “And that is far from harmless.”
Janice looked at Xena, blandly. “So…mind? Yes or no?”
“It’s your health,” Xena said and shrugged.
Janice lit the cheroot, began to puff, and resumed pacing. She passed a mirror and saw Xena regarding her with an amused expression. Then she saw her own reflection in a flimsy undershirt, panties, hat and chewing on the end of her cigar. She addressed Xena’s mirror image. “What? It helps me think.”
“The hat or the smoking?”
“Yes.”
Xena waved the fumes away. “Mel must really love you to allow that pungency.”
Janice took the cigarillo out of her mouth. “First, Mel hates it and second, we don’t have that kind of relationship. Mel’s my friend, not my lover,” she said, almost defensively.
“Ah.” Xena’s eyes cut to the rumpled sheets, then looked back at Janice. “But, clearly, you wish it was different.”
Janice was silent and then said, “Yes. I mean, who wouldn’t? But Mel doesn’t think of me that way.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why? Do you know something Mel doesn’t?” Janice asked, skeptically but hopefully.
Xena smiled, slyly. “I can’t speak for Mel.”
“Which brings us back to our dilemma. You’re going to have to speak for Mel if we don’t get her back before we get to her family home.”
“If she doesn’t show up, we’ll deal with it until she does. I mean, how hard can it be?”
Janice just blinked at her. Xena playing a demure southern belle from South Carolina and convincing her rigid southern family she was Mel? No way on Zeus’ green earth.
***
The phone in the room rang at 10:00 AM, the exact time Mel had requested a wake-up call. The fact that Xena wasn’t already up or didn’t vault into action immediately, wondering what that irritating noise was caused Janice to investigate after she hung up.
She approached the other bed cautiously but was encouraged to hear the woman occupying it softly snoring and see a smidgen of drool hanging off her lower lip.
“Mel?” Janice said, quietly. She reached over and gently shook the woman’s shoulder to no response. She was relieved because she was pretty sure Xena might have thrown her across the room at being awakened by someone’s touch other than Gabrielle’s. Janice shook Mel a little harder. “Mel, time to get up.” Again, when there was no acknowledgment, Janice raised her voice. “Mel!”
Melinda’s eyes opened, startled, and she focused on Janice. “What? My goodness, Janice, you don’t have to yell.”
Janice grinned at the familiar accent and the demeanor. “Time to get up. We have a train to catch.”
Reaching for her glasses, Melinda put them on. “Janice, did you sleep in that hat?”
Janice had fallen asleep only a few hours before, leaning up against the headboard and had forgotten to take her hat off. “It was a strange night.”
Mel started to sit up when she suddenly realized she was naked. “Oh, my – Janice, where is my nightgown?”
Janice pulled her morning grooming items out of her travel bag and said, “Oh, yeah, about that…”
Holding the sheet to her upper body, Melinda blushed. “Yes?”
Janice watched her friend’s expression and heard her tone. Did she sound expectant? Janice shook that thought out of her head. “I’m going to use the head so that you can get out of bed to get your robe. I won’t be too long, and you shouldn’t take too long either. We have to be at Penn Station by noon to catch our train and we still have to have to check out and have breakfast.”
“But…” Melinda gestured to her sheet covered nudity. She took a deep breath.
“We need to talk about it now, Janice.”
Sighing, Janice sat on the edge of her own bed. “What’s the last thing you remember about last night?”
“We got back from dinner, we talked a bit about how exciting Manhattan is, decided to turn in early because we were tired. I distinctly remember having my nightgown on when I fell asleep.” Mel’s voice rose with every word and she clutched the sheet closer to her.
“Calm down, Melinda, your virtue is still intact,” Janice said, a little annoyed at Mel’s intimation that Janice may have been the culprit regarding Mel’s mysterious nudity. “For some reason, which I have yet to figure out, Xena showed up last night.”
“Xena? Oh, my.” Mel silently contemplated that news. Then she focused on
Janice. “And the first thing she did was take off my nightgown?”
Janice looked away to hide the blush. No way would she tell Mel one of the first things Xena did. “I guess she wasn’t used to sleeping with clothes on.”
Mel pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Why did she show up? What did she want?”
“I don’t know, Mel. Neither of us could figure that out. But she’s gone now so, let me get ready and then you can have the lavatory all to yourself.” Janice stood up and moved to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
She could still hear Melinda when Melinda exclaimed, “Xena. Oh, my.”
*****
Most trains out of town left from Grand Central Station but the noon train to
Columbia departed from Pennsylvania Station, which was located underneath Madison Square Garden. The journey would take a little more than 18 hours, with all the stops along the way, so Mel spent the extra money to reserve a berth in the sleeper car for the trip down to South Carolina and the trip back to New York. Whether or not the trip involved any sleeping, the accommodations were much more comfortable than staying in a regular seat for the long ride.
The train started moving as Janice and Mel settled into their compartment. Mel, dressed in pearls, a conservative, navy blue skirt with matching shoes and top (cleavage covered, of course), primly seated herself. She looked out the window at the passing scenery.
Janice was dressed in neatly pressed, cinnamon-shaded, gabardine slacks and an apricot-colored, button-down blouse. To Janice the pants were brown, and the shirt was orange-yellow but Mel decided which outfit Janice should wear that would be suitable for an introduction and, with Mel, colors had various, fancy names. She wanted to make a good first impression with Mel’s family but not enough where she agreed to wear a dress. Gone – at least for now – were the khaki work clothes, the boots, the leather jacket, and her fedora. They were packed and would make their southern debut at some point but not today.
“You okay, Mel?”
“Yes. Not really. I am a bit nervous.”
“Because of bringing me home?”
Mel turned away from the window and shot Janice an annoyed look. “No, Janice, I’ve told you – several times now – that I am proud to introduce you to my family.” She pushed her glasses up. “I’m just concerned they may not be obliging to you.”
“In what way?” Janice asked, curiously.
“Well…it’s nothing personally to do with you, Janice, but I think they blame you for keeping me away from them for a year. It’s frustrating that they still don’t believe, even with my education, that I have a mind of my own and can make proper decisions for myself.”
“That’s ridiculous. They’ve known you since birth and think that? I’ve known you for all of one year and I know that isn’t true at all.”
“Yes, but you had no presumptions of me because I showed up in your life unexpectedly. You knew nothing about me and never treated me like a fragile southern flower. You just trusted I’d pull my own weight on the sites and do whatever you needed me to do.”
“And you did.”
“My family, I do love them so, but they don’t think I’m cut out for anything but being a debutante and marrying an appropriate husband and having a gaggle of children.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Mel. If they really felt that way, why would they allow you to go to college?”
“My mama was adamant that we all go to the university because my daddy was dean, and we could get a college education for free.”
“Why was that a determining factor? It’s not like your family couldn’t afford tuition.”
“Mama used the combined tuition money and donated it back to the school as long as they renamed the Department of Archeological Studies building after my daddy.”
Janice nodded. “Do you think if tuition hadn’t been free, you would have been pushed more to marry and start a family?”
Mel shrugged. “I don’t know. My mama did seem to be quite determined that all three of us would get at least a bachelor’s degree. And I was the only one of the three of us to follow in my daddy’s footsteps with translating. The boys didn’t seem interested. But the talk always around me began with, ‘Well, when you have children…’.”
Janice sat opposite her, realizing they’d never discussed this topic before. “Do you want that, Mel? To get married and have kids?”
“Maybe someday. I don’t know. I do know I’m not ready for any of that now. I am living the life I want to live, and I don’t want to give it up.”
“Nor should you have to,” Janice concurred.
“Just be prepared for me to get the full spinster treatment from everybody. I am almost 26, Janice. In some circles, I’m already an old maid.”
“You are far from an old maid,” Janice said, shaking her head and chuckling.
“Thank you, Janice. But my Aunt Suzanna will be relentless and don’t be shocked if she tries to set you up for marriage, as well.”
“I don’t believe she’ll have much success there but thanks for the head’s up,” Janice said, smiling warmly at Mel. She stood up. “Since you do not like my cigar smoke, I’m going to find the lounge car and have a few puffs. Did you want to come or are you okay here?”
“I think I’ll sit here and relax. If I get bored with the scenery, I brought some New
York Times crossword puzzles with me to work on.”
“Okay. I’ll be back in a bit.”
*****
While Janice sat in a half-moon-shaped booth by herself, enjoying her cigar, sipping a cup of hot coffee, she replayed the past 24 hours in her mind. She relaxed into the distended, red vinyl, banquet-style seat and thought of last night. After her thorough daydreaming of the erotic activities, she concentrated on why Xena would show up. It made no sense. There had to be a reason but none she was aware of that were obvious.
Her mind then went back to the sex. She took a deep breath and blew it out. She had a hard time getting passed the knowledge that she’d had been intimate with Xena, Warrior Princess’ spirit in Mel’s body.
“Must be a really good thought,” a male voice said, interrupting her blissful recollection.
Janice snapped out of her reverie and looked at the handsome man who had spoken to her. “Why do you say that?”
“Your ears are an adorable shade of pink.” The man smiled.
Janice laughed hollowly, embarrassed at being caught. One hand automatically went to cover one of her ears, only exposed because Mel had braided her hair that morning. “There’s nothing about me that’s adorable, just so you know.” She took a long drag on her cheroot and blew the smoke upward, into the man’s face.
Janice then held the cigar between her teeth and spoke around it. “Something I can help you with?”
The man sat down, uninvited. “Nope. Just trying to pass the time. Where are you headed?”
“I don’t give out that information to total strangers,” Janice told him, her tone still neutral.
“Well, then let me introduce myself. My name is Chet, I’m from Little Italy in New
York, my family owns three successful businesses in that section of the city and I’m on my way south to meet a friend.”
Janice studied him with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. “I don’t recall asking.”
“An introduction doesn’t make us strangers anymore,” he said, grinning, an expression that made him seem boyish.
“Little Italy, huh? Isn’t that the Italian mob section of New York?” she asked pointedly.
“And what would you know about the Italian mob, young lady?” His tone bordered on patronizing, even with that charming little grin intended to take the edge off.
Janice bristled against his condescension but noticed he didn’t deny her question. “That’s Doctor Young Lady to you,” Janice said and went back to ignoring him.
“Doctor?” Chet said with surprise. “I’m impressed. Please pardon my faux pas.”
“Your faux pas? An Italian speaking French with a New York accent. Interesting,” she said, refusing to pay any more attention to him. When he didn’t leave, she looked up at him again. “So…again…can I help you?” she asked, wondering why good-looking men always seemed so assured of their welcome with women regardless of whether or not they were invited into the woman’s space.
Chet studied her briefly, then said, “I noticed you were the only other person in here smoking, although I have to say, I’m surprised that it’s a cigar but I thought, since it was, I’d ask if you wanted to try one of my imported cigars from my family’s tobacco farm in the excellent fields of the Lazio region of Italy. I’m trying to give it a good reputation.”
“Why offer it to me? I’m not anyone who could influence the sales of your product.”
Chet shrugged. “Word of mouth. You recommend it to someone; they recommend it to others and so on and so forth.”
As much as Janice wanted to send this gentleman on his way, there was something about him that was engaging. Janice had an innate sense of men who were threatening. She’d encountered enough of them. Although, she remained on guard, Chet really didn’t seem foreboding. She decided there was no harm in accepting his offer. “Sure, I’ll give it a try.”
Chet extracted a cigar, wrapped in cellophane, and handed it to Janice. “Great.
Can I also buy you a drink?”
Janice sniffed the cigar in its wrapping, noticing it’s unpleasant fragrance, an odor a bit harsher than she was used to.
Chet noticed her expression and smiled. “The smell can be a little off-putting but once it’s lit and you take those first couple of puffs, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.”
“We’ll see,” Janice said. She placed the cigar into the inside pocket of her lightweight, cottonwool, Moto jacket. “It’s 10:30 in the morning,” Janice countered, in response to his question. Not that drinking alcohol that early ever bothered her before but never with someone she’d just met. Again, she decided, ‘why not?’. She could use a shot of bourbon to stop her jitters about meeting Mel’s family. She would not get drunk, but a little alcohol couldn’t hurt. She focused back on Chet. “Sure. Bourbon, neat, if they have it.”
Chet stood up and winked at her. “Be right back.”
Janice guessed Chet to be a little over six feet tall, thin but sturdy. He had short, black hair, brown eyes with flecks of green, a bright, easy smile and a tanned complexion. She surmised, the way his suit fit, it was custom made and he appeared to be professionally groomed. He had an air of superiority and wealth and a niggling familiarity that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Then she remembered he reminded her of one of her professors at Dartmouth; The female students swooned over him, and the male students called him Romeo. She ran into him twice off campus, once in Hanover and once at Lake Sunapee and both times he flirted shamelessly with her. By then she was cemented in her desire for women but if she had played for the other team, she would have been drawn to him.
She wondered if he was the type of guy Mel would be drawn to. He was certainly attractive and polished enough.
*****
Before Janice knew it, three hours had gone by, and four tumblers of bourbon had been consumed. It was a good thing her tolerance to alcohol was so high. She barely even felt tipsy. As she bid goodbye to Chet, she stayed at the booth, finishing up her last glass.
She felt Mel’s presence before she heard her. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“I’m so sorry, Mel. I got talking to this guy and lost track of time. But I did tell you I was coming here.”
“Who was that man who just left?”
Janice suddenly noticed the deeper, huskier tone of Mel’s voice. She turned to look at Mel for the first time since she’d slid in beside her. The look was hard, suspicious. And Mel wasn’t wearing her glasses. Shit. “Xena?”
“Yes. Who was that man?” she repeated.
“He was just some guy. Said his name was Chet. Gave me one of what are supposed to be really good cigars. Not my type but he was obnoxiously charming.” She turned her body toward Xena. “Why are you here again? What is going on?”
“I don’t know. I was about to brush Argo and suddenly I’m here on whatever this moving contraption is, dressed in these really restrictive clothes. Something keeps propelling me back here. The last time it was obviously to fight Ares. This time, I haven’t a clue.” Her eyes were still glued to where Chet had exited. “That man, Chet, you said? I didn’t see his face but there was something familiar about his retreating form.”
“Did you study Comparative Perspectives at Dartmouth seven years ago?”
Xena tilted her head and briefly studied Janice curiously. “Are you speaking to me in code?”
Janice breathed out a snort. “Obviously not. Could it be Ares in another body?”
“No, I don’t get that Ares vibe from him. Besides, didn’t you collapse the temple and trap Ares?”
“Yeah but he’s a god, so who knows what he’s capable of.”
“I do,” Xena said. “Still…I don’t feel Ares.”
Janice slid to the other side of the booth and stood up. “Let’s go back to our compartment,” she suggested. “We need to figure this out before we get to Mel’s house.”
*****
Janice shut the private room door after Xena entered. “So – “
“What is this…thing…we are in?” Xena asked as she looked out the window at the passing foliage.
“It’s called a train. It’s a bunch of cars -”
“Cars? What’s cars?”
Oh, boy. “Cars are vehicles, um, in this instance, they’re, uh, okay…” Janice took a deep breath and released it. “What we’re standing in right now is a train car. When you came to get me in the lounge car, you had to walk over the hook apparatus that keeps all the cars together.”
“I had to walk over three of them.”
“Right. A train is many cars, connected through devices like that, moving on a prebuilt track, being pulled by a locomotive – an engine car that runs on steam.” At Xena’s skeptical expression, Janice said, “It has to do with coal, steam, pressure, pistons…” Janice sighed. “Think of it as caravan wagons being fastened to each other and the caravan leader is in the first wagon with several powerful horses pulling that wagon, at the same time, pulling all the wagons behind it. It’s like that except instead of horses pulling several cars like the ones we’re in, it’s propelled by…” This was where Janice ran out of metaphors to describe it. “…magic.”
“Magic?” Xena seemed even more dubious.
“Sure, why not?” Janice answered, watching Xena fidget with the long skirt Mel had on.
“How do you manage wearing these clothes?” Xena asked, irritated.
When Janice saw Xena’s hands, moving toward the seams, Janice quickly spoke up. “No! Xena, please. Don’t rip another one of Mel’s skirts. I’m still hearing about the last time.”
Xena’s hands stilled. “Okay but if I have to fight, these seams will cease to exist.”
“If you have to fight again, hopefully we all won’t cease to exist,” Janice mumbled. Xena sat and Janice paced. She stuck one of her half-smoked cigars into her mouth. “It’s not that I don’t feel honored to be in your company, but we’ve got to get Mel back before we get to Columbia.”
“Why? I mean, what’s wrong with me waiting it out until I find the reason I’m here?”
“We’re going to stay with Mel’s family. Mel’s mother, Mel’s aunt and her brothers, people Mel grew up with. You don’t think they’ll notice something’s amiss?” Janice asked.
“Perhaps a little bit,” Xena said.
“A little bit?” Janice repeated, incredulously. She had faced all kinds of threats by humans, animals and deadly objects and dealt with them as necessary but meeting Melinda’s family with an imposter who knew less about southern culture than Janice did? That thought terrified her.
“Tell them I hit my head.”
“You hit your head,” Janice repeated, then stopped moving. “And that will convince them that dainty, awkward, regionally accented, prim and proper Mel, is you? There is not a dainty or awkward bone in your body. You’re imposing. The only time Mel has ever been imposing was when you took over her body.” She continued her pacing. “No, we have to get Mel back. I mean, what happens if they can’t hear you speaking English, like I can? What happens if -” She stopped in front of Xena, who appeared to be slumped, asleep on the seat. Janice reached down and started shaking her shoulder. “Xena? Xena, wake up. Jesus H. Christ, now what? Xena?”
Just then, blue eyes opened, blinked a few times, and focused unsteadily on
Janice. “Janice? What’s going on?”
“Mel!” Janice screamed, never happier to hear a southern drawl in her life. She removed the cigar and gave Mel a rib-crushing hug. “Thank you. Promise you won’t go away again. That’s an order,” Janice said and squeezed her once more before letting her go.
“If that’s the reception I’m going to get every time, I’m not promising anything. Of course, I can’t promise anything anyway but it sure is nice to be appreciated.” She smiled and sat up. “At least this time I have clothes on.”
Janice decided wisely not to mention Xena was about to destroy another skirt of hers. She sat down opposite Mel. “What happens when Xena takes over? What do you experience?”
“You’re not going to smoke that in here, are you?” Mel asked, in a tone that that made clear it wasn’t a question.
Janice had forgotten she had been holding it. “No, I just need it to concentrate.” She stuck the end of the unlit stogie in her mouth.
Mel lifted her hand to push her glasses up but there was nothing there. “Janice, where are my glasses?”
“You can’t answer without your glasses?” Janice practically yelled. Then she scrubbed her face with her hands, calming down. She caught a glimpse of Mel’s hurt look. She reached for Mel’s glasses on the table, handed them to her and said, “I’m sorry, Mel. I’m all discombobulated. Neither Xena nor I can figure out why this is happening. Xena’s ruled out anything to do with Ares, she said whatever is going on, this doesn’t have Ares’ energy. But she’s showing up without warning and I’m really concerned she’s going to show up at your family event.”
“Oh, my, that would be a little bit problematic.”
“A little bit? What is it with you two and the damn understatements?”
“I have no idea what that means, Janice. I don’t know what Xena says or does while she’s inhabiting my body. It’s like I’m in a dreamless sleep.”
“You mean, like unconscious?”
“No, I mean a dreamless sleep. If I meant unconscious, I would have said unconscious,” Mel explained, patiently. “And you don’t need to curse.”
“Actually, I do, Mel, I fucking do need to curse because if Xena shows up once we get to South Carolina, guess who has to explain to your family it’s really not you?”
“Just tell them I hit my head.”
Janice’s left eye twitched.
*****
Janice woke up, blinked the sleep out of her eyes and looked at her watch. Almost 4:30. Two more hours until they pulled into Columbia’s Seaboard Air Line station.
She’d had concerns about both she and Mel using the same berth – not because she feared anything sexual, especially not from Mel and Janice was pretty sure Xena would check who she was intimately caressing next time before getting frisky. But Janice had concerns about her own subconscious actions while she slumbered. Whenever Janice was in bed with anyone, and she allowed that woman to spend the night or if Janice didn’t get up and leave right after sex, she tended to pull the person closer, locking her into a possessive embrace while she slept.
Janice and Mel had never spent a night in the same bed. They shared a tent with separate cots, they shared hotel rooms with two beds, but never the circumstances they were in now. Janice needn’t have worried as she barely slept at all, even though she was exhausted.
When, still asleep, Mel rolled over tightly into Janice’s side and placed her hand over Janice’s left breast, Janice knew Xena had returned. “Sonofabitch!” Janice bellowed, frustrated, which woke Xena up.
Xena’s eyes shot open, and she quickly assessed the situation. She was also frustrated. “Again?”
*****
“This is a nightmare!” Janice said, pacing the small room. “Any other time I would be thrilled about you being here because of the historic information I could glean from you but in this set of circumstances, I need Mel. I don’t care how much you two look alike, you can never pass as Mel. Jesus H. Christ, this is a disaster.”
“What is a Jesus H. Christ? That’s the second time you’ve said that.”
Janice looked at her, eyes wide, then she pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead as though attempting to ward off a headache. “Oh, boy.” She sat down on the bed. “Jesus Christ is a person, a god, really. He’s…” Janice tried to think of something she could compare Jesus to that Xena would understand. “Jesus is the son of the one God mostly everybody believes in now.” Then something clicked. “Kind of like Eli or if Eli had a son. Mel is very devoted to this guy, Jesus. There are churches or what you used to know as temples of worship specifically to honor Jesus and the one God. But there are several denominations of this religion, and they all fight over which religion loves Jesus the most and is the one of truth faith. Mel is of the Baptist denomination and -”
“What’s a Baptist?” Xena asked.
“Ah,” Janice said, “That is a question I can answer from an archeological
standpoint. During the Minoan era in Greece, western Crete, just above the bay of Souda is the city of Aptera.”
“Yes, Aptera was named after Artemis and it’s a sacred place.”
“Right, and on the day of the summer solstice, which is the longest day of the year, and supposed to hold mystical importance, a Greek couple decided to have a naming ceremony for their newborn child.”
“Yes, I’m familiar with the ceremony. The parents light a fire on the altar, circle the altar three times with the child, calling out the name they chose for it. They put some oils on their hands from the lamps lit for the ceremony, and during the purification ritual, they trace the baby’s head and body with the oils.”
“That is baptism, which is an ancestor of baptizo, which means ‘to wash.’ Well,” she hesitated, correcting herself, “it predates John the Baptist but not the Jewish culture spoken of in Leviticus.” She looked over at Xena, who stared at Janice politely but had clearly lost interest. “And that means nothing to you.” She drew a deep breath. “Anyway, baptisms evolved from something like that to being completely submerged in water to a sprinkling of holy water on the head, where different faiths and sections branched off from those religions, adapted the ceremony to fit their doctrine.”
“What is holy water?’
“It’s water that has been blessed by a priest or the clergy.”
“Is Mel a priestess? Does she baptize people?”
“No. That’s the job of the preacher, who runs the church. And Baptists preachers don’t just sprinkle water on your head, your whole body gets dunked into the drink.” Janice was about to add that John the Baptist submerged Jesus fully during that ritual but if Xena didn’t know about Jesus, John the Baptist, or the Old Testament, it would mean nothing to her.
Xena paused thoughtfully and then said, “Just to give you a name?”
Janice chuckled. “No, that part has changed. Now you get baptized to acknowledge your identification with and acceptance of Christ dying for your sins, and your living union with him.”
“Sounds restrictive and controlling,” Xena commented.
“Well, it’s religion, so…” Janice remembered something she thought Xena should be aware of. “By the way, you’re going to see a lot of crosses on tops of churches, in jewelry and in other things, like wall decorations, so don’t get concerned.”
“Why? Why would anyone revere crucifixion?” Xena shuddered at the memory.
“It has to do with Jesus. Jesus was crucified as a sacrifice for the sins of mankind.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would anyone worship a symbol of someone’s torturous method of death?”
“It wasn’t a thing until about six years after Christ died. Christians, the followers of Christ, started wearing the cross as a symbol of their devotion.” Janice saw from Xena’s expression that she was still confused. Join the club, Janice wanted to say. “It’s complicated and I’m really not the person who should be explaining it to you because my view of organized religion is not neutral.”
“Then how do I learn about Mel’s religion?”
“If you stick around long enough to make it to Mel’s house, I’m sure there will be a Bible or two hanging around, maybe even in Latin. I’d suggest starting with the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.”
“So, what does the ‘H’ stand for?”
It was a minute before Janice realized Xena meant the H in Jesus H Christ.
“Herman.”
“Herman,” Xena repeated, as though she was committing it to memory.
“No, not really. There are different explanations but since it is only used when people are frustrated or surprised, I don’t think it’s an actual biblical term. Also, don’t say that in front of Mel’s family. It’s considered blasphemous to take Jesus’ name in vain which Baptists will not tolerate.”
“Then why do you say it?”
“Because I’m not Baptist. Or any religion. And I curse. A lot. Hopefully, I’ll be on my best behavior while I’m there.” Janice took out what was once her father’s pocket watch and checked the time. “Damn it. Ninety minutes until we pull into Columbia.” Janice got an idea and started to swing the chain back and forth “Maybe if you fall back to sleep, you’ll wake up as Mel.” Xena’s eyes began following the watch. “You are getting sleepy,” Janice said in what she considered her best hypnotic voice.
“No, I’m not,” Xena responded, alert, and looked up at Janice.
“Goddammit,” Janice swore. She then looked at Xena. “Don’t say that, either.”
*****
An hour into trying to enlighten Xena about southern culture, which Janice knew nothing about, Xena’s eyes had glassed over. “Just let me wing it,” Xena said, finally, as Janice tried to put Xena’s hair into an acceptable style that wouldn’t embarrass Mel.
“How can you possibly wing it when you are entering a lifestyle you have never seen, much less experienced, before?”
“Come on, how hard can it be? Fitting in with Mel’s family sounds like my experience as Diana, who was a princess -”
“I read that scroll.” Janice stopped and considered what Xena just said. “Yeah, it would help if you could pretend you were Diana being Mel.” She finished Xena’s hair, and they both assessed her work.
“What’s this hairstyle called?” Xena asked.
Janice held out a pillbox hat that matched Mel’s suit and said, “It’s called the ‘you need to wear your hat all the time’ hairdo.
“I hate hats.” Xena mumbled and plunked the round, felt-made, item on her head.
“I hate prissy hats like that. You’d look good in a fedora,” Janice said.
“Then let me wear your fedora,” Xena suggested.
Janice chuckled. “Mel’s mother would have a hemorrhage right there in the train station seeing you in your impeccable suit, perfect make-up and wearing my old, dusty, brown, leather fedora. Now let’s go over some basic rules again.”
Xena drew in a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “Good posture.”
“No, perfect posture,” Janice corrected. “Not that you need to worry about that.”
“Perfect posture,” Xena repeated. “Always say please and thank you and always be polite.”
“That might be a little difficult for you so keep remembering you’re not Xena, you’re Princess Melinda.” Janice folded her arms. “Go on.”
“Good manners, respect my elders. Wear red lipstick, dresses, pearls, and heels if I can stand in them.”
“Yes. Heels are tricky. I know Mel can walk in them, but she mostly wears pumps and flats. Probably because, in bare feet, she already towers over mostly everyone else. Also, according to Mel, her Aunt Suzanna is always trying to match her up for marriage and most suitors don’t like women taller than they are.”
“Oh, a matchmaker. That’ll be fun,” Xena said with no humor in her voice. “Also, avoid drinking to excess.”
“Yeah, poor you. You’ll probably need to get drunk. I’m going to have to drink to excess to keep my sanity. Oh, and if you do drink alcohol, it has to be brown liquor.”
Xena made a face. “Brown liquor? What’s liquor?”
Please come back, Mel, Janice thought, trying to tamp down her panic. “Liquor is a type of drink that’s stronger than ale or mead. Like kykeon.”
“Kykeon? Drinking that makes you see things,” Xena said.
“And so will whiskey or bourbon if you drink enough of it,” Janice said.
“What, exactly, makes it brown?”
“Extracting compounds and pigments from the oak cask it matures in, I believe.”
“Why?”
“Why do I believe what makes it brown?” Janice asked confused.
“No, why only brown liquor?”
“I have no idea. What else?”
“No cursing.”
“That’s a big one. Mel wouldn’t say ‘shit’ if her mouth was full of it.”
“Why would Mel’s mouth be full of shit?” Xena asked in a disgusted tone of voice.
“No, it wouldn’t. It’s…it’s a saying.” Seeing the look on Xena’s face change to puzzled, Janice, exasperated, said, “Come on, we’re running out of time. What else?”
“Good table manners. Always call your parents ‘mama,’ not mom, not mother, and fathers are always called ‘daddy’ no matter how old you get.” Xena looked up at Janice. “You don’t have any of these traits. Why don’t you have to follow any of these rules?”
“Because I wasn’t born and bred as an authentic southern belle.”
“Why can’t we just tell them I hit my head?”
“That won’t solve anything. It just won’t be believable. We’re not going to say that,” Janice stated as her eye began to twitch.
*****
“She hit her head,” was the first sentence Janice uttered when she deboarded the train and encountered Mel’s Aunt Suzanna.
Thankfully, Mel had frequently shown Janice photographs of her family which made it easier to recognize Mel’s mother’s youngest sibling. Suzanna, who at approximately 50 years of age, was a stunning woman, a little taller than Janice, with sparkling blue eyes a little darker than Mel’s. She had black hair, teased into a bouffant hairstyle, a flawless, creamy complexion, cherry-red lips and a perfect, even smile, just like Mel’s. Janice had been a little surprised, though, when Suzanna recognized her. Suzanna’s face lit up and she waved at Janice, pointing to her, and pulling the sleeve of the man with her. Then it seemed to register what Janice had said.
“She did what?” Suzanna asked Janice as she got closer.
With dread, Janice turned just in time to see Xena making her way down the few stairs that led to the platform. Xena was reaching in front of her, seemingly grabbing for something that wasn’t there. Her stride was halted by her feet raising unnaturally high with each step down she took. She missed a stair and Janice was there to break her fall. She squinted then opened her eyes wide enough to imitate an owl. Janice remembered how she felt when she once put on her cousin’s glasses, how distorted everything was & how it seemed like she was always walking uphill, even if she was walking downhill or on level land. She did not envy the headache Xena would most likely have once she retired Mel’s glasses for the night. Xena looked right at Suzanna and didn’t seem to see her. Jesus H. Christ, this is already a disaster.
“Why, Melinda Pappas, what is going on? Are you ill?” Suzanna asked alarmed at ‘Mel’s’ exaggerated movements.
While Xena tried to focus on the direction of the voice, Janice repeated, “You’ll have to forgive Mel, like I said she fell and hit her head on the train.”
“Oh, my Lord, Melinda, are you okay?” Suzanna asked, sincerely concerned.
Xena was still trying to focus. To Janice, Xena’s answer came out “I’m fine, under the circumstances” but to Suzanna, it came out as, “Είμαι καλά, κάτω από τις περιστάσεις.”
Suzanna and the man with her exchanged glances, then both looked at Janice. “Hitting her head made her speak another language and made her voice deeper?” Suzanna asked.
Janice closed her eyes in patient frustration. Could this nightmare get any worse? “Um…it’s weird, she goes in and out of English and Greek.”
“She’s not even speaking it with her lovely southern drawl,” Suzanna said, looking at Xena, skeptically. “Should we take her to the hospital?”
“No, there was a doctor on the train who looked her over and he said it was a mild concussion and -”
“A concussion?” Suzanna turned to Xena. “Oh, my stars and garters, darlin’, do y’all need to see Dr. Applekamp? We could have him meet us at the hospital.”
Xena looked at Mel’s aunt who, to her, was speaking gibberish. She then poked Janice and shook her head slightly. Janice translated Suzanne’s words to her.
Before Janice could answer for her, Xena said, “Όχι, θα είμαι μια χαρά. Απλά
Απλά χρειάζομαι πολλή ξεκούραση όσο ο τραυματισμός μου επουλώνεται.”
Suzanne looked at Janice, who replied, “She said no, she’ll be fine. She just needs a lot of rest while this little injury runs its course.”
“Well, this is unexpected. And what happened to your hair? Did you brush it with a towel?” Suzanna asked Xena, alarmed. As soon as Xena was standing on solid ground, Suzanna got up close and personal.“Melinda, what have you done?”
Xena stood still while Suzanna circled her.
Janice held her breath. What now? “What do you mean?”
“You’re tan!” Suzanna stated, accusingly, looking at Xena’s skin tone.
After Janice translated, Xena looked at Suzanna, confused. “Αυτό είναι το φυσικό μου χρώμα.”
Janice decided not to do a verbatim translation. Xena had said ‘this is my natural color’ but it wasn’t Melinda’s natural color. Melinda had gotten a nice tan throughout the year, but it was so gradual Janice never really noticed it until now.
Before Janice could work up a response, Suzanna said, “Has a year of being a heathen made you forget everything? We never let the sun taint our porcelain skin.” Suzanna shook her head. “Hopefully you haven’t done too much damage.”
“We spent a lot of time in direct sunlight while on our digs,” Janice said quickly. “She really tried to protect herself from getting tanned or sunburnt but it’s difficult when a lot of our digs are in a sunny, desert-type environment.”
Suzanne nodded and said, “We’ll just keep you moisturized every hour of every day and hope that helps. But your mama’s going to have a fit.” She grinned again, while Janice converted her English to Greek. “Don’t you have a hug for your favorite aunt? Give me some sugar, darlin’.” Suzanna opened her arms wide and before Xena could move, Suzanna had enfolded her into a nearly crushing embrace. Suzanna froze mid-hug. “Melinda? Are those muscles I feel?” Suzanna asked, cautiously, squeezing Xena’s biceps.
“She wants to know why you have muscles,” Janice told her, not exactly sure how Xena would react to being pawed by Suzanna.
Xena started to look indignant from being manhandled and at the slights from Aunt Suzanna. Before Xena could respond, again Janice jumped in, “Not really muscles but what we do can be hard, physical work and that does have, um, consequences.”
Suzanna then focused on Janice. “Oh, Darlin’, your pictures got nothing on you. You’re just cute as a button!” Suzanna gushed, engulfing the prickly Janice in a hug.
Janice felt herself released from the embrace. I’m not ‘cute as a button unless that button is made from a thorn. She frowned and faced the middle-aged, well dressed, black man, who looked back at her with a thinly disguised smirk. Clearly, he was all too used to Suzanna’s enthusiasm. “Which family member are you?” Janice asked the man, with a straight face.
“I am Edison, Miss Janice. I’m the family driver & handyman.” He gave a little bow. “Can I get your bags?”
Janice looked down at the satchel she had of which she had a firm grip. “No, thanks, Eddy, I’ve got it. You might want to get one or two of Mel’s bags, though. Why someone needs four suitcases for a four-day trip is beyond me.”
“Just four bags?” Suzanna asked, not expecting an answer. “How spartan of her.”
Edison walked over to Xena. “May I please take your bags, Miss Melinda?” he asked, politely.
“Θέλει να σας βοηθήσει να μεταφέρετε τις βαλίτσες σας,” Janice told her.
Xena looked at Edison as if he had two heads. “These? No, thank you, I’ve got them.” She proceeded to hoist a suitcase under each arm, bent down and picked up the other two by their handles. She took a step and stopped. “Ga – Janice, can you please take these glasses off me before I kill myself?”
Janice took a step forward and removed the specs from Xena’s face.
“Thank you. Now where do I take these?” Xena asked.
“She asked where to take our bags,” Janice told Suzanna. Edison pointed in the direction of the parked Cadillac.
“To the family car of course, Melinda,” Suzanna said, looking at her niece’s sudden strength, horrified.
Thankfully, Edison pointed toward a candy apple-red Town Car. Both he and Suzanna’s jaws dropped when ‘Melinda’ effortlessly carried her clearly heavy luggage to the vehicle and waited for them. “Hoo whee, Miss Suzanna. Miss Melinda sure has changed.”
Suzanna paused then turned to glare at Janice, as though looking for someone to blame. “She sure has. Well, don’t worry. She’s home now so we’ll get her back to being the Melinda she was before she ran off.”
And ruin all my hard work to make her less of a debutante? “Wow,” Janice said, deflecting the conversation, “Is that the new Series 60?” She followed Xena to the car. She admired the chassis and whitewall tires. She poked her head into an open window and looked around. “Damn! I mean, gosh darn. Bedford Broadcloth upholstery. Leather up front. Rear-mounted radio. What’s she like to drive, Eddy?” Janice said, admiringly.
Edison chuckled as he opened the trunk and gestured to Xena to put her luggage there. “You like cars, Miss Janice?”
“I like impressive cars, Eddy. But since I drive an old ’29 Dodge Brothers truck, any car newer than 1930 is impressive,” Janice said and smiled.
He closed the trunk and opened the back door for Suzanna and ‘Melinda’ to get in. Edison continued to stand by the back door. “There’s enough room for you, Miss Janice.”
She noticed Xena studied how Suzanna seated herself inside the vehicle and Xena mimicked her perfectly, which was difficult with the limited movement her skirt allowed. Good job. “No, thanks, I’ll ride shotgun, if that’s okay with you, Ed.” She got into the passenger side as Edison sat behind the wheel. She would have asked if she could drive the sleek automobile, but she did know enough about the south that there would be a scandal if she, a white stranger, was seen driving a negro around in the Pappas family car. She didn’t agree with and never understood that kind of ‘politics’ but she reluctantly adhered to them so she wouldn’t rock the family boat. The situation was already precarious with not knowing when or if Mel would return.
As they got underway, Janice turned around to look at Xena, who was fascinated by watching the scenery go by. “You doing okay, Mel?”
“Better with my glasses off,” Xena answered, preoccupied with this form of transportation, as well.
Suzanna asked what Xena had said and after Janice translated, Suzanna spoke up and said, “I find that peculiar. You’ve been terribly nearsighted since you were nine years old. Why do you suddenly see better?”
“It’s probably the concussion,” Janice answered instead. “It’s not that she can see better, but right now the glasses give her a headache. Isn’t that right, Mel?”
Xena looked away from the window long enough to say, “Ναι, αυτό είναι, Janice.”
“Melinda, I just have to say that you don’t seem exactly happy to be home,” Suzanna said, hurt clearly audible in her tone.
Xena turned to answer Suzanna, clearly reading Suzanna’s inflection and expression, cutting Janice off before she could speak. “I do apologize, Aunt Suzanna, I’m thrilled to be home, I just have such a headache that’s affecting my mood.” She smiled, reached her hand over and placed it on Suzanna’s hand. “It’s been a long night. I’m sure once I get a nap, I will be fine.”
Suzanna waited for Janice to interpret before she squeezed Xena’s hand. “Your mama can’t wait to see you,” Suzanna gushed. “We never thought you’d stay away a whole year.”
“That’s my fault, I’m afraid,” Janice said. “I kept digging up new artifacts and since
Mel is one of the best translators in the business, I kept her busy.”
“Then I’m glad you let her come home for the Harvest Festival. It just wouldn’t be the same if Melinda didn’t get back here in time to make her famous caramel apple cake.”
Seeing the look on Janice’s face, Xena asked Janice for the Greek version of what Suzanna had said. Once Janice told her, she and Xena locked eyes. Mel never said anything about having to cook. Finally, Janice, not being able to help herself, smirked and said, “Um, gee, Mel, I can’t wait to taste that.” Xena didn’t seem to need a translation of that and glared at Janice. “I mean, if you’re up to it,” Janice added hastily.
“Oh, there’s nothing to it. You’ll love it. Melinda has won many contests with that recipe of hers. Melinda, why don’t you give Janice a small history of Columbia, since we’ll be driving right through the heart of the city?”
Xena looked at Janice, who again interpreted for her. Janice took mercy on Xena’s silence. “That’s okay. We have plenty of time, right, Mel?”
“Why, yes, Janice, hopefully we do,” Xena said, evenly.
Suzanna looked back and forth between the two women. “This foreign language thing is annoying. No offense, Melinda, but it’s just odd,” Suzanne spoke up.
You have no idea, Janice thought. She decided to keep the focus off ‘Melinda,’ so she brought up whatever could occupy the conversation until they got to the house. “So, Eddy, tell me more about this car.”
“It’s a Derham model. It’s got 150 horsepower, front suspension with coils, hydraulic brakes. It’s a gem to drive.”
“I bet.” She looked back at Suzanna. “Where’s Mel’s mother?”
“Oh, Julianna is at church. She directs the choir. She also organizes Reverend Stonecipher’s calendar, which is what she had to do this morning. She should be home soon, maybe even by the time we get there.”
“Great,” Janice said, pasting a fake smile on her face and turning to look directly out of the windshield. “Can’t wait to meet her.”
*****