Disclaimers: The characters of Mel and Jan are
owned by Universal Studios (I guess). You can blame the other
characters on me. This story is in the realm of fan fiction, and is
distributed for free and for fun. Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Archaeological dig, Macedonia, late summer,
1940
"Doctor Covington! Doctor Covington! Hey, Boss! Wake
up!"
Jan opened one eye, and only then realized that she was
face-down in her cot. The leg of a pair of dirty brown pants
hovered three inches from her nose. The smell made her want to gag
even more than did the hangover she was nursing. She grunted
unintelligibly, then lifted her head. "What?"
Azam was gesturing dramatically. "The police, they are
here."
"What the f-?" Jan realized that, somehow, she had become
vertical on the cot. "Police? Uh, yeah. Tell 'em that I'll be there
in a minute."
"Yah, yah. A minute." He ran from the tent, shouting, "Yah.
A minute, she comes," then remembered himself and began repeating
the same sentiment in very loud Greek.
"Jesus Christ. Now what?" Jan rose from the bunk and
staggered from her tent to a nearby table, where she poured some
water into a large metal bowl and attempted to wash her face. After
a moment, she said, "Aw, hell," picked up the bowl and dumped the
water over her head. She shook her head, dog-like, then walked back
to her tent and toweled her head and face dry. After she ran her
fingers through her blonde, not-quite-shoulder-length hair, she
clapped her worn green fedora hat on her head and began the short
trek down the hill to the archaeological dig site she was
supervising.
The local chief of constables, a swarthy, handsome man in a
sweat-stained police uniform, stood next to a hand-wringing Azam.
Jan affected a nonchalant air, nodded a greeting and pulled her
rumpled cigarette pack from the pocket of her shorts. She offered
one to the constable, then lit one herself. As she exhaled the
smoke and clacked her Zippo shut, she spoke in her rapid, accented
Greek.
"Good morning. What brings you out here today,
Chief?"
The chief constable, in answer, shifted his attention to a
box in the arms of a subordinate. He lifted from it an ancient,
two-handled cup and held it in front of Jan. "Do you recognize
this?" he asked.
"Of course. It is a kylix, a drinking cup. Very
old, perhaps fifth century BC, judging by the artist's technique."
She eyed the artifact. "Good condition. Nice." She batted innocent
eyes at the police constable. "Where did you get the, ah,
cup?"
"From a man who now warms a seat in my jail." The constable
leaned a little closer to Jan, towering over her. "He says that he
bought it from you."
"Are you accusing me of selling artifacts on the black
market?" She cast a hurt expression up at the constable. "You
should know me better than that, Chief Constable."
He shook a meaty finger in her face. "I know you too well,
Doctor Covington. And when I catch you..." He drew the same finger
across his throat. "The Greek government does not take kindly to
you foreigners stealing our history from beneath our noses." He
tapped his own prominent nose to emphasize the
point.
"And a glorious nose it is, Chief Constable," Jan said.
"But I remind you that I am a trained archaeologist, employed by a
Greek museum and digging this tomb on a permit from your
government."
"A permit which can easily be revoked."
Jan spread her arms wide, indicating the activity about
her. "This is my living." She waved a hand to indicate her diggers.
"Their living. Would you take this from us?"
"If I catch you selling artifacts on the black market, you
will lose more than a job." He turned toward his car and opened the
door.
Jan huffed, then said, "Why do you think it was
me?"
As he sat in the passenger seat, he grinned up at her.
"Because you never denied it." He watched Jan's expression fall,
then laughed heartily and slammed the car door. The car's tires
spun, kicking up a small cloud of dust, then launched the vehicle
into motion. As the car drove away, Jan stood, hands on hips,
watching it.
Azam edged closer to her and spoke in English. "You goin'
to jail, Boss?" he asked.
Slowly, Jan allowed a cagey grin to crease her face. "Not
today, I guess."
"Man, you one strange woman, Boss." He studied her. "All
American women, they are like you? You know, Betty Grable? Mae
West? And that Hepburn! Va-va-voom!"
"Down, boy." Jan ground out the butt of her cigarette with
the toe of her boot, then spit on the ground. "Nah, not like me."
She cast a glance at Azam. "Some of those broads are crazy." With
that, she turned and began walking up the path to the tents. "I
need a cup of coffee and about ten freakin' aspirin. And I gotta
quit drinkin' that cheap booze."
Azam watched her go, then shook his head. "I think I stick
with Greek women."
He glanced up in surprise at Jan's laugh. "Yeah," she
called over her shoulder. "Me, too."
~~~~
Jan concentrated as she gently brushed away centuries of
dirt from the edges of a pottery jar, an amphora. As the
decorative artwork circling its exterior became evident, she
whistled softly, then muttered, "Man, this is gonna be
sweet."
"What's that, Boss?"
She glanced up. Azam stood on the edge of the dig pit,
looking down. "Payroll, I hope," Jan said. "You guys got that tomb
door cleared away yet?"
"Nah. Soon, soon." Azam knelt by the pit. "I got supplies
from town, Boss."
"Yeah?" Jan spoke absent-mindedly, concentrating on the
amphora. "Just in time. I'm out of smokes."
Azam tossed a fresh pack of cigarettes to Jan. "Yah, and
we out of money, Boss."
"So what? That's the story of my life," Jan said as she
opened the pack.
"No, I mean we broke. What we do on payday, Boss?" He
lowered his voice to a whisper. "The diggers, they get plenty
pissed when we no pay up."
Jan looked up. As she gestured toward the amphora, she
spoke. "This is gonna be payday, right here."
"Oh, Boss." Azam rolled his eyes. "You gonna go to jail big
time."
"Nah." Jan flashed a cagey smile. "They hired me to crack
that tomb. This ain't in the tomb, so I figure it's mine. Besides,
I think I've got a legitimate buyer." She stood, then gestured
toward the site where the diggers were laboring. "Now go put your
boot up a few butts over there and get that tomb door cleared out.
The museum expects results, ya know? They've been all over me about
it."
"Yah, yah." Azam turned to leave, then stopped. "Oh, I
check the mail. You got a telegram, Boss." He rummaged in a pocket,
then handed a brown envelope to Jan. "It's from the boss at the
Athens museum." That done, he turned, strode purposefully toward
the tomb and began barking orders in rapid, shrill Greek. Jan
watched him, snickered, and lit a cigarette while she pondered the
envelope.
"Telegrams. They never have good news, do they?" She ripped
open the envelope. "Maybe I've been drafted," she joked, as she
opened the paper. "Or fired." She considered the telegram's
contents, then mused, "Damn. Pappas is in Athens? And he's on his
way here? Hell, I never expected him to actually take me up on my
invitation to visit." Jan glanced around the dig site, then shook
her head. "Nobel Prize winner and professor emeritus Melvin Pappas,
coming here?" She took a drag on her smoke as she thought about it.
"To my sorry little dig? He's gonna damn sure be disappointed." Her
thoughts involuntarily added the words, in me. "He'll be
arriving in Thessaloniki tonight. I'll meet him at the train
station myself. After all, this is a big honor." She folded the
telegram and shoved it into the pocket of her khaki shorts. "Aw,
hell. He's just showing up because he was buddies with dad." Jan
snickered at the thought. "Man, that must have been an odd couple.
The great Nobel Laureate Melvin Pappas, drinking buddies with Harry
'Grave-Robber' Covington. Talk about your two ends of the
archaeology spectrum." She took another drag on her smoke as she
studied the visible portion of the amphora between the toes of her
scuffed boots. "Well, back to work. The payroll won't
wait."
~~~~
Jan threw her bag into the cab of a beat-up little truck,
then turned to Azam. "Keep a guard on that tomb tonight. The
rifle's in my tent."
"Okay, Boss. You come back tonight?"
"Naw. Train comes in after dark. I'll come back in the
morning." She softened a little and cast imploring eyes at her
foreman. "And look, I'm going to have someone important with me. So
knock off the digging early and clean this site up, will ya? I want
it lookin' top-notch, right?"
"Right, Boss." Azam shuffled uneasily, then asked, "You got
the, ah, moi-chandise?"
Jan snickered. "You've been watchin' too many gangster
movies. Yeah, the amphora's crated and in the back of the truck."
She opened the door and swung up to the driver's seat. "This beast
got gas in it?"
"Ah, sure, Boss, sure. You take care." Azam pointed toward
the dig. "I go now, huh?"
"Yeah. See ya tomorrow." She watched Azam trot off, then
sat behind the wheel and ground the starter. The truck would not
start. She cursed, then tapped the glass over the gas gauge. "That
lyin' sack of-" She threw the door open, hopped to the ground, and
summoned her best shout. "Azam, you get your ass over here now and
gas up this truck!"
~~~~
An hour later, Jan eased the little truck down the city's
winding streets, finally stopping at the rear of the imposing
building housing the Thessaloniki museum. She entered by a side
door, then strode down a hallway until she came to an office door.
At her knock, a voice answered in Greek, and she entered. An
attractive, fortyish Greek woman with a studious demeanor and
sultry, dark eyes glanced up from the restoration of a pottery
piece, laughed delightedly, then spoke in English.
"Jan Covington! How good to see you!"
"How ya doin', Sophia? Got a couple of
minutes?"
"For you?" The voice assumed a soft edge. "I've always got
time."
Jan grinned. "Nice. Hey, I've got a little proposition for
you."
Sophia left the restoration table and met Jan in the center
of the room. "Oh? Like last week, a proposition?"
"Ah, not quite like that one. This is
business."
"Oh." Sophia stood, hands on hips, and studied Jan. "Just
like that, you want to talk business? No hello, no
how-do-you-do-Sophia?"
"Hey! I said, 'Hi'!"
"No, no." Sophia wrapped her arms around Jan's neck. "This
way, you say 'hello' to Sophia." She planted a long, lingering kiss
on Jan's mouth, then whispered, "You say, 'Sophia, you look
beautiful today.'"
Jan placed a hand on either side of Sophia's head and
tilted it down until their eyes met. She smiled as she studied
Sophia's face. "Sophia, you do look beautiful today. Your husband's
damn sure got reason to worry."
Sophia purred, then said, "If he ever finds us out, he will
kill you."
"Nah. He'll probably just want to watch."
Sophia's answer was a delighted giggle. Slowly,
deliberately, Jan pulled Sophia's face down to meet hers, and they
kissed again. As they did, Jan backed her against her desk. The
kiss never ending, her hand trailed down Sophia's ribs, found the
buttons on the front of her skirt and began deftly popping them
open, one by one.
~~~~
Fifteen minutes later, Jan was racked back in Sophia's
office chair with her feet on the edge of the desk, lighting a
cigarette. Sophia emerged from the bathroom, her clothing in neat
order once again, and plucked the cigarette from Jan's hand. She
perched on her desk next to Jan's crossed boots, ran her hand along
the bare, tanned leg protruding from beneath the khaki shorts and
took a luxurious drag on the cigarette. "So," she finally said,
"you have a proposition for me? I'm a married woman, you
know."
And that's a good thing for me, Jan thought. "This is
business."
"Oh. I am so sorry."
"Yeah, me too." Jan studied Sophia. "I got another piece, a
really sweet one. Amphora. I need you to buy it from me, on behalf
of your museum."
Sophia raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how much do you think
this, ah, 'piece' is worth?"
Jan allowed her cagey grin to emerge. "You talkin' about
the amphora, or me?"
Sophia's sultry smirk answered Jan's question. "Both,
perhaps. I need to see it."
"You've already seen it."
"No. I mean the amphora." Sophia shook her head. "You are
such a bad girl."
"And you love it. Got a cart?"
A tilt of Sophia's head indicated a rolling cart in one
corner of the room. Jan stood, pulled the cart into the hallway,
and returned a few minutes later with a crate. She lifted the
amphora from the crate, set it on the restoration table and stood
aside, watching Sophia's reaction. She was not
disappointed.
Some time later, Jan climbed back into the cab of the
little truck. Before she ground the starter, she looked at the wad
of colorful bills in her hand. "Hot diggity damn. Seven hundred
drachma. Payroll, and then some. Covington, you're a whore, but
you're a good one." She shoved the money into her pocket, hit the
starter, and the engine coughed itself alive. As she pulled the
truck onto the city street, she dug her pocket watch out of her
shirt pocket and popped it open. "Just enough time for the hotel
before the train gets in. Hot shower and clean clothes, here I
come. Oh, yeah. Sometimes, life is just too damned
good."
~~~~
Thessaloniki's downtown train station was cavernous, old
and a mixture of Byzantine, Moslem and western architecture. It fit
Macedonia, and it fit the gaggle of languages which Jan heard being
spoken about her: Greek, Turkish, English, Arabic and a few eastern
European dialects. Most of it she could make no sense of, but it
didn't deter her from admiring the music of each individual tongue
as it was spoken. She was in a good mood, fueled by the bulge of
new money in her pocket, the hot shower she'd just had and the
clean clothes she was wearing. She hadn't felt this human in a
week. She tilted her fedora back on her head, popped open her
pocket watch for the fourth time in as many minutes, and studied
it. "Track seven. This has to be it."
The train wheezed to a stop, hissing steam and squealing in
protest as the brakes were applied. With a final hiss of steam, the
various car doors opened, and passengers began disgorging, bags in
hand. Jan craned her neck and peered around the platform, but to no
avail; nowhere did she see the tall, imposing figure that she
remembered as belonging to Melvin Pappas.
For some time, she stood on the platform, watching the
coming and going of various travelers, but saw no one she
recognized. She lit a smoke, leaned against a pillar and bided her
time, allowing herself to be seen and watching the passers-by.
Finally, when the platform grew quiet, she discarded her smoke and
stood, preparing to leave.
It was then that she realized that she was not quite alone.
The only other person on the platform was a young woman standing
perhaps twenty feet from her, a suitcase by her leg, a rucksack
over her shoulder, and a puzzled expression on her
face.
At the sight of the traveler, Jan's gut knotted and her
breath caught. She did not know why she reacted so; she had seen
impressive-looking women before. There was something more about
this one, though, something that Jan just had to define. She wanted
suddenly, desperately, to introduce herself but felt strangely shy,
rooted to the spot, her feet refusing to carry her forward.
Instead, she merely stared, drank in the details of the traveler's
appearance in an effort to unravel her mystery.
The young woman was tall, perhaps six feet in height, and
possessed a bearing which spoke of education and breeding. Her
clothes were travel-worn, clothes more suitable to hiking than
train travel, as she wore dungaree pants, beat-up leather hiking
boots and a light jacket. Her hair was long and black, protruding
from beneath a crumpled cloth cap which shaded her face, and hung
in a single braid down her back, reaching to below her shoulder
blades. Round, wire-rimmed glasses set off her face, an oval face
remarkable not only for its light olive skin, but its strength and
depth of expression. An intelligence, an animation moved that face
as she perused the signs above her head, then withdrew papers from
her pocket and studied her ticket. She seemed perplexed,
questioning; now was the moment. Jan mentally slapped herself, then
summoned her courage and willed her feet to move. After a hesitant
moment, they did.
She pushed her fedora back a little farther on her head,
thrust her hands into the pockets of her shorts and strolled toward
the traveler, her dirty boots crunching on the tile of the train
platform. In English, she said, "You look lost."
The traveler glanced toward Jan. "Oh, yes. I'm afraid I am.
Why, you speak English."
Jan smiled, instantly charmed by the traveler's pronounced
southern accent. "I'm American."
"Me, too."
"Yeah. I saw the passport." Jan pointed to the papers in
the young woman's hand.
"Oh. Of course. Silly me." She glanced around the platform.
"Someone's supposed to meet me, but they must have been
delayed."
"Yeah. I'm supposed to meet somebody too, but I didn't see
him get off the train."
Silence fell. For a long, pregnant moment, they regarded
each other, saying nothing. To Jan, the air seemed to crackle a
little about them; she felt, at that moment, that there was no
other activity about them, no people, no train station, no city.
There was just this traveler and her. The eyes, blue as the
summer's sky behind those wire rims, seemed to wash over Jan's very
soul as they perused her face. They exuded a friendly, kindly
demeanor, and Jan met their gaze evenly with her own. And when
their eyes locked, blue upon hazel, somewhere in the deep recesses
of her mind she could hear a voice say, 'Covington, you're in
trouble!' And, although she agreed with the voice, she also knew
that she didn't care a whit. Wherever this moment was taking her,
she was by-God going there. On an impulse, she thrust out her
hand.
"I'm Jan."
"Mel. I'm so very pleased to meet you." She grasped Jan's
hand, and the touch was soft, a tingly electric. It seemed to Jan
that even after Mel released her hand, it still tingled. She
marveled at that for a second, then shook herself back to
reality.
"Yeah, likewise." After a second, Jan blinked in surprise.
"Huh? What'd you say your name was?"
"Ah, Mel. Melinda Pappas."
"Mel Pappas?" Jan regarded her with sudden caution. "Any
relation to Melvin Pappas, the archaeologist? He's the guy I'm
supposed to meet."
Behind the wire rims, the marvelous blue eyes squinted in
puzzlement for a second, then widened in surprise. She clapped a
hand over her mouth as she pointed at Jan. "Oh! You're from the
archaeological dig. You were expecting my father, not
me."
"Well, yeah. Guess so."
"I'm so sorry. You see, my father died a few months
ago."
Jan winced. "Oh, crap. I didn't know. I've been out in the
bush for the last couple of months." She shook her head. "I'm sure
sorry. I loved your dad. He was a real gentleman. One of a
kind."
The blue eyes misted a little, then cleared. "Thank you,
Jan. I appreciate that." Mel froze for a second, then allowed her
eyes to widen in animated surprise again. "Oh! Jan? Are you Janice
Covington? Harry Covington's daughter?"
"Yeah. That's me, in all my glory."
"Oh, my! I remember you now."
"You do?"
"Why, of course. We played together as children one summer.
Don't you remember? Why, we couldn't have been more than about six
or seven. It was the dig on Crete. Our fathers were working
together."
"Jeez, I'd forgotten about that. Man, that was-what? Twenty
years ago?"
"At least."
Jan lifted Mel's suitcase. "Well, Mel Pappas, welcome to
Macedonia. I got a hotel room for tonight. What say we start out
for the dig site in the morning?"
"That sounds delightful, Janice." As they began walking
down the platform, Mel looped an arm through Jan's, and Jan smiled.
It just felt right. It felt-why, it felt as if that arm belonged
there. And with every step they took, Jan became more convinced
that it did.
~~~~
The hotel's first floor contained a restaurant and bar, one
which had become noisy with music and laughter. In a corner table,
Mel partook of some food, while Jan cracked a bottle of wine. The
warm evening, the strong wine and the music carried around and
through their conversation. They chattered together in newfound,
easy companionship and laughter until, at last, Mel noted the time
and suggested that they retire. Jan motioned toward the elevator,
and as she rose, dropped a colorful Drachma note onto the table,
then waved at the waiter. As they passed by, he nodded.
"Good-night, Doctor Covington," he said.
The wobble in Jan's walk did not escape Mel's notice as
they made their way through the lobby. She took Jan's arm and
pulled her to a halt as they waited for the elevator. "You have
your doctorate?"
"Huh?"
"He called you Doctor Covington."
"Oh. Yeah. Two years ago."
"My, that's quite an accomplishment. I'm duly
impressed."
Jan shrugged. "Hell, I had nowhere else to go, nothin' else
to do." The elevator arrived, and the operator opened the cage
door. They stepped in, Mel careful to retain hold of Jan's arm.
"You?" Jan blinked up at Mel.
"Oh. Languages. I stopped short of a doctorate, when my
daddy died."
"What languages?"
" Old Greek is my expertise."
Jan nodded. "Yeah. Somehow, I knew that. Hey, Mel. Is this
elevator turning in circles, or is it just me?"
"I think it's just you. You did drink most of that bottle
of wine."
"I'm drunk?"
"I would say you fit the definition,
Janice."
Jan blinked owlishly, then looked up. Mel's face was just
above hers, her grip on her arm still tight. "Sorry,"she mumbled,
as she studied the blue eyes.
"It's quite all right."
"I've just been out there in the bush for a while,
y'know?"
"I can well imagine."
"I mean, alcohol sneaks up on me. Shit, you probably think
I'm a lush. Nice first impression, huh?"
Mel placed a finger beneath Jan's chin and lifted her face.
Their noses were a couple of inches apart. Mel waited until the
hazel eyes met hers, then said, "It's okay, Janice."
"Jan. My friends call me Jan."
Mel smiled at that. Softly, she repeated the name.
"Jan."
The elevator stopped, and the cage opened. With a 'thank
you' to the elevator operator, Mel guided Jan into the
hall.
~~~~
The room was small, but serviceable. Twin beds occupied one
wall, and sheer curtains covered the window. Mel deposited Jan on
one bed, then turned and opened the window. When she turned back,
Jan was undressing. She'd managed to remove her boots and socks,
and she pulled her worn white cotton shirt over her head and tossed
it aside. Mel felt her breath involuntarily halt as the light of
the bedside lamp threw contrasting, soft light and dark shadows on
Jan's body, evident beneath the thin cloth of her sleeveless
undershirt.
Muscle rippled in her shoulders and arms, and her waist was
trim. Not an ounce of fat showed itself anywhere, and when Jan shed
her shorts, Mel felt her knees weaken. "Oh, my," she heard herself
say, then felt the heat of blush in her cheeks as she realized that
she'd said that aloud.
Jan had pulled the sheets aside, and paused midway into
climbing into bed. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing. Ah, nothing. You go to sleep now." She waved a
hand. "Go on. Sleep."
"Yeah. Sleep. Good idea." With that, Jan collapsed
face-down into the clean sheets. In a moment, she began softly
snoring. Mel stood by the window for some time, allowing the warm
breeze to cool her cheeks, then headed for her own bed. On the way,
she paused by Jan's prone form and watched her sleep. Her eyes
slowly trailed down Jan's body from hair to toes, drinking in every
detail. After a few minutes, she shook her head, then pulled the
covers over Jan.
"Janice Covington," she whispered. "I can see right now
that you are nothin' but trouble." A smile slowly crept across
Mel's face. "And Lord help me, I do seem to like
trouble."
~~~~
"Jan? Jan?"
"Huh? Whuzzat?"
Mel giggled delightfully, then passed a cup of coffee near
Jan's face as she lay prostrate on her bed. "Coffee's on." Jan
stirred. The eyes did not open, but she managed a mumble. Mel
leaned close. "What's that?" Jan mumbled louder this time,
something in Greek. Mel froze, then stared down at the head of
tangled blonde hair. "Just what do you mean, 'The money's on the
table'?" she asked.
Jan's eyes popped open, then slowly traveled up Mel's side
and came to rest on two very exasperated blue eyes peering down at
her. She started, and in a second, was sitting up in bed. "Huh?
What? What? What's the matter, Mel?"
Slowly, Mel's expression grew amused, and the blue eyes
resumed their normal twinkle. "Oh, nothing. Coffee. Drink."
She handed the cup and saucer to Jan, who accepted it
gratefully and drank. After a pause, she looked up, and only then
noticed that Mel was studying her intently as she sipped her own
coffee. She was evidently deep in some thought. Jan lowered the cup
and returned the gaze. "Something on your mind,
Mel?"
"Something tells me," she answered, "that this is going to
be one very interesting trip."
Again, a moment of pregnant silence passed between the two
women as they regarded each other over the rims of their coffee
cups. Then Jan said, "Yeah. I was just thinking the same
thing."
"Ah, well. Ahem. We should think about breakfast,
Jan."
"Shower. We should take a shower."
"I beg your pardon?"
"We should shower before we leave town, Mel. Might not get
another one for a few days."
"Oh. Of course. Quite right. You can go
first."
Jan grinned. "Naw, you first."
"No, really. I insist."
"You're my guest. You first, Mel." She motioned with her
cup. "Time's a-wastin'. Sun's up, and we've got to eat breakfast
and hit the road pronto."
"Well, all right, then. Thank you."
Mel rose, placed her cup aside and headed for the bathroom,
pausing to choose some clothes from her suitcase before she closed
the door behind her. Jan watched her disappear, then sighed and
refilled her cup from the little coffee pot on the table. "Damn,"
she muttered. "I was hopin' to catch an eyeful." She looked around
the room, seeking her clothes that she'd shed the night before, but
they did not occupy their usual place on the floor. Instead, they
were folded very carefully over the back of a chair. Jan smiled at
the sight. "Guess I'm gonna have to clean up my act, huh?" She
pondered that spoken thought, then snickered. "Me, clean up my act?
What the hell's wrong with me?"
~~~~
"My goodness, Jan. Are we going to an archaeological dig or
on a safari?"
Jan glanced up from beneath the brim of her beat-up green
fedora hat and snickered as she strapped on her pistol belt and
settled the holstered weapon over her right hip. "It's an hour into
the country, Mel. Isolated, and we're two dames out here. I feel
better with it on me."
Mel regarded the weapon with a cautious look. "Well, in
that case..." She glanced past Jan. "And this is our, ah,
transportation?"
"Yup." Jan studied the expression on Mel's face, then
looked over her shoulder at the battered little truck. "Why? What's
the matter with it?"
"Will it make it?"
"It looks like hell, but it runs good." She shrugged. "It
made it here, didn't it?"
"I suppose it did, at that." Mel attempted a brave smile.
"Shall we, then?"
"Yeah. Let's throw our trash in the back and make like a
shepherd."
With that, Jan tossed their bags beneath the patched canvas
over the truck's bed, then trotted toward the cab. Mel slid into
the passenger's side as Jan settled herself behind the wheel and
inserted the key. As she watched Jan tap the gas gauge, then yank
on the choke, Mel asked, "Like a shepherd, Jan?"
"What's that?"
"You said, 'Like a shepherd."
Jan stopped and looked up. "Oh. Yeah. Y'know, make like a
shepherd and get the flock outta here." When Mel's confused
expression did not change, Jan prompted, "A joke,
Mel."
Her eyes widened. "Oh. A joke. Why yes, I believe I get it
now." She smiled demurely, then pretended to study something
outside the cab window.
Jan winced at her reaction. Note to self, she thought. No
dirty jokes. Then, she pushed the starter. Nothing happened. She
cursed, then opened the door and hopped out. Mel was watching with
great interest.
"Jan? Trouble?"
"No sweat. We'll be going in a minute." She popped the
latches on the cover over one side of the motor and lifted it back,
then drew her knife from its sheath over her left buttock. "Starter
solenoid sticks sometimes. When I yell, stomp on the gas, will
ya?"
Mel pushed her wire-rimmed eyeglasses farther up the bridge
of her nose and studied the floor on the driver's side, then slid
over behind the wheel. Jan was watching her.
"Is it in neutral, Mel?"
She wiggled the gearshift knob. "I believe
so."
"Okay. Here we go." She placed the blade of the knife
across two bolts on the top of the starter. Sparks crackled and
flew, and Jan shouted, "Do it, Mel." The truck's starter began
grinding, and Mel tromped down on the gas pedal. The motor roared
into life, and a second later, a cloud of greasy blue smoke floated
forward from the back of the truck and enveloped the cab. When Jan
climbed back into the cab, Mel was hacking into a handkerchief, and
her eyes were watering. Jan stood on the running board, a puzzled
expression on her face. "What's wrong, Mel?" she
asked.
As she slid to the passenger side of the cab, Mel continued
hacking, and waved her hand to indicate that she couldn't talk. Jan
shot her a sympathetic expression, then patted her leg. "Yeah, the
city air does that to me, too." With that, she jammed in the choke,
gunned the motor, popped the clutch, and the truck lurched ahead
with a groan of protest.
~~~~
Once out of the city, Mel breathed easier. The country was
beautiful, the sun had not yet hit its full heat and the breeze was
refreshing. As Mel relaxed, so did Jan, and they talked above the
rattle of the truck's motor as they bounced along the rural Greek
roads. Twice, they encountered convoys of military trucks stopped
on the side of the road, and ignored the hoots and greetings of the
soldiers as they crept past. Just after they passed the second
convoy, Mel remarked on the military presence.
"Remember," Jan explained, "Europe's at war. The rumor is
that goof-ball Mussolini over in Italy wants to invade Greece, so
the Greeks are mobilizing their army."
"Oh, my. Do you think that will happen?"
Jan shrugged. "Who the hell knows? Mussolini's nuts. He
thinks he's the reincarnation of Caesar. There's Germans in France
and London's getting bombed. The world's gone crazy, if you ask
me."
"What will happen to your dig if the war comes
here?"
"I'll lose my diggers. They'll be mobilized. Probably lose
my job, too."
"What will you do then?"
Jan grinned. "Try to get my ass out of the country in one
piece, I guess."
"But you're an American citizen, a neutral."
"It'll be chaos. Passports won't mean anything then. And
everybody will be trying to get out of the country. In a situation
like that, money and connections are the best passports." Jan
glanced over at her. "And I don't have much of either right
now."
"Enough for a ship passage?"
"There's submarines out there sinking ships. Might have to
hole up in Palestine. I can probably get some work there." She
glanced over at Mel, then shrugged. "It probably won't get that
bad, though."
"One can only hope, I suppose."
"Yeah. Well, we're here, Mel."
Jan geared the truck down and turned off the road, then
followed a rutted dirt road over a gentle rise. As they crested it
and coasted down the far side of the hill, Mel could see the dig
site in the distance. An excavation in the side of a bluff was
evident, a cluster of men working around it. Near that, there was a
checkerboard of exploration trenches within the remnants of what
appeared to be the foundation of an ancient building's walls. Up
the hill a little, the dig's tents were clustered.
They passed a sign in Greek which warned outsiders of an
archaeological exploration in progress, then coasted to a stop by
the tents. As the two women were reclaiming their bags from the
back of the truck, a breathless young man appeared around the side
of the vehicle.
"Boss! Boss! Thank the God you back. We got it dug
out."
"Good work, man. Now let's crack the thing open." Azam
nodded, but did not move, and Jan only then realized that he was
looking at Mel. "Oh, sorry. Azam, the best dig foreman in Greece.
This is Melinda Pappas."
"I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance,
Azam."
He smiled at the courtesy, then bowed and touched his
forehead. "Oh. So happy, madam." He looked at Jan. "This the
important person, Boss?"
"Yeah. This is the important person." She lowered her
voice. "Is everything shipshape?"
"Yah, yah. You come and see?"
"Be there in a minute."
Azam, satisfied with that answer, took off toward the dig.
Jan picked up her own bag and Mel's, and nodded toward the tents.
"Let's drop our stuff in my tent, then check out the
work."
As they trudged toward the tents, Mel studied Jan. Finally,
she asked, "Important person?"
"Huh?"
"I'm the important person?"
"Ah, sure, Mel. Sure." She looked at Mel. "Damned straight
you are."
"My, this is the first time I've ever been
that."
Jan cracked a grin. "A first time is good thing,
right?"
Mel replied with a quizzical little smile of her own.
"While it does have a certain magic of its own, I personally find
experience to be much preferable." They walked on in silence until
Mel glanced over at Jan and saw the petite blonde studying her
intently. "What?" she asked.
"Mel Pappas, you just might turn out to be one of the most
interesting people I've ever met."
"Really!" Mel's eyebrows rose in exclamation. "Why, thank
you, Jan." She eyed her companion for a moment, then returned the
smile. "And may I return the courtesy by saying that I think you
just might be the most unorthodox woman I've ever
met?"
Jan reflected a moment, then looked up at Mel. "I guess
that's a good thing, huh?"
"Yes, Jan. That's a very good thing."
~~~~
"Care to read it for us, Mel?"
Jan stood in front of the newly-cleared tomb door, hands on
hips and fedora low over her eyes. The diggers stood around,
leaning on their shovels, Azam by Jan's side and nervously twisting
his hands. Mel stepped forward and studied the ancient script
carved into the facing of the tomb door, her fingers trailing over
the ridges and recesses of the work. Finally, she stepped back.
"Well, it says, 'The blessings of Athena extend to the protectors
of wisdom and knowledge, and great evil will overtake those who
violate her trust."
"Athena?" Jan stepped forward. "And this, here? Show me
about the evil part."
Mel pointed. "Here, Jan." She read it aloud, in Greek, then
repeated it in English. "See? Great evil."
"Boss, we no open this thing. Bad."
"What're you talkin' about, Azam?" Jan looked at her
foreman. The diggers were stepping back, many of them making the
sign of the cross across themselves and speaking in low, cautious
voices.
He pointed at Mel. "What the lady said. Evil in
there."
"Oh, come on! That's superstitious crap."
"Not for the diggers, Boss."
Azam jerked a thumb behind him, and Jan looked past his
shoulder. The diggers were gathering, shaking their heads, raising
their voices in unison against opening the tomb. The admonitions
rose in volume and emotion until Jan raised both her hands in the
air and shouted, "Enough!" When silence reigned, she put her hands
on her hips and faced the group, speaking in her rapid Greek. "What
is the matter with all of you?"
One digger stepped forward. "Evil, Boss. Bad things. It
exists. The priests say so." He gestured toward the tomb door. "It
is in there. If you open that, you let evil into the
world."
"This is legend, myth. It is not true. There is nothing in
there but some bones, and-if we are lucky-some artifacts to pay our
wages. You want to be paid, right?"
Jan huffed in frustration, then looked at Azam and spoke in
English. In a low voice, she growled, "Help me out here, dig
foreman."
He threw his hands in the air. "Hey, I with you, Boss, but
they-"
"Then change their minds."
"I no match for two thousand years of religious
hocus-pocus, Boss."
"If they aren't gonna help, then tell 'em to line up and
get their friggin' wages. They're fired!"
Mel spoke softly. "Ah, Jan?"
Azam's eyes grew wide. "Boss, you no do that. They talk,
they tell everybody. Pretty soon, nobody in the village dig for
you. You be cursed."
"Well, God damn it. Where's that pick-axe? I'll open this
tomb myself."
"No, Boss." Azam stood in front of Jan. "They think you let
evil loose." He pointed behind him. "They ten, we two. They got
shovels. You see?"
"Yeah. I see I need to bust some freakin' heads around
here."
"Ah, Jan?"
This time, Jan looked up at Mel. "What? I'm a little busy
here."
"Ah, yes. I can see that. Might I make a
suggestion?"
Jan exploded. "This ain't a democracy. It's a damned dig.
Me boss. You guys not. Get the picture?"
"I'm just trying to help, you pig-headed-"
"Pig-headed?"
"Yes! And foul-mouthed-"
"I am not foul-mouthed, God damn it!"
"And you drink too much!"
"Oh, yeah? You got a problem with me, Mel
Pappas?"
"It would seem so."
"Fine. I can throw your high-society ass back on that
train-"
"You'd better not try, Doctor Covington!"
"Boss! Boss!"
Jan turned toward Azam. "What? What do you want
now?"
A torrent of water hit Jan full in the face. She staggered,
then stood immobile, her face and hair dripping water, her chest
and shirt soaked, her hat on the ground behind her. Absolute
silence fell over the scene for several long seconds. No one moved;
not Jan, not the diggers, who were frozen by the sight, and not
Azam, who stood holding a bucket. The first to move was Mel, who
clapped her hands over her mouth, trying desperately-and
unsuccessfully-to stifle screams of laughter. Azam leaned forward
very cautiously, still hiding behind the empty bucket, and studied
Jan.
"You okay now, Boss?"
In answer, Jan blinked owlishly a couple of times, then
stared at Azam. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet.
"I can't believe you just did that."
"You feel better now, Boss?"
"Yeah." A slow grin crept across Jan's face. "I feel better
now. Thanks."
"Sure thing, Boss."
"Guess I was gettin' a little out of control there,
huh?"
Azam held up a thumb and forefinger, showing a space
between them. "Just a little, Boss."
She looked around, noticing everyone. "Okay, now. Where
were we?"
"Ah, the tomb, Boss. The curse. What we gonna
do?"
"Oh. Right." She glanced back at Azam. "What are
we gonna do?"
"The lady, Boss. She has an idea."
Jan turned and considered Mel, who was doubled over and
holding her sides. "Yeah? And what the hell's so
funny?"
Mel wiped her eyes as her laughter settled down to
occasional snickers. "Nothing, Jan. I was just going to suggest
that perhaps a priest could bless the tomb before you open
it."
Azam's eyes grew wide. "That could work,
Boss."
"Bless the tomb? What a load of
horse-apples."
"Not to the diggers, Boss."
Mel's voice reached Jan's ear now, soft and urgent. "They
believe sincerely in it. It would reassure them."
For a long moment, nobody said anything. Everyone stood
motionless in the heat of the afternoon, considering each other.
Finally, Jan sighed deeply, a gesture of resignation and surrender,
then raised her voice in Greek toward the diggers. They responded
with enthusiastic chatter and nods of approval.
Finally, Jan turned toward Azam and switched to English.
"You know the priest they're talkin' about?"
"Yah, yah. He in the village. Been priest out here many,
many years."
"Go get the old fart and drag his venerated ass out here,
will you?"
"It's gonna cost you."
Jan rolled her eyes. "How much?"
"The more you pay, the quicker he come."
Again, Jan sighed. "That freakin' ecclesiastical bandit.
Here's fifty drachma. You tell that con artist to get his
ass-"
"Jan, be respectful, now."
"Right. Please inform the esteemed and respected priest
that we would be deeply honored if he could come tomorrow morning
and bless the site, will you? You pick him up. Let's knock off for
today."
Azam beamed as he plucked the fifty-drachma note from Jan's
hand and pocketed it. "Sure, Boss. Sure thing. You got it." Azam
then turned toward the diggers and began a rapid announcement in
Greek, to which the diggers responded with great enthusiasm, then
disbursed to go home. "I take the diggers to the village now, Boss,
and see the priest. We come back in the morning."
Jan managed a smile. "Thanks, Azam. You're okay." She gave
him a friendly slap on the shoulder and a grin. "And I don't care
what the sheep around here say about ya."
"You one crazy woman, Boss. But you good crazy." With a
cackle of laughter, Azam trotted off toward the truck.
Jan lifted her hat from the ground, knocked the dust from
it and nodded toward the tents. "Shall we?"
Mel smiled. "We shall."
They began a leisurely trudge up the path toward the tents.
For a while, neither woman said anything. Finally, Jan broke the
silence.
"Thanks for the suggestion, Mel. I think you saved the
day."
"It was nothing. Daddy used to use that little trick all
the time."
"Listen, Mel. I'm, ah, sorry about poppin' off at you. I
didn't mean what I said. I was bein' a jerk."
"Apology enthusiastically accepted, Jan, and I must
apologize, too. I was very unkind to you."
"You were just tellin' the truth."
"Well... it was still very unkind."
Jan snickered at that. "Okay. Point taken. The apology's
for the delivery, not the content."
~~~~
"That was a wonderful dinner, Jan. Thank
you."
"Amazing what I can do with Spam and couscous,
huh?"
"Now that's two words I never expected to hear in the same
sentence."
Mel lit the Coleman lantern as Jan returned from dumping
the kitchen wash water. She dropped the bucket on the ground, then
stepped into her tent. In a moment, she returned, a bottle in her
hand, and sat at the camp table. Mel eyed the bottle. "What are we
toasting, Jan?"
"Who cares?" She popped the cork and filled two tin cups.
"Life."
"I'll drink to that." They clanked their tin cups together,
then drank. Mel winced as she swallowed. "Oh, Jan," she said.
"That's dreadful. What is that? Horse liniment?"
"Some of the local booze. It's good for horses, too." She
refilled their cups. "It grows on ya."
"Like a rash, I imagine." Mel raised her glass. "To a warm
summer's evening in Greece, Jan."
"Hell, yeah."Again, they tipped their cups. "No place I'd
rather be. Look at that sunset."
Mel looked behind her and gasped. The horizon above the
rolling hills was a brilliant red-yellow. "Why, it's
beautiful."
"Sit on this side, with me. You can see it
better."
Mel moved around the long table and seated herself on the
bench near Jan. For a while, they both contemplated the evening's
beauty. Finally, Mel's drawl broke the silence.
"Jan?"
Jan smiled as she kept her eyes on the sunset.
"Yeah?"
Mel had drawn one knee up and placed her foot on the bench
next to Jan. Her arms hugged her leg, and she'd rested her chin on
her knee and was considering Jan's profile. The
not-quite-shoulder-length blonde hair pushed behind the ears, the
pert nose (broken at some past time?), the squinted eyes, the
petite figure tight with muscle; she felt herself transfixed by the
sight. She spoke softly now.
"How come you always smile when I say your
name?"
Again, Jan smiled. "I guess it's because I've never heard
it spoken in two syllables before."
"Huh?"
"Jay-yun. That's how you say it."
"Oh. I'll try to do better."
Jan placed a hand over Mel's arms. "No, no. I love how you
say it. I wasn't criticizing. Please don't think that. Don't change
a thing."
It was Mel's turn to smile. "I won't, in that case." She
shrugged. "I suppose I'm just touchy about my southern accent. When
I lived in the north, many folks would make snarky comments about
it. You can't imagine all the ditzy southern belle jokes I
heard."
"So you tried to lose it?"
"Never. It made me fiercely proud of it. It became even
more prominent in my speech. It's the stubborn pride in me, I
suppose. I always swim against the current."
Jan raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh? I find that a highly
admirable quality."
"You're the first, it would seem. My mother has disowned me
three or four times now."
"In that case, you must be doing something right. Where in
the north did you live?"
"I attended university in New York City for my graduate
language studies."
"Damn, Mel. That's a really prestigious languages
department."
"Y'all surprised? Little ol' me?"
"I didn't mean it that way."
"I know. I'm sorry." She reached toward Jan, hesitated for
a brief instant, then rested her hand on Jan's shoulder. "What
about you, Jan?"
She felt the shrug beneath her hand. "What about
me?"
"Where's home for you?"
"Right here. Wherever I hang my hat."
"It's a very distinctive hat."
Jan lifted it off the back of her head and studied it
before she dropped it on the table. "It was my dad's. That and my
pocket watch is all I have left of him."
"Do you have family?"
"Nah. My mother-whoever she was-walked out on us when I was
little. Dad disappeared on some expedition when I was in college.
Never heard from him again. I assume he got killed."
"No siblings?"
"Nah."
"No lover, no beau, no handsome fellows coming around to
woo you, Jan?"
"Actually, I'm not much in the guy department." She lifted
her tin cup and took a deep swallow. "If you get my drift." Her
eyes flashed over to study Mel's reaction.
"Oh, my!" Mel felt her cheeks warm. "I believe I
do."
Jan refilled their cups. "So now you know a deep, dark
secret about Jan Covington. She chases skirts." Jan studied Mel.
"What about you, Mel Pappas? Are you a miss or a missus? I never
quite got that."
"I've never been married."
"Okay, Miss Mel Pappas. Lover? Fiancé? Dapper guys
sniffing around you with flowers and rings? You've got to have
that; after all, you're one gorgeous gal."
"Oh!" Again, Mel felt her cheeks heat. "No, I'm afraid not.
I mean, occasionally they try, but I don't encourage them at all."
Silence fell for a moment. "Um, do you really think
I'm-gorgeous?"
"I said it, right?"
"You most certainly did. Thank you."
"Just tellin' the truth. So, Mel Pappas. How come you don't
encourage the fellas?" Jan leaned a little closer, and only then
did Mel realize that her hand still rested on Jan's shoulder. She
considered, for an instant, removing it, but found that she had no
strength to do so. The soft, warm strength beneath the T-shirt's
cloth held her hand immobile.
"Ah, I suppose it's because they just don't interest me,
Jan."
"Our Mel has no wish for marriage and all the
trappings?"
"That has never been me, I'm afraid."
"Glad to hear it." Jan leaned a little closer. "Does that
mean what I think it means?"
"Um, yes, Jan. I believe it does." Mel's eyes averted to
study the sunset, then cautiously returned to meet Jan's gaze. "It
means that Mel Pappas chases skirts, too."
"Well. Small world, ain't it?"
"We seem to have much more in common than we first
imagined, don't we?"
"Somehow, I knew it at the train station."
"Me, too."
A silence fell between them as they studied each other's
faces, a silence pregnant with energy. After a moment, Jan spoke, a
thought rendered very quietly.
"I can hear your heart beating, Mel."
"I thought that was yours."
"Why is it so loud? Are you scared of
something?"
Mel nodded slowly.
"Of me?"
"A little, I imagine. Mostly, of-of us. Of what I feel
between us."
"So you feel it too, huh?"
"Oh my, yes."
"Heavy-duty, ain't it?"
"It must be the most powerful thing I've ever
felt."
"Same here. So, Mel Pappas, what do ya think we ought to do
about it?"
"You tell me, Jan. For some reason, I just can't think
straight right now."
Jan leaned her cheek against Mel's hand, still occupying
its place on Jan's shoulder. "I think," she said, "that if we let
this moment pass, we'll regret it for the rest of our lives. We
need to go with this, and that means wherever it takes us, for as
long as it takes us there."
"We won't be accepted by most people. Smirks, whispers,
rude remarks..."
"Old hat. Been there."
"Me, too. We'll be illegal in several
states."
"I don't care."
"Neither do I, Jan."
Again, an electric silence fell between them. For an
endless moment, they sat that way, considering each other. Finally,
Jan broke the silence.
"Mel...?"
"Yes, Jan?"
"Would you be real offended if I kissed you right
now?"
"I'd be very offended if you didn't."
Jan scooted forward on the bench, and Mel dropped her foot
to the ground. They felt their legs touch, and their faces drew
close. Jan placed a hand beneath Mel's chin and brought her lips
near. She could feel Mel's breath, see the eyelids close. As her
mind screamed, 'Don't blow this, Covington!', she brushed her lips
against Mel's, and their mouths met.
Time stopped. Neither knew how long that kiss lasted. It
could have been seconds; it could have been an eternity. All either
knew was that, for the first time in their lives, they believed.
They both truly, really believed. It existed; it was possible. And
it was possible for them. Finally, regretfully, reluctantly, the
kiss ended.
Jan released a ragged breath. "Wow."
"Oh, my. Wherever did you learn to kiss like that,
Jan?"
"Right here. Right now."
Mel giggled. "Liar. Don't even try to tell me you never
kissed a girl before."
"Not like that, I haven't."
"Nor have I. Janice Covington, you are definitely something
else."
They kissed again, deeper, longer this time. Eventually,
they rested, foreheads together, arms about each other's necks.
"Well, Mel Pappas."
"Yes, Jan?"
"I guess it's gettin' late."
"I suppose it is."
"Time for bed."
"Ah, yes. Um, where did-where did you want me to put my
things and sleep?"
"You've gotta know the answer to that one."
"Jan," Mel said. "You hear me now." She placed a finger on
Jan's lips, indicating the need for her silence. Her manner was
soft, a gentle remonstration. "If you think I'm that quickly won,
you've got another thing coming."
"Huh? No, Mel. I didn't mean-"
"You most certainly did mean that. I'm not one of your
floozies."
"I don't understand."
Mel stroked Jan's hair as she spoke. "I'm a southern girl,
Jan. We have our pride, after all. This is not going to be some
cheap fling. If you want me, you're going to have to fall in love
with me. And falling in love is a slow dance."
Jan gulped. Falling in love? Is that what was happening
here? Yes, it sure was. The words drilled into her soul. She hadn't
fallen in love since-since when? The answer screamed in her head.
Never. Not like this. Of all the women she'd known and thought
she'd loved, nobody had ever hit her this hard in her life. And in
the next instant, she realized the next truth. Nobody ever would
again. She had one chance to play this right. Again, the voice in
her head screamed at her. Don't blow this, Covington, or you'll
despise yourself for the rest of your miserable
life.
"I don't know how to do this, Mel. I've always been for the
moment."
"And you always wake up lonely, don't you? They're always
gone by the sun's rise."
"Yeah."
"Is that what you want here? Do you want me gone in the
morning, too?"
"No. God, no."
"Then play the game my way for once, because I don't want
that, either. Slow dance with me, and I'll bet we can make this
feeling last for the rest of our lives."
"You think we can?"
"I know we can. Slow down. Let's really fall in love. You
won't regret it."
A moment of silence fell between them as they considered
each other, their arms about each other's necks, their faces close.
Finally, Jan spoke, a whisper.
"So, Mel Pappas, what's the first step in this slow
dance?"
A smile unfolded across Mel's features, a smile which
became brilliant. After a moment, she replied, "Show me where I'm
to wash up and sleep, Jan, and then kiss me
goodnight."
"Uh, yeah. Over here."
Reluctantly, she untangled herself from Mel, and they rose
from the bench. Jan lifted the lantern, took Mel by the hand and
led her to the tent next to Jan's. Inside, there were several
unused bunks.
"You've got this tent all to yourself, Mel. Nobody stays at
the dig but me, usually. The diggers and Azam all live at the
nearby village. There's a jerry can of water and a bowl at the
table. Blankets and towels are on the far bunk." She glanced up, an
unspoken apology in her eyes for the humble surroundings. "It ain't
the Grande Hotel, I'm afraid."
"I'm sure it'll be quite cozy, Jan. Thank you so much. Let
me light my lantern, and I'll bid you good-night. I'm sure you're
quite tired."
Jan was anything but tired. "I'll get your bags,
Mel."
She returned in a moment with Mel's suitcase and rucksack
and placed them on a bunk. Mel withdrew a box of matches from her
rucksack and deftly lit her lantern, then turned to face Jan. They
both stood that way for a while, then Jan spoke.
"This is where we say good-night, huh?"
"I believe so, Jan."
Jan stepped forward and wrapped her arms about Mel's waist.
"Good-night, gorgeous. I had a terrific evening with
you."
"Why, Jan Covington! That's so romantic. You're a very
quick study, aren't you?" She lowered her head and kissed Jan, a
leisurely kiss, then whispered, "You are also just the cutest thing
I've ever seen, I do believe."
"You think?"
"I think." They kissed again, and Mel said, "Good-night,
cutie."
"Good-night, gorgeous. I'll see you in the
morning."
"I'll be here."
Jan smiled at that. "I'm glad."
With that, Mel shooed her toward the tent's door. Jan
lifted her lantern from the table, then paused in the door and
looked back. Mel was watching her. "Um, leave your boots up off the
ground, Mel. There's creepin' wildlife around here."
"I will."
"And watch for snakes."
"I'm not scared of snakes, Jan."
"And, um, if you hear anything or need me, I'm..." She
pointed in her tent's direction.
"Next door. Yes, Jan." Mel giggled. "I've been on a dig
site or two before, remember?"
"Yeah, right." She stood in the door for another awkward
moment, then shrugged self-consciously. "Well, g'night,
Mel."
Mel smiled. "Good night...cutie."
Jan brightened. "You really think I'm that cute,
huh?"
"Darlin', you're so cute you make my knees knock. Now go to
bed."
"Right. Um, yeah."
With that, Jan disappeared around the tent flap, and Mel
busied herself with making herself at home in her new surroundings.
As she sat on her camp cot and unlaced her boots, she shook her
head. "Melinda Pappas," she said, "just what have you gotten
yourself into?" After a moment, she muttered, "Trouble, that's
what. That girl is nothin' but trouble." A wide grin eased across
her face. "And I do love trouble, especially when it comes wrapped
in a package like that."
~~~~
Jan rested her lantern on the little camp table in her tent
and peeled off her shirt. She stood in the door of her tent and
allowed the cool night air to brush across her skin as she lit a
cigarette. As her Zippo clacked shut, she said, "Damn, Covington,
what's the matter with you?" She reflected on that question, then
said, "Nothing, would you believe it? For once in my life,
everything seems right with the world. No wonder I don't know how
the hell to act."
~~~~
The next day dawned to a cacophony of singing birds and a
brilliant sunrise. By the time Mel had risen, Jan was already up
and had coffee and oatmeal prepared. When the larger of the dig's
two trucks rattled onto the dig site with the diggers piled in the
back and the priest-long, gray beard prominent and duly dressed in
his ceremonial robes-regally ensconced in the passenger side of the
truck's cab, Jan was waiting, and Mel was by her
side.
The blessing of the dig site, and particularly the tomb's
door, was an ancient ritual which the diggers watched with due
reverence. Jan tolerated it with amazing patience and courtesy. And
Mel? She found it fascinating. She worked her camera like a pro,
snapping the entire ceremony and the faces, the reactions of the
people watching. When it was finished, both she and Jan heaped
effusive thanks upon the priest, offered him hot tea, then saw him
off, as Azam drove him back to the village in the small truck. As
soon as the truck disappeared over the hill, Jan roused the diggers
and began barking orders in her rapid Greek. They responded with
surprising enthusiasm, and in little time, had the dig's rickety
old generator set up and ready to light the inside of the tomb. Jan
gathered them all around, tools in hand, and instructed them
regarding the manner in which she wanted to open the
door.
Then, she lifted a pickaxe. It only took a dozen blows to
knock a hole the size of her head in the aged brick. She dropped
the tool and pulled a flashlight from her back pocket, shone it
into the hole and pressed her face against the darkness. For a
couple of minutes, no one moved as they watched Jan. Then, she
slowly turned toward Mel. For a moment, Mel couldn't read the
little blonde's expression. Then, she noticed that Jan's eyes were
sparkling.
"What is it, Jan?"
"Good thing you're here. We're gonna need a language
expert."
"Why? What's in there?"
Jan grinned. "Looks like scrolls. Shelves full of 'em.
Maybe a hundred or more."
"Oh, my God! Jan, that's wonderful!" Mel bounced on her
tiptoes as she gushed. Then, she paused. "Oh! Are there remains,
Jan?"
"I don't see a sarcophagus. There's some other trash in
there, though. Shit, Mel. Let's get crackin'." Jan chattered in her
rapid Greek to the diggers, then stood aside as they threw
themselves to the task of clearing out the bricks of the
door.
By mid-afternoon, the generator was sputtering, powering
the lights which lit the inside of the site. It turned out to be
not a tomb, but a repository of some sort.
"That means that this-" Jan pointed toward the nearby
foundation which she'd been excavating. "Is not a house. It's
probably a temple."
"Whose temple, I wonder?" Mel asked.
"Athena, judging from the inscription you read yesterday.
Hm. No wonder I found some beautiful pieces there."
Azam approached. "Boss, we gotta talk."
"What's the matter, buddy?"
"It Saturday. The diggers, they 'bout through for the
week." Azam rubbed his fingers together. "Pay, Boss. What we gonna
do for money?"
Jan grinned as she pulled a wad of drachma notes from her
pocket. Azam's eyes lit up. "Oh, Boss. You came through! Hot dog!"
He lowered his voice and slid closer to Jan. "So, how you get,
ah...?" He pointed at the wad of money.
"The museum curator in Thessaloniki bought that
amphora."
"For that much? Hoo, Boss. You must be one good
talker."
Jan grinned. "She said it was a...ah...really
great piece."
Azam eyed Jan suspiciously, then snickered. "Aah, okay. I
got you now." He cackled, then slapped Jan on the back. "Damn. You
one crazy woman, you know that, Boss?"
Jan laughed, then pointed toward the dig. "Go on, get outta
here."
As Azam trotted off, Jan lit a cigarette and studied the
diggers working to install a chain-link facing over the open tomb
door, protection for when the site was empty of activity. It was
then that robbers might attempt to pillage the valuable artifacts
within. They worked with gusto, for they knew that when the
chain-link wall and door was installed, they would be paid and
released for the week.
Mel's voice broke Jan's thoughts. "So, Jan. How is
Sophia?"
Jan froze. "Ah, you know her?"
"Oh, yes. I know her. She visited the Athens museum when I
was there."
"Oh."
"She's a very pretty woman, don't you
think?"
"Uh, sure, Mel. She's pretty." A moment of dead silence
passed. "But she's not half as pretty as you are."
"Really?"
"Really. She's pretty, but you're gorgeous." Mel did not
reply immediately, and Jan glanced up at her. Mel was studying Jan
with an expression somewhere between caution and appreciation.
"What? What, Mel?"
Mel allowed a slow smile to creep across her face. "You
really are a quick study, aren't you?" With that, she turned and
walked toward the tents.
Jan puzzled over the exchange as she finished her smoke,
then ground out the butt with the toe of her boot. "What was that
all about?" she asked nobody in particular, then strode toward the
work site to take personal charge.
~~~~
The dig, now that the 'tomb' was opened and discovered to
be a temple repository, took on a very different flavor. Jan had
stopped the digging, and wanted to concentrate on examining and
cataloging the entire contents of the repository. She kept most of
the diggers employed, but as guards now, sitting up day and night
in teams of two, armed with ragtag old rifles. Now that the
repository was opened, tomb robbers were a threat.
For the next month, their days and nights fell into a
routine. During the daylight hours, she and Mel photographed,
examined, catalogued and carefully packed for transport the myriad
items there. Eventually, everything would be taken to the
Thessaloniki museum and trans-shipped to Athens. Crated, it would
fill the big truck to its capacity. When the sun set-as it was
doing a little earlier each evening, now that autumn was
approaching-they spent time together doing what budding lovers do:
talking, nuzzling, kissing, laughing, becoming ever closer to each
other. And every morning, Mel would make them breakfast as she
watched Jan perform her daily ritual of exercise to keep her body
tight with muscle and flexible.
Night after night, though, Mel steadfastly refused to be
lured into Jan's bunk. This was a new experience for Jan, and she
puzzled over it privately to no end. She'd never had a problem
bedding women before; indeed, she had a gift for it. They seemed to
shed their clothes and fall into her arms with matter-of-fact
predictability. And now, the one woman she hungered for more than
life itself kept refusing her overtures. Had she lost her golden
touch? Or was this the slow dance of real love, instead of the
frantic moments of unrestrained lust with which Jan was so
familiar?
Jan was packing a piece of art for travel when Mel's
excited call shook her from her thoughts. She cast a glance across
the sorting tent to the table where Mel had spread a scroll, white
cotton gloves on her hands so that oil from her skin wouldn't
degrade the fragile papyrus.
"This is just such an exciting scroll, Jan. I've never
heard of this person before. Some sort of bard, from-have you heard
of this place? Potidaea?"
"Yeah, Mel. It's near here, east of Thessaloniki. What's
up?"
"Well, the bard's a woman, which is unusual for the bards
of this era. And she's chronicling the life of some sort of
warlord. Also a woman. Fascinating reading."
Jan was hovering over Mel in an instant, her expression
serious. "What's the bard's name, Mel?"
Mel scanned the papyrus for a minute, then stopped. "Oh.
Here it is." She looked up at Jan's face.
"Gabrielle."
"Holy crap."
"What's the matter, Jan? You look like you've just been
slapped."
"Maybe I have. Have you found anything else like that in
here?" She waved a hand at the pile of scrolls on the
table.
"No. Just this, so far. Why, Jan. Your hands are
shaking."
"If you find anything else like that, put it aside and tell
me. Keep it separate from everything else. Holy shit, Mel. This is
incredible." Mel blinked in surprise at Jan. Her entire body seemed
animated; she was breathing deeply, and her expression was alive
with energy. "Do you realize what you've found here? Oh, my God.
Mel, you kick ass!" She bent down next to Mel, grasped her head
with both hands, and turned her so they were nose-to-nose. "You're
fantastic. I love you!" With that, Jan planted a huge kiss on Mel's
mouth, then released her and stormed from the tent.
For a couple of minutes, Mel sat quite still, some loose
hair hanging in her face, her expression one of intense puzzlement.
She pulled off her gloves and slowly touched her lips, then turned
in her chair and looked past the open tent flap. Jan was pacing in
the sun, talking animatedly to, it seemed, no one in particular.
Mel rose and walked to the tent's door, watching the little blonde.
She visibly cowered back a few paces when Jan leapt atop the rough
wooden table, waved her fists at the sky and shouted, "Yes! There's
a God after all!"
Cautiously, Mel approached her. "Um, Jan?"
Jan was dancing on the table top. "Yes! Yes! Yes! This is
too freakin' good!"
"Jan?"
"Whoo-hoo!"
"Jan!"
A torrent of water smacked Jan square in the face and
chest. She stood, frozen in position, on the table, her hair and
face dripping, her chest and shirt soaked, her hat on the ground.
After a moment, she spit a stream of water, then slowly looked down
at Mel.
"I can't believe you just did that."
Mel dropped the water bucket on the ground and covered her
mouth with a hand. "Please don't be angry, but I didn't know of any
other way to get your attention."
Jan dropped down to the bench, then sat heavily on the
table top. "Well, I'd say you have it now. What's up, Mel?" She
glanced up at her friend's face, then added, "And quit laughing at
me."
"I'm not laughing, Jan."
"Yes, you are."
"Okay. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I did that." She pointed at
the bucket.
Jan snickered. "No, you're not. You loved it. And it felt
good. It's hotter than hell out here. So now that you have my
undivided attention, what is it?"
Mel huffed in exasperation, then stood in front of Jan.
"Okay, first question: who is this bard?"
"Gabrielle. It's always been considered just baloney. You
know, legend, fiction. She was supposedly a bard who traveled with,
and chronicled the adventures of, a Greek warlord. Some say that
they were also lovers. References have been found to her in others'
works."
"Why is this so important?"
"Because nobody's ever found something directly from her
hand, Mel. Nobody." Jan's gaze was intent. "Until today. Until you.
You just proved that she's real."
"Oh, my!"
"Yeah." Jan held a finger up to punctuate her next thought.
"But that's not all."
"There's more?"
"Damned straight. This warlord. Did the scroll mention her
name?"
"Um..."
"Xena?"
"Yes. That's it, Jan."
Jan's fist pounded on the table. "Yes! She's been a
personal quest of my dad's for his whole life. He always believed
that those two were real, not just myth. I believed it, too. I
swore that I'd end Dad's quest for him, that I'd redeem his
reputation as an archaeologist, that I'd prove their existence if
it was the last thing I ever did." Jan ran a hand through her wet
hair. "And now, thanks to you, Mel, I just might be able to do
that."
"Oh. I see." Mel hesitated, then sat on the bench next to
Jan's feet. She leaned on Jan's knee and looked intently into her
face. "That's all incredibly exciting, but I do have one more
question."
"What's that?"
"A minute ago, you said that you loved me. Did you mean
it?"
Jan sat, stunned. Her thoughts flashed back to a minute
ago. She had said it. And then, she had kissed Mel. It had seemed
like the most natural thing in the world, to say those three words
to her. Mel's face was just below hers, looking up at her. Watching
her, studying her with those sky-blue eyes that mesmerized her.
"Yeah. I damn sure did mean it."
"It wasn't just the excitement of the moment? It wasn't
that you just loved me for finding that scroll?"
Jan leaned close to Mel's face. She chose her words
carefully, now; so carefully. "I've said a lot of things in the
excitement of the moment, but never-until now-have I ever said
those three words to any woman."
"In that case, may I hear them again?"
Jan smiled. She spoke them slowly, clearly, her eyes fixed
on Mel's. "I love you."
She watched the blue eyes water, and watched a single tear
track its path down Mel's cheek. "You really mean it, don't you?"
Mel said.
"You'd better believe it."
"I do believe it. Oh, Jan. I love you, too. So
much."
Somehow, Jan had come to be sitting on the bench with Mel.
She felt Mel's lips on hers, the warmth, the passionate energy of
the kiss, the incredible softness of those lips, that tongue, and
could even taste the tear which had trailed down Mel's face. She
could feel Mel's hands on her back, then in her hair. It was, to
her, by far, among the most unforgettable of the countless kisses
she'd experienced in her young life.
Then she abruptly sat back, panting. Her expression had
suddenly become uncertain, even frightened.
"Why, Jan. Whatever's the matter?"
"I'm trusting you. Don't break my heart. Do you hear
me?"
"I can see," Mel said, "that you still have a lot to learn
about me." Gently, she lifted Jan's hand and kissed the knuckles.
"And about trust. And about love."
~~~~
Work progressed at a fever pitch; day after day, the two
women labored relentlessly to catalogue and pack the repository's
contents. Eventually, after long labor, the large truck was almost
packed. Very few items remained.
Fall had begun to arrive in earnest, too. The nights got
cooler, the days shorter, and Jan knew that soon, they would have
to terminate the dig. Then, their efforts would be to see the
materials they'd recovered safely to Thessaloniki, then on to the
Athens museum. And after that? Who the hell knew?
One afternoon, Jan heard a familiar voice calling her name.
She looked up to see Azam skid his motor-bike to a halt near the
tents. He seemed anxious, and waved a newspaper in the air as he
trotted toward Jan.
"Boss! Boss! We at war!"
Jan felt her heart fall to her feet. "Oh, no. The
Italians?"
"Yeah, Boss. They invade us." He pointed to the newspaper.
"Look, they in Greece."
"Where?" Jan lifted the newspaper from his hand. "Albanian
border. Shit, they're in Macedonia."
"You get your ass outta here, Boss. Take this stuff." He
waved at the truck. "You no let them get it."
"You better believe it." She eyed Azam. "What about you?
Can you help me?"
"Sorry, Boss. I go to war." He patted his chest proudly. "I
sergeant in reserves. I report tomorrow. We be fighting at the
front in maybe three, four days."
"Oh, man. You watch out. People get killed in wars,
y'know."
"Yah, yah. Not this Greek, Boss. I duck good!" His
expression became more severe. "Ah, Boss, look. The diggers, they
report, too. No come tonight. They wanna be with
family."
"Yeah, I understand." They eyed each other silently for a
moment, then Jan stuck out her hand. "You take care of yourself,
Azam."
"You too, Boss. I'm gonna miss you." He shook her hand
warmly, then laughed. "You one crazy woman, Boss, but you good
crazy. I work with you anytime!" He looked past Jan's shoulder.
"Miss Pappas, you take care of the boss for me? She need lookin'
after big time, you know?"
Mel's voice answered from behind Jan. "I promise,
Azam."
He hesitated, then motioned toward his motor-bike. "Well, I
go now. You get outta here, Boss. Them Italians, they only a couple
days away."
"Yeah. I damned sure will."
He kicked his motor-bike into life and sat astride it. "See
you after the war, Boss." With that, he spun the back tire and
headed toward the distant hill. Jan watched him go, then
sighed.
"That's one good fella, there."
"I'm sure he'll be just fine, Jan."
She looked up at Mel. "Somehow, it's always the good ones
that die first. Well, let's get crackin'. We need to be out of here
first thing in the morning."
~~~~
"Jan? Jan! Wake up."
"Huh? Mel? Whuzzat?"
In the darkness, Mel clapped a hand over Jan's mouth. "Shh.
I think there's somebody at the truck."
Jan was instantly upright on her cot. "I'm awake. Give me a
second." She slipped her socks and boots on her feet, then
hurriedly tied the laces. As she strapped on her pistol belt, she
rose and silently tread to the tent's door. For some time, she
remained motionless, then returned to Mel. "Yeah. I can hear 'em.
Stay here and keep your head down, Mel." Jan shoved a flashlight
into her back pocket, then lifted a rifle from its place against
her tent's center post.
"Perhaps I can help."
Jan bent low, her face near Mel's. "Have you ever shot
anybody?"
"No."
"Then stay here and keep your head down. Please, Mel. I
can't deal with them and worry about you, too. Right?" She got a
reluctant nod from Mel, then rose to leave.
"Have you, Jan?"
"Have I what?"
"Ever shot anybody?"
Jan was silent for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. This isn't
the first time I've dealt with guys tryin' to rob me." With that,
she left the tent.
Mel sat on Jan's bunk, her heart pounding in her ears, and
listened. She could hear the distant buzzing of insects, she could
hear whispered voices and the occasional thump or clank coming from
the truck, but she couldn't hear Jan's footfalls. A slow, agonizing
eternity passed in which Mel heard nothing of Jan. Every fiber of
her being screamed at her, urging her to seek Jan out, but she had
promised. She sat still, only the pounding of her heart keeping her
company.
~~~~
Jan took a roundabout path toward the truck, her rifle
leveled, the safety off, her feet treading slowly, silently in the
night. About twenty feet from the back of the truck, she stopped,
crouched behind some brush, and allowed her eyes to adjust to the
darkness. She could detect hoarse whispers, and she attempted to
count the voices. She reckoned that there were three, at
least.
She shifted a little, then eased herself to a seated
position, raised the rifle, and aimed it toward the back of the
truck. She peered over the barrel, biding her time, waiting for a
clear target. If the first shot was true, the remaining robbers
would probably run. She could explain the body to the Chief
Constable in the morning. As she waited, willing her breathing into
an easy pattern, a break in the clouds allowed a weak moonlight to
illuminate the scene. She saw two shadows standing at the back of
the truck, peering inside. From that, she deduced that the third
was inside.
She heard the sound of a wooden crate being scraped across
the floorboards of the truck's cargo area, and heard muttered
curses. Then, the canvas was thrown back, and she saw the
silhouette of a man bent over the crate. Or rather, she saw the
back half of a man. She felt a smirk ease itself across her face.
Oh, yeah, she thought. The part that went over the fence last.
That'll work for me. Carefully, she took aim, squeezed the trigger,
and the rifle kicked against her shoulder.
Her ears were ringing with the rifle's report, but she
could hear-and see-pandemonium break out at the back of the truck.
Someone was shrieking in high-pitched and very profane Greek, and
two other voices were chattering. The man fell out of the truck and
hit the ground with a hard thud. His companions were tugging at
him, attempting to lift him to a standing position as Jan pulled
back the rifle's bolt and chambered another round. She took aim
just to the side of one of the figures and squeezed the trigger
again. Again, her ears rang, and again, the excited chatter of the
robbers increased in volume and speed. One tripped over another,
and they both fell to the ground, then clambered to rise again. Jan
aimed a third bullet into the ground near their feet, and that sent
the three unlucky robbers into spasms of panic. Their purpose in
life seemed to become to leave as quickly as
possible.
The next bullet kicked up rocks and dust near them, and Jan
lowered the rifle to watch the spectacle. Arms and legs flailing,
excited shrieks and chatter abounding, they reminded her of a
Keystone Cops movie as they fled the scene. She noted one of the
three running more slowly than the others. He was bent forward, and
was holding his behind with both hands.
"Damn, that's gotta hurt," Jan said. "I hate it for ya,
buddy."
A hand touched Jan's shoulder. In a second, she had dropped
the rifle, turned, and her hand held her unsheathed knife against
Mel's throat. They stood that way, frozen, for a long moment, and
then Jan relaxed. The knife's blade dropped away.
"Jesus Christ, Mel! You scared the shit outta me. Don't
ever sneak up on me like that again."
"Oh, my. I'm-sorry."
Jan released a deep sigh, then stood, sheathing her knife.
"It's all over. I shot one of 'em, and they ran." She picked up her
rifle, then looked up. Mel was staring down at her. "What,
Mel?"
"You shot one of them? Is he-?"
"Nah. I shot him in the ass. He'll probably be okay, but he
won't be able to sit down for a month." Mel stared at Jan
wordlessly. "Did ya bring a flashlight?" Slowly, Mel held up a
flashlight. "Great. C'mon. Let's check out the truck, see if they
got away with anything."
A couple of minutes later, they were inside the back of the
truck, flashlights on, taking a quick mental inventory. Everything
seemed to be in place. Satisfied, they trekked the short distance
back to Jan's tent. As they entered, Jan lit her lantern, then sat
on a stool and proceeded to reload the rifle. Mel took a seat on
Jan's bunk and watched. When Jan finished loading the rifle, she
shoved the bolt home, clicked the safety on, and leaned the rifle
against the table. Then, she popped the cork on the liquor bottle
and took a long drink. She offered the bottle to Mel, who shook her
head.
Then, she leaned forward. "Okay, what's wrong? Out with
it."
"Does something have to be wrong?"
"You've been giving me the silent treatment since the
hillside, Mel. Something's wrong. Spill it."
"All right, Jan. I guess I'm just a little shocked at
seeing this side of you, that's all."
"What side is that, specifically?"
"I suppose it's your violent side. You just shot someone,
and you seem unfazed by that."
"I should be fazed?"
"You shot someone, Jan!"
"Yeah. He was stealin' from me, and I shot him. In the ass,
Mel. Not in the head or the gut. In the ass. That'll heal." Jan
took another swig from the bottle. "He's not layin' out there dead.
He ran off. He can't be hurt too bad." A moment of dead silence
passed between them. "Anything else?"
"You held a knife to my throat tonight."
At that, Jan winced. "I'm sorry about that, Mel. Honest to
God, if I'd known that was you behind me, I wouldn't have done
that. It was instinct."
"I was truly frightened."
"I'm sorry. I really am. I wouldn't hurt you for all the
world. You know that."
"Do I? I heard from Sophia that you can box. Is that
true?"
"Yeah. So you two talked about me, huh?" She took another
drink. "Done it since freshman year of college. So
what?"
So your hobby is beating people with your fists, Mel
thought. Aloud, she voiced a different concern. "Jan, have you ever
killed anybody?"
Jan froze. For a minute, she sat, very still, and
considered the expression on Mel's face. Then, she took another
drink. "Yeah."
"An accident?"
"No."
"More than one?"
"Yeah. Two tomb-robbers on digs, and one guy in a barroom
brawl." She took another drink.
Mel sighed. She studied Jan with a pensive, questioning
look. "And you have no remorse?"
Jan drank again. "The first one hit me hard. Real hard. I
got over it, though. Those guys wouldn't have died if they weren't
tryin' to hurt me. Their fate was their doing. If I hadn't killed
'em, I probably wouldn't be here now. And that guy tonight? I don't
have any regrets about that, Mel. None." She took another drink.
"Look, I could just as easily have shot him in the gut. Ever seen a
gut shot, Mel? It's nasty. It's a killin' shot, and it takes a day
or two to die from it. And all the time, they're in agony. Was I
thinking about that when I was aiming at him? Yeah, I was. Is that
the reason I shot him in the ass, instead?
Probably."
She took another drink, then offered the bottle to Mel.
This time, Mel took it and tipped it to her mouth. Jan watched her,
then continued, "I'm not a bad person, Mel. Look, I know I'm rough
around the edges, but I live a rough life, y'know? I'm out in the
bush as much as I can be, just tryin' to make a living. I'm an
archaeology bum. That's what I do. And archaeology isn't done on
Park Avenue. It's mostly done in places like this; wild, primitive
places. I guess I've gotten wild and primitive,
too."
She accepted the bottle back from Mel and took a drink.
"It's strictly survival for me. I work wherever I can, for whoever
I can. My daddy wasn't a Nobel Laureate, Mel. My dad was Harry
'Grave-Robber' Covington. The legacy follows me, y'know? I can't
get a decent job, not even a year's teaching appointment. A
professorship? Yeah, right. Fat chance of that." She drank again.
"I'm sent to the most stinkin', God-forsaken digs. Stuff nobody
else wants to do. Hell, hire Covington, they say. She'll do it, the
crazy, God-damned, drunk-ass, skirt-chasin'-" She took another
drink. "That kind of reputation has put me in some rough
situations, Mel. And I'm little, and I'm a woman. I've got to be
meaner than a damned snake, or I won't last long out here." Jan
took a long pull at the bottle, then lowered it. "I hate it, but
that's the way it is. Welcome to my life, Mel." She paused and
waited for Mel to say something. When Mel remained silent, Jan
continued.
"Look, I'm not all dirt and booze and violence. I love
clean sheets and hot baths and nice clothes and Mozart and
Shakespeare. But there ain't much of that around here, is there?
There's just dust and heat and bugs and guys who try to rob me. Or
worse." She motioned toward the dig. "And there's human history out
there, just waitin' for bums like me to scratch it out of the
ground and give meaning to it." She leaned forward, forearms on
knees, and studied Mel. "That's what I'm all about."
She took another drink. "But you're sittin' there,
wondering if I'm going to hurt you. I must be a real piece of work,
if you actually think that. I said that I loved you, Mel, and I do.
God help me, I love you so much it actually hurts in my chest
sometimes. I've never had it this bad for anybody else, ever. And
the way you're lookin' at me now..."
She squinted her eyes into slits and turned her head aside.
Her hand covered her mouth, and Mel realized that Jan was crying.
It was a silent agony that she witnessed, borne out only by the
tears which dripped down Jan's cheek.
Mel rose from the bunk and knelt in front of Jan. Gently,
she lifted the liquor bottle from Jan's hand and placed it on the
table. Then, she leaned forward and rested her arms on Jan's
thighs. "How am I looking at you now?"
Jan kept her head averted. "You hate me."
"I love you."
"Yeah, right."
"Look at me and see."
Jan sniffed loudly, then wiped her eyes with the back of
her hand as she studied the face in front of her. "I hate to cry,
Mel. Nobody sees me cry. Ever."
"It's good for you to cry, sometimes."
"It's weak."
"It's called being vulnerable. It's nothing to be ashamed
of."
"I'm just so scared that I'm gonna lose
you."
"I'm right here." Jan reached for the liquor bottle, and
Mel's hand stopped hers. "You've had enough for tonight. Come and
rest now. Let's lie down."
"Yeah."
Jan stood, unsteadily, as Mel pulled the buckle open on her
pistol belt. It fell away, and Mel rested it on the camp table,
then led Jan to her bunk. She flopped down, and Mel kissed her.
"Good night, Jan."
"Stay. Please."
She stared down at Jan. The hazel eyes were wet, imploring.
Vulnerable. "All right, darlin'. Move over."
Jan wriggled to one side of the cot. Mel lowered herself
down to rest beside her and allowed Jan to bury herself in her
arms, her head resting on Mel's shoulder. Mel could smell the
booze, feel the wetness of new tears.
Jan's voice was a whisper. "Are you gonna leave
me?"
"Jan, honey, I love you. I'm not leaving
you."
"It would kill me." Mel felt the blonde head bury itself in
her shoulder. Jan's fist gripped her shirt, and she wept openly for
a moment, then sniffed and went silent. "Sorry. I didn't mean to do
that. I'm not some weepy dame, really."
"I know." Mel stroked Jan's hair softly, slowly. "Every
girl needs to do that from time to time. Even a tough gal like
you."
"You must think I'm a train wreck, huh?"
"Maybe I love a train wreck, Jan."
"Well, you got one."
"And you're just the cutest train wreck I've ever known."
She squeezed Jan. "Rest now. Try to sleep."
The head nodded again. Jan remained still for a long
moment, then broke the silence, her voice muffled in Mel's shirt.
"I wouldn't hurt you, ever."
"I know, Jan. Sleep now."
She felt Jan's arm snake around her body, then squeeze her
tightly. Jan buried her head even more tightly into her shoulder;
then, with a final, ragged sigh, her breathing became regular. Mel
lay still, feeling Jan pressed against her, feeling the heartbeat,
feeling the chest expand and contract with gentle breaths, and
allowed herself a sad smile. Tough-as-nails, devil-may-care Jan
Covington was a frightened, lost child tonight. The booze was the
catalyst, the means that weakened Jan's walls. Mel's pointed
questions were the blows that had toppled them.
And what lay behind those walls was pain. Mel had suspected
it all along, but only tonight had she actually seen it. She felt a
sympathetic tear track its way down her own cheek.
What, Mel wondered, had caused such pain? Abandoned by her
mother, a dead father, no family, no close friends-a single woman
in a rough, a competitive, a man's world, depending on no one but
herself, fighting to survive and make a living doing the only thing
she knew and loved, repeatedly sent to desolate places and treated
like a pariah for her name. For years now, she must have felt so
alone. No wonder she'd surrounded herself with toughness and a bad
attitude and booze and casual sex and quick fists and a sharp
tongue. And no wonder she's so frightened of being left, abandoned
yet again. That's all she's ever known.
Very soon, she heard and felt Jan's gentle snore. "Well,
cutie," Mel whispered. "You finally got me into your bunk, didn't
you?"
As if in reply, she felt Jan's arm tighten about her
ribs.
~~~~
Mel blinked awake, then stared up at the tent's ceiling. It
was dawn. She heard footsteps outside the tent, the tinkle of tin
cups and smelled coffee percolating. Jan was up. Mel sat up and
stretched, then rose and staggered to the tent's
door.
"Coffee?"
Jan wordlessly pointed to the coffee-pot on the camp stove.
She did not look at Mel, who studied her from behind. She seemed in
a foul mood, so Mel said nothing else, but retreated to the
neighboring tent to wash and change her shirt. As she scrubbed her
face over the dented metal bowl, she wondered about Jan's mood,
then chalked it up to a hangover. She hoped that it was not from
the last evening's conversation.
After she brushed her hair and banded it into a pony tail, she
returned to the outside table. Jan was sitting, a tin coffee-cup
tightly gripped in her hands, and was staring at the distant hills.
A second tin cup sat on the other side of the table. Mel seated
herself in front of it, and Jan wordlessly poured steaming coffee
into the cup, then pointed at the tins containing sugar and
condensed milk.
As Mel fixed her coffee to her taste, she cast cautious
glances in Jan's direction. The woman's expression was unreadable,
her eyes squinted into slits. She tasted the coffee, then decided
to test the waters.
"Jan?"
"Umph."
"Good morning."
"Umph."
Mel raised an eyebrow in question. "Not
well?"
"Umph."
"My goodness. Do you want some aspirin?"
At that, one eye popped open. "Umph?"
"Yes, I have some. I'll be back directly." Mel rose, walked
to her tent, and returned in a moment with a bottle of aspirin. She
unscrewed the lid as Jan held out a hand. After Mel tapped two
aspirins into Jan's palm, Jan reached over and tapped the bottle
again. Two more fell out. She popped them all into her mouth and
followed it with a slurp of coffee. Mel watched her, then asked,
"That bad, huh?"
"Umph."
"Well, take heart. No one ever died of a
hangover."
"Damn."
Mel smiled. "See? You're on the mend already. We're up to
one-syllable words now." Jan studied her through slitted eyes, then
raised the coffee-cup to her lips. As she did, she wiggled her
middle finger. Mel raised an eyebrow at that, then felt herself
ease into a wide grin. From anyone else, she would have been
offended. From Jan, at this moment, it struck her as intensely
funny. "Okay," she said. "Two syllables."
That got a grin from Jan. The eyes widened a little. "Would
you like to hear five?" she asked.
"I'm not sure. Do I want to hear this?"
"I hope so."
Mel leaned forward, as Jan's voice had not reached above a
husky whisper. "Okay. Hit me with it."
From behind her tin cup, Jan mumbled, "I love you,
gorgeous."
Mel smiled, really smiled at that. "My, my. Jan Covington,
you're a hopeless romantic at heart, aren't you? Here you are,
suffering a terminal hangover, and all you can think about is me.
Thank you, cutie. And just for the record, I love you,
too."
"Last night, I started to wonder."
"You remember last night?"
"Sure. I wasn't drunk enough to not remember. Just drunk
enough to make an ass of myself."
"You did not make an ass of yourself, Jan. You got totally
honest with me, dropped all pretense of being one tough
I-don't-give-a-damn broad. Last night, I really saw you. And I
really liked you, because you do give a damn. You're tender and
vulnerable, and I love that about you."
Jan studied Mel's face for a long moment, then spoke
softly. "You're not just sayin' that?"
"I'm telling you the truth."
"I wouldn't hurt you ever, Mel. You've got to believe
that."
"I do. I know in my soul that you could never raise a hand
to me. It's not who you are." She sipped her coffee, then added
another thought. "In fact, now that I know what a scrapper you are,
I feel very safe around you. I know that, should anything bad
happen, you'll be there to protect me."
"Damn right I will. I'd die for you, Mel."
Mel placed a hand across her mouth. Her blue eyes
glistened, and she swallowed hard. "Jan, you're the only person
who's ever said that to me."
Jan leaned forward. "Do you really love me?"
"You know I do."
"Then tell me one more time."
"I love you, Janice Covington. I've come to love you more
than I ever thought it possible to love someone. And, just for the
record, I'd die for you, too."
Jan's expression slowly transformed. Her eyes opened wide,
revealing sparkling hazel irises. Her cheeks took on a tinge of
rosy pink, and her whole body seemed to straighten up and infuse
itself with unspoken energy. "Enough about dyin'. Let's start
living. We've got an adventure ahead of us, Mel. Let's get this
stuff to the Athens museum." She rose. "I'm gonna clean up and
pack. We need to be on the road in-" She popped her pocket watch
open. "One hour. You up for this?"
Mel beamed. "I'm with you all the way."
~~~~
The truck's motor idled as Mel approached and placed her
suitcase in the back. Her rucksack, she kept over her shoulder.
"Are we ready?"
"Yup. Gassed up and ready. I've tied down all the stuff in
the back. Bumpy roads, y'know. And there's more jerry cans of gas
back there, and fresh water."
"You've thought of everything."
"Listen, the scrolls are packed in this trunk. It's
weatherproof and watertight. I figure they're the most valuable
thing we have. If anything happens, we save this before anything
else. Right?"
"Agreed."
"Well, let's hit the road."
"What about the camp, Jan? The tents and
things?"
Jan sighed. "Can't carry it all. Let's just hope it's here
next spring."
Mel cast a final look around. "One moment, Jan." She
rummaged in her rucksack and pulled out her camera, then proceeded
to compose and take several pictures of the dig site. After she
finished, she nodded. "For posterity. Okay, I'm
ready."
They both climbed into the truck's cab, and Jan released
the brake, eased out the clutch, and headed for the main
road.
The drive into Thessaloniki was slow, hampered by military
traffic and refugees from the front lines. Several times, they had
to pull off the road and wait for the passage of trucks filled with
soldiers, and horse-drawn artillery columns.
More sobering was the sight of ambulance trucks heading
toward Thessaloniki. The canvas sides were rolled up, and the backs
were laden with young soldiers wrapped in bloody bandages. Their
expressions were haunting, hollow, pain-filled.
"Oh, Jan. Look at them." Mel clapped a hand over her mouth.
"My God. It's heartbreaking. Those faces! I don't think I will ever
be able to forget them for as long as I live." She produced her
camera and began snapping pictures.
"What're you doin'?" Jan asked.
"I want people to see this, to know what's going on here.
This is awful. The suffering-"
"It's war, Mel. People have seen it before."
"Not enough, evidently. We're having another
one."
"Yeah." Jan geared the truck down to second gear. "And it
ain't half as bad as it's going to get. This one's just gotten
started."
They approached an intersection, and were waved to a halt
by a police constable. The young man approached the truck and asked
in Greek, "Where are you going?"
Jan leaned out the window and replied, "The Thessaloniki
museum. We are from an archaeological dig, employees of the Greek
government."
A more familiar voice echoed from behind the truck's cab.
"Well, Doctor Covington. What a surprise meeting you
here."
Jan looked aside. "Good morning, Chief
Constable."
"Pull off the road." He pointed. "Over
there."
"For what reason?"
He cast Jan an impatient, but tolerant, gaze. "Humor
me."
"As you wish." Jan sighed, then shifted into first gear and
pulled into the field. The chief constable was there in a moment,
and motioned them out of the truck. As they descended to the grass,
Jan gestured toward the policeman, then toward Mel. "Chief
Constable, this is Melinda Pappas."
Mel assumed her most polite manner and spoke in Greek.
"Honored to meet you, Chief Constable."
His eyes widened. "Ah. You are Greek?"
"American."
"Passport?"
She pulled it from her pocket, and the policeman studied
it. After a moment, he returned it with a courteous smile. "So you
are. You could have fooled me. And your name is
Pappas?"
"I'm descended from Greeks."
He nodded, evidently satisfied, and strolled around to the
back of the truck, Jan and Mel in tow. "So, Doctor Covington, what
have you here?"
"Artifacts. The contents of a temple
repository."
His manner darkened. "Bound for the black
market?"
Jan blinked in surprise. "No. Bound for the Thessaloniki
museum, and then to Athens."
"So you say. This would fetch a pretty penny from private
collectors, not true?"
"I guess so, but not for me. This belongs to the Greek
government."
"A conscience, at this late date? I am surprised, Doctor
Covington." He studied Jan, then spoke sharply. "I do not believe
you. I think that you are going to sell these artifacts on the
black market. I have the intention of arresting both of you and
confiscating this truck and its contents."
Jan huffed, then breathed deeply to calm herself. Then, she
slipped into her easy, cagey manner. "You know, these artifacts are
extremely valuable, as you say. They would be an easy target for
bandits, and there is just Miss Pappas and myself to defend them."
Jan paused, pulled her cigarette pack from her pocket, and offered
the policeman one. When he waved a hand, she lit one herself, then
continued speaking in her easy, rapid Greek. "Just Miss Pappas and
myself." She glanced up at him. "Two women, to guard such an
important piece of Greek history. We are armed, but
still..."
"What are you suggesting, Doctor Covington?"
"We need a police escort to the Thessaloniki museum." She
watched his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, then added, "The
officials in the Bureau of Antiquities would be most grateful to a
chief constable who managed such a deed, I am certain." She paused
for effect. "Most grateful."
"Well, I don't know..."
Jan allowed a slow grin to cross her face. "If you came
along, you could make certain that these artifacts were indeed
bound for the museum and not for the black market."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I could."
"Are you acquainted with the curator there?" He shook his
head. "Sophia is her name. Well, not only is she lovely, but she is
very prompt about writing letters of gratitude." Jan paused for one
more beat, then lowered her voice a notch. "And of expressing her
gratitude in other ways, should the spirit move
her."
"Oh?"
"And I understand that she has a particular weakness for a
handsome man in a uniform." She looked him up and down. "Such as
yourself, for instance."
He thrust a finger into the air to punctuate his decision.
"I will personally escort you and your bits of history into
Thessaloniki, Doctor Covington. This is too important a mission to
be left to one of my men. No, I must do this myself. Wait here." He
strode off, a gathering air of self-importance about him. Jan
watched him go, then squashed the end of her cigarette beneath her
boot..
"Janice Covington, you should be ashamed of
yourself."
"What? I got us a police escort and kept us from getting
arrested. Not a bad morning's work." She glanced up at Mel, and
noticed the twinkle in the blue eyes. Oh, yeah. Mel wasn't upset.
She was loving this.
"Have you ever sold anything for a living,
Jan?"
"Nothin' that I want to confess to."
"Well, I'll bet that you could sell shoes to
snakes."
"Iceboxes to Eskimos?"
"That, too."
"Attitude to a New Yorker?"
"Even that, I suppose."
"Perk up, Mel. Here comes our champion."
A motorcycle pulled up next to Jan's truck. The Chief
Constable, pistol by his side, a carbine slung across his back,
lowered his goggles. "Follow me, ladies, and I will see you safely
into Thessaloniki."
Jan elbowed Mel in the ribs, and Mel took the hint. "Thank
you so much, Chief Constable, for your kindness and devotion to
duty. We will always remember it."
Jan nodded. "Yes. I could not have said it
better."
"For Greek history, and for a lovely lady, I am always
ready!" With that, he replaced his goggles, then motioned. Jan and
Mel clambered back into the truck's cab, and followed the Chief
Constable's motorcycle onto the crowded road. The police quickly
stopped traffic for them, and in short time, they were on their
way. The Chief Constable kept them at a steady pace, clearing the
way for them with the howls of his motorcycle's
siren.
Noting Jan's silence, Mel asked, "What are you stewing
about?"
"Who says I'm stewing?"
"I can tell. What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Jan, you can't fool me."
"Oh, okay. 'A lovely lady', he said. Jerk."
"Why, Jan. He was talking about Sophia."
"Nope. He was talkin' about you."
"Jealous? My goodness. You needn't be. He's really not my
type, trust me."
"It's not that. 'A lovely lady'. Singular form, Mel. I
mean, there's two of us. What the hell am I here, chopped
liver?"
Mel collapsed into spasms of laughter. After a moment, she
calmed herself, wiped her eyes, and patted Jan on the leg. "Well,
darlin'. Sophia did describe you as, ah..."
"What? What, Mel?"
Mel uttered a Greek phrase, and Jan's jaw
dropped.
"Scruffy? I'm scruffy? She said that?"
"I'm sure it doesn't mean quite that."
"I'm sure it does. Jesus. Scruffy? What the hell am I, a
stray dog?"
"Well, I happen to think you're just the cutest thing on
either two legs or four, Jan."
"Oh. You like scruffy, huh?"
Mel leaned across the cab and brought her lips very close
to Jan's ear. As her hand slipped beneath the leg of Jan's shorts
and caressed the skin of her thigh, she slowly traced the outline
of Jan's ear with her tongue, then whispered, "Oh, I like scruffy.
I like it a whole lot. In fact, you have yet to find out just how
much I like scruffy."
Jan swallowed hard, then spoke, her voice cracking. "Well,
then. I guess scruffy's not so bad."
~~~~
In little more than an hour, they were rolling through
Thessaloniki's downtown streets. When they finally stopped in front
of the museum, Jan motioned toward the back of the building.
"Follow me," she called in Greek, and the Chief Constable nodded
his understanding. Soon, the truck and the motorcycle were safely
parked behind the building, and the three of them strode down the
hall and stopped at a door. Jan paused, her hand on the handle.
"Wait here," she said. Then, she entered.
Sophia looked up from her work, and her expression
brightened. "Oh, Jan! A wonderful surprise. Why do you visit me?"
She rose and met Jan near the door. "You come to proposition Sophia
again?" she asked with a sultry giggle as they drew
near.
"Ah, yeah. I've got two more surprises for ya. Wait right
there." She motioned through the door, and Mel stepped into the
room. "Sophia, I think you two know each other."
Sophia's expression immediately softened, and she embraced
Mel and kissed both her cheeks. "Melinda. How good it is to see you
again."
"Hello, Sophia. You look wonderful, as always."
Jan waved a hand, and the Chief Constable stepped into the
room. With his uniform dusty, his goggles against his chest and his
pistol prominent on his hip, he appeared every inch the warrior.
Jan switched the language of conversation to Greek. "Sophia, this
is-"
"Chief Constable Stamos Amendios." He approached Sophia,
and as she extended her hand, he raised it to his lips with a
graceful bow. "Honored! How honored I am to have been of service to
such a lovely and charming lady."
"Oh." Sophia blinked, then smiled. "Ah, how is that,
sir?"
Jan spoke now. "The Chief Constable has given us a police
escort from the dig all the way here on his
motorcycle."
"Yes, the ladies and I have brought you a truckload of
Greece's ancient history. It waits outside."
Sophia's eyes widened. "Oh! Yes, yes! Those artifacts are
to be trans-shipped to the Athens museum. Thank you, Chief
Constable. I'm very grateful for your help."
Jan stepped forward and slapped the Chief Constable on the
back as she kept up the conversation's pace in her rapid Greek.
"Without his presence, we might not have made it. He is a hero."
She cast a glance behind his back at Mel, then motioned with her
hand. Mel caught the message, and added her two
cents.
"Why, that is true, Sophia. It is dangerous out there. He
was truly God-sent to us. We must make our appreciation known to
his superiors, at the very least."
Sophia considered him quietly for a moment, then smiled
warmly. "And we shall. You must all be tired and hungry. Come to my
office, and I shall have lunch brought in for all. Would that be
acceptable? Chief Constable, do you have time enough away from your
duties to dine with us?"
"I do. And I would so love to hear about your work here in
greater detail, Madame Curator. I have always entertained a love of
our history, and admired those whose work it is."
"Oh! Call me Sophia, please."
"And Stamos."
"Yes. Stamos. Such a strong name."
Jan motioned toward the door. "We will just fetch the
inventory book."
"Come to my office with it, Jan." She studied them both in
turn, and smiled. "Melinda." For a moment more, she considered them
both, then nodded gently, almost imperceptibly, as if she were
privy to a deep secret. Then, she turned to the Chief Constable.
"Come, Stamos. For one who has rendered us such a great service,
lunch seems a poor reward, does it not?"
He smiled. "But lunch with the charming curator of the
Thessaloniki museum? A great honor!"
She laughed, a sultry giggle, as she led him toward the
door. "You are too kind to me."
Jan tugged on Mel's sleeve, and they retreated through the
door. As they left the building and opened the door to the truck's
cab, Jan snickered. "What do ya think, Mel? Can I freakin' read
people, or what?"
"Jan, I never ceased to be amazed by you." As Jan rummaged
in her bag and produced the dig site's ledger book, Mel asked, "So,
I take it you've, ah, 'propositioned' Sophia in the past?" Jan
froze, then slowly turned toward Mel. "Yes, I overheard her
comment. But I would have known that you'd bedded her anyway. The
way she looked at you. The kindness with which she talked about you
in Athens."
"Mel, I-"
"May I ask you a personal question?" Cautiously, Jan
nodded. "Are you in love with her?"
"No. We're friends. I like her. I don't love her." Jan
leaned against the side of the truck and pushed her fedora back on
her head. "Funny, but when ya feel about somebody the way I feel
about you, Mel, there just isn't room inside for anybody else. Not
in that way." She glanced up. "Do ya know what I mean? Am I making
sense here?"
Mel placed a hand under Jan's chin and lifted it. Then, she
kissed her, a slow, affectionate kiss. When they parted, she said,
"Yes. I know exactly what you mean, you're making perfect sense,
and that's all I needed to know."
~~~~
After lunch, conversation continued, in Greek. "I am so
sorry," Sophia said. "I had arranged a costal freighter for you,
but with the war..." She shrugged. "Doctor Morikis at the Athens
museum says Italian submarines lurk off the coast. It is not
safe."
"The trains?" Mel asked.
"Again, with the war..."
"So we drive," Jan said. "It's what? Two hundred miles to
Athens? We have spare gas and fresh water on the truck. We can do
it in a day."
"You must use the costal road. It is the main highway
between Thessaloniki and Athens, and is marked so. It winds much
back and forth, and follows between the coast and the mountains.
You see, here on the map. See, the crooked nature of the road adds
perhaps fifty miles or more to your trip." She unfolded a road map
of Greece across her desk. "Highway Number One. You must stay on
this road. If you get lost in the mountains, it can be very bad for
you."
The Chief Constable studied the map. "Yes, the inland roads
are awful. This road is good, but will be heavy traffic, though, I
think, as it is a major highway. You will go slowly. Perhaps two
days, it takes you." He shrugged. "Twenty-five, thirty kilometers
per hour. And in the hills, slow driving." He added a caution. "Do
not drive at night, if you do not know the road."
"Will I not make better time at night? Less traffic?" Jan
asked.
"Perhaps, but better is your chance of getting lost, too.
And, not to alarm you, but better is your chance of being robbed. I
hear reports of such things happening recently. With the war,
things are not in order. Criminals get brazen at such times." He
sighed. "I wish that I could accompany you, but it is
impossible."
"Not a problem. We are armed, and we will be
careful."
Sophia folded the map and handed it to Jan. "When will you
start?"
"Now is good. Let us use your washroom, and then we will
leave."
Fifteen minutes later, Sophia and the Chief Constable saw
them to their truck. Sophia embraced Jan and kissed both cheeks.
"You will take care? I will worry so about you. And I will
telegraph the Athens museum that you are coming."
"Thanks for everything, Sophia," Jan said.
"Of course. And you, Melinda, you will take care of
Jan?"
"It will be my pleasure."
Sophia embraced Mel and kissed both cheeks. As she did, she
whispered in English, "You both look radiant. I suspect that you
are in love."
"Is it that obvious?" Mel asked.
"Yes. And you wear it delightfully." She stepped back and
cast a smile Jan's way. "You have chosen well, both of you. I weep
tears of joy for you."
The Chief Constable shook Mel's hand, then Jan's, and spoke
in Greek. "I wish you safe journey and Godspeed, Doctor Covington,
Miss Pappas."
"So you trust that these artifacts will make it to the
Athens museum?"
He studied Jan for a moment, then smiled. "I am sure of it.
In these dangerous times, you will not fail Greece, for you love
her, too."
"Thank you. I imagine that you will be heading back to your
duties?"
Sophia smiled. "He is tired and dirty from his travel and
work. I have offered him the use of my home to bathe and relax
before he leaves." At Jan's raised eyebrow, she switched to English
and added, "It is quite safe. My husband is an army general. He is
serving at the front."
"Sophia, you're quite a lady."
With that, they climbed into the truck as Sophia and the
Chief Constable waved a final good-bye, then disappeared into the
building. Jan ground the truck's motor into life, then urged it out
onto the city's streets. "Okay, Mel. Navigate for me. Where the
hell's Highway One?"
~~~~
The travel was every bit as congested as the Chief
Constable had anticipated. Jan could only maintain an average speed
of about twenty-five to thirty miles an hour. She guessed that the
only reason the truck didn't overheat was because of the pleasant
November daytime temperatures. It probably wasn't more than seventy
degrees Fahrenheit. They stopped often for military traffic, and
even once for a herd of sheep which meandered across the
highway.
The first sixty or so miles were through flat plains and
farmland, but the mountains loomed ahead of them. After about three
or four hours, they reached the hills and began climbing to about a
hundred meters above sea level. At the slow speed and the incline,
the motor's temperature did elevate, and a couple of times, Jan had
to pull off the road and allow the motor to cool down. Then, she
would check the radiator's water level, and they would start again.
Every few miles, the terrain would change, from mountainous to
plateau, and then to mountainous once again. The road meandered
between mountains, keeping to roughly two hundred meters of
elevation, and crossed a plain, then a river, then led them into a
narrow gap. There, the traffic was slower than usual. The only
thing keeping Jan from experiencing a totally foul mood at the slow
pace was Mel's marvelous presence. She approached the trip with the
wonderment of a child, excitement written on her face, her camera
at the ready to capture scenes that impressed her.
They had actually made about one hundred miles by dusk,
which amazed Jan. It excited Mel, who was delighted by the scenery.
They were driving in the foothills, the mountains to their right
and the Aegean Sea to their left, and the view of the sea was
magnificent. Once, Mel insisted that Jan stop, and she climbed atop
the hood of the truck to capture a scene of the sea reflecting the
setting sun behind her. Jan could only shake her head in good
humor.
As the evening grew more dusky, Jan found a space off the
road with a view of the sea, and they halted there for the night.
In quick time, they had arranged a camping space in the back of the
truck, and had lit a camp lantern and the camp stove. Jan only made
hot tea, though; they were both too weary to eat. As night fell,
they donned sweaters, huddled together on the truck's tailgate
under a blanket, and talked. Jan cradled a rifle in her lap, and
she kept her pistol belt around her waist, her holstered gun over
her right hip, her knife sheathed at her left side.
For a while, the conversation fell silent as they kept
their lantern turned low, sipped their hot tea and contemplated the
brilliant stars over the Aegean Sea. Then, Mel began speaking in a
soft voice.
"Jan, I have a confession to make."
"Oh, oh. Something that you have to get off your
chest?"
"I'm afraid so."
Jan was silent for a moment, then sighed. "Is this gonna
hurt?"
"I sincerely hope not."
"Okay. Hit me with it."
"All right." Mel sat for a moment, composing her thoughts,
as Jan waited. Finally, it came. "You're not the only one who slept
with Sophia."
"What? Mel, did you-?"
"I'm afraid I did. In Athens, when she visited
there."
"I thought you didn't do-what was the term? 'Cheap
flings'?"
"I never said I didn't do cheap flings. I just said that I
wouldn't do one with you."
"Oh, that's nice. You'll do her, but not me. So, what's
Sophia got that I don't have?"
"It's not a matter of that. It's that you have something
that she doesn't have."
"What? A venereal disease? Bad breath?
What?"
Mel cast a glance at Jan. "Do you have a venereal
disease?"
"No, I don't. And don't change the subject. So, answer my
question. What's she got that you'll jump her bones, and you won't
jump mine?"
"It's what she doesn't have, Jan. She doesn't have my
love."
Silence reigned for a few moments while Jan digested that
revelation. Then, she spoke. "Call me dense, but you'd better
explain that one to me, 'cause I'm totally confused
now."
"Jan, from the first moment I met you, I knew that I was
going to fall in love with you, and fall hard. I desperately wanted
you to feel the same way about me. I wanted us to have something
deep and real and lasting. I wanted you to learn me, to know me, to
really love me. I wanted you to ache for me with your heart, and
not merely with your-"
"Yeah, I got the picture. So you insisted on the slow dance
instead of the cheap fling."
"Exactly, Jan. And I want every step of this slow dance of
ours to be as perfect as possible. It has been, so far. It's been
beyond my wildest expectations. I want our first night together to
be, as well. After all, we'll remember it forever. And if our slow
dance has served its purpose, if we have fallen truly in love with
each other instead of just being in some fiery lust, it'll
be..."
"Unforgettable?"
"Yes."
"Two souls in the dance of love, and not just two
bodies?"
"Why, Jan. That's beautiful. You're a
poetess."
"Y'all surprised? Little ol' me?"
Mel smiled. "Touche." They fell silent for a while. Then,
Mel spoke. "I suppose you think me a hopeless romantic, with some
silly schoolgirl notions of love."
"No, Mel. I don't think that. I think that I believe in you
more than I've ever believed in anybody."
"I'll try not to let you down."
"You never could."
"I'm not perfect."
"Neither one of us is." Jan looked over at Mel. "But you're
the closest thing to it that I've ever met."
"In spite of my cheap fling with Sophia?"
Jan snickered. "You and me both. Look, when you got frisky
with Sophia, had we met yet?"
"No."
"Okay. Isn't she a neat gal? Fun to be
with?"
"Yes."
"And didn't you enjoy every minute of it? Sure you did.
She's a dynamite lover, after all."
"Oh, my. That she is, Jan." Mel giggled. "And she said the
same thing about you."
"She did?" Jan mused over that, then said, "Well. I guess
that makes up for being scruffy, huh?"
"Remember, I happen to like scruffy."
"Yeah." Jan cast a twinkling glance at Mel. "I have yet to
find out just how much."
Mel smiled. "Oh, believe me. You'll find
out."
Jan snickered. "I'm waitin'. I'm patiently
waitin'."
"And that's the first time in your memory that you've ever
done that, isn't it?"
Jan thought for a moment. "Yeah, it is."
"Well. I'm honored that it's me."
Jan snuggled closer and leaned her head on Mel's shoulder.
"You're worth the wait."
They settled into a comfortable silence for a while. Then,
Jan chuckled.
"What's so funny, cutie?" Mel asked.
"I was just thinkin'. I don't know why it's called a 'cheap
fling'. Every time I've had one of those, I've come out of it flat
broke."
~~~~
The dawn broke, and with it, a drizzling rain. Jan sat up,
looked out the tailgate, and cursed. Mel's voice was sleepy,
dreamy, from beneath her blanket.
"What's the matter?"
"It's raining. And I've gotta pee."
"Raining?" Mel uncovered her head and placed her glasses on
her face. "Oh, my."
"I'm gonna pee under the tailgate, Mel. It's down. Where's
the tissue?"
"My rucksack."
Jan dug into Mel's rucksack, found the roll, and
disappeared under the tailgate. A minute later, she re-appeared.
"Oh, yeah. That's better."
Mel was lacing her boots onto her feet. "Where's the roll?
It's my turn."
"Yeah, here."
When Mel re-appeared above the tailgate, spattered with
raindrops, Jan was lighting the little camp stove to make coffee.
"So, what do we do?"
"Do?" Jan looked up. "We keep on going. The road's paved,
so we shouldn't have to worry about getting stuck in
mud."
"I suppose."
After coffee was made and consumed, they collected their
blankets and things, donned their coats and hats, and made a dash
for the cab. As Mel arranged their things and settled in for the
trip, Jan left to tie down the canvas back of the cargo area and
insure the tailgate was secure. She eventually returned, rain
dripping off the brim of her fedora, her worn leather jacket
speckled with wetness. She shed her hat and coat, flipped some
switches and cranked the starter. The truck's motor turned over,
then settled into a satisfying rumble. "So far, so good," Jan said.
She eased out the clutch, and with a cursory spin of tires on wet
ground, the truck lurched toward the road as they headed ever
southward, toward Athens.
The pace was slowed even further than normal by the rain.
Hairpin turns, wet pavement, and stopped traffic plagued them. The
windshield wipers kept a slow cadence back and forth across the
windshield, an accompaniment to the steady drum of rain on the
metal hood and the canvas top of the cab. After a while, the canvas
sagged and began to leak. Jan mumbled some weary profanities over
the situation, but Mel merely re-arranged their things in the cab
so that they wouldn't get too wet from the splattering rivulets of
water.
The road became even more winding, narrow and torturous as
they neared Thermopylae. Several times, they saw trucks and cars
off the road, evidence of the dangerous nature of the road
multiplied by the wet pavement and poor weather.
"Yeah, Mel. This place is known as the 'horseshoe of
Maliakos'." Jan cast a twinkling glance at her. "Also known as the
'horseshoe of death'." She geared down the truck and eased it into
a sharp turn. The wheels on Mel's side bumped along the shoulder,
and the cab leaned to one side.
"Why's that? Is it because we're so near to where the
Spartans died fighting the Persians?"
"Nothin' so glorious. It's car accidents. People die here
all the time."
"My. That reassures me greatly, Jan."
She laughed. "Don't worry. Traffic's too slow, too busy. In
peacetime, people drive like maniacs along here."
They passed a truck which had skidded off the road, its
tailgate sticking up into the air, several men arguing around it.
"And they don't now?" Mel asked.
A short time later, they were stopped behind a military
convoy along a coastal portion of the road. As Jan fumed, Mel
pointed toward the sea. "Look, Jan. It's a ship of some
kind."
Jan squinted out the window, then rolled down the glass.
"It's a submarine, on the surface. I wonder whose,
though?"
"I have a glass." Mel dug into her rucksack and pulled out
a telescope. Jan snapped it open, then peered at the distant, gray
outline.
"It ain't Greek. That looks like an Italian
flag."
"I wonder what they're up to?"
"I don't know, but there's guys out on the deck. In this
weather? They're nuts." Jan watched for another minute, then said,
"Oh, oh."
"What?" Mel asked.
"They're messing with their deck gun. No, they're not
actually gonna..."
Her thoughts were interrupted by an orange flash and a puff
of smoke from the submarine's deck gun. A moment later, the boom
echoed. A screech sounded, and an explosion ravaged the road ahead
of them. A ball of flame erupted from a military truck. Soldiers
from the convoy began running in every direction, abandoning their
trucks and heading for the hills to their right. Jan's comment was,
as usual, succinct and to-the-point.
"Holy shit!"
The deck gun fired again, another orange flash and puff of
smoke. Again, a screech sounded, and again, an explosion racked the
convoy ahead. Mel's voice was frantic.
"Jan, what will we do?"
Jan ground the truck into gear. "Make like that shepherd,
Mel."
"The road's blocked ahead."
"I ought to just be able to make it between those two
trucks."
"It's too narrow!"
Again, the boom from the gun echoed across the Greek hills.
Again, a screech sounded, and a truck burst into flames, this time
just ahead of them. Pieces of metal and wood rained down across the
hood of their truck, and the windshield shattered. Jan jerked her
head and winced. A second later, she wiped her hand across her
face. It came away bloody. "Son of a bitch," she
hissed.
"Jan, you're hurt!"
"It's nothing. Hang on, Mel!"
"Jan, we can't make that."
"We've got to try. They're getting closer. The next one
could be right up our butts." With that, she popped the clutch, and
the truck lurched forward, wheels spinning on the wet pavement. A
moment later, a screech sounded, louder than before, and the
resounding explosion sent clods of muddy dirt rattling across Mel's
side of the truck. Their ears rang with the concussion. Jan craned
her head out the open window and looked back, then concentrated on
what was ahead.
"Was it close?"
"It hit just about we were sitting a minute
ago."
"Oh, my."
"Hang onto something. We're about to make a
hole."
Mel braced her feet on the dashboard as Jan gunned the
motor. It whined, and with the truck in first gear, it sideswiped
two trucks, pushing them apart. Both outside rear view mirrors were
ripped off, and metal scraped on metal as the front wheel fenders
bent inward. A door left open on one of the trucks snapped off and
bounced across their hood. Their truck slowed. Jan put the pedal to
the floor, and the rubber of their tires burned across the wet
pavement as they attempted to wedge themselves between the two
trucks.
Another shriek sounded, and an explosion shook the cab.
Dirt and rocks spattered across their hood, and their ears ached
from the noise and concussion. For a long, terrible moment, they
sat so, then suddenly lurched ahead as the two trucks gave way.
They were through! Ahead, the military convoy was parked on the sea
side of the road. The right side and shoulder of the road was
clear. No trucks were moving, as the soldiers had all abandoned
their vehicles for the safety of the hills on the road's landward
side.
Jan ground the gears into second, then third. Another
shriek sounded, and a shell exploded behind them, at some distance.
She glanced back, then ahead as they followed the narrow, winding
coastal road. "Looks like we're gonna be okay."
"They almost killed us, Jan. Why were they shooting at
us?"
"All they saw was a military convoy." She geared the truck
down and rode the brakes as they approached a sharp curve.
"Freakin' jerks. They don't have the guts to shoot at anything
that'll shoot back."
"I wonder if our cargo is okay."
"I'm not checkin' it now. We'll look at it later, after we
get out of here." Jan blinked at the water coming in through the
shattered windshield. "Damned rain."
"Oh, Jan. You're still bleeding. There's blood all over
your chest. Pull over and let me see that."
"I'll survive."
"Yes, you will, won't you?"
Jan glanced at Mel. She was actually smiling. "What,
Mel?"
"If it wasn't for you, we'd be dead now."
"If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be in this mess in the
first place."
"And there's nowhere I'd rather be than with you. Now find
a place to stop and let me tend your face, please."
Jan grinned. "Okay, Florence Nightingale."
Ten minutes later, Jan had pulled the truck onto a wide
shoulder on the road. Mel rummaged in her rucksack and pulled out a
tin box. Inside, she had first aid supplies. She opened a paper
packet, pulled some squares of gauze bandage forth, and wetted them
by holding them out the window. Then, she turned Jan's face so that
she could see her cheek.
"Oh, Jan. That looks awful. You're bleeding like a stuck
pig."
"Thanks."
"You know what I mean. Stop squirming."
Jan glanced at the inside rear-view mirror. Streaks of
dried blood covered her left cheek and the side of her neck and
stained the front of her thermal top. "Aah, not so
bad."
"Oh, I forgot. You like to box. Okay, tough gal. Hold
still." She began wiping blood away from Jan's face, and in a few
minutes, had her face cleaned. She soaked some new bandages with
iodine. "This is going to hurt."
"Yeah, yeah." She patted the cut with iodine, and Jan
winced. "Damn. You weren't kidding."
"You don't want it to get infected. Hold still." Mel cut a
bandage in pieces, tore off some adhesive tape, and began the
careful work of dressing the cuts. In a few minutes, she had Jan
suitably patched. "There," she said, as she admired her
work.
"Am I gonna be scarred for life?"
Mel shrugged. "It was nasty, Jan. You might carry
scars."
"So I won't be the cutest thing you've ever seen
anymore?"
Mel smiled. "I think scars give a body
character."
"Scruffy and scarred. I'm gettin' better lookin' all the
time, huh?"
A cursory walk around the truck in the rain revealed some
damage and rips in the canvas over the cargo area, but there was no
way to tell about the cargo itself without unloading it. The tires,
although terribly worn, appeared intact, so Jan elected to hit the
road again. Soon, they were off.
The rain eased off, but the sky remained overcast, keeping
a chill in the wet air. The highway began curving inland, through
hills and between mountains, and took them evermore west. Mel
studied the road map and pronounced the change in direction a good
omen, as it meant they were approaching Athens. She reckoned,
though, that they still had at least fifty miles to
drive.
"That means another night on the road, Mel."
"If it does, then it does."
As Jan shifted into third gear, noting straight patch of
highway ahead of them, a loud bang resounded. Jan tugged at the
wheel and let fly with a string of curses. "Just blew a front tire,
Mel."
The truck pulled off the road. Jan descended, studied the
left front tire and sighed. "Freakin' luck."
"Do we have a spare, Jan?"
Jan walked to the side of the truck. A spare tire was
bolted to the outside of the cargo bed. She thumped it with a fist.
"Yeah. It even feels pumped up. The gods must be with us. Let's
find the tool kit and get this puppy changed before it gets totally
dark out here."
Soon, Jan had the truck jacked up and the spare tire
resting against the side of the truck. She was tugging on the lug
wrench, attempting to loosen the lug nuts, when Mel asked,
"Anything I can do?"
"Damned freakin' lug nuts are rusted on. I can't break 'em
loose."
"Just a moment, Jan." Mel climbed into the truck's cab. In
a moment, she returned, a glass bottle in her hand.
"What's that?"
"It's a bottle of cola." She produced a bottle opener and
popped the cap free.
"Sounds good. I didn't know we had one."
"There was one left in the kitchen at the dig site. I just
love cola, so I put it in my rucksack. Oh, I'm afraid it's not for
us, Jan. It's for the lug nuts."
"Say what?"
"It'll break that rust." She smiled up at Jan as she knelt
by the truck and poured the soft drink over the lug nuts. "Trust
me."
"You're a cola expert?"
"It was invented in Georgia. Southern girls know the many
uses of this stuff." She emptied the bottle, then tossed it aside.
"Give it a few minutes."
They sat on the truck's running board. Jan studied the
empty bottle, then said, "I've heard it's even good for preventing
an unwanted pregnancy."
Mel nodded. "That is the rumor down south. I honestly don't
know if it works."
Jan snickered. "Well, I suppose it can at least prevent
conception."
"Oh? How's that?"
"If you hold a bottle between your knees."
Mel snorted in laughter, then slapped Jan on the arm.
"You're awful. Go try the lug wrench again."
Jan rose, lifted the lug wrench, and tugged at a bolt. It
came loose, and the wrench spun around. "I'll be damned," she said.
"It works."
"Told you."
"I'll never doubt a southern girl ever again, about
anything." She spun off the other nuts, cranked up the jack a few
more turns, and pulled off the flat tire. As she was fitting the
spare onto the hub, she muttered, "Man, I'm getting covered in
mud."
"At least it's not raining," Mel said.
At that moment, thick raindrops began spattering the ground
around them. Jan looked up at Mel, who grinned and shrugged an
apology. She reached inside the cab, fetched Jan's fedora, and
clapped it on her head. Then, she knelt down and began handing Jan
the lug nuts, one by one.
"You get in the cab, Mel. Stay dry. I can do
this."
"Now Jan, what kind of girlfriend would I be to you if I
did that?"
"You'd be like the rest of 'em, I guess." After a second,
Jan stopped turning the lug wrench and looked up. "And you're
nothin' like the rest of 'em." She studied Mel's face for a long
moment as rain soaked her clothing and dripped off the brim of her
fedora. "Yeah, you really are my girlfriend, aren't
you?"
"Every bit." She touched Jan's nose with a finger tip. "Are
you mine?"
"You'd better believe it, gorgeous."
"Then we'll catch our death of colds together. Now hurry
up, Jan."
"Yeah. Right." Quickly, Jan spun on the remaining nuts,
snugged them down and lowered the jack. Then, she rolled the flat
tire off into the bushes near the road, threw the jack and the
tools into the truck's back, and pulled the canvas tight. "Let's
put a few more miles under us before night falls,
Mel."
~~~~
They slept in the truck's cab that night, unmindful of the
rain dripping in through the canvas roof or through the broken
windshield, huddled together, wet and chilled beneath their
blankets. Dawn woke them, and Jan rubbed her eyes as she looked
around. It had stopped raining. The sky had cleared, and patches of
blue were attempting to show themselves. Jan tapped
Mel.
"Rise and shine, gorgeous."
"Um. What time is it?"
"Past dawn. Let's make some coffee and get going. I need to
gas up the truck, too."
With a groan, Mel rose, tugged her floppy cloth cap onto
her wet hair, and volunteered to make coffee while Jan dealt with
the gasoline issue. She had the stuff brewed and poured by the time
Jan returned to the back of the truck with three empty jerry cans.
Jan looked inside, perceived that there was no room for them, and
threw them down by the side of the road. "What the hell," she said.
"They're empty, anyway."
They secured the ragged canvas and the tailgate, then
returned to the truck cab with their coffee cups. Jan said a quiet
prayer, pushed the starter button, and the truck coughed into life.
"Oh, yeah," Jan said triumphantly.
Then, she drank her coffee, put the cup aside, and shifted
into first gear. "And away we go." As the wheels spun in the muddy
earth and the truck slid sideways, she winced. "I hope." The tires
caught, and the truck lurched forward, back onto the highway.
"Yup," she said. "Whoever the Greek god of mud is, he's with
us."
Traffic on the road became thick, but more organized as
they neared Athens. By afternoon, they were crawling through the
city's streets and seeking out the museum. Jan eventually found it
by recalling its location relative to the Acropolis, which towered
above the city. She pulled the truck halfway onto the broad
sidewalk in front of the museum's impressive facade and stopped the
motor.
For a while, neither one said anything. They just sat in
the beat-up cab, staring through the broken, dirty windshield at
the beautiful building. After a while, Mel spoke.
"We made it."
"I guess we did."
"We should go inside and let them know we're
here."
"Yeah." Jan looked over at Mel. "One of us should maybe
stay with the truck. This stuff's valuable, after all. Why don't
you go in?"
"All right." Wearily, they descended from the cab. Mel
looked down at herself. Her hiking boots were caked with mud, as
were her bare legs beneath her knees. Her clothing hung on her. She
sniffed herself and grimaced, then noticed a broken rear-view
mirror still dangling from the side of the truck's cab. She lifted
it, studied her image in the cracked glass, then sighed. "I'm a
mess, Jan."
Jan laughed. "You? Look at me. Now this-" She held out her
arms. "Is scruffy."
Mel looked her over. She was muddy boots, muddy legs,
filthy shorts, and bloody chest and thermal top. Her pistol and
knife were still about her. Her hair hung in hanks, and her face
was edged with dried blood and bandaged on one cheek. She lifted
the fedora from her head and combed a dirty hand through her hair
to brush it away from her face.
"Oh, Jan. That really is far beyond scruffy. You look
absolutely frightening."
"Okay, it's settled. I'll stay and guard the truck. You go
and fetch Doctor Morikis."
"Agreed." With that, she turned and trotted toward the
front of the museum. Jan watched her jog up the front stairs, then
walked to the cab and lifted her rifle from beneath the seat. With
it, she stood guard next to the damaged truck, as passers-by stared
at the sight of her and the tortured vehicle and navigated around
her, giving her wide space.
Jan had found a dry cigarette and was enjoying its last
puffs when she heard Doctor Morikis hail her. She looked up as she
ground the cigarette out beneath a muddy boot. He approached her
and held out his hand. "Doctor Covington, how glad I am to see you
safe," he said in his impeccable English. "You had us all very
worried when you did not arrive yesterday. Miss Pappas has
explained to me a little of what you've gone through to come here."
He looked the truck over, and he shook his head. "It is a miracle
that you survived."
Jan shook his hand warmly. "It was nothin'. A stroll in the
park," she joked.
"Can you drive the truck around back? We'll open the
shipping doors and wait for you."
"Oh, wait a moment," Mel said. She hurried to the cab, dug
into her rucksack, and produced her camera. "Doctor Morikis, can
you please take a couple of pictures? For posterity. I want to
capture this moment."
"Of course," he said.
Mel cast a glance at the sky and the light, then fiddled
with the settings until she was satisfied. Then, she waved Doctor
Morikis over, handed him the camera, and joined Jan. They stood
side-by-side next to the truck as he snapped several pictures.
Then, he handed the camera back to Mel.
"Come, Doctor Covington. Around back."
"Yeah, sure." Jan mounted the cab as Mel and Dr. Morikis
hustled back into the museum. In short order, she'd managed the
large truck down the alleyway, and had it backed up to the open
shipping doors. She killed the motor, then stepped out of the truck
with the dig's ledger book under her arm. She dropped the tailgate,
threw back the canvas, and handed the ledger to Doctor Morikis.
"It's all here," she said. "Every bit of what's on the inventory. I
don't know if anything got damaged." She tapped the watertight
trunk containing the scrolls. "These are, in my opinion, priceless.
We discovered almost a hundred scrolls in the repository. Most of
'em are in excellent shape. Very legible." She met his eyes. "Some,
Mel has determined, were written by the bard Gabrielle of
Potidaea."
"What? So she actually exists? Oh, yes. That is
magnificent! Doctor Covington, Miss Pappas, you have done us a
wonderful service at great danger to yourselves. We are indebted to
you. Tell me, how can I be of service to you now?" he asked as he
tucked the ledger book under his arm.
"I could use my back pay," Jan said. "Mel and I need a
hotel room. Bath, clean clothes, a decent meal and some sleep would
work."
"Yes, of course. We also owe Miss Pappas for her services
to us. My secretary will take you to a nearby hotel and obtain for
you rooms. Our expense." He shrugged. "It's the very least we can
do."
Jan beamed. "Sounds like a deal." She looked at Mel. "Shall
we?"
Mel beamed. "We shall, Jan."
~~~~
Jan, still filthy, pistol and knife by her hips, strode
through the cavernous receiving department of the Athens museum.
Doctor Morikis followed, the ledger book open in his hand. The
truck was being unloaded, and crates were being opened and tagged.
The curator was chattering excitedly.
"This is wonderful! You've recovered some beautiful pieces,
Doctor Covington."
"Call me Jan. Yeah, it's all in the book."
"Yes, yes. Your inventory is quite
detailed."
"Oh, man. Look at this crate." Jan pointed to the
splintered wood on one side, then dug into the packing. "Aw, hell."
She lifted a piece of a pottery urn and handed it to him. "It was
intact when we started out. Hang on." She dug further, then brought
up a palm-sized hunk of bent, jagged copper-colored metal. "Here ya
go. Piece of an Italian navy artillery shell, courtesy of
Mussolini."
"My God," was all he could say as he received the piece of
metal. "It could have killed you."
"Nah," Jan said. "The Italian navy never could shoot
straight."
Doctor Morikis laughed nervously. "Thank God for that, at
least. My assistant will continue to unpack these items." He
motioned, then handed the ledger book to a young man. "Now, let us
pay you and Miss Pappas, and tie up some unfinished ends to the
Macedonia dig you oversaw for me."
A short stroll down the hallway brought them to the
curator's office. When they entered, Jan saw that Mel was already
there, indulging in a pleasant conversation in Greek with Doctor
Morikis' secretary, an animated girl in her early twenties. She
smiled when Jan entered, and offered her hot tea.
In a moment, the four of them were gathered in the
curator's office, and Doctor Morikis was counting out colorful
drachma notes, back pay which he owed Jan. She signed for it, then
pocketed the cash. The curator turned to Mel.
"And Miss Pappas, for your services as inspector." He
consulted a contract, then began counting out notes. She, too,
signed for and pocketed a wad of bills.
Jan looked at Mel. "Inspector?"
Mel cast Jan, then Doctor Morikis, a sheepish look. "Yes,
Jan."
"Of what?"
"Ahem. Ah, your dig."
"What?" Jan's jaw dropped. He looked across the desk at the
curator. "Mel came to inspect my dig? What's this all
about?"
"Please understand," Doctor Morikis said, "that I have only
the highest regard for you, Jan. But I had received reports that
certain, ah, artifacts which passed through your hands had made
their way onto the black market. I had also received
reports-rumors, really-that the Macedonia dig was not
proceeding..." He searched for words. "Properly."
"So," Mel hastened to explain, "I was here tying up loose
ends on my father's business, when Doctor Morikis asked me if I
would visit you and see for myself what was going
on."
Jan digested this, then spoke curtly. "I'll be
God-damned."
"Please don't be upset, Jan. It was Doctor Morikis'
responsibility to investigate. He was only doing what he had to do,
protecting the museum's interests."
Jan remained silent for a long moment, then crossed her
arms across her chest and began pacing the office. After a minute,
she halted and considered the curator. "I sold several items not
recovered in the temple repository to Sophia, at the Thessaloniki
museum. Do you know why? To make the payroll and feed the diggers
and put gas in the trucks and the generator and keep the dig
running. And, out of sympathy, I suppose, she paid more than she
should have for them. But I didn't sell anything to black market
collectors." She cast a glance at the faces in the room. "Have I
ever done that in the past? Yeah. But not here. As God is my
witness, not here. I have never betrayed your trust in me, in spite
of what everybody seems to think of me."
"Jan-"
"No, Mel. Let me talk. Doctor Morikis, what did you mean
when you said, 'the dig was not proceeding
properly'?"
"Jan, let me explain. Please."
Jan huffed, then considered Mel. Finally, she nodded.
"Okay, Mel. Hit me with it."
"He had received reports that the dig was in disarray, that
the work was behind, that you were often drunk and were acting
mentally unstable, that you were visiting a brothel in Thessaloniki
instead of overseeing the dig."
"What?"
"And that you were embezzling the dig budget and selling
artifacts on the black market."
"Jesus Christ! Where did you guys hear all this? What
the-?"
"Please, Jan!" It was Doctor Morikis who spoke now. "None
of it was true. None. You are a deeply honorable person, and
without blame in this. But we had an obligation to seek the
truth."
Jan sat heavily on a chair. "Maybe you guys had better tell
me the whole story."
"Jan," Mel began, "somebody was planting these rumors about
you to cast suspicion away from themselves. They were selling
artifacts on the black market, artifacts that you'd sold to Sophia.
They were embezzling the money that Doctor Morikis had been sending
to keep your dig site operating."
A wave of relief and understanding slowly colored Jan's
expression. "And they set me up to take the fall. Makes
sense."
"Exactly. When I got there, I met you and I looked around,
and I suspected right away that you'd been misrepresented. I knew
that the Jan Covington I'd just met was not the one I'd heard
about. I sent Doctor Morikis a telegram that explained all
that-that's when I had Azam drive me into town, remember?-and he
started sniffing around. The culprit's been discovered,
Jan."
Jan's expression went from puzzlement to realization, then
to dismay. She cast a pleading glance at Mel. "Oh, no. Not Sophia.
Tell me it's not Sophia, please."
"It's not. It was Gregorios."
"Sophia's assistant curator?"
"Yes," Doctor Morikis said. "Sophia was simply too trusting
of him. But he's in jail now, in Thessaloniki, and Sophia has
learned a valuable lesson about human nature."
"Yeah," Jan said. "She always sees the best in people." Jan
ran a hand through her hair. "Even when it's not
there."
"Are you okay, Jan?" Mel asked.
"What? Yeah. It's just a shock, y'know?"
"I know. Now, why don't you and Doctor Morikis go back to
the shipping dock, and let Mika-" Mel indicated Doctor Morikis'
secretary-"and I get us hotel rooms? I'll come and get you later
this afternoon."
"Sounds like a winner," Jan agreed.
"And she and I are going shopping, too."
Jan looked up. "Need money?"
"I have plenty. Now shoo. Go to work, so we can have this
evening to ourselves." With that, she winked in Jan's direction.
"Go on. Go, go."
In a moment, Jan was standing. "Come on, Doc. We've got
work to do."
Mel smiled at Jan's enthusiastic response. Mika, having
been privy to Mel's flirtatious wink, laughed brightly. As they
left the room, Doctor Morikis observed, "My, Jan! You seem
possessed of boundless energy."
"It's nothin', pal-just a matter of bein' properly
motivated."
~~~~
Mika entered the cavernous receiving room and approached
Jan, who was bent over a packing crate. She stood quietly for a
moment, until Jan noted her presence and looked up. In Greek, the
young woman said, "Melinda has asked for you to come to the hotel
now."
Jan stood and stretched, a hand on her back, then popped
open her pocket watch. Her eyebrow raised in exclamation when she
noted the time. As she thrust it back into her pocket, she nodded.
"Thank you, Mika. I have let the time get away from
me."
"You look exhausted. A hot bath and a good meal will make
you feel new again. Come, I will take you there."
Jan merely smiled her consent, then picked up her fedora
and clapped it on her head. In English, she called, "See ya, Doc.
I'm outta here."
Doctor Mikos looked up. "Oh, yes. Rest well. Shall I see
you and Melinda tomorrow?"
"We'll be here." Jan grinned. "In the afternoon, most
likely. Not in the morning."
"Yes, of course. Good-night."
Jan slung her canvas satchel's strap across her body, then
hefted a half-full army duffel bag containing her worldly
possessions over one shoulder as Mika carefully folded Jan's
leather jacket under her own arm. In Greek, Jan said, "Show me the
way to go home."
In a few minutes, they were out of the museum's front door
and walking down the city street toward the hotel. Jan studied
Mika, then spoke in Greek. "Are you married?"
She shook her head. "No, no."
"Suitors?"
At that, she laughed. "Four of them! Last week was five,
but one gave up on me and became engaged to my
cousin."
"Who will you choose to marry?"
She shrugged. "I do not know if I will choose any of them.
I have not decided."
Jan laughed. "Good girl. Only take the
best."
"And how does one tell the best?"
"Oh, it is not hard," Jan said. "Which one loves
you?"
"They all say they do. I do not believe most of
them."
"Young men's love lies not truly in their hearts, but
in their eyes."
"Eh? I am sorry, but I speak no English." Jan translated
the quote from Shakespeare into Greek, and Mika nodded. "So it is.
My mother says that I should marry the richest one."
"Money is nothing, Mika. Most rich men are asses. A rich
man can be poor tomorrow, but he will still be an
ass."
The secretary laughed, then cast a puzzled glance at Jan.
"So which one should I marry?"
"Marry the kindest one. Kindness lasts forever; money lasts
for a day."
"That is very wise. I will tell my mother that you said
that."
Jan snickered. "Tell her I said you should sleep with all
of them and then marry the best lover."
"Oh!" Mika shrieked in laughter. "Doctor Covington, you are
naughty!" She pointed. "This is the hotel."
Mika opened the door, and Jan strode in. In the lobby, they
halted, and Jan dropped her duffel bag by her foot. "Nice," Jan
observed.
"Not the most expensive, but not the worst, either. There
are many foreigners-diplomats, businessmen and such-who stay here.
The English, the Americans, the Germans, the Spaniards..." She
pointed. "The restaurant is very good. You must eat there tonight.
And have their coffee and baklava. It is wonderful."
At that moment, a dapper, pleasant man wearing a British
Army uniform stopped near Jan, taking in the sight of her from head
to toe. He executed a slight bow, tapped the end of his swagger
stick to the brim of his officer's cap, and asked, "Do you speak
English?"
"Sure, pal. What's up?"
"Please excuse me, but your appearance is so
extraordinary, I felt that I simply must say hello to you. You
appear as if you've just come from some part of deepest
Africa."
Jan cracked a grin. "Worse. Macedonia, by the coastal
road."
"Oh. Tell me, how is the war going up
there?"
"Like all wars, I guess. People are dyin'. It's
chaos."
"Well, thank goodness you've made it in
safely."
"Thanks, pal. I appreciate it."
With that, he nodded and proceeded on his way. Jan cast a
glance at Mika, then spoke in Greek. "Hm. The people are
friendly."
"Yes." She pointed toward the wide stairs ascending to the
floors above. "You and Miss Pappas are in room 203, just up
there."
It took a moment for that to settle into Jan's exhausted
brain. When it did, she glanced at Mika. "We are sharing a
room?"
Mika nodded. "Yes, yes. It was Miss Pappas' idea. She
insisted upon it." She studied Jan with a suddenly puzzled
expression. "That is not acceptable to you?"
A slow, tired grin creased Jan's face. "Oh, very
acceptable, Mika. Extremely acceptable."
Mika giggled in delight. "Room 203. Miss Pappas is already
there." She handed Jan her worn leather jacket. "I must return to
the museum now. Good-bye." She made a motion as if to embrace Jan,
then considered Jan's dirty state and thought the better of it. Jan
extended her hand, which Mika shook with gusto before she walked
away. At the door, she paused and looked back, her eyes twinkling
with laughter.
"Have a pleasant evening, Doctor Covington."
"Thank you. I think I will."
She giggled again. "Oh! I think so, too." Then, she darted
for the hotel's door and disappeared into the crowd of pedestrians
on the street.
Jan scratched her chin in puzzlement. "Huh. Wonder what she
meant by that?" Then, suddenly mindful of the stares she was
receiving from people in the spacious lobby, she shouldered her
duffel bag and headed for the stairs. As her dirty boots crunched
on the wide marble, she was feeling very, very much like a gypsy in
the palace.
A few minutes later, she stopped at the door marked, '203'
and turned the knob. It opened, and she entered, then dropped her
bags on the floor and threw her hat onto a nearby chair. "Honey,
I'm home," she called out.
"Oh, Jan. Come on in." Mel emerged from the bathroom, clad
in a robe, a towel about her hair. "Why, you look even worse than
this morning, if that's possible."
"I do?"
"Yes. You take off those muddy boots right now and put them
outside the door, with mine. The valet will be up to get them and
clean them."
"Uh, yeah, sure." Jan headed for a nearby chair, but Mel
stopped her.
"Oh, no. You're filthy. You just stand right there and take
them off."
Jan leaned against the wall and unlaced her boots, then
kicked them off. Mel picked them up by the laces, then opened the
door and gingerly placed them outside the room. When she closed the
door behind her, Jan was standing, watching her.
"Now, you march right into the bathroom and shed those
awful clothes. They have a wonderful shower here, and everything's
just waiting for you. Go on."
"Yeah. I just need my toilet kit, Mel." With that, she
hurriedly undid the tie on her duffel bag, found the leather kit
and tucked it under her arm. Mel shooed her toward the bath,
following her.
When the bathroom door closed behind Jan, Mel called, "And
drop those clothes outside the door. I'll see to
them."
A minute later, the door cracked open. A dirty hand
emerged, and dropped a pile of clothes on the floor. Mel clucked
her tongue. "Oh, Jan. We're going to have to throw those
out."
"Aw, Mel. Those are my favorite shorts."
Mel laughed. "All right, darlin'. We'll see if we can't
salvage them."
That seemed to placate Jan. She closed the door, then
stood, naked and filthy, in the bathroom, and looked around.
Indeed, she felt like a gypsy in the palace at that moment. The
room abounded in marble, and the plumbing fixtures were elegant and
shiny. Clean, fluffy white towels hung on brass rails. A soft white
robe hung on a hook, the hotel's emblem on its breast.
With some trepidation, she padded to the sink and studied
herself in the mirror. "Holy crap," she said, then looked down at
the sink. Brush, comb, perfume, toothpaste, it was all there. Jan
cracked open the glass shower door and looked inside. Again, marble
was everywhere, set off by shiny fixtures. On a shelf, there was
soap, shampoo, razor and blades, everything that she'd need. Mel
hadn't missed a trick. Jan cranked on the water, tested its
temperature, and stepped in.
When the steamy water hit her body, she sighed. "Oh yeah,"
she said. "I think I've just died and gone to
heaven."
It was the better part of an hour before Jan emerged from
the bathroom, hair damp and hanging loose, the hotel robe wrapped
around her. She padded barefoot across the room and looked out the
window. Beneath them, Athens was busy. Here, for some reason, Jan
felt suddenly very detached from the world, as if her life was
unreal, as if she was in a dream. Hell, she thought, maybe she was.
She reflected on how drastically her life had changed in the last
month, then smiled. It was only getting better. About time, too.
She'd nearly hit rock-bottom on that last dig. Jan felt a swell of
pride as she realized that she'd pulled success from certain
catastrophe "by the skin of her teeth", as her father used to say.
Yeah, he would have been proud. She could almost hear his gruff,
good-natured voice rumble, "Way to go, Tiger."
She also realized that, without Mel, it probably never
would have come to pass. She'd have been accused of embezzlement
and theft, thrown in some stinking Greek jail and left to rot. Mel
had arrived in her life just when she was about to hit the gutter
hard, and turned it upside-down in the very best way
possible.
Now here she stood in a comfortable Athens hotel room with
a pocket full of back pay, the museum's praise and thanks still
ringing in her ears, clean and warm, and in love with the most
magnificent woman she'd ever met. "Somebody pinch me," she said,
then smiled. Yes, here in the land of the ancient gods, they still
seemed to work their magic in mysterious ways.
She turned and studied the room. It was comfortable, the
Persian carpet soft beneath her toes. The windows emitted airy
light, and a ceiling fan slowly turned above her. Then, her eyes
traveled down to the bed.
It was a single, wide bed, its headboard situated against
one wall, spacious and neat with clean linens. Jan considered it,
then slowly realized that yes, it was a single bed. Not twin beds.
Mel's idea? she wondered.
She approached it and noted clothes carefully laid out on
it, with a note in Mel's handwriting. She lifted the paper and read
it, then considered the clothes. Mel had bought them for her that
afternoon. She shed her robe and held the clothes to her body. The
fit looked perfect. Mel had a good eye. Then, Jan shook her head
and smiled. "Not what I would have bought, but it just might work."
With a sigh of good-natured resignation, she began pulling them
on.
Later, she studied herself in the room's full-length
mirror. Her eyes trailed up from her still-bare feet to follow the
calf-length skirt of Egyptian cotton, dyed in bright near-Eastern
colors and surmounted by a white peasant blouse, revealing her neck
and just a teasing amount of her chest and shoulders. Her hair was
almost dry now, and Jan had elected to allow it to hang naturally,
as she'd had her hair cut short before the Macedonia dig and it
wasn't quite long enough to pull back. A hunk kept falling into her
face, and she fussed with it a little, then decided that she liked
the way it looked there. "Damn, Covington," she said. "You clean up
okay."
Mel's voice jarred her from her thoughts. "I'll say. Oh, my
God, Jan. You look-"
"Hey, Mel. I didn't hear you come in. I
look-what?"
Slowly, Mel approached her. She was wearing a similar
skirt, although a dark color, and a deep scarlet blouse. Her feet
were clad in sandals. "You look-" Mel blinked a couple of times,
then spoke softly, almost reverently. "Beautiful, Jan. Absolutely
beautiful."
"Yeah?"
"Oh my, yes."
"I thought you liked scruffy."
"I like beautiful, too."
"Me, too." Jan glanced up at Mel. "God, Mel. Look at
ya."
She put a hand to her chest. "What's wrong,
Jan?"
"Nothin' at all. Jeez, Mel. You're-" Jan touched a loose
lock of Mel's hair. "I've never seen you with your hair out of that
braid."
"Do I look okay?"
"You look more than okay. You belong in
Hollywood."
For a moment, they stood, an arm's length apart, eyes
fixed, blue upon hazel. The beating of their hearts seemed to
resound in the room, echoing against the sudden, thick quiet which
surrounded them. The next instant, they were locked in a tight
embrace, their lips pressed frantically one against the other,
their breathing heavy. Finally, they relented, and Jan rested her
head against Mel's neck. "I love you, Mel. I mean it. I've never
felt like this about anybody in my whole life."
"It's the same with me." Mel heard Jan sniff, and smiled
down at the blonde head against her shoulder. "Janice Covington,
are you crying?"
She sniffed again. "Shaddup."
"Are you crying because you love me?" The blonde head
nodded. "Then it's the most wonderful sound I've ever
heard."
"Glad you like it."
"I do. Now dry your eyes and let's go eat. Here, use my
handkerchief."
"Damn. A handkerchief. With frilly edges, even. I can't
blow my nose on this, Mel. It's too pretty. Got a shirt-sleeve
instead"
"Oh, Jan. I'll never housebreak you, will
I?"
Jan hurried to the bathroom. A couple of loud honks
resounded, then the water ran. She emerged a minute later, face
washed. "Am I okay now?"
Mel giggled. "Yes, Jan. You look adorable." She allowed her
eyes to wash down Jan's figure one more time. "Very suitable. Oh,
my. You look so cute in that skirt. It shows off your hips
magnificently." She turned Jan around, studying every
angle.
Jan looked down at it. "I haven't worn a skirt since I
graduated college."
"Sorry I had to inflict it on you, but I checked with the
maitre d'hotel, and he said that a skirt or dress for women and a
coat and tie for men are required for dinner."
"S'okay. It actually feels, um-kind of
comfortable."
"Shoes are required, too. Put your shoes on, Jan, and let's
go."
"Shoes. Yeah. Right." She padded across the floor and
slipped her feet into the sandals that Mel had bought for her.
"Damn. They fit. Good eyes, Mel."
"Mika knows the best little shops." Mel pointed. "Your
sweater. It's November in Athens, after all."
"Oh. Yeah." Jan slipped on the colorful sweater. "It's-ah,
neat. Warm. Very Greeky." She cast a sidelong glance in the mirror.
"I look okay, huh?"
"Yes." Mel turned Jan's head aside and studied her face.
"Your cuts are closed. I don't need to re-dress them." She studied
Jan a little more. "You need some jewelry, though."
"I don't do jewelry, Mel." She looked around the room.
"Except for my pocket watch." She pulled it from her skirt pocket,
clicked it open, and checked the time. "Okay, gorgeous. Dinnertime.
Let's hit the bricks."
"Finally! I thought," Mel teased, "that you'd never be
ready."
"What are you talkin' about? I'm always there for a
meal."
~~~~
"Now that was what I'd call a fabulous
dinner."
"Wonderful," Mel said. "And they even apologized for it.
'So sorry, the war,' they said."
"I could use a stroll. Let's take a walk, then come back
and haunt the bar for a couple of drinks."
Mel nodded, and they passed through the hotel's doors to
the evening street. In the twilight, Athens still thronged with
pedestrians, cars and even some horse-drawn carts, and in the
distance, the electric tram clanged its bell as it made its way up
the street. The air was cool, just a little nippy, and Mel clasped
her shawl about her shoulders as she held Jan's arm. For a while,
they strolled together silently, their close company enough for
each other, relishing the sights and sounds of downtown Athens.
Finally, Mel ventured a question.
"So, what's next for you? Professionally, I
mean."
Jan shrugged. "I don't know. I guess my job is
gone."
"So how do you usually find the next job?"
"I just seem to always fall into it." Jan grinned. "After a
suitable period of poverty, despair and self-loathing, of
course."
"Of course."
"How about you, Mel? You got a day job?"
"No longer. I taught Greek at a university, but they let me
go. Then, my father died, and I've been busy for the last few
months arranging his affairs. I'm so glad that's finally over." She
sighed. "I think that if I had to talk to one more lawyer, I'd go
insane."
Jan snickered. "Yeah, they can have that effect on
ya."
"Oh? You talk to lawyers, too?"
"Just through jail bars."
"Oh, stop!" She laughed, then cast a sidelong glance at
Jan. "Have you really been arrested?"
"Yeah. Got arrested in Algiers last year. Spent a few days
in the slammer, then got hustled aboard a ship by a guy from the
American embassy and told not to come back to
Algeria."
"Oh, my. It sounds very sinister. Whatever did you get
arrested for?"
"The police official was crooked. Business deal gone
bad."
"This didn't have anything to do with black-market
artifacts, did it?"
Jan looked up, surprise on her face. "How did you
know?"
"Lucky guess."
"Damn. That's pretty good." After a moment, Jan asked, "So
why did that university let you go?"
"Oh. That." Mel was silent for a moment, then replied,
"Someone whispered to the dean of the Classical Languages
Department that I was a lesbian. When he confronted me, I couldn't
deny it."
"Damn. He fired you for that?"
"I didn't have tenure." She giggled. "And I happened to be,
ah, 'seeing' his niece at the time. She was a university student.
The resulting scandal was delicious."
"Yeah. Enough said there."
"Have you ever lectured college, Jan?"
"You bet. Most of the way through my doctoral program." She
laughed. "I was the graduate assistant to an old professor who'd
been there since-gosh, I think since the Pilgrims landed. He seemed
to get sick whenever the fly fishing was good, so I lectured his
classes for him then. The students would actually clap when they
saw that they'd have me instead of him."
"Of course they loved you. Did you always want to be an
archaeologist?"
"Didn't know anything else, Mel. That's what Dad did, and I
was off with him every summer when I was a kid, grubbing bits of
ancient trash out of the dirt right alongside him. So, when it came
time for college..."
"Of course."
They paused in front of the hotel, then wandered through
the front door as the doorman held it open. They found the bar,
settled themselves at a corner table, and a waiter approached them.
A moment later, he returned with two glasses of ouzo. Shortly after
that, their table was visited in turn by two young British army
officers, then three naval types, an American Marine lieutenant
from the American Embassy guard, and a dapper Greek.
"Jan, we're far outnumbered by the men in this bar. We'll
get no peace at all."
"Yeah. Let's get outta here and go up to the
room."
"Agreed."
They swung by the bar, tipped the bartender heartily, and
he slid them a bottle of ouzo and two glasses to take upstairs.
"Thank you, Doctor Covington," he said in English.
"Oh, a doctor, aye?" a voice said. Jan looked up. Standing
in front of her was a young army officer. "Take my pulse, doc. I
think I'm in love."
That got a laugh out of his two companions. It just got a
tired, if good-natured smirk, from Jan. "Sorry, pal," she said.
"You're barkin' up the wrong tree here."
"Have a drink with us."
"Sorry, buddy. No can do."
"Then perhaps we can chat up your friend
here?"
"She's busy, too."
"Oh, come on," he said. "We don't bloody bite. Unless you
want us to." That got another laugh from his companions. "Come
share a table with us." He looped a hand around Jan's upper arm,
and her expression froze. Her entire body tensed.
"Let go of me."
"I will if you sit with us."
Jan passed the ouzo bottle to Mel, who was holding the
glasses. "Hold this, Mel," she said. Then, she reached into the
pocket of her skirt, withdrew her hand, and gave the fellow a
ferocious uppercut to the abdomen. He doubled forward, wheezed,
grasped his abdomen with both hands and began gasping for breath.
Jan caught him, leaned him against a barstool, and patted his
shoulder with her free hand-a hand now prominently displaying a set
of brass knuckles. "Breathe easy, pal. It'll pass in a minute.
That's it. Slow breaths. There ya go. Ya better now? Are ya
okay?"
Still unable to speak, he nodded. She glanced at his two
friends, who stood beside her, unsure of what they should do. Jan
cracked a grin. "Better take him underwing until he gets better.
Here, you guys sit next to him." She reached into her pocket,
pulled out a colorful Greek drachma note, and tossed it to the
bartender. "Buy these guys a drink on me, will ya?" With that, she
tossed a bravado-laced grin at them. "See ya around, guys. You're
okay in my book."
All three nodded, and one said, "Ma'am."
Jan cast a glance around for Mel. She was standing about
three feet away. "Come on, Mel. Let's hit the road." She lowered
her voice and whispered, "Now, Mel."
"Um, yes. Right with you, Jan." As they made a swift
departure, they could hear a voice behind them, still wheezing.
"Good God, but she can punch. Now I'm sure I'm in love." It
was followed by the hoots of his two companions.
As they tread up the stairs, Mel studied her friend
silently. After a moment, Jan noticed the critical eye and
shrugged. "What?"
"Brass knuckles?"
"Okay. So I fibbed when I said I didn't do
jewelry."
" Really, Jan! Did you have to hit him with those
things?"
"He grabbed me. That's just one thing a guy doesn't do to
me." She fell silent for a moment, then looked at Mel. "Are you mad
at me?"
"No, Jan. I think you handled that very well." Slowly,
Mel's expression warmed as she considered Jan. "I do feel very safe
around you."
Jan unlocked their door, then stood aside for Mel. She
stood, holding the ouzo bottle and two glasses, and cast Jan a
twinkling, teasing look. "Aren't you going to carry me over the
threshold, Jan?"
"Are you kidding? You're bigger than me."
"Okay, tough gal. Hold these." Mel thrust the glasses and
the bottle into Jan's hands, then swept Jan's petite form into her
arms in one neat motion and carried her into the room, to peals of
laughter from both. With a foot, she kicked the door shut behind
her.
Inside, the lights of the city flickered across the sheer
curtains as they sat together on one end of a couch. The lights
were low, their shoes and wraps were cast aside, and Jan was
sitting with her legs across Mel's thighs. They snuggled closer,
and Jan refilled their glasses from the ouzo bottle.
"So, Mel, are ya drunk yet?"
"Not hardly." She squinted at Jan. "Are
you?"
"I'm getting a little tipsy."
"Which one of you?"
Jan snickered. "Nice. Naw, I really want to be sober for
you tonight."
"Oh? What's the occasion?" Mel batted her eyes at Jan with
an air of feigned innocence.
"Well, let me answer that with a question."
"Okay. I'm all ears for your question."
"Nice ears, too." Jan began kissing Mel's ear and neck, and
Mel closed her eyes. After a moment, Jan spoke, between
kisses.
"Mel?"
"Yes, Jan?"
"How come you got a room with only one bed?"
"Did I do that?" She blinked in surprise, then looked
around the room. "Oh. I most certainly did do that, didn't I? My,
my. Now whatever could I have been thinking?"
"I'll bet I know."
"Oh?" Mel's eyes closed, and she tilted her head toward
Jan. "Do tell me."
"You were thinking that if we shared a bed, I could keep
your feet warm."
"My feet aren't cold. Oh, my. No, I don't think anything on
me is cold at the moment."
"So that's not it?"
"Nope."
"Then you were thinking that you were going to steal my
virginity tonight."
Mel cracked up. "Darlin', I love you, but I think your
virginity was lost in the dust years ago." She opened her eyes and
looked at Jan, so near. "So exactly where...?"
"Catholic boarding school when I was sixteen. How's about
you?"
Mel sighed. "Let's not talk about that, Jan. Let's talk
about the future."
Oh, oh, Jan thought. Taboo subject. "Yeah. Let's talk about
us." Jan began her attention to Mel's neck again, and Mel sighed in
response. "Do you really want to get naked with me tonight?" Jan
whispered.
"I really do."
"So I'm finally gonna find out just how much you like
scruffy?"
"I believe so, Jan." Mel opened her eyes and fixed them on
Jan's face. "Do you want this?"
"I've never wanted anything more, Mel." She nibbled on
Mel's ear lobe. "I've wanted to rip off your clothes and love you
since I first met you."
"Well," Mel said, then smiled at Jan's attention to her
ear. "If you promise not to rip them, you may take them off. And
don't forget the loving part, whatever you do."
"Such a deal. You got it." Jan stood, then held out a hand
to Mel. She took it, and rose. Slowly, they walked across the room
to the bed, and halted beside it. They faced each other in the dim
light of the streets, arms about each other, faces near. For a long
moment, they stood so, eyes fixed blue upon hazel. Then, Jan
smiled.
"What's so funny?" Mel whispered.
"This is gonna sound crazy, but I'm really
nervous."
Mel stifled a snicker. "Me, too. Um, you
start."
"Okay." Jan reached up, placed a hand on either side of
Mel's head, and tilted her face down. Then, she kissed her deeply,
slowly, for a long time, her fingers intertwining in Mel's hair.
After a time, she whispered, "Ready?" Mel nodded, and Jan's hands
slowly trailed down her body to seek out the tie on her skirt. In
the dim light, she fumbled with the knot, then snickered nervously.
Mel placed her hands over Jan's, then guided her to the
bed.
"Sit," she said. "Let me."
And Jan sat on the side of the bed, transfixed by the
vision before her, as Mel slowly undressed. Piece after piece of
clothing fell from Mel's hands, until finally, there was none left.
Then, she slowly approached the bed.
Jan looked up. "God, Mel. You're..." A finger placed itself
across her lips.
"Shh. Now, it's your turn."
Mel settled beneath the bed linens and pointed to the spot
on the floor that she had occupied a moment ago. Jan rose, faced
Mel, and began tugging at the tie that held her skirt around her
waist. She found that her hands were shaking. Her mind screamed at
her, "Slow down, Covington. Get a grip on it!" As the skirt finally
dropped away and Mel stared at her, eyes hungry and expression
totally involved in the moment, Jan found her bravado. Her hands
became steady. With deliberate, teasing slowness, she peeled item
after item of clothing away and dropped it on the pile Mel had
started.
Finally, there was nothing left to take off. Mel pulled the
bed linens aside and waited for Jan, who slid into bed beside her.
They pressed together, breathing a collective gasp as skin touched
skin and their bodies met, unencumbered by clothing, for the first
time. Only two more things were said.
"I love you, Mel."
"Don't just tell me, cutie. Show me."
~~~~
Mel awoke and blinked at the ceiling. Without her glasses,
the fan appeared blurry. She watched it slowly revolve for a
moment, then turned on her side. Jan was laying a foot away, her
body prone, propped up on her elbows, watching Mel.
"Oh, Jan. I must have fallen asleep. I'm
sorry."
"Not a problem. You were pretty exhausted."
"Yes." Mel giggled. "Three times wears a girl
out."
"Four."
She leaned up in bed. "You kept count?"
"Yeah."
"So," Mel said, "what about you? Was it good for you, too?
Did I treat you right?"
"What, you couldn't tell? I think the people down the hall
could tell." Jan smiled. "You don't ever have to ask that, Mel. The
answer will always be 'yes'."
"Hmm." Mel assumed a sly grin. "Sophia was right about you.
You are one incredible lover."
"And you sure do like scruffy, don't you?"
"You bet I do." She leaned over and kissed Jan, then slid
from the bed. "Don't go anywhere."
"Hurry back."
Mel paused at the bathroom door. "If I'm not back directly,
feel free to entertain yourself." Then, the door
closed.
Jan lay on her back and interlaced her fingers behind her
head. After a moment, she sighed and closed her eyes. This night
was too beautiful to be true. Nothing had ever felt like this.
Nothing. It was the most intense, most tender, most-she felt lost
for words. Finally, she found the word: spiritual. It was a totally
spiritual experience. As much as she enjoyed sex, she never
realized until now that it could be a mystic, spiritual thing. She
now felt connected to Mel across the room, almost as if she could
feel her presence although she was not nearby. And that feeling
warmed her, reassured her that Mel really did love
her.
That opened her eyes. Mel loved her? Mel, who is gorgeous,
smart, funny, cultured, accomplished-Mel loved her, Janice
Covington, who had a checkered past, a sorry reputation, who was
uncouth, profane, so rough around the edges, and who had lost in
life many more times than she had ever won. Jan snickered at the
next thought. And who was-scruffy. Yeah. Sophia was right. That was
the perfect description, wasn't it?
The bed jiggled, and Mel rolled toward Jan. "Your turn,
cutie."
"Yeah. I knew I was forgettin' something."
Jan rose and headed toward the bathroom. When the door
closed, Mel sat up in bed, found her glasses on the bedside table
and placed them on her face. As she waited for Jan to return, she
fell back into her fluffy pillows, pulled the covers up to her neck
studied the lights outside their hotel room window. She was in
love, really in love. It was glorious, it was soaring, it was
everything she'd hoped and prayed for. She hadn't felt like this in
so long. As she thought back, she realized that she'd never really
felt like this. Her last love affair paled in comparison to this.
Yes, she'd done it right with Jan. Yes, they'd danced the slow
dance of falling in love to perfection. And tonight was the
glorious reward.
It had been an effort to not relent and melt into Jan's cot
during that time on the dig with her. So many times, she had lain
awake in the night, aching for Jan's touch, her kiss. So many
times, she had almost relented and gone to Jan's tent. So many
times. Now, she was glad that she had waited. Yes, it had been
worth every sleepless night, every frustrated day. Then, it would
have merely been a fun lay. Now, it was glorious lovemaking.
She was in love with Jan Covington. Tough, scrappy,
intelligent, funny, tender, adventurous,
above-all-odds-I'll-kick-the-world's-ass bad girl Jan Covington.
And cute! Oh, my God, she was truly the cutest thing she'd ever
seen, from the top of her blonde head to the tips of her toes. That
wiry, muscular body! And that laughing squint, and that darling,
broken nose, and that look that could only be described as- Mel
laughed. Yes, Sophia had pegged it perfectly. Scruffy. A gloriously
cute, fun scruffy. And Mel loved her all the more for
it.
"Hey, gorgeous. Miss me?"
Mel watched as Jan padded across the floor and slid into
bed next to her. They settled back, and Jan snuggled against Mel's
side, an arm across her abdomen, her head on Mel's shoulder.
"I did, Jan. But even though you weren't next to me, I
somehow felt that you were."
"Funny how that works, huh?"
"Oh, you've felt it, too?"
"You bet."
They lay together in silence for a while, just basking in
each other's touch, until Mel's whisper broke the still of the
night. "Jan?"
"Hmm?"
"Do I truly satisfy you?"
"Couldn't ya tell? Sure you do. In every
way."
"But you've had a lot of experience." Mel looked down at
Jan's mop of tangled blonde hair, just inches from her face. "Just
how many women have you been with, anyway?"
Jan was silent for a moment, then spoke in a whisper. "That
doesn't matter. That's the past." Jan leaned up on one elbow, her
face very close to Mel's. "Look, we've both got histories. I really
don't think that we need to know everything about each other's
pasts. If you know too much about somebody, it can make ya crazy.
It's the present, the future, that's important." She watched Mel's
face for a reaction. "Don't you agree?"
"Cutie, you are wise beyond your years. Yes, I agree. We
can have some secrets. And forget I asked that
question."
Jan relaxed back onto Mel's side and nestled her head
against Mel's shoulder. "Whew," she said.
Mel giggled in delight. "Oh, that many,
huh?"
"There's only one for me, and that's you,
gorgeous."
"My, my. You romantic fool. You are a quick study, aren't
you? You dodged that question like a master." Mel giggled again as
she touched the end of Jan's nose with a fingertip. "You scruffy
little cutie."
"I thought you liked scruffy."
"Oh, I do. I really do. Scruffy makes me hotter than a
Carolina summer."
"Yeah? That's pretty hot, Mel."
"Come here and find out just how hot it is. If y'all aren't
afraid of getting burned, that is."
"That sounds," Jan said, "like a dare. And you know I can't
resist a dare."
~~~~
The morning's sun lightened the room, and the sound of city
traffic below their window caused Jan to stir. She groaned, then
turned over and pulled the covers over her head. Vaguely, she could
hear Mel say something in Greek, and the door shut. A minute later,
Mel lifted the covers from Jan's head.
"Darlin'? Breakfast is on."
"Huh? What?" Jan lifted her head. Her hair was disheveled,
and her eyes were squinted into slits. "Coffee?"
"We have that." Jan felt Mel's weight leave the bed, then
return a moment later. The smell of thick, dark coffee was
deliciously near. Jan stuck out a hand, and Mel placed a cup and
saucer into it. "Drink."
Jan took a deep swallow of the stuff, and her eyes popped
open. "Oh, yeah. Good."
"Come, sit at the table and eat with me."
"Yeah. Be right there." Jan rose, naked, and walked toward
the bathroom, resting the cup and saucer on the table as she passed
it by. A few minutes later, she emerged, wrapped in a hotel
bathrobe and suitably washed and brushed. She sat at the table and
looked over the food on the room service tray. "What have we
got?"
"Eggs, sausage, fruit, bread and butter, honey and such.
Eat, Jan."
"Heck. I thought there was a war on."
"In that case, enjoy the food now, because it won't
last."
"No kidding. Is the museum paying for this room
service?"
Mel grinned. "I thought about it, but decided not to press
our luck. Now eat hearty. We're both unemployed. This time next
month, we might be going hungry."
"Maybe not. Let's make sure we're at the museum this
afternoon. I've just got a feeling."
~~~~
"I'm Jan Covington. This is Melinda Pappas. We're American
citizens." Jan and Mel both flashed their United States passports
at the Marine guard behind the fence. "We've got an appointment
with John Brevard."
"Yes, ma'am." The Marine guard opened the gate for them,
and they entered the American Embassy compound. "His office is on
the second floor. Enter by the main door."
They walked across the courtyard, climbed the steps to the
entrance, and walked past two more Marine guards. Inside, they
climbed more stairs, and finally found an office marked, "J.
Brevard."
Shortly, they were escorted into his office. Brevard
appeared in his mid-thirties, and seemed the perpetually busy and
efficient type. He watched them seat themselves, then placed his
fingertips together and smiled at them. "And how," he asked, "may I
be of service today?"
"We're American citizens," Mel began, "and have been
working and living in Greece. With the current war situation, we
wanted the American Embassy to know that we're
here."
"Yeah, and we were wondering how the situation looks for
getting out of the country, should things go south with the war,"
Jan added.
He leaned back in his chair and loosened up a little.
"Well," he began, "the war is going extremely well for the Greeks
so far. They've stopped the Italian advance, and actually pushed
them back into the Albanian mountains. It looks like the war's
reached stalemate up there for the winter." He smiled. "For being
under-equipped and having little air force, the Greek army is
tearing up the Italians. I don't think that, other than the
occasional sinking of shipping, we have much to worry about, here
in Attica. I don't see the war coming here."
Mel asked, "Then we're safe here for the
moment?"
"Extremely. I still have my family here. If I thought we
were in danger, I would have evacuated them by now. Oh," he said,
"I'm sure we'll see the effects of war here: food shortages, maybe
rationing, gasoline shortages, inflation for basic commodities,
corruption and such. I don't think we're in physical danger,
though."
"Well, that's a relief," Jan said. "If the situation
changes, how hard will it be to get out of here?"
Brevard laughed, a little nervously. "Hard. We're
surrounded by war. Of course, we'll attempt to get as many American
citizens out of Greece as is possible, but..." He held up his hands
in a gesture of question. "My secretary has forms that you can fill
out to let us know where you are working and living. That way, if
there is a change..."
Mel cast a worried glance at Jan, who affected a nonchalant
air.
"Good idea," Jan said. "One more question."
"Yes?"
"What about the Germans? Any chance they'll get involved in
this war?"
"Oh, I don't think so. The Greek government maintains very
friendly relations with the Germans. Strong commerce and such. I
doubt the Germans will be invading Greece. They've got their own
problems. Mussolini will just have to get himself out of this
pickle."
Jan rose, signaling an end to the meeting. "Thanks, Mister
Brevard," she said. "You've set our minds at ease. I appreciate you
seein' us."
He rose and shook both their hands. "My pleasure. Please
call if I can be of help to you."
~~~~
Standing on the city sidewalk outside the embassy, Jan
scratched her chin in thought. "Okay, Mel. Let's hit the museum
now. Maybe we can sweet-talk Doctor Morikis into hiring us for
something."
"And if we can't?"
"Then I guess we'd better try to get passage to America
before we run out of cash."
"Before we do that, can we eat lunch at that little
café across from the museum?"
They boarded a crowded tram and held onto hand-rails as it
began squealing and clanging along the wide city's street, heading
in the general direction of the Acropolis towering above the
city.
"Darn, Mel. You're full of good ideas. It's better to be
unemployed on a full stomach than an empty one."
"Now that," Mel said, "sounds like something my daddy would
have said."
~~~~
Doctor Morikis stood for some time, lost deeply in thought,
then waved a finger in the air. "I think I have an idea," he said.
"It's not much, but it is something."
"'Not much' is more than we have now," Jan
said.
He turned to Mel. "The scrolls you and Jan brought us need
translation into modern English," he said. "Would you be willing to
undertake such a job? It cannot pay a lot, though."
"Oh, my. Yes, that would be exciting." She looked at Jan.
"Don't you think?"
Jan grinned. "Just up your alley, Mel."
"And Jan, for you, it is more difficult. All digs have been
shut down because of the war. We are not sponsoring any archaeology
just now." He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Have you
ever worked in a museum?"
"No," she said. "Done research, but no curator
stuff."
"Hmm." He turned toward Mika's desk, where she was busily
typing. In Greek, he asked, "What jobs do we need provided for, at
the present?"
She stopped typing and consulted a sheet of paper. "Only
guards," she said, then gave an apologetic shrug. "The war. Many
are gone."
He turned back to Jan, offered her a gesture of resignation
and spoke in English. "And I would not insult you by even
suggesting-"
"Day shift or night shift?" Jan asked.
"Jan?" Mel tapped her shoulder. "Are you actually thinking
of this?"
"Sure. Why not, Mel? Look, Doctor Morikis, I'm not rollin'
in cash here. I need work. If I can't work as an archaeologist,
then..."
"Aah, for how long would you be willing to work as a museum
guard?"
"For as long as Mel is here, translating your scrolls." He
winked at Mel. "We're a team, Doc. We stick together. You get one
of us, you get us both. That's the way it works." She shrugged.
"I'm familiar with Greek history. I speak Greek and English. And
I've even got a gun."
"I suppose we have uniforms to fit you," he said. "Although
we've never had a female guard here before."
"Then it's about time you did," Jan said. "Day shift,
right?" In her silent thoughts, she added, Please say yes. I've got
plans for the night shift.
Doctor Morikis burst into laughter, then nodded. "You have
a job, Jan." He got a sudden inspiration, and shouted, "Oh! And a
place to live. We have several apartments behind the museum
gardens, usually for visiting scholars, students and such. There
are none there now." He shrugged in apology. "They are tiny, but it
will help, as we cannot pay much to either of you. The war, you
know."
"What do you think about this, Mel?"
"If you're for this, Jan, then I'm for
this."
Jan turned to Doctor Morikis. "You've got yourself two
employees, Doc."
"Wonderful! Delightful! You can move in today and start
work tomorrow. Come, Jan, and let's find you some uniforms. And
Melinda, we will arrange for you a work area where you can
translate in peace and quiet."
~~~~
Jan looked around the little one-room apartment as she
dropped her duffel bag on the floor. "Hell. I've seen outhouses
bigger than this."
"Oh, Jan. It's delightful. And look at the view from the
balcony." Mel threw open the double doors, and an ancient stone
balcony looked over the museum gardens. "I love it!"
"At least it's furnished. A few dishes, sheets, stuff like
that." She nodded. "It'll work."
"Good. I was so afraid you didn't like it."
"Naw. It's better than a leaky tent at some stinkin'
dig."
"That it is. And you get to share the place with little ol'
me."
"Now that," Jan said, "is a deal I can't pass
up."
At Mel's urging, they fussed about, settling themselves in.
It didn't take long. Then, they headed for the nearby market to
furnish the bare kitchen. By that evening, they had provided
themselves a home and stocked it with a meager supply of
food.
The next morning, Mel was seated at the little table,
sipping her coffee and admiring the morning's view from the window.
Her gaze slowly shifted to the table, and Jan's empty seat and
half-drunk coffee. "Jan," she called. "We have to go
soon."
"Yeah, yeah." A moment later, she emerged from the
bathroom, and Mel squealed in laughter. "It's not that bad, is it?"
Jan asked.
"Oh, Jan. I'm sorry, but you look like a
fascist."
"I do not look like a fascist." She glanced down at her
uniform. "Do I?" She was wearing gray pants, a black stripe down
the side of each leg, and a gray shirt and black necktie. The
emblem of the Athens museum was emblazoned on each shirt-sleeve at
the shoulder, and her sleeves were rolled up to mid-forearm because
they were too long. Her worn boots had been immaculately cleaned by
the hotel's valet, and were as presentable as possible. A Sam
Browne belt, a wide, brown leather belt with a buckled strap across
her chest and right shoulder, completed the uniform, her pistol and
brown leather holster at her left side, the gun's butt facing
forward.
"No, Jan. I'm sorry. I just had to tease
you."
Jan snickered. "Have your fun now. Just don't laugh at me
in the museum, will ya?"
"I promise."
She ran a hand through her blonde hair to get it off her
forehead, pushed the hair behind her ears, and clapped a uniform
cap on her head. Mel began laughing again as Jan tipped the cap
forward so that the bill shaded her eyes.
"Now I look like a fascist, right?"
"Yes, Jan. Now you definitely look like a fascist." She
eyed Jan for a moment more, then said, "Turn
around."
Jan did, and Mel whistled. "Oh, Jan. Those trousers do
justice to that fine little behind of yours. I'm going to have to
take regular breaks and watch you walk through the
museum."
"Well, hell." Jan lifted her coffee cup and drained it. "A
fascist with a fine ass. I love it." She thumped the coffee cup on
the table, then popped open her pocket watch. "Time to go to work,
Mel."
"Yes, darlin'." Mel rose and gathered her shoulder bag, and
they left their little apartment and descended the stone stairs,
heading across the outside gardens of the Athens museum toward
their new jobs.
~~~~
It was the first day of what quickly became a routine for
them, a routine which stretched out for week after week. Mel
occupied an office in the museum, daily bent over her scrolls and
papers, a teacup at her elbow and her reference books scattered
about as she slowly, painstakingly unfolded the stories contained
in the scrolls.
Jan daily strolled the halls and exhibit rooms of the
museum in her guard's uniform, her pistol displayed on one hip and
a ring of keys on the other, greeting and chatting with visitors
and staff. Often, she would stop and deliver impromptu lectures to
visiting groups on certain exhibits in either her rapid, accented
Greek or her American English, lectures which were laced with humor
and legend. These moments made her otherwise horribly boring job
very tolerable-that, and the fact that she got to visit Mel every
day. They would take their lunch together at the little café
across the street from the museum, and often, Mika or Doctor
Morikis would join them.
And at night, they would retire to their little one-room
apartment, away from the traffic of Athens' busy streets, to be
alone and to fall ever more deeply in love. It was a glorious time
for them both, and they treasured the privacy. Whether it was the
quiet intimacy of whispered, heartfelt conversation or the wild
abandon of lovemaking, the nights were theirs in which to grow ever
closer, one to the other.
Jan got one day off every week, and they used that day to
soak in the local culture or take hikes in the country, for even in
the winter, Attica had a mild, pleasant climate.
And they couldn't help but hear the war news. Fighting
continued in the north, as the effects of war reached Athens. Basic
commodities became more expensive or nonexistent, gasoline
shortages were reflected on the city streets by less motor traffic
and more horse-and-donkey-drawn traffic or pedestrians, and the
city's mood grew more somber. Graft and corruption became the order
of business.
And Mel's work on the scrolls continued. She concentrated
on Gabrielle's writings first, eagerly passing her handwritten
drafts to Jan whenever she would visit Mel's office during the day.
Jan absorbed the language of the translations with fascination and
a quickly-escalating respect for Mel's grasp of ancient Greek. Her
work, Jan decided, was nothing short of masterful
poetry.
Their first Christmas together was spent simply, in their
little apartment, with a morning exchange of gifts and affection.
Then, Jan donned her uniform and went to work; the museum, although
closed for the holiday, still had to be guarded, and she had agreed
to work the holiday so that the other guards could be with their
families. Mel found Jan's absence painful and the tiny apartment
lonely, so she elected to go to work, too. After all, the
translation work was all that was keeping them in Athens, and
keeping Jan in a boring job that she tolerated with good humor only
for Mel's sake. And the sooner they could escape the ever-expanding
war in Europe, she felt, the safer they would be.
The work proceeded slowly, however. They diligently worked
through the winter, living frugally on their meager pay and
delighting in the time they were able to spend together. It was, in
many ways, an idyllic time for them. Before they knew it, the
weather began to moderate and warm, the days lengthened, and spring
approached. And spring in Attica is always a beautiful time of
year, a time when both the land and the people become fresh and
vigorous once again.
The double doors to the balcony were open, and Mel was
sitting at their little table, leisurely sipping at her second cup
of morning coffee. "So, how's the translations going?" Jan
asked.
Mel considered the birds singing outside the windows.
"Almost done."
"Find anything else by Gabrielle?"
"No, Jan. Eight scrolls were all I found."
"I talked to Doctor Morikis. He's going to let us have
copies of the translations and photographs of the original
scrolls." Jan smiled. "I'll write it up for the
journals."
"Oh, Jan. That's exciting. What can I do to
help?"
"I figured we could share author's credits, Mel. After all,
you translated 'em."
"And you unearthed them."
"What a team, huh?" Jan tossed a careless grin in Mel's
direction. "By the way, you got any plans for tomorrow? It's my day
off." She watched Mel shake her head, then asked, "How's sailing
sound?"
"That sounds delightful!"
"Doctor Morikis has a sailing sloop at Piraeus harbor. He's
invited us along for the day."
"It'll be lovely. After all, Jan, it's the first week of
April now. The weather's wonderful."
"Yeah. Nothing will be able to spoil this."
~~~~
Doctor Morikis, clad in white pants and canvas shoes, sat
easily at the tiller of his sloop, a pipe clamped in his teeth. Jan
eased the tension on a line, then snugged it down to a cleat as the
neat little sloop took to the wind's direction and settled into a
lovely run. In the distance, Piraeus' harbor was full of shipping
and busy with activity. Much of the shipping was of a military
nature, as the British were off-loading thousands of troops and
their supplies with the intention of joining the fight against
Mussolini in the north.
Mel pointed skyward. "Look at all the airplanes, Jan. Why,
there must be dozens of them."
Doctor Morikis looked up, then nodded pleasantly. Jan cast
a glance up, and her expression went cold. "You got some glasses,
Doc?"
"Eh? Oh, a telescope, just there."
Jan lifted it and snapped it open, then removed her
sunglasses and pointed it skyward. At the same time, the
bone-chilling whine of air-raid sirens began sounding from the
buildings on Piraeus' shoreline.
Doctor Morikis sat up, suddenly alarmed. "Italians,
Jan?"
Jan lowered the glass. "Nope. Worse. It's Germans. And
they're comin' right at us."
"Oh, my God," was all Doctor Morikis could say. Mel's
question was more pointed.
"Where are they going, Jan?"
She looked around, and her blood ran cold as she focused on
the military shipping nearby. "There's nothing south of us, Mel.
They're gonna bomb the harbor. And we're right in the middle of the
harbor." She turned toward the stern. "Doc, tack left. Take us as
far away from all that military shipping as you
can."
"Yes, Jan." He sat erect. "Prepare to come
about."
In a moment, they had the boat on a new tack, and were
heading toward the harbor's entrance, and away from the docks. The
air-raid sirens were wailing in full force now, and whistles were
blowing among the ships in the harbor. To the cacophony, a new,
bone-chilling sound added itself. It was the whistle of bombs
falling. Guns began to go off in reply among several of the British
warships anchored in the harbor.
A mushroom cloud of explosion erupted along the docks, then
another, and a third. Geysers of water shot up in the harbor, and a
ship exploded, sending pieces of metal hurtling into the air.
Doctor Morikis tweaked the tiller's position as Jan snugged down
the tension on the foresail, her sinewy arms straining with the
effort. The boat heeled at a sharper angle, and bit into the water
with a fresh vigor. They had found their best speed, Jan knew. They
could do no better. At six or seven knots, it was frustratingly
slow, but it was better than-
A loud whistle stung their ears, and a geyser of water
erupted not far from them. A second later, the bomb detonated, and
water sprayed the deck and the sloop's occupants. Jan looked
around. "Everybody okay?"
"Yes, Jan."
"Keep us on this course, Doc. You're doin'
great."
Mel's voice rose in volume, frantic. "Jan, what will we
do?"
"Keep your head down and your fingers crossed. And keep
holding on to something, Mel."
Another geyser of water erupted, about fifteen feet from
the boat this time. Jan held her breath, waiting for the explosion,
but the bomb did not detonate when it hit the water. After a
moment, she relaxed. "Must be livin' right," she
said.
"Jan, emergency tack. Hard a-lee!" The urgency in Doctor
Morikis' voice caused her head to snap around. Approaching them was
a British destroyer under full steam, heading directly for the
mouth of the harbor. Its antiaircraft guns were pounding away, and
its whistle was screaming a frantic warning.
"Holy-yeah, hard a-lee!" Jan popped the jib sheet free, and
watched the sloop's bow swing left. At the proper moment, she
leaned back and pulled the sheet tight. The sail snapped into a
smooth, concave curve, and the wind caught it. The sloop surged
ahead.
The destroyer passed very near them. Jan glanced up, and
someone on the bow far above them tipped his hat as if to say,
'Terribly sorry, but we're in a bit of a hurry'. Jan couldn't help
it. She began laughing, even as she still squatted, her foot on the
boat's gunwale, her arms straining against the pull of the sail.
She stopped when another geyser shot up from the harbor water,
about twenty feet from them. This one did explode a second later,
at about the same time that the wake from the passing destroyer
caught them by the stern.
The sloop almost capsized, then righted itself. As it
settled and began gaining speed once again, Doctor Morikis
wordlessly pointed toward the sails. Both Jan and Mel looked up,
and in unison, they gasped. There were ragged holes torn in the
sails from pieces of the exploding bomb.
By now, the sloop had attained a position on the far side
of the harbor, just inside the breakwaters, and away from the
docks. From their vantage point, they could see the destruction
being rained down on Piraeus harbor. Ships and buildings were
burning, and every gun which could shoot was trained into the sky.
The noise was deafening. Jan glanced up. Most of the planes were
past the harbor now, meaning that they had discharged their bombs
and were intent on getting home. The worst was probably over,
although bombs were still hitting the harbor.
A tremendous flash and explosion resounded at one of the
docks, and a second later, a concussion wave hit the sloop and
caused it to heel dramatically. Jan felt as if someone had slapped
her face. A ship at the docks had disintegrated in one horrendous
explosion. Pieces of it were hurled high into the air, and rained
down all over the harbor. Mel was aghast as she watched what
appeared to be a person thrown upward with the smoke and fire.
Slowly, he turned, head-over-feet, and finally fell into the harbor
water. Several seconds later, he came to the surface and floated,
face down.
"What was that?" was all she could say.
"Must have been an ammunition ship, Mel. Jesus, look at
that."
Mel glanced at the dock. The ship had disappeared, and the
buildings near where it had been were leveled, their remnants on
fire. "Jan, this is horrible. Look at the
destruction."
"The face of war, Mel." Jan glanced down at her. "You got
your camera?" She nodded. "Start takin' pictures."
"Oh." Mel blinked in thought for a moment, then rummaged in
her bag and pulled her camera forth. She started composing and
snapping pictures, as Jan pointed across the water and spoke toward
Doctor Morikis.
"There's a guy in the water, Doc. Let's pull him
out."
Doctor Morikis glanced in the direction of Jan's finger,
and nodded. They tacked the little sloop and headed downwind of the
form floating face-down in the water. Just before they reached him,
they turned sharply into the wind, and the sails flapped and luffed
impotently. The boat slowed, and Jan lifted the boat-hook. She
snagged the back of the man's pants and pulled him close. Then, she
reached down and turned him over in the water. Doctor Morikis
gasped, and Mel uttered a cry of horror.
It was the man they'd seen blown from the ammunition ship.
The skin and meat was burned from the front half of his body, and
ribs showed through the charred flesh. His face was gone; in its
place, a grisly skull grinned up at them. Jan recoiled, then cast a
horror-struck glance at Doctor Morikis.
"Shit, let's get outta here, Doc."
He jammed the tiller aside in agreement, and the little
boat backed, then heeled to one side as the wind again caught the
sails. Mel's camera clicked, and then she quickly turned away. A
second later, she leaned over the gunwale and vomited. Jan grasped
the back of her shorts to steady her.
"You okay, Mel?"
"What do you think?" she said. "Oh, Jan. Is he
dead?"
"If he's lucky. Sorry you had to see that."
Mel said nothing, but merely nodded. After a moment, she
shook herself back to reality, and began snapping pictures until
she ran out of film. Around them, the harbor burned, secondary
explosions still occasionally resounded, and fires raged. Ship's
whistles blew, and the air raid sirens wailed once more, this time
to announce the 'all clear'. In shocked silence, they sailed away
from the docks and toward the little marina where countless
pleasure-boats were moored. Eventually, they found their place at a
pier.
Some time later, they occupied standing-room only on a
commuter train bound for downtown Athens. Jan glanced over at
Doctor Morikis, who had been silent.
"Looks like you guys are at war with the Germans now,
huh?"
He nodded. "And I think it will be a short one. The Germans
will be in Athens in perhaps two months. We cannot stand against
them, after all. The two of you must leave the country as soon as
possible."
"It may already be too late for that," Jan
said.
"Nevertheless, you must go to the American Embassy
tomorrow," Doctor Morikis urged. "Ask there about the chances of
getting out of Greece." He leaned a little closer to them and spoke
with urgency now, casting glances back and forth between Jan and
Mel. "I know that you love Greece, but you are neutrals. It is not
your fight."
"Are you gonna be okay?" Jan asked.
He shrugged in reply. "We Greeks have been conquered
before, and yet we still exist. I fear for the museum's treasures,
though."
"Why?"
"One thing that the Germans have done in the countries they
have so far occupied is to raid the historical and artistic
treasures. Like the arrogant conquerors they are, they simply take
what they want. I fear that they will do so here,
too."
"The scrolls." Mel spoke in horror. "If they get my
work-"
"Exactly. The Gabrielle scrolls especially are incredibly
valuable. That is why," Doctor Morikis said, "you must take them
with you when you leave. They will be safe in America. Publish
them, Jan. Let the world see them. Don't let them end up in some
Nazi's archive. Promise me this."
~~~~
When they returned to Athens, the trio headed directly for
the museum. There, they collected the eight scrolls known to be
authored by Gabrielle and Mel's translations, carefully wrapped
them in waterproof packaging, and sealed them into a metal document
tube.
The next morning, as they made their way across Athens to
the American Embassy, they noted the mood in the city. It was one
of grim determination. The radio stations had announced that the
German army had, indeed, crossed the border into Macedonia. As if
to bolster the population's courage, the news announcements were
alternated with stirring national music.
Both Jan and Mel breathed a sigh of relief when they were
admitted inside the embassy gates by the cautious, efficient Marine
guards and made their way to John Brevard's office. There, they had
to wait almost an hour to see him. Finally, he emerged from his
office, a weary and concerned expression written on his face, and
waved them inside. He began by shaking their hands, then announcing
the obvious.
"You two need to leave the country as soon as you can," he
said. "Latest intelligence tells me that the Germans are going to
roll over this country like a freight train. They could bomb the
city. They bombed the harbor yesterday."
"No kidding," Jan said. "We were in the middle of
that."
His eyes widened. "Thank God you're safe. Look, we're doing
everything we can to arrange transportation out of here on neutral
shipping. You can't go on a Greek ship; the Italians will try to
sink it. The Spanish are being very accommodating, but it takes
time to get their passenger liners over here, and as you know, the
harbor is a mess right now. We may have to get you down to Crete or
somewhere on a small boat, then to Spain on a neutral-flagged
liner. From there, you can get passage to America." He pushed a pad
of paper and a pencil toward them. "Write down exactly where I can
find you. I'll let you know when something comes open. Do you two
have enough money to book passage and live for a
while?"
"Yes," Mel answered as she scribbled on the paper. "We'll
be fine."
Jan shot a puzzled expression at her, then returned his
attention to Brevard. "Look," she said, "Be blunt. What's our
chances on gettin' out of here?"
"That depends. Are you Jewish?"
Mel and Jan cast a quick glance at each other. "No," Mel
said. "What's that got to do with it?"
"That gives you first priority out of here with us." He
noted the puzzled expressions and said, "Trust me, you don't want
to be Jewish and be here when the Nazis take over the country.
They've been arresting Jews en masse in Germany. According
to the reports, what's happening to them isn't pretty. Forced labor
camps and mass executions."
"Oh, man. So what's our chances of getting out of here with
you guys?"
"Not great."
"Okay. Are we better off fending for
ourselves?"
"Probably, if you have the resources. I've got a bunch of
scared tourists banging down my door."
"Let's keep in touch with each other. See who comes up with
what."
"Agreed."
"Thanks for seeing us, Mister Brevard."
They shook hands, and Mel accompanied Jan from the embassy.
They did not speak much until they were hanging onto the side of a
tram as it clanged its way along an Athens street toward the
museum. Finally, Mel leaned close to Jan's ear.
"What will we do?"
"Get the hell outta here, any way we can." Jan glanced up
at Mel. "Why did you tell him we had money? In case you hadn't
noticed, we're not exactly the Rockefellers here."
Mel smiled. "We'll be okay, Jan. Just trust me." She noted
the skeptical expression on her lover's face and asked, "You do
trust me, don't you?"
"Yeah, sure."
"I don't think you do quite yet." Mel patted Jan's hand as
it gripped the rail. "But you'll learn."
~~~~
When they returned, Jan donned her guard's uniform and went
to work. Mel returned to her translation work, albeit with a
distracted frame of mind. Finally, she quit her work and began
making telephone calls. After several calls, she pulled on her
sweater and stopped Jan in the museum's main lobby.
"I'm going out. I have some leads on getting passage
home."
"Be careful, Mel."
"I'm a big girl." She smiled to relieve Jan's concern, then
disappeared through the front doors. Jan, for her part, sighed
heavily, then returned to her duties. When Mel returned an hour
later, she seemed forlorn, but said nothing.
That evening, Jan studied her lover's silence over their
dinner. Finally, she asked, "So, what did you accomplish this
afternoon?"
"Well..." Mel picked at her pasta with her fork. "Nothing.
No, that's not true. I learned the lay of the land, so to speak,
about leaving Greece."
"And?"
"It's not good."
"Naturally." Jan shrugged. "We'll find a way,
though."
Mel forced a painful smile. "My optimistic little
cutie?"
"That's me." She noted Mel's expression. "Trust me." After
another beat, she added, "I don't think you do yet. But you'll
learn."
Mel's forlorn expression eased into a wide grin, and they
both began cracking up.
~~~~
Over the next days and weeks, the war news worsened. The
Germans quickly captured Thessaloniki, then overwhelmed the Greek
army. The war tumbled south, toward Attica. All Athenians knew that
their beloved city was the final prize.
The English, Australian and New Zealand soldiers present in
Greece fought with incredible bravery and determination, even doing
battle at Thermopylae, where, like the proud Spartans two thousand
years before them, they ravaged the invaders. But they were
ultimately forced to retreat and flee the country to avoid total
annihilation. The Germans, unlike the Italians, simply could not be
stopped.
By the last week of the month, the Athenians were bracing
for the Germans to march into their city. Jan had kept in touch
with Mr. Brevard at the American Embassy, but nothing was hopeful
there. Mel had little better luck attempting to arrange passage on
a ship. There were, it seemed, none to be had, or the fares were
extortionate.
In the museum, they had busied themselves by burning their
records and locking up as much as they could. They even
commissioned carpenters to build book-cases over the doors of some
storage rooms in an attempt to hide their more treasured items, or
hired masons to brick and plaster over the doors. They could only
hope that it would fool the Germans.
The city's mood was somber, much like a coastal town
awaiting the arrival of a hurricane. Traffic lessened on the
streets. The radio stations and newspapers were full of patriotic
statements urging Greeks to show courage and pride in the face of
imminent surrender. And Mel and Jan attempted to resign themselves
to the fact that they would be foreign nationals, neutrals, living
in a country occupied by the Third Reich.
The city had been expecting the arrival of the Germans for
several days. Indeed, their army remained just outside the city,
but their entrance was, for some unknown reason, delayed. The
museum was sparsely visited, for many people stayed at home, their
windows ready to be shuttered, waiting for the German army to march
into their beloved city.
Jan stood just inside the museum's main entrance when John
Brevard entered. He hurried to Jan and spoke in a breathless
whisper.
"Can you two be ready to leave Athens on the day after
tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Is there a way out?"
"Yes. We're taking a busload of people to the coast east of
here, to catch a boat to Crete. From there, the embassy in Crete
will help arrange passage to America." His expression was urgent.
"This is the last bus. If you aren't there..."
"Understood. We'll be there."
"We leave at ten in the morning. Good luck."
"What about you and your family?" Jan asked.
"They'll be on the bus. I stay behind." He shrugged.
"America's still neutral, at least this week. I'll be okay. I'm a
diplomat, after all."
"Well, thanks for everything. I appreciate what you've done
for us."
He shook Jan's hand. "Not at all. Remember, one suitcase
each. That's all."
Jan grinned. "That's all we have."
He laughed in reply, a nervous laugh. "Then you're set. Ten
a.m. See you then." With that, he hurried through the front
door.
Jan considered the news, then strode to the back corridors
of the museum to find Mel. He finally found her in Doctor Morikis'
office, and told her the news.
As they were discussing it, Mika stood from her desk. "Oh!
Mother, come in. I want you to meet someone." She walked around the
desk and waved in a middle-aged woman with a pleasant countenance.
"This is Doctor Covington, and this is Melinda
Pappas."
"Pappas?" she asked. "Greek?"
"Descended from Greeks."
"Oh, and Doctor Covington. I have heard much about you."
She shook a finger at Jan, then smiled and hugged her. "Thank you
for your good advice to Mika about marriage."
Jan silently wondered which of the two items of advice Mika
had repeated to her mother, when the woman's expression suddenly
became serious. "May I speak with you in
confidence?"
"Of course," Jan said.
She motioned both Mel and Jan to the corridor outside the
office, then spoke in an urgent whisper. "You are going to
America?"
"We hope so," Mel answered.
Her expression became imploring. "Take Mika with you," she
begged. "She has an uncle, my brother, in Chicago. She can stay
with his family."
"Excuse me?" Mel said.
She leaned closer. "I am concerned about her safety, with
the Nazis coming."
"She will be fine, I am sure. There are thousands of young
Greek ladies in the city."
"You don't understand," she said. "We are
Jews."
~~~~
A moment later, Jan strode into the office. "Mika," she
said, "do you have a passport?"
Mika looked up from her work, a puzzled expression on her
face. "Yes. I went to Palestine last year. Why?"
"Be at our apartment, eight o'clock in the morning on the
day after tomorrow. Bring your passport, money and one suitcase
only. You're going to America with us."
"What?" She stood from her desk, blinking in
surprise.
Mel followed on Jan's heels. "Jan, what if the embassy
won't let her come?"
"We'll figure out a way."
Mel nodded. "Yes. We will."
~~~~
The following day, the German army rolled into Athens. The
radio defiantly played patriotic Greek music until it was suddenly
silenced. Trucks and tanks rolled along the streets, and the green
uniforms of the German army appeared everywhere. There were no
crowds to greet them; indeed, much of the population stayed at home
and indoors, their windows shuttered in protest.
The story quickly circulated that when the conquerors
attained the Acropolis and hauled down the Greek flag which flew
there, a young Greek soldier wrapped himself in it and hurled
himself to his death from the heights above the
city.
The invaders lost no time in establishing their control
over the sprawling city. A curfew was announced, and martial law
was declared. Armed soldiers strolled the streets, fascinated with
the sights and sounds of the ancient city. And a small group of
Germans, led by a middle-aged officer with the Death's Head symbol
of the SS on his collar and an air of accustomed dominance about
him, strode into the museum that afternoon. Upon his entrance, he
stopped, looked about him, and noted Jan's presence.
"You, there," he said in Greek. "You are a guard
here?"
"No, I am selling gyros." Jan looked down at her uniform,
then up at him. "I am wearing a uniform and standing near the front
door. I suppose I am a guard."
The SS officer's subordinates did not laugh. He considered
Jan with a cautious eye. "You are insolent. Take me to the head of
the museum. Now."
"This way." Jan indicated that they should follow, then
began walking toward the back of the building. On the way, the
officer spoke to her.
"You speak Greek, but with an accent. You are not
Greek."
"No."
A moment, thick with silence, passed. The officer asked,
"Of what nationality are you, then?"
"American."
"Ah! And what are you doing here?"
Jan shrugged. "I like to live and work in Greece. Would you
not?"
"I do," he replied with a smirk. "Now."
"So you do."
Another moment of thick silence passed, with only footfalls
sounding in the museum. The German officer studied Jan as they
walked, side by side. Then, he asked another
question.
"What is your ethnic background?"
Jan glanced up at him. "What do you care?"
"You are insolent and rude. Typical, for an American. I
will speak to your superior about having you fired from your post
here. What is your name?"
"My name," she said, "is Heywood." Jan struggled to
maintain a neutral expression. "Heywood Yablowme." Jan motioned
toward Doctor Morikis' office door. "The curator." She opened the
door and stuck her head in to announce the visitors, but the
officer pushed past her and entered. Doctor Morikis looked up from
his desk, and the officer began speaking.
"I am Maxwell von Shell, captain of SS and Adolf Hitler's
personal representative to Athens for the preservation of Greek
antiquities. You will immediately turn over to me all inventories
you possess of the contents of this museum. I will
wait."
Doctor Morikis shot Jan a cautious look, then turned his
attention to the officer and spread his hands wide in apology. "I
am sorry, Captain, but they were all destroyed in an unfortunate
fire in the records room. We have nothing."
"How convenient. So you have no records? You have not yet
re-inventoried the museum?"
"Not yet. Soon, soon. The war, you know."
He studied Doctor Morikis for a moment, then spoke. "You
will re-inventory the museum and present me with a complete record
in two weeks. If you fail, you will be shot. I am sure your
assistant curator would be glad to attain your position and comply
with my request."
"I suppose he would, but you have already shot him." At the
officer's surprised expression, Doctor Morikis continued, "He died
in the recent war."
"Ah." He thought for a moment, then motioned with a hand.
"Two weeks. I will inspect your museum now. You will accompany me
and answer my questions."
Doctor Morikis nodded. "My leisure serves me now." He rose
and motioned toward the door, and the officer and his little group
of subordinates followed him.
When they had left, Jan sighed with relief and leaned
against the curator's desk. In Greek, she said, "What an arrogant
ass." Mika said nothing in reply, and Jan glanced at her. She sat,
immobile, at her desk. Her complexion was pale, and her eyes were
wide. A second later, she burst into tears. Jan stepped near to her
and rested a hand on her shoulder.
"Tomorrow. You will be out of Greece
tomorrow."
She looked up. "I am so frightened."
"You will be fine," Jan said. Silently, though, she
wondered if any of them would be fine. At the moment, America
seemed a million impossible miles away.
~~~~
The next morning, a gentle tapping sounded at their
apartment door. When Jan opened it, Mika slipped inside, dressed
for rough travel and with her meager suitcase in her hand. She
seemed nervous and distraught, so Mel attempted to comfort her with
a breakfast of hot tea and bread, but to no avail. She said that
she had not been able to keep anything on her stomach all
night.
At the appointed time, the trio of travelers left their
apartment. Mel was dressed much as she was when she and Jan first
met, her rucksack over her shoulder and her suitcase by her hip,
and Jan-well, Jan was Jan. Hat on her head, worn leather jacket
over a cotton shirt and scuffed chino pants, the strap of her
canvas bag across her torso and her duffel bag in hand, she seemed
familiar, at home, with travel.
They walked to the corner and caught an electric tram
toward the embassy, joining the crowds of morning pedestrians
emerging after the curfew. No one much gave them notice, even the
groups of green-clad German soldiers who strolled the streets. Jan
chuckled to notice that many of them seemed incredibly young, and
acted more like fascinated tourists than conquerors as they perused
Athens' sights. Several even had cameras, and snapped pictures of
the city.
Near the embassy, they dropped from the slow-moving tram.
Walking shoulder-to-shoulder, they approached the tall,
wrought-iron fence surrounding the embassy compound, then followed
that fence, their footfalls audible along the sidewalk. They could
see the Marine guards at their posts inside the fence, and feel the
guards' eyes upon them as they approached the gate.
About ten feet from the gate, two men stepped in front of
them. They were wearing dark suits and unsmiling expressions, and
Jan immediately felt the hair prickle on the back of her neck at
the sight of them. She had feeling that the morning was about to
turn complicated.
One of the men spoke in Greek, but with a German accent.
"Halt. You three, there. Where are you going?"
Jan stepped in front of Mika and Mel, and replied in
Greek. "What do you care?"
"Answer me. Where are you going?"
"We are American citizens, going to the American Embassy."
She eyed him. "If it is any of your business. Now get out of our
way."
He thrust out a hand. "Passports," he
demanded.
"Get out of our way," Jan replied.
"You will show me your passports," the man
demanded.
"Get out of our way," Jan repeated.
A group of Marine guards quickly gathered just behind the
tall bars of the wrought-iron fence, and the voice of a man in
civilian clothing began providing a whispered translation of the
scene for them.
In front of Jan, the man's voice rose. "You will show me
your passports now."
Jan replied, "You are not Greek police. You have no
authority."
"We are Gestapo. That is the only authority we need. If you
are American citizens, show me your passports."
Behind her, Jan could hear Mika gasp. Showing passports was
out of the question. The only other option was to bluff her way
through. Jan's voice rose in response to her antagonist's manner.
"Get the hell out of my way."
The gate opened behind the two men, and a Marine guard was
leaning out, beckoning the women toward him. Jan noted him and
nodded.
The man's companion whistled to a distant group of German
soldiers, about a block away, and motioned with his arm. The group
began approaching them, and Jan winced. Things were going to get
ugly very quickly. They had ten feet to go to safety, and these two
guys were between them and the embassy gate. They had to be dealt
with, and quickly. Jan slipped her hand into her pocket. In
English, she said, "Get ready to grab Mika and run,
Mel."
"You are under arrest," the man announced in Greek. "You
will come with me, all of you."
Jan cast him a defiant glare. "Go fuck a goat!"
At the whispered translation, the Marine guards behind the
fence roared in derisive laughter, and the SS man's face reddened.
Jan watched his body tense, and could sense the blow coming. She
ducked, and his fist swung above her head. In reply, she dropped
her duffel bag and answered with an uppercut to the abdomen. He
wheezed from the blow. A second later, she swung again. This time,
she did not aim at his abdomen. This time, she aimed squarely at
his face. A resounding crack resounded, and he reeled backward,
bleeding from a nasty gash across his cheek and nose. He hit the
wrought-iron fence and slowly slid to the ground. Jan grabbed her
duffel bag and shouted, "Get Mika inside the gate, Mel.
Run!"
Mika and Mel ran past her and squeezed through the gate.
When Mel glanced behind her, she saw that Jan was still on the
sidewalk, outside the fence. Then she saw why, and her knees nearly
buckled. The second SS man had produced a pistol. The barrel
hovered a couple of inches from Jan's forehead.
For a long, terrible moment, Jan stared down the barrel of
that pistol as the distant boots of the group of German soldiers
gradually grew louder, closer. Then, out of the corner of her eye,
Jan saw another movement. An arm, clad in the khaki of a Marine
guard, thrust itself between the bars of the fence and pressed the
muzzle of a black automatic pistol against the German's
head.
In English, a voice rasped, "I wouldn't do that if I was
you, buddy." The man's eyes flickered away from her and toward the
pistol pressed against his temple. "I got him," the voice said.
"You'd best get inside the compound pronto, missy."
Two seconds later, Jan had grabbed her bag, wormed through
the gate and stood inside the American Embassy compound. The gate
latched behind her as the group of German soldiers arrived at the
sidewalk. They milled about, unsure of what to do as their leader
studied the strange scene: one Gestapo official, unconscious
against the fence and bleeding; the second one, standing quite
still, with the Marine guard's pistol at his temple. Then, the
Marine guard slowly stepped back until his pistol was inside the
fence. He jammed it into his holster, nodded in satisfaction, and
said, "I think that about takes care of it. Glad to see that you
ladies are safe on American territory."
Jan looked up at the guard. "Thanks, pal. You just saved my
ass. I owe ya one."
The weathered face grinned, and he shrugged boyishly.
"Wasn't nothin'. You pack a mean right hook, missy. You KO'ed that
guy wit' one punch." He pointed at Jan's hand. "Brass knuckles? I
ain't seen them since I was a punk kid in the Bronx. Hell, I figure
you gotta be Irish to be that much of a bad-ass."
Jan grinned, pocketed the brass knuckles and thrust out her
hand. "I'm Jan Covington. Pleased to meet ya."
The Marine shook her hand. "Gunnery Sergeant Mike
O'Donovan. Most folks 'round here just call me
'Gunny'."
"Well, Gunny. Thanks."
John Brevard's voice interrupted now, very near. "Doctor
Covington! Miss Pappas! Thank God you made it
safely."
Gunny studied Jan. "A doctor? Wit' brass
knuckles?"
"Archaeologist," Jan explained.
"Ah." The gunny nodded, as if that explained
everything.
A shout from the fence attracted the group's attention. The
Gestapo official stood at the fence, his hands on the wrought-iron
bars, his indignant fury written in his expression as the soldiers
behind him lifted his companion from the sidewalk. In English, the
man said, "This is not over. There will be protest of the most
severe kind. You will answer for this outrage. I will have your
names, all of you."
Gunny considered the man cooly, then replied, "Like the
lady here said. Go fuck a goat, buddy."
Again, screams of laughter from the other Marine guards
resounded, and the Gestapo official turned and stormed
away.
"What happened, Gunny?" Brevard asked.
"Just a little incident wit' the Germans," Gunny replied.
"Nothin' ta worry about."
"Hm." Brevard considered Gunny cautiously, then turned his
attention toward the three women. "Doctor Covington, Miss Pappas."
He considered Mika. "And who's this?"
"Mika Kantos," Mel said. "She's our friend. We're taking
her to America. She has relatives in Chicago."
"A Greek national? Really, we only have room for American
citizens."
"She's Jewish," Mel said. "We have to get her out of here.
Her mother begged us. I'll take full responsibility for
her."
"Well... does she have a passport?" Mel nodded. Brevard
hesitated, then waved a hand. "We can fit in one more, in that
case. Just tell her to keep her mouth shut and her passport in her
pocket until we get you aboard that boat and out to sea. I'll issue
her an entrance visa for the U.S."
With that, he herded the three women into the embassy
building, and they found refuge huddled with other travelers in a
lounge, awaiting word to board the ramshackle bus which would take
them to a coastal town, and to a small boat to
Crete.
~~~~
The bus, crammed with luggage and people, twisted and
turned along the coastal road. The driver geared it down, then
swung it around a turn. A moment later, he stepped on the brakes.
Jan stood and craned her neck, and saw several men in uniforms in
the road ahead of them.
"What is it, Jan?" Mel asked.
"Greek police," Jan said.
A moment later, a man in a police uniform stepped aboard
the bus. In English, he asked, "You are all American citizens?"
Murmurs and nods answered him. "Are there any Greek nationals
aboard the bus?" Silence answered that question.
Mel shot a worried glance at Jan, who answered with one of
her own, then a shake of her head to indicate the need for silence.
"I will need to see your passports," he announced.
Dutifully, hands started producing passports, and he began
systematically glancing at them, starting at the front seats. Some,
he opened. Some, he merely glanced at the covers as they were held
up.
Mel's voice was a frantic whisper. "Jan, what will we do
about Mika?"
"I'm thinking, Mel."
"We'd better think of something in about sixty
seconds."
A young lady leaned over the seat behind Mel and whispered,
"I'm Susan Brevard, John's wife. Your friend is a Greek Jew, isn't
she?"
"Yes."
"John mentioned her. Tell her to show him my passport, then
pass it back to me. She and I look alike." She handed the passport
over the seat, and Mel handed it to Mika with whispered
instruction. She nodded in understanding.
When the police official reached their seat, he glanced at
the three passports held up before him, then nodded. When his head
turned aside to the neighboring seat, Mika held the passport behind
her neck, and the woman behind her lifted it from her fingers. The
policeman then turned toward Susan's seat, and she dutifully held
up two passports, one for her and one for her child. The policeman
puzzled over one, then pointed toward Mika, asking, "Is she your
sister?"
"Yes," the woman answered.
"Ah," he said with a shrug, then went on with his duties.
Soon, he was finished, and strode to to the front of the bus. "I
will accompany you to the boat," he announced.
The driver ground the gears, and the bus began rolling. Jan
glanced over at Mel, and saw relief written all over her face.
Then, she glanced at Mika. Her color was ashen, her hands were
clenched and a silent tear streaked her cheek. In Greek, Jan
whispered, "Almost there. Take courage."
~~~~
Two months later.
"Darn, Mel. Look at that."
"Yes, Jan. The Statue of Liberty has never looked so good,
has it?"
Mika joined them at the ship's rail. "Statue of Liberty,"
she repeated in English as she pointed.
Jan nodded. "That's great. Your English is really coming
along."
"Thank you." She looked at Mel. "I learn new words today.
American words, from Jan."
"Oh, dear."
Mika proudly announced, "In how-you-say? Diner. Yes, in
diner, you say, 'Cheeseburger. Apple pie. Cuppa Joe. Keep the
change.' You need, ah, toilet, you say, 'Where's the can?' And when
car horn honk at you, you say, 'Blow it out yer ass,
buddy'."
Mel cast an amused, if disapproving glance, over at Jan,
who said, "What, Mel?"
"Jan, honey. Please teach her proper
English."
"Hey, this is America. If we teach her proper English,
nobody will understand her."
"Point taken." Mel sighed. "My, it's been quite a trip,
hasn't it?"
"Yeah. Two months since Greece. Stay-overs in Crete and
Spain. And then the slow boat to New York City."
"It gave us time to teach Mika English. She's doing
well."
"Thanks to you, Mel."
Mika giggled. "Yes. Thank you, Mel, for to teach me
English. And you, Jan, too." She looked at Mel. "We are on boat.
Jan teach me to talk like sailor. You want to hear?"
"That's all right, Mika. I hear that enough from
Jan."
"And I love American movie. Gary Cooper. 'Howdy, li'l
lady...'. And how-you-say? Jimmy Cagney. 'You dirty rat. I gonna
get you, see?'" She beamed at them both. "Movie teach me to speak
like American, no?"
"Yeah. Too bad they only had those two movies on this ship.
We must have seen each one about a dozen times."
Mel rolled her eyes. "I'm sure her relatives in Chicago
will be very impressed with what we've done to her,
Jan."
Jan snickered. "Don't you mean, 'for her'?"
"I'm really not sure."
Mika brightened. "Chicago? When?"
"Oh, another couple of days," Mel guessed.
"Yeah. We need to get her through immigration first, Mel.
And that's gonna be a trick."
~~~~
Mel, Jan and Mika sat in front of the immigration
official's desk as he shuffled papers and talked. "Well, she's got
a Greek passport and a valid entrance visa, issued by the embassy
in Athens two months ago." He looked up. "It took you that long to
get here from Greece?"
"We were in a war zone," Mel explained. "Travel was very
disrupted. We had to go to Crete, then find passage to Spain, then
find another ship to America."
"You were in Athens when the Germans got
there?"
"Yes."
"That must have been an experience." He jammed a form into
his typewriter, started clacking keys, and hummed a tune as he did
so. Finally, he withdrew the form, signed it and stamped it with an
official-looking stamp. Then, he looked at Mika. "Do you speak
English?" he asked.
She perked up, threw her shoulders back and very proudly
announced, "Yes. I speak kick-ass English. Doctor Covington say
so."
Jan's face reddened as the immigration official cast a
glance her way. "Well," he said, "if Doctor Covington says so..."
He pushed papers toward Mika. "Sign here. And here. And here. And
Miss Pappas, I understand that you will be sponsoring her in
America, is that right?"
"That's right," Mel said.
"Now, you understand that you are assuming total financial
responsibility for her until she can fend for
herself?"
"Yes."
"Can you offer proof that you have the resources to do
that?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'm sorry to ask, but I must see proof. I'll keep strict
confidence, of course. I see these things all the
time."
"I understand." Mel rummaged in her rucksack, and in a
moment, produced a bank book. She opened it, passed it to the
official, and asked, "Will that do?"
His jaw dropped as he glanced at the book. He immediately
closed it and handed it back to Mel. "Ah, yes ma'am. That will be
more than sufficient, I should think. Thank you, Miss Pappas. Sign
here, indicating that you are her sponsor."
Mel scribbled her signature on the form, and the official
collected all the forms. He folded them, placed them in an envelope
with her passport, and handed them to Mika. "Welcome to the United
States, Miss Kantos."
"Thank you! Oh, thank you! I am A-OK now?" She looked at
the faces surrounding her.
The official smiled for the first time that day. "Yes, Miss
Kantos. You're A-OK with us."
~~~~
As they stood outside the immigration building, Mel watched
Jan attempting to hail a cab, then studied Mika. She was gleefully
gazing skyward. "New York City," she said. "Look, Mel. Everything
so tall. To the clouds, the ah..."
"Buildings?"
"Yes! To the clouds, the buildings go." She looked at Mel.
"Chicago, it is this way, too?"
"Yes, Mika. The buildings are tall in Chicago,
too."
Jan whistled, and waved from a stopped taxi. As the cabbie
threw their luggage into the trunk of his cab, Jan said, "Hey, pal.
Take us to a decent hotel near the train station, will
ya?"
"You got it, ma'am."
Thirty minutes later, they stood in front of the hotel, in
sight of Grand Central Station, their bags at their feet. Jan
tossed Mika a greenback and asked in Greek, "Would you pay the taxi
driver?"
"Okay," Mika answered in English. She went to the car's
window, handed him the greenback note, and proudly announced,
"Thank you so much. Keep the change."
"Gee, thanks! You're swell, ma'am!" With that, he took the
money and roared off.
Mel studied Jan for a moment, then asked, "What's the
matter?"
Jan swallowed hard. "That was a twenty."
"Oh, well." Mel patted Jan's shoulder. "Cheer up. You just
made that cabbie's day."
Jan shrugged, then slung her duffel bag over her shoulder.
"What the hell. Easy come, easy go. Come on, gals. Let's get
cleaned up and see the town before we head to
Chicago."
Mel and Mika each lifted their suitcases and slipped their
free arms through Jan's. Together, they walked toward the hotel's
main entrance. Mika asked, "We...how-you-say?
Party?"
"Yeah. We party." Jan cast a glance toward Mel. "If Miss
Rockefeller here will foot the bill. I'm broke after that cab
ride."
Mel smiled. "I think I can spring for the evening, Jan, if
you don't get too outrageous."
Jan cast her a sideways glance and a mischievous grin. "So,
Mel Pappas, just how much are you worth, anyway?"
"A proper southern girl doesn't talk about her money with
her lover or her lawyer. Just with her accountant."
"Oh. So, what if she's screwin' the accountant? Does the
rule still apply?"
"Janice Covington!"
"Hey, I'm just asking."
Mika perked up. "Screwing? What means this? Explain,
please, Jan."
"Yes, Jan. Explain it to her, why don't
you?"
Jan whispered a Greek phrase in Mika's ear, and the girl
whooped in glee. "Oh, Jan. You are naughty!"
"And scruffy," Mel added.
"And that's the way you love me, gorgeous," Jan said.
"Scruffy and naughty."
Mel allowed a grin to spread from ear to ear. "I declare, I
surely do."
Epilogue: United States, 1996
"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Doctor
Covington."
"Jan. Call me Jan." She motioned toward the kitchen table.
"Tea's hot. Sit, and make yourself at home."
Jan studied the young woman as she entered the kitchen. In
a moment, she had her sufficiently pegged: intelligent, ambitious,
studious. Her immaculate clothing suggested that she paid great
attention to detail; her businesslike, but pleasant, manner
revealed caution. The fact that she was here suggested that she was
a subordinate. After all, a busy publishing house editor wouldn't
have made the trip from New York City to her
cottage.
"You must be tired after your trip. It was uneventful, I
hope?"
"Oh, yes." The young woman opened her leather satchel and
produced a business card, which she handed across the table. Jan
placed it next to her steaming cup of tea, dug the glasses from her
sweater's pocket and settled them on the bridge of her nose. Then,
she perused the print on the card: Susan Veolente, assistant
editor, McCibe Publishing. After a moment, she glanced at her over
the tops of her glasses. The young woman's expression seemed a
combination of hope, fascination and question.
"So, Susan, what can I do for you today?"
Susan took a moment to collect her thoughts. Then, she
simply said, "I just finished reading your
manuscript."
"Oh?"
"For the third time."
Jan smiled. "My condolences."
"It's a touching story. May I ask you a question?" Jan
nodded in reply, and Susan leaned forward, resting her forearms on
the table, her hands cradling her tea mug. "Why have you waited
until now to tell it?"
"Mel was always a very private person. In the last months
of her life, though, she gave me permission to tell
it."
"She passed away a year ago?"
"Yeah."
"You must miss her desperately."
Jan sighed, and diverted her gaze to the spring day outside
the kitchen's window. "You have no idea." Her gaze returned to
Susan's face. "Or maybe you do."
"Yes. I'm so sorry for your loss."
"Thank you. It has been a long year. Now, Susan, let's
talk. Tell me why you've come all this way to visit a crazy old
broad like me."
"Well, my boss-"
"Editor-in-chief, right?"
"Yes. Well, she asked me to come and see you. We want to
publish this."
Jan's head tilted a little in question. A lock of white
hair fell across her eyes, and she brushed it aside. "Oh? Is that
all?"
"Is that all? It's a book contract. I mean, most
writers-"
"Yeah, I know. Most writers would give their left
you-know-what for a contract. Well, my you-know-whats aren't what
they used to be, and I don't need the money."
Susan's brow furrowed in question. "You don't want to
publish it?"
"Oh, I didn't say that. But the form of the finished book
is more important than anything else to me. You see, I don't think
that it would be complete without Mel's
photographs."
"Then you see this story as background for Mel's pictures,
and the book itself as a photographic essay?"
Jan's eyes twinkled. "Exactly. I can see that we're
thinking alike."
"Do you still have her photographs?"
Jan grinned. "Every one. And we still own the rights to all
of 'em. Y'know, Life magazine and National
Geographic both did spreads of Mel's photographs during the
war."
Susan lifted two plastic-covered magazines from her satchel
and dropped them on the table. Jan studied the covers, then raised
an eyebrow. "You've been doing your research, Susan. I'm impressed.
Those copies must have cost you, too."
"Worth every penny. Now, Jan, let's talk about how you want
to do this."
"Hang on a minute. If we're going to get serious, we've got
to do this right." Jan huffed and creaked a little as she rose,
then shuffled across the kitchen and opened a cabinet. A minute
later, she sat down again, slapped two shot glasses on the table,
and opened a bottle of extremely classy tequila. As she filled the
glasses, she glanced up at Susan. "Hot tea only goes so far. You
drink?"
Susan couldn't help but grin. "I've been known to tip a
few."
"Good girl. Here's mud in your eye." They downed the shots,
and Jan refilled the glasses. "Hang on, and I'll get the portfolio
with all Mel's pictures in it. You can see the originals." She
stood and left the room. In a minute, she had returned, and placed
a brown leather portfolio on the table in front of Susan. "There's
some photos in there that weren't in those
magazines."
"Really?" Cautiously, Susan opened the cover and lifted the
top photograph. "Wow. Look at that."
"You read the manuscript. Where was that taken, do you
think?"
"Well," Susan said, "you're both wearing skirts, and you're
standing in what appears to be a hotel lobby." She looked up. "It's
the evening of that very romantic night in Athens,
right?"
Jan lifted the bottle. "Bring that, and come into the
living room. I can see we're gonna be at this for a while. Let's
get comfortable."
~~~~
Pictures lay spread across the coffee table and littered
the couch cushions. Jan sat, cross-legged, on one corner of the
couch, and Susan sat next to her, her shoes kicked off, her feet
crossed on the coffee table. She shook her head when Jan offered to
fill her glass.
"I'm gettin' buzzed, Jan. No more." She glanced at her
watch. "Oh, hell. It's getting late. I'm sorry to have taken up so
much of your time."
"Ah, don't worry about it. Are ya having fun, at
least?"
"Oh, yeah!" She held up a picture. "Is
this-?"
"Yeah. That's Mika. Sweet kid. We both adored
her."
"Whatever happened to her? Did she make it to
Chicago?"
"Sure did." Jan snickered. "We delivered her to her uncle's
house, just like we promised her mother. My God, what a family that
was! Big, noisy, and loving. It was a new experience for me, 'cause
I never had anything like that. The dinner conversation was a
combination of Greek, Yiddish and English. All at the same
time."
"So she settled in Chicago?"
"Yeah. We kept up a correspondence. A couple of years
later, we attended her wedding. She said she took my advice about
marriage."
"Which piece of advice?"
"Who knows? Maybe both." Jan cast a twinkling glance at
Susan.
"What about her mother?"
Jan shrugged. "Never was heard from again. We can only
suppose the worst: that she died during the war, a victim of the
Holocaust."
"And Gabrielle's scrolls?"
"We put them into the temperature-and-humidity controlled
archives at the Smithsonian Institution, in Washington, D.C. Our
articles on the Gabrielle scrolls were published in the academic
journals and started a firestorm of controversy. That, in turn, led
to my first decent job as an associate professor."
Susan lifted a photo and studied the black-and-white image.
The hotel lobby, the intricately-patterned skirts, the two hands
clasped, fingers interlaced; the bright, wide eyes, the energy and
youth which radiated from the picture; after fifty-six years, it
was still evident.
"Do you remember this?" Susan asked. "I mean, that
night?"
"I remember it all," Jan said. "Every breath, every
whisper, every touch, every kiss. The softness of her skin, the
scent of her perfume, the fire of her kisses, the music of her
voice, soft in the night; yes, I recall it all like it was
yesterday."
"So a love like that is really possible?"
Jan smiled. "It happened to me. Oh, yeah. It's possible."
She studied Susan's face. "If you believe in the magic of the slow
dance. Do you?"
"I haven't." Her expression grew warm. "Until now. Count me
a convert."
"Good girl." Jan sat up. "Let me guess. Your boss told you
not to come back without a signed contract, right? That's why she
sent you here. She must want it, otherwise she wouldn't have spent
the money on your trip. Okay, here's the deal. I work only with
you. You and I, we'll put together a great book. And when it's
done, we share credits and royalties fifty-fifty, you and me.
That's my deal. For that, I'll sign."
Susan's jaw dropped. "Me? I'm honored, but...me? I mean,
why me?"
"Because you know the publishing business. You know what
makes a book that will sell. You have passion. You love the story.
You love Mel's pictures. Your enthusiasm, the energy of your youth,
your belief in this thing will give it wings. And," Jan continued,
"in case you hadn't noticed, I'm older than dirt. I might not live
to see it finished."
"But Jan, you're so healthy, so full of energy. Look at
you. I bet you'll live to be a hundred."
"Don't count on it. I get chest pains sometimes. Bad ones.
And frankly, after eighty-one years, I'm tired of living." She
looked away, and her voice grew soft. "I just want to be with
Mel."
"You're not afraid of death?" Susan asked.
Jan's face creased into a warm smile. "Gabrielle told me
once that death is merely the beginning of a grander adventure."
She paused and studied Susan's inquisitive expression, then
laughed. "And I figure it's about time for another adventure. I'm
getting bored." She pointed at the pictures which lay piled on the
coffee table. "So, are ya with me on this one?"
"You bet," Susan said.
They stood, and Susan gathered her coat and satchel and
slipped her shoes onto her feet. When they reached the front door,
Jan paused. "When can you come back?"
"Tomorrow. I'll have the amended contract by
noontime."
"See you then. You okay to drive?"
"Oh, yes. I'm okay, and the hotel's ten minutes away." They
stood, wordlessly, at the door for a moment. Then, Susan
impulsively hugged Jan. "I can see," she said, "why Mel loved you
so much."
In reply, Jan assumed a shy smile, then shrugged. "I'm glad
somebody can. Hell, I never could figure out what she saw in me."
She snickered. "Y'know, that was the only thing her mother and I
ever agreed on."
Susan laughed, then stepped outside. "Good night, Jan.
Sleep well."
"See you tomorrow."
She stood in the door and watched Susan bounce down the
stairs toward her car. Then, after she had driven away, Jan clicked
off the porch light, locked the door and wandered down the hall of
the cottage. She stopped in front of the fireplace mantle, flipped
a switch, and clicked the clicker. A soft whoosh announced that the
gas logs were lit, and she assumed her place in her rocking chair,
in front of the flames. For a while, she rocked gently, studying
the fire, then allowed her gaze to travel up to the mantle and the
pictures which decorated it. The center one was a picture of Mel.
Jan considered the details: the black hair, the wire-rimmed glasses
which circled intelligent blue eyes, the oval, kindly face, the
lop-sided grin, and she smiled painfully.
"One more job to do, Mel," she said. "Then, I guess it'll
be about that time, huh?"
And with that, she closed her eyes and rested her head of
white hair against the chair's back. Warmed by the fire, she
allowed herself to be lulled toward a restful sleep. And in the
quiet of the evening, supplementing the slow creak of the rocker
and the rustle of the gas flames, a whispered voice seemed to add
the words, "Good night, cutie. I love you. And I'll be
waiting."
The End.
Author's notes: When I began the historical
research for this story, I was amazed at how eventful the years
1940 and 1941 were for Macedonia and for Greece. It made a
wonderful, and horrifying, backdrop against which to write a story
of romance. I tried to keep faith with the actual time line of
historical events. Many of the events mentioned actually happened,
such as the bombing of Piraeus harbor by the Germans, the explosion
of a ship carrying a large quantity of nitroglycerine and the
heroic defense of Thermopylae by New Zealand soldiers. The story of
the young Greek soldier who leapt to his death from the Acropolis
is factually unsure, but was widely repeated at the time. Italian
warships, including submarines, did prowl the waters off the Greek
coast during the time when Mel and Jan drove the coastal road to
Athens.
Photographs of the time and place helped tremendously. The
German Federal Archives held a treasure trove of photographs which,
upon close study, revealed the Athens of 1941, including the
presence of electric trams.
But one particular photograph which I stumbled upon struck
me speechless. It is one of those timeless photographs which
capture a moment so poignantly that it says more than a book of
words could convey. It is the image, frozen in time, of a weeping,
distraught young Greek Jewish woman, one of 1,860 awaiting
deportation from the town of Ioannina to the Auschwitz
concentration camp. Her name will never be known, but her eventual
fate was certain and horrible. (Records suggest that only 163 of
that group survived the war.) Her face and her anguish haunted me
in my quiet moments and made me long to give her an identity and
write her a happy ending. So I did. She became the inspiration for
the character of Mika.
If you wish to view this haunting photograph, go online
to:
