The Divided Child (14 page)

           
"I
can walk."

           
"Don't
be a fool.
 
It's nearly
midnight."

           
"All
right," I reluctantly agreed.
 
"Thank you."

           
I
waited for him to turn and go, but instead he stood there looking down at
me.
 
"Christine --"

           
"Yes?"

           
For
a moment I thought he was going to finish the kiss he'd started earlier, but
instead he just shook his head.

           
"Nothing.
 
Goodnight."

           
"Goodnight,"
I replied, disappointed.
 
I turned
and walked out of the lobby.

*
                                 
*
                                 
*

           
I
was sitting on a mountain waiting for my lover.
 
A baby in a basket floated by on a river, but I knew I
couldn't save it because if I tried to, I'd be swept down to the sea.
 
Church bells began to ring in the
valley below . . . .

           
I
woke with a start.
 
Not church
bells.
 
The phone.
 
Groggily I reached out to grab the
receiver.
 
The room was dark,
though a few pink rays of light were slipping through gaps in the curtains.

           
"Hello,"
I rasped.

           
"Miss
Stewart?" whispered a familiar voice.

           
"Michael!
 
What on earth!"
 
I fumbled for my watch and tried to get
my eyes to focus.
 
It was only ten
after five.
 

           
"I
woke you, didn't I?
 
Sorry."

           
"That's
all right," I said with a sigh.
 
"What are you doing up so early, and why are you whispering?"

           
"I
didn't want to wake anyone.
 
They're all sleeping."

           
Lucky
them
, I thought.
 
"Is
something wrong?"

           
"N-no,"
he said unconvincingly.
 
"I
was just wondering if you might stop by sometime?
 
I mean, before your holiday's finished?"

           
"Would
you like me to?"

           
"Yes!"
he exclaimed.
 
"I mean, if
you've time, of course."

           
"Unfortunately,
time's not the problem.
 
I don't
think your stepmother wants me to see you again."

           
There
was a pause.
 
"Was she
very
rude to you?" he asked.

           
I
tried to be tactful.
 
"She
feels I'm somewhat responsible for your accident, so understandably she doesn’t
want me around."

           
"But
what happened was my fault, not yours."

           
"No,
it wasn’t," I said.

           
"You
don't know --" he began.

           
"Yes,
I do,” I interrupted gently.
 
“I
know why you went to the Old Fort, and why you wanted to stay, and why we ended
up sitting where we did.
 
But none
of that matters."

           
There
was an even longer pause.
 
"You’re not angry with me?"

           
"With
the guy who saved me from a drenching?
 
Of course not.
 
If it
weren't for you, I might be lying here with a pink nose and double pneumonia."

           
He
gave a soft chuckle of relief, and the sound left me smiling wistfully at the
receiver.
 
"Now when do you
think you'll be accepting callers today?" I asked.

           
"You
mean you'll come?”
 
he exclaimed in
surprise.
 
“What about
Stepmama?"

           
"Don't
worry, I'll figure something out."
 
He sighed, and the sound made my throat ache.
 
"Michael?"

           
"Yes?"

           
"Everything's
going to be okay,” I said.
 
“I
promise."

           
"I'd
best put the phone down now," he whispered.
 
He sounded reluctant.
 
"I think someone's coming."

           
"Goodbye
then," I said.

           
There
was only a click in reply, and the line went dead.

           
I
didn't try to go back to sleep.
 
I
knew the whirling in my head would make it impossible.
 
Instead I got up and opened the
curtains.
 
The sky glowed
pink.
 
I pulled a chair over and
watched as the sun rose over the rooftops and the light brightened from pink to
orange to white.
 
I sat and gazed
and thought, and by the time the sky had turned turquoise, I had made up my
mind what to do.

           
Having
come to a decision, it was difficult to wait to put it into action.
 
I showered, dressed, and took a walk,
but when I returned to my room it was still only eight.
 
I used up some more time packing.
 
Then I sat down and wrote postcards
home and tried not to feel nervous about what I was planning to do.

           
Around
nine there was a soft knock at the door.
 
It was Kyria Andriatsis bringing me breakfast again.
 
Since meals weren't included in the
price of the room, I tried to pay her for it, but she only smiled, shook her
head, and insisted I owed her nothing.
 
I followed her to the door and tried to slip some money into the pocket
of her apron.
 
She batted my hand
away.

           
"No!
 
Your young man has paid for
everything."

           
"My
young man?
 
What young man?
 
I don't know what you're talking
about."

           
She
clucked impatiently.
 
"Yesterday he comes and asks to me to cook breakfast for you, since
you are not well.
 
He gives me
money, too much money, and I tell him I cannot accept so much.
 
He smiles and tells me he is sure my
cooking is worth every
leptá
."
 
She chuckled at the memory.
 
"He has a honey tongue, that one."

           
"Who
does?" I demanded in exasperation.
 
"Kyria, will you please tell me who it is you're talking
about."

           
Her
eyes widened in surprise.
 
"Why, Kyrios Redfield, of course!
 
For so much money, however, I cannot make only one
breakfast, so I bring you today, and also tomorrow."

           
"Thank
you, but I won't be here tomorrow."

           
For
the first time she noticed my packed bags.
 
"You are leaving?
 
But I thought you were to remain one more week?"

           
"I'm
going to stay at the home of a friend."

           
Her
expression grew solemn.
 
"Make
sure you get one of these first,
koritsi
."
 
She tapped the gold band on her
finger.
 
"No man -- not even
such a one as your Kyrios Redfield -- can be completely trusted."

           
"But
I'm not --"

           
She
held up a silencing hand.
 
"I
am not your mother,
koritsi
.
 
You don't have to explain to me.
 
But if things are not good, if you are not happy, come back here.
 
There will be a room for
you."
 
She patted my arm and
then picked up her tray and left.
 
I gazed at the closed door with a frown.

           
After
I’d eaten, I went out to look at the town one last time from the balcony.
 
Gazing out over the red tile rooftops,
I was suddenly overwhelmed by a reluctance to leave my safe haven and venture
into what might well prove enemy territory.

           
Of
course, it was possible nothing was wrong, that Michael was in no danger, that
I was jumping into a situation I had no business being in for reasons that
existed only in my imagination.

           
It
was possible, but I didn't think it likely.

           
Because
while I’d sat watching the sun rise and pondering Michael's phone call, I'd
remembered something about the morning at the Old Fort that gave all my worries
a solid grounding in reality.
 
When
I'd asked Michael why such an obviously wealthy boy needed money, he'd replied
with three simple but ominous words.

           
"For
a detective."

Chapter Seven

           
It
felt strange to knock on that door again and wait for it to open.
 
As before, I was feeling a strong need
to sit down, but this time it was from nervousness, not loss of blood.
 
I’d decided against calling first,
knowing from experience it's harder to turn someone down in person than over
the phone.
 
So I was standing
uninvited on the doorstep surrounded by luggage.

           
I
heard the approach of footsteps and braced myself.

           
The
door opened.
 
I was about to launch
into my carefully prepared speech, when I realized it was only the housekeeper,
Maria.
 

           
"Thespinis
Stewart!" she exclaimed with a smile.
 
"
Embrós
!
 
Come in!"

           
I
shook my head and pointed to my luggage.
 
"I'd better wait here.
 
Is Mr. Skouras in?
 
I'd like
to speak with him."

           
She
nodded, eyeing my luggage with a puzzled air.
 
"I will bring."

           
She
went off in search of him, leaving the front door open.
 
Unfortunately, while she was gone,
Demetra Redfield crossed the hallway and noticed the open door.
 
She moved forward, squinting into the
bright sunlight.
 
"Miss
Stewart?" she exclaimed sharply as she saw me.
 
"What are you doing here?"

           
I
flashed my most placating smile.
 
"Your brother invited me to stay for a few days, and I've decided
to accept his invitation.

           
I
saw her color rise as she noted the suitcases at my feet.
 
"The house does not belong to
him."

           
"True.
 
I understand it belongs to your
stepson."

           
Her
hand tightened on the door as she prepared to slam it in my face.
 
"I suppose Geoffrey sent you here
to insult me this way?"

           
I’d
been hoping Spiro would make a timely appearance to save the situation, but
time had run out.
 
I had to take a
gamble and hope it worked.
 
"Actually, Geoffrey Redfield
is
the reason I've changed my
mind about accepting your brother's invitation."

           
The
swing of the door was arrested.
 
Demetra stared at me, wariness vying with curiosity.
 
"So you admit --"

           
"That
he won't stop bothering me?
 
Yes.
 
He keeps coming by my
hotel, pestering me with his ridiculous theories.
 
You see, he doesn't believe what happened at the Old Fort
was an accident.
 
In fact, he keeps
trying to convince me that you and your brother are somehow responsible for
what happened."

           
I
had to give her credit.
 
Only the
slight tightness around her mouth and the fluttering pulse in her throat
betrayed how much my words upset her.
 
"It is a lie, of course," she said tensely.

           
"Of
course," I replied.
 
"I
didn't say that I believed him, only that he was proving very persistent."

           
"I
don't understand.
 
Even if what you
say is true, how will it change anything for you to come here?"

           
"Here
at
Ithaki
," I explained, "Geoffrey can't just come and go as
he pleases.
 
I'll have some
peace.
 
More importantly, if I'm
your guest, he'll realize it's no use trying to convince me to side against
you, and he'll leave me alone."