The Divided Child (30 page)

           
"Did
you have one yourself before you threw them away?"

           
He
shook his head.
 
"Me, I do not
care for sweets much.
 
Chocolate is
for women -- and children," he flashed me an odd look, "though today
the boy seems to have lost his taste for it."
 
He turned and started again for the car.

           
I
turned as well and stared out at the sea, where Michael was paddling around by
himself, his two companions having been summoned to shore by their
mothers.
 
Was I letting my
imagination run away with me?
 
Drugged chocolates -- what would have been the point?

           
Yet
suddenly I could imagine a point.
 
If one chocolate had been enough to knock me out for several hours, what
would three or four have done to Michael?
 
And what would have happened to him if he'd been out in the water, with
only Spiro there to help him, when the drug started to take effect?
 

           
I
shivered.
 
And when Michael came
cheerfully scampering out of the surf in response to my wave, I threw my arms
around him and gave him a tight hug.
 
He bore it with good grace for some time before he backed away with an embarrassed
smile and exclaimed, "Lord's sake, Miss Stewart!
 
What was that for?"

           
"That,"
I said in a voice that was not altogether steady, "is for making yourself
sick last week and for throwing your chocolates over the cliff.”

*
                                 
*
                                 
*

           
When
we arrived back at Ithaki, Demetra was waiting for us.
 

           
As
soon as we entered the villa, a subdued Maria ushered us into the drawing room
where Demetra was pacing up and down, wearing a dark tread in the blue
carpet.
 
I expected some sort of
storm to break when she turned and saw us standing there, but instead she
stopped still, her gaze fixing first on me, then her brother, and finally on
Michael.
 
Strangely, the intensity
of that gaze worried me more than any loud histrionics might have.
 
Seeing her pale face and those
smoldering eyes, I felt a strong wave of uneasiness, and it was a relief when
Spiro curtly ordered us from the room saying he wished to speak with his sister
alone.

           
I’d
planned to escort Michael back to his room, but Helen was waiting for us
outside the drawing room, and I was forced to relinquish him to her keeping.

           
Left
alone, I decided to take the opportunity to speak with Maria.
 
I found her in the kitchen preparing
dinner.
 
She lifted her head and
flashed me a brief, questioning look.
 
Unsure where to start, I thanked her for the lunch she had packed
us.
 
She nodded, her attention
focused on the cucumbers she was slicing.

           
"You
liked it?” she asked, reaching for a tomato. “I am glad.
 
The young master, he ate well?"

           
"Very
well,” I assured her.
 
“We all
did.
 
Those chocolates -- they were
especially good.
 
Where did they
come from?"

           
Her
hand slipped and she pricked herself with the knife.
 
"
Moré
!
 
I am clumsy tonight!”
 
She
seized a dishtowel and wrapped it around her finger.
 
“Aphrodite,” she called, “here, finish the salad for
me."
 
Then she disappeared
into the pantry.
 
I followed
her.
 
She pulled down a box of
bandages, and a dark bottle of some concoction that she dabbed on the cut
before bandaging it.

           
When
she had done, I reminded her gently, “The chocolates, Maria?
 
Where did they come from?
 
Did Mr. Skouras ask you to put them in
as a special treat for Michael?”

           
She
shook her head.
 
“I do not know,
Thespinis.
 
I packed no
chocolates.
 
Perhaps you should ask
the mistress.
 
She said she wished
to put a surprise in the basket for the young master.”

           
Maria
turned and started back to the kitchen.
 
I watched her go, wondering about the surprise Demetra had planned for
her stepson.
 
Was that why she had
looked so angry?
 
Had she expected
the afternoon to end differently?

*
                                 
*
                                 
*

           
There
was a surprise of a much more pleasant nature waiting for me when I got back to
my room.
 
Sitting in the middle of
my bed was a silver box tied with a white satin ribbon.

           
I
crossed to the bed and sat down, picking up the package and setting it
carefully on my lap.
 
There was no
card attached, but I hardly needed one to identify who it was from.
 
I recognized the box and shop name all
too well.

           
To
my consternation, my fingers trembled a bit as I tugged at the elegantly tied
bow and slid off the lid.
 
Pushing
back the inscribed tissue paper, I lifted out the purse Geoffrey had sent me as
a gift.
 
It was prettier even than
I remembered.

           
I
was about to set the box aside, when I noticed a card edged in silver lying on
the tissue beneath the purse.
 
I
picked it up.
 
There was a brief
note written in an angular scrawl.

Christine --

           
My
apologies for the row and for storming out like that.
 
I'm afraid Elizabeth is still a touchy subject -- rather
like a sore tooth that won't stop aching.
 
Anyway, please forgive me for behaving like a fool, and accept the purse
as a token of my remorse (since I know you won't accept it as a token of
anything else.)

                                                           
Yrs.

                                                           
  
G --

           
When
I'd finished reading the note, I picked up the purse and ran my fingers
caressingly across the highly polished leather.
 
Then, with a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, I
walked over to the bureau and began slipping passport, wallet, makeup and hairbrush
into my brand new handbag.

           
I
had my first opportunity to wear it in public the next morning, when I
accompanied the household to town to attend the Divine Liturgy at St.
Spiridon's.
 
Demetra seemed at a
loss to explain my presence in church, and her perplexity increased during the
service when, expecting to find me unfamiliar and ill at ease with the ritual
and content of the Liturgy, she instead found me chanting prayers, singing
hymns, and reciting the Creed right along with the rest of the congregation.

           
As
we filed out of the church, Michael sidled up to me and whispered, "I say,
you did that jolly well!
 
Just like
a native!
 
Stepmama was ever so
startled.
 
She was watching you,
you know, and her eyes kept getting bigger and bigger.
 
I kept expecting them to fall right out
and go bouncing across the floor!"

           
I
forced myself to hide my smile, and we caught up to Demetra and Spiro in the
courtyard where they were greeting an exhausting number of friends and
acquaintances.
 
Nearly a half-hour
passed before Spiro finally announced it was time for us to leave.
 
Taking his sister by the arm, he
started leading the way to the car, which as usual was parked some distance
away.

           
I
fell back to walk alongside Michael.
 
"Penny for your thoughts."

           
He
was silent a moment, then he directed his chin toward a sleek black

ten-speed parked in a small
bicycle-rental lot.
 
"I used
to have one like that once," he said.

           
Seeing
the wistful look on his face, I spoke without thinking.
 
"Would you like to take it for a
spin?"

           
He
nodded, an eager light suddenly blazing in his eyes.
 
I was about to speak to the man at the lot, when I
remembered the obstacles to the plan strolling up ahead.
 
I rushed to catch up with them.
 
"Mrs. Redfield, Spiro!
 
There's a man renting bicycles back
there.
 
It looks like fun.
 
How about we take a short ride around
the Esplanade before we head back?
 
My treat, of course."

           
"Thank
you for the invitation," Demetra replied stiffly, "but as you can
see, I am hardly dressed for such an adventure.
 
However, if my brother wishes to accompany you --"
 
Spiro flashed her a look that stopped
her short.
 
For a moment, she
looked perplexed and then all the color seemed to drain from her face.
 
"Forgive me, Miss Stewart, I am
being stupid.
 
Spiro cannot serve
as your escort.
 
He does not know
how to ride a bicycle.
 
I
 
think we must postpone this
entertainment until another day."
 
She turned nervously away.

           
The
two walked on, and I stood there, staring after them.
 
Michael trotted up looking disappointed, but I was too
distracted to do much besides tell him I was sorry.
 
I didn't understand why my innocuous suggestion about
renting bicycles had caused such turmoil, but I was fairly certain the look
Spiro had flashed his sister had been a warning, and her reaction had been
naked fear.

Chapter Fifteen

           
I
had trouble sleeping that night.

           
In
part, it was the weather.
 
As
evening fell, the air -- instead of cooling -- grew heavy and sticky with
moisture.
 
By the time I climbed
into bed, the heat in my room was oppressive, and though I opened the French
windows to their full extent, not a single cooling breeze wafted in.

           
In
part, it was restlessness.
 
This
was my fourth night at
Ithaki
, and what had I accomplished?
 
Learned a few stray, awkward secrets
that might or might not have something to do with the danger that threatened
Michael.
 
Gotten my room torn
up.
 
Started to fall for a man who
still loved a woman he'd been thrown over by nearly a decade before.
 
Angrily, I punched my pillow.

           
This
was crazy.
 
By Thursday I was going
to be back home, hawking graphic systems and pattering around my large,
solitary apartment with Geoffrey and Michael out of my life forever.

           
The
thought was more oppressive than the air.
 
Slipping on a robe, I went in search of something to drink.

           
The
kitchen, I knew, was at the far end of the house, but as I navigated my way
through darkened rooms and hallways, I must have made a wrong turn, because
instead of finding myself at the kitchen, I found myself in a long hallway that
looked exactly like the one outside my own room.
 
Wondering how I could have possibly gone in such a complete
circle, I soon realized my mistake; I was not back where I had started, but in
the other wing of the house, the wing where Michael and his stepmother had
their rooms.

           
Suddenly,
I heard the faint sound of crying.
 
Fairly confident it was not Demetra's weeping I was hearing, I padded
over to one of the doors, quietly opened it, and went in.

           
The
curtains were drawn back, and light from the waning moon cast a faint
bluish-white glow over the boy curled up on the bed crying into a pillow hugged
tightly to his chest.
 
He didn’t
lift his head as the door opened; instead, in a low, hiccuping voice he told me
to go away.

           
"I
will if you want me to," I said gently, "but are you sure you
couldn't use the company?"

           
Now
he did turn to look.
 
"Miss
Stewart!
 
I'm sorry.
 
I thought you were Helen."
 
He sat up and wiped his eyes with the
back of his hand.
 
"She's
always bursting in without knocking."
 
His eyes suddenly opened wide.
 
"Not that I meant that you --"