The Divided Child (65 page)

           
"Yes."

           
"And
Geoffrey is not driving you to the airport himself?"

           
"No,"
I snapped, oddly irritated by the fact that the Lieutenant and Geoffrey now
seemed to be on a first-name basis.
 
"Why should he be?"

           
The
perilously intelligent blue eyes regarded me steadily for some time.
 
"He does not know you are leaving,
does he?"

           
I
turned away.
 
"He does -- in a
general way."

           
"But
that you are leaving now?
 
Today?"

           
"No."

           
"May
I ask why?"

           
"Why
what?"

           
"Why
you are slipping away like a thief in the night?"

           
I
drew a deep, ragged breath and said, "Let's just say I hate goodbyes and
leave it at that."

           
"I
see.
 
Well, I hope that will not prevent
you from allowing me to drive you to the airport?"

           
"Thank
you, but there's no need.
 
I've
already got --"

           
He
held up a restraining hand.
 
"No, it is the least I can do.
 
After all, you have not only solved a most difficult case
and saved my friend from being tried for murder, you have also protected the
name and reputation of his dear sister -- and my future wife."

           
It
was my turn to stare.
 
"You
and Demetra are getting married?"

           
He
nodded proudly.
 
"When the
proper period of mourning for her late husband has passed, yes."

           
"And
Michael?"

           
"Demetra
has already given custody of the boy to Geoffrey.
 
She thinks it best, after everything that has happened, and
in any case, when we marry she will be too busy with the children I plan to
give her, to have time for someone else's child."

           
So
now there was nothing to keep Michael, Geoffrey, and Elizabeth from being one
happy family.
 
I forced myself to
smile.
 
"Well, congratulations
to you both.
 
I hope you'll be very
happy."

           
"There
is no doubt that I will be," he said with a grin.
 
"I've loved Demetra since I was a
boy.
 
As for her, well, she was
half in love with me before she met Redfield.
 
I think in time I can persuade her to love the other half as
well."

           
I
should have smiled, but I just didn't have it in me.
 
I glanced once more at my watch, grateful I was on my way
home, where I wouldn't be surrounded by all this happiness.
 
"Sorry, but I've really got to get
going if I'm going to catch my flight."

           
"Yes,
of course.
 
Permit me to make one
brief phone call and then I am at your disposal.
 
What time does your flight depart?"

           
"Eleven."

           
"Oh.
 
Then we have plenty of time."

           
Resigning
myself, I showed him to the phone and then waited restively by the door,
nervously fingering the soft leather of the purse Geoffrey had given me, while
the policeman made his call.

           
He
looked up from dialing the number.
 
"This will not take long.
 
I simply have to cancel an appointment --"
 
Suddenly he shifted into Greek,
 
"Hello?
 
It's Ari.
 
I
just wanted to call you and let you know I won't be able to meet you this
morning as planned.
 
I have a
friend from California who's going home today and I need to drive her to the
airport to catch an eleven o'clock flight.
 
Okay, I think that would be best.
 
I will see you then.
 
Adío
."
 
He hung
up the phone and turned to me, "Shall we go?"

           
He
was mercifully quiet as we loaded my suitcases into the car and started on our
drive to the airport.
 
However,
when we turned down Dimokratias and drove past Geoffrey’s hotel, he couldn't
refrain from mentioning how surprised and disappointed he thought Geoffrey
would be to find me gone.

           
"I
think he has plenty of other things to keep him occupied at the moment," I
murmured numbly.
 
Like a son about
to be reunited with his mother and a

long-lost love who wanted him back.

           
The
Lieutenant shook his head, but didn't try to argue.
 
I watched the Corfu Palace disappear in the sideview mirror
and for a moment had to fight down the urge to ask him to stop and go back.
 
We turned inland, threading our way
through narrow, crowded streets until we emerged out onto a wide and relatively
deserted highway.
 
It stretched out
straight and unbending amidst a dry and barren landscape that for one panicked
moment seemed a perfect metaphor for the life I was returning to.

           
Soon
we came to a blue sign, bearing the legend "
Aerodromio
" and
featuring the white outline of a plane, which pointed toward a distant cluster
of buildings.
 
"We are almost
there," he stated unnecessarily.

           
Despite
our proximity, it was another twenty minutes before we actually walked through
the sliding glass doors of the airport's terminal, because he insisted on
driving round and round the parking lot searching for a space he considered
sufficiently close.
 
Once inside,
he was equally slow to follow me to the Olympic Airlines counter.
 
He had insisted on carrying my luggage,
and I couldn't check-in without it, but instead of heading toward the counter,
he veered off toward a small souvenir kiosk proclaiming that he had to buy me
something to take back to California.
 
I should have protested -- it was getting late, and I was in danger of
missing my connection to Athens, but part of me was as reluctant to go as he
seemed to be to have me leave.

           
I
listlessly flicked through cheap strands of worry beads and glanced over small,
plastic replicas of Greek sculpture.
 
There was a head of Athena, a torso of Apollo, a well-endowed Priapus, a
mischievous satyr chasing a nymph.
 
I smiled at this last one.
 
There was something about the satyr that reminded me of Spiro.

           
The
man running the stand flashed me an encouraging grin.
 
"Perhaps Miss would like this," he pointed to a
turquoise-colored paperweight with a black dot in the center, "to protect
against the evil eye?"

           
"No,
thank you."

           
"Then,
perhaps, some beautiful postcards for your friends?"

           
I
shook my head and turned away, colliding with someone to my right.
 
"
Signomi,
" I murmured
in Greek without looking up.

           
"No,"
Geoffrey snapped back in English, "I will not excuse you.
 
You truly meant to leave without a
word, didn't you?"

           
I
swivelled around in amazement.
 
"Geoffrey!
 
What are
you doing here?"

           
He
jerked his head impatiently towards the other end of the kiosk where Lieutenant
Mavros had suddenly developed an intense interest in a rack of comic books.
 
"Ari rang me up and told me he was
driving you to the airport."
 

           
My
gaze veered to the Lieutenant's right, where a fair-haired boy was intently
perusing an Arabic newspaper he was holding upside down.
 
"You brought Michael with you,
too?"

           
"Why
not?
 
This involves him as
well.
 
You left without saying
goodbye to either of us.
 
Obviously
you don’t think I merit an explanation, but I think he does."

           
His
anger, which seemed to vibrate in the air betwen us, was oddly comforting, but
his accusation that I’d ill-treated Michael stung.
 
"I'm sorry,” I said stiffly.
 
“I thought formal goodbyes would prove painful for all
involved.
 
I was just trying to do
what was best.”

           
“Were
you?” he demanded.
 
“Or were you
just in such a hurry to leave you didn’t care who you hurt?”

           
“That’s
not fair!
 
I figured Michael would
be too busy getting reacquainted with his mother to notice I’d gone."

           
Slowly
Geoffrey shook his head and said quietly,
 
"He'd have little chance for that.
 
Elizabeth's left the island."

           
"
What!
 
Why?"

           
"It's
possible she wanted to avoid awkward questions from the police, but personally
I suspect she didn't care for the visit I paid her last night after I got out
of hospital."

           
I
stared at him in disbelief.
 
He
sounded so calm.
 
"I suppose
you were upset to find out about her marriage to Robert?"

           
He
flashed me a curious look.
 
"You could say that."

           
I
took a deep breath and looked away.
 
"If it makes any difference, you needn't be jealous.
 
She wasn't in love with him."

           
He
reached up and ran a warm hand along the side of my cheek.
 
"You know, for such an intelligent
woman, you can be a bloody fool sometimes.
 
I don't care a pin whether Elizabeth loved him or not.
 
I was furious with her for keeping her
marriage a secret, but not because I was jealous, but because it prolonged this
whole messy business and put you and Michael in danger."

           
"But
I don't understand.
 
What about
your engagement?"

           
"What
engagement?"

           
"Elizabeth
said you’d proposed to her and she’d accepted.
 
I thought you and she and Michael, well, that you were going
to be a family at last . . .”
 
My
voice trailed away as I saw the truth in his face.
 
“She lied?”

           
He
nodded somberly.
 
“After our
discussion in Pagi I’m surprised you didn’t realize that, but maybe Elizabeth’s
lie proved too convenient to dismiss?”

           
“What’s
that supposed to mean?”

           
“That
I think you wanted an excuse to run away -- from Michael and from me, and
Elizabeth gave it to you.”

           
I
stared at him, at once both furious and unsure.
 
“Why would I want to run away?”

           
“I
don’t know.
 
Maybe because you’re
afraid?”

           
“You
think I’m a coward?”

           
He
took one of my hands and lifted it to reveal the darkened bruise on my
wrist.
 
He kissed it softly.
 
“I think you are probably the bravest
woman I know,” he said in a low, emotion-filled voice that caused my throat to
tighten, “but perhaps you aren’t comfortable with the expectations you think
I’ve developed during our . . . alliance.”
 
His voice turned rueful.
 
“Still, I would like it if we could part friends.”

           
I
stared at him for a long moment in silence.
 
Then I gathered up my courage and said, “You’re right.
 
I
was
running away.”

           
He
tensed, releasing my hand and taking a step back.

           
“But
I wasn’t running away because your expectations were too high.
 
I was running away because . . . I love
you.
 
And I was afraid you might
not love me back.
 
I was scared to
put it to the test.”

           
For
a long, heart-stopping moment he just stood there gazing down at me.
 
Then he leaned the cane he was using
for his injured leg against the shelf of plastic sculpture and drew me into his
arms.
 
He held me like that for
some time before I murmured mischievously against his chest:

           
“May
I take this to mean you aren’t still carrying a torch for Elizabeth?”