Shadows 03 Greek Shadows

by K C West

  So much love was in the air, so many public demonstrations of that love. I thought of the love that centered me and the joy I felt when Kim and I had pledged ourselves to each other in the Amazon village with Leeja and Marna and Sappho. But that wasn’t real life. A wedding in real life would never happen for us.

  Don’t dwell on that, I thought. It’s been a terrific day; don’t ruin it now.

  “Fifty thousand drachmas for your thoughts.” Kim had left the computer and was kneeling in front of me on the bedroll. Her brow wrinkled.

  “That’d be a whole lot more than they’re worth right now.”

  “Oh, but there’s inflation, you know. It’s probably just a buck ninety-nine in U.S. funds. Come on, PJ, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing really. The champagne has my mind wandering all over the place tonight. I was careful, but I probably drank too much.”

  She leaned forward to kiss my forehead and nuzzle my neck, drawing me close. “Do you feel sick?”

  “No. Nothing like that. I’m fine.” I stood up. “I’ll take Pup for his final evening walk and get some fresh air. You don’t have to wait up for us.”

  Pup gave his own impression of a Geranos when he saw me grab the leash.

  “PJ.”

  I turned at the tent opening to look back at her.

  “Don’t shut me out, okay? I love you.”

  Tears burned my eyelids. I didn’t want her to worry unnecessarily, but I also didn’t want to explain my feelings right now. She couldn’t do anything. This was the way life was going to be for us. I knew it going into the relationship, and I had no regrets. I just didn’t think it would hurt so much.

  “I know, and I love you, too. It’s just that I need some alone time.”

  “I understand.”

  Chapter 20

  “Kim, this isn’t necessary.”

  “I disagree.”

  “But you know how I hate surprises. Besides, I’m over my mood. Please don’t think you have to make me feel better.”

  “I want to do this, sweetheart. It’ll be for both of us, believe me.

  We were in our tent, stuffing last minute items into our travel bags. PJ was right. She’d talked to me about her insecurities and jealousies and was in a much better frame of mind, but nothing was going to change my plans. Sandy had agreed to take care of Pup for us while we were gone, so there was no reason we couldn’t slip away for a few days.

  “Are you ready?” I asked her, a touch of impatience creeping into my voice.

  “I guess so.” Her forehead creased. “It would have been easier to pack, if I’d known where we were going and what we’d be doing there.”

  “Did you pack the blouse and skirt I asked you to?”

  PJ zipped her bag, and saluted. “As ordered.”

  “And that new shawl your Dad brought from Athens for you? We’ve been so busy you haven’t had a chance to wear it.”

  “Yes, I have it.”

  “Good.” Evenings would be chilly. I’d already packed my red Andean wool poncho. It was one I had acquired years ago while searching for Amazons in South America.

  “So, either we’re going to a colder climate, or we plan to be out late at night.” She folded her arms and waited, hoping, I guess, that I’d divulge more information. When I didn’t, she stuck her tongue out at me. “Crap. You aren’t going to tell me anything more, are you?”

  “Nope. You’ll know everything soon enough.”

  She shrugged. “Then I guess I’m ready, boss.”

  Outside, Sandy’s pickup awaited us. He would use Irini’s Fiat for the couple of days we would be gone. While the truck - a ten year old, faded red Toyota - wasn’t exactly a status symbol, it provided us with basic, dependable transportation. Its bed, covered with a camper shell, was crammed with tools, maps, and other paraphernalia. We tossed our bags on top of everything else in the back and climbed inside the cab.

  “Wait.”

  “What?” I withdrew the key from the ignition.

  “You’re not taking me on some sort of time-travel trip, are you? Like back to Amazon Land?”

  “No, dear, not yet.”

  “Oh good.” She blew out a breath, then grabbed my wrist. “What do you mean not yet?”

  “Why don’t you just relax, and try to enjoy the scenery.”

  “Are you certain that Pup will be okay with Sandy?”

  “He’ll be just fine.”

  “Oh, God.” PJ leaned back, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I think I feel a headache coming on.”

  *

  I pulled into the entrance of a large seaside estate, the walls of which were so white, they were nearly blinding in the bright sunshine. Multi-colored flowers and olive and pistachio trees formed a well-landscaped border for the narrow road that led to several adjacent white-walled cottages. Each cottage overlooked the brilliant blue water and had its own pristine beach front. PJ waited in the truck while I checked us in. The doorman frowned at me, casting a scornful glance in the direction of Sandy’s vehicle, apparently fearing its shabby presence would infect all the other vehicles parked near it in the lot. Like a lonely little onion in a petunia patch, the truck was easy to spot, positioned fourth in line after the Jaguar, Mercedes, and Lexus.

  “It’s a loaner,” I told the doorman. “The Rolls is in the shop.”

  Once the reservation was confirmed and I had the cottage keys in hand, I drove to the far end of the beach where our secluded, two-story vacation retreat awaited.

  PJ was still confused. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? What we’re doing here?”

  “A little R and R, my dear.” I gave her what I thought was a rather saucy look. “Don’t you think we deserve it?”

  “Sure.” Her eyes were shining. “But this place is so ritzy. And our own private cottage.” She bounced on the seat. “Why didn’t you tell me? Here I am arriving in jeans, plain old jeans.”

  “Jeans are acceptable everywhere.”

  “Not this pair, they’re so worn. Cripes, they’re not even designer.”

  I gasped. “Horrors. How will you ever live it down?”

  She found my attempt at humor only mildly amusing. “Hey, it’s a reflection on you if I’m not properly attired.”

  “Believe me, proper attire for you is going to be a lot less than jeans, if I have anything to say about it.”

  Our bungalow was not large, but it had sleek Danish-modern furniture and the solid wood floors gleamed with fresh polish. The downstairs consisted of a compact kitchen with its own eating alcove, a small living room, and a bathroom. A curved wooden staircase led upstairs to a small bedroom containing a twin bed and futon couch, and a large master bedroom that featured a canopied double bed with filmy white curtains that, once pulled into place, would close us off from any worldly distractions. French doors opened onto a balcony with a swinging love seat that overlooked the water. From somewhere close by, the sounds of a bouzouki could be heard. The online site for this vacation spot had advertised a popular band with these three and four-stringed instruments that sounded like lutes. PJ and I had enjoyed hearing them earlier at an outdoor cinema. Perhaps we’d catch the dinner show, if we decided to eat at the estate’s four-star restaurant.

  After we’d disposed of our luggage, PJ locked me in a fierce embrace. “What am I going to do with you? You’re always surprising me, and you know I don’t like surprises.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Surprises like this I could get used to, but it must have cost a fortune.”

  I kissed her gently. “You don’t think you’re worth a little extra effort?”

  Her happy expression held the promise of a wonderful couple of days. “Right now, I’m thanking my lucky stars that I fell in love with someone so understanding and generous.”

  I kissed her again, longer and with more intensity. “Want to take off those tacky non-designer jeans and try the bed?”

  “Can’t wait.”

  We disrobed quickly, leavi
ng articles of clothing scattered about the bedroom. By unspoken agreement, the curtains remained open so the sea breezes coming through the open French doors could caress our heated skin as we explored each other, our fingers tracing backs, breasts, and thighs. Our kisses were urgent, our tongues hungry for the taste of each other. Throughout the afternoon, we made love and dozed, a cycle that left us utterly spent and lying in a tangle of arms and legs, enveloping ourselves in tender and loving dreams.

  Late in the afternoon, I awoke before PJ, lifted myself onto my elbow, and stared in wonder at her naked body. It was a work of art, consisting of inviting curves that led to a hard, flat belly. I wanted to make love to her again, to tease her breasts with my tongue, and immerse myself in the exotic fragrance of her heated passion, but I didn’t have the strength.

  I wondered what I’d done to deserve such a remarkable woman.

  Giving in to my desire, I moistened my lips and pressed my mouth to her right breast. She stirred, and I felt her fingers move through my hair.

  “Come here, you.” Her voice was husky.

  Somehow, I knew I would find the strength.

  *

  When I next awakened, PJ was on top of me, her breath warm against my neck and her fingers curled around my breast. What bliss. The only problem was that I was starving, and I still had plans for us. I gently lifted my arm to check my watch. Her warm body shifted and stretched.

  Her fingers uncurled and a palm now caressed my breast.

  “Mmm. I may never leave this bed. Everything I need is right here.” Still struggling against sleep, her words were slow and sexy.

  I blew out a contented breath. “Not that I’m complaining, but what about food? We’ve slept the afternoon away. Aren’t you getting hungry?”

  PJ’s stomach rumbled. “Did that answer your question?”

  “Then let’s decide where we want to eat dinner.”

  She rolled off my body and pulled the sheet up as far as our hips. The breeze coming into our room had grown cooler without the sun to warm it.

  “Dinner? Oh, I don’t care, Kimmy. You decide.” She tickled my ear with her tongue.

  “We have a few choices. There’s a restaurant in the main house of the estate, or if you feel like walking along the beach a bit further, there are several small restaurants right along the water’s edge.”

  “Let’s walk along the beach and take our chances with one of the smaller restaurants, but not the tavernas or coffee houses. They’ll be too noisy, and the ouzo will be flowing like water. I don’t want to be with a crowd anyway, just you.”

  I turned my head and kissed her, touching her cheek with my fingertips. “Sounds good to me. But you must wear the outfit for me tonight. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Great. Let’s grab a shower and get dressed.”

  “Whoa. What’s your hurry? Have you got a hot date later on?”

  “I sure do.” Playing along, I checked my watch again. “And we’re running behind schedule.”

  She threw back the covers and hopped out of bed. “Okay, I’m up. I suppose, to save time, we’ll be forced to share a shower.”

  I slipped on my robe and picked up some of our discarded clothing. “Good thinking. That’ll also conserve water.”

  A knock sounded on the cottage door.

  “Who could that be?”

  PJ snickered. “Maybe your hot date got tired of waiting.” Still naked, she spread her arms wide. “Shall I go and let her in?”

  I tossed a robe in her direction. “Put that on. I’ll check the door.”

  By the time I reached the entrance, there was no one around, but a long, white box - similar to a florist’s delivery carton - was on the top step. I picked it up, finding it much too heavy for flowers.

  PJ had come downstairs to satisfy her curiosity. “Aww. Your date had to cancel, so she sent some long-stemmed roses as a consolation. Guess you’re stuck with me all evening.”

  I handed her the box.

  “Wow,” she said, shifting to balance its weight. “Much too heavy for roses, even long-stemmed ones. Must be a whole bush, or even a small fruit tree.”

  “Okay, enough joking. I really have no idea what it could be, or who sent it.”

  PJ eased the box onto the glass-topped coffee table. “One way to find out.”

  “Do you want to look? There doesn’t seem to be any name or address on the box, so I don’t know if it’s meant for you or me.”

  “You’re the one with the hot date and all the surprises. You open it.”

  I lifted the lid and pulled away the inner cloth wrapping to reveal a shiny, familiar, ornately carved sword.

  PJ peered into the box and looked at me. “Kinky. Your hot date must be with Queen Boudica.”

  “I wish it were, because the real explanation is way more complicated.”

  We shared a look.

  “Amazons,” she said. “It’s always about Amazons.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Which one this time? A spirit guide?”

  “Marna. She had this sword made especially for me and told me that when we returned to our world she’d find a way to get it to me. She said I might need it.”

  PJ sank onto the sofa and held her head. “I guess I should be thankful it isn’t an assault rifle. Maybe there’ll be a crossbow under my pillow in the morning.”

  I rewrapped the sword and left the box on the table, sensing the evening and my romantic plans had suffered a serious blow. PJ denounced weaponry of all kinds, and she wasn’t really sure if our mission to help the Amazon Nation was a noble cause or a waste of time. I had to admit that I wasn’t certain what the future would hold on that score, either. However, my main concern was PJ and what I wanted to happen this evening. I sat down and put my arms around her.

  “Forget this for now, okay? Let’s shower and dress for a nice dinner. I think I can hear some calamari calling your name right now.”

  “At this point, I’d settle for some gyros, or souvlaki, or whatever they’re called.”

  “No. We’re going to forget about the Amazons, take a nice hot shower together, dress up, and stroll along the beach until we smell some great grilled meat or fish cooking and stop for a quiet meal.”

  She took my hand and led the way to our shower. “Okay, but I’m not eating squid, and you can’t make me.”

  *

  “Do you think it was as beautiful in Sappho’s time as it is now?”

  “I suspect it was even more so,” I said, my eyes feasting on PJ who looked deliciously lovely in a low cut silk blouse of the softest pink and a black, mid-calf length skirt. Her outfit was accentuated with a silver-buckled, brocaded belt.

  Our beach stroll had landed us on the terrace of the estate’s main house. The aroma of grilled meat and fish lured us from the moment we stepped outside the cottage. We were sitting across from each other at a small round table, enjoying a glass of local muscat, snacking on fruit and cheese, waiting for our entrees of grilled shrimp, balsamic rice, and sauteed vegetables.

  “Let’s take a walk along the beach after we eat,” I suggested, sipping my second glass of wine.

  PJ’s eyes widened. “Dressed up like this? I couldn’t have made it here if they hadn’t built that stone walkway.”

  “We can take off our shoes and hike our skirts up a bit.” I, too, was dressed up in a long-sleeved white blouse and a navy-blue, knee-length, tailored skirt. “I feel like doing something off-the-wall.”

  “I think you’ve had a wee too much nectar of the grape.” PJ said. “By the way, what on earth are you carrying in that sling bag that you’re guarding so carefully?”

  “All in good time, my darling. All in good time.”

  “Come on.”

  “Okay, if you must know. I have my poncho in it, as well as some snacks in case we get hungry on the walk.”

  “Hungry!” She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been sitting here, stuffing our faces with fruit and ch
eese while anticipating a platter of shrimp. What makes you think we’ll be hungry after that?”

  “You never know, do you?”

  “Sometimes I wonder about you,” PJ said, grabbing my arm. “Okay, if we can still move when we finish our meal, we’ll take this dressed-up walk on the beach with our supply of snacks and our cover-ups. There’s nothing wrong with either one of us that a little insanity wouldn’t cure.”

  “I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking.”

  *

  I was pleased to see the beach was quite deserted, probably because it was cooler, though not uncomfortably so. PJ drew her new Greek shawl around her shoulders, and I took out my poncho and pulled it over my head. Hand-in-hand, we strolled along the fine-grained, sandy beach, enjoying the feel of it beneath our bare feet.

  “What are you thinking so hard about?”

  “Something Sappho wrote,” PJ said. “Let me see if I can remember it.” She scrunched up her face for a second or two. ‘“If you come, I shall put out new pillows for you to rest on.’”

  “Sappho really impressed you, didn’t she?”

  “She was the goddess of lyric poetry, and having the opportunity to work with her was an honor I don’t feel I deserve. I’m still not sure it really happened, but I’d like to believe it did.”

  “Then it did. But what was she saying to you in the poem?”

  “She was just reading her own work, showing me, as a teacher to student.”

  I chuckled. “Sometimes, PJ, you can be so naive.”

  “Me, naive? That’s a good one.”

  “I think Sappho, in her own subtle way, was propositioning you.”

  “Come off it.”

  “No, really. Read into her words. She was a mistress of flirtation, and I know for a fact that she was quite taken with you.”

  “Holy shit!”

  We’d almost reached the headland where we’d need to turn around and return to the cottage. I kept glancing to the east, hoping my timing was right. It was, because just as we reached the point, I saw the glow that heralded the rise of the full moon. To our right, the crystal clear blue water gradually changed to reflect the ivory colored path of its ascending light.