Sweetly Contemporary Collection - Part 2 (Sweetly Contemporary Boxed Sets)

by Jennifer Blake

  “I don’t see how she could have done it.” Maura shook her head.

  “You are a warm and loving person. You like children, do you not?”

  “I have never had the opportunity to be around them very much, but yes, I do like them.”

  “Nikolaos told me how you were with Katrina, the little daughter of Captain Spiridion.”

  “Did he?”

  “Do not be angry. He said only that you were kind and gentle, and that your eyes were soft. It would be difficult to be otherwise with Katrina; she is such a sweet child.”

  Maura could only agree.

  “Petros Spiridion and his American wife enjoy great felicity. Nikolaos has visited with them often these last few days, and I had hoped that it would help him to understand that all marriages, whether between people of different countries or of the same, need not end like that between his father and mother.”

  “He cares for you a great deal,” Maura pointed out. “I expect he will marry someday, if only to please you.”

  The older woman smiled. “You do not know Nikolaos well if you think so. If he takes a woman in marriage, it will be because he cannot exist without her, because the thought of letting her go free to be with other men is more than he can bear.”

  Maura looked away, glancing out the window that fronted the restaurant. It was with a sense of shock that she recognized the man who was the subject of their conversation. He was dressed more casually than she had ever seen him before in a pair of beach sandals, beige trousers, and with a gold-colored T-shirt stretched across his wide shoulders that was printed on the chest with a picture of a turtle in a pirate’s hat. He moved along the sidewalk with a purposeful stride, a frown between his narrowed eyes as he scanned the crowds.

  She came to her feet. “There’s Nikolaos now. I’ll go after him.”

  The other woman put out her hand, catching Maura’s wrist with surprisingly strong fingers. “One moment. I would rather not have any more fuss than is necessary. If you will, tell Nikolaos only that I am tired and would like a taxi back to the dock.”

  “If that’s what you want,” Maura said slowly.

  “It will be best,” Mrs. Papoulas answered, though she did not say for whom.

  Six

  Within minutes of the time that Maura led Nikolaos back to his grandmother, a taxi was before the restaurant. They were swept inside, and transported to the dock where a tender from the Athena waited.

  Nikolaos, it seemed, had been searching for Mrs. Papoulas. Arriving back at the ship from his visit to the beach, he had been told she had gone out alone, and had set out at once for the shopping district. He had a few comments to make about her lack of thought in venturing out in the hot sun, but they were cut short as his grandmother accused him of scolding her like a child. Balked of an outlet for the anger caused by his concern, he turned on Maura, demanding to know why she had kept the older woman hanging around the restaurant. At that, his grandmother had fired up again, telling him roundly that there was nothing wrong with her, informing him that the drink at the restaurant had been her own idea, and maintaining that it was her full intention to indulge herself in a game of bingo as soon as she reached the ship.

  By the time the tender nudged against the landing platform and they had ascended to the gangway, Maura was quite ready to concede that it was best Nikolaos did not know the whole story. If he was going to be this irascible over the mere idea that his grandmother had grown tired shopping, what would he have had to say if he knew she had been taken ill?

  Still, Maura did not like keeping the information from him. The illness of the older woman troubled her. No matter how much she might try to make light of it, in a woman her age any such recurring attack must be serious.

  She realized that Nikolaos was aware his grandmother was not in the best of health. Yet, Maura was not certain she had the right to keep this development in her condition from him.

  Mrs. Papoulas seemed much better, however, quite recovered. She could not be dissuaded from going at once to the bingo game due to start in ten minutes. She would take time to freshen her appearance in the stateroom suite, but that was all. She denied the need for company for the game; there were several woman aboard who shared her new-found passion. If Nikolaos wanted to make himself useful, he could buy her cards for her, but then he could take himself off, perhaps take Maura up on deck and order her a drink to make up for his insults.

  Maura tried to decline, but without success. She and Nikolaos were shooed away like a pair of naughty children. Resigning herself to the tête-à-tête, she thought it might even serve a purpose. If she considered long enough, she might discover some way of alerting Nikolaos to the danger to his grandmother’s well-being without betraying the request she had made of her.

  They sat in the lido bar, Maura with a cola over ice in front of her, Nikolaos with a glass of Greek ouzo, the cloudy drink of contemplation. Their table was beside one of the wide glass windows. Through the clear pane could be seen a wooden ship lying at anchor with a pirate’s skull and crossbones flying from its mast. Dwarfed by the great white cruise ship, it rocked on the waves in slender grace with its sails furled. It was not difficult to decide that it had something to do with the annual festival held in November on the Cayman Islands. Called Pirate Days, according to the literature Maura had scanned, it celebrated the inglorious past when corsairs of every nationality had used the islands as a base.

  In a determined effort at conversation, she nodded at the wooden-hulled craft. “Do you suppose that ship actually sails?”

  “I understand it does, though it’s also motorized. It’s used mainly as an excursion boat for tourists, hired by the day or week.”

  “It’s a pity the Athena doesn’t stay longer in this port. It’s impossible to see everything in a few short hours.”

  “A cruise lasting only a week, like this one, is a little like the tours of Europe that run people through ten countries in two weeks. They give the once-in-a-lifetime traveler the opportunity to say he has been, or else show the beginner a glimpse of each one so he can decide if he wants to return for a longer stay. They aren’t meant to provide a thorough exploration.”

  “I’m not certain I wouldn’t prefer fewer ports, but longer in each.”

  “There are cruises set up that way, or you could charter a yacht.”

  Maura sent him a wry look. “I’m afraid that’s a little out of my reach. You now, I suppose you have your own yacht?”

  He shook his head. “I have thought of it, but I always assumed it would upset grandmother. Now I’m not so sure.”

  He meant because of the death at sea of his father. To change the subject, Maura drew once more on the view beyond the window. “I noticed the Russian ship was here ahead of us again.”

  He glanced at the white ship with its red trim. “Her master is not so careful as Petros Spiridion. I saw a couple on the beach who were passengers aboard her.”

  “What did they have to say? Did they like the ship?”

  “They said the service was excellent, and the accommodations good, but the food was only fair, a little bland. They said also that their trip through the storm was rough, but fast. And they told me that when the tenders go ashore they are manned by a guard in uniform armed with a loaded rifle.”

  “Why?” Maura asked. “To keep the crew from defecting?”

  “So it would seem.”

  Maura looked out over the flat island before them. “In the old days, the days of the pirates and the harsh treatment of sailors in the English navy, I suppose a lot of men jumped ship. Only it was called deserting then, instead of defecting. Either way, it’s an escape from oppression.”

  A smile rose in his eyes. “If you are considering the islands as a place of refuge, they still are that. Two hundred years ago the pirates landed here for fresh water, and to take on the big green sea turtles for food, since they would keep for weeks on the deck of a ship without having to be fed or watered. At present, the refugees are
banks and corporations from all over the world.”

  “I saw all these huge modern banking buildings in George Town.”

  “It is the island’s tax-free status that attracts them, and the strict bank secrecy laws.”

  Maura glanced at the turtle emblazoned on his chest. “The turtles that the pirates ate, are they the same as those used to make tortoiseshell today?”

  “I am afraid so. These islands weren’t known years ago as Las Tortugas, the turtle islands, for nothing. Did you buy a piece of tortoiseshell for yourself?”

  She gave a guilty nod. “There is so much imitation made out of plastic in the states that I suppose no one will ever realize it’s authentic, but I like having the real thing. At the same time, it seems cruel that anything must die to supply it.”

  “If it weren’t for the financial aspect of farming the great sea turtles, the farm on the island would not exist, and the species would be much closer to extinction. Only a fraction of the thousands of eggs hatched every year in the wild live to adulthood. Their chances are much better in captivity.”

  “Maybe I can wear my new hair clasp in peace then,” Maura said with a wry smile.

  His gaze slid over the red-gold tresses of her hair. “If you wish,” he said, “though it seems a shame to me for you to confine your hair.”

  For a long instant, Maura allowed her emerald eyes to meet his dark gaze. It was she who looked away first. “Look there,” she said, “that bird.”

  Nikolaos followed the direction of her gaze with slow reluctance. “It’s a man-of-war.”

  “It looks enormous.”

  “They have a wing spread of six feet. That makes for good flying and diving into the sea for fish, but they have small webbed feet that give them trouble on land. Some call them frigate birds.”

  The bird was black with a sharp head and narrow, elongated wings that bent at an angle in flight, and folded neatly against him as he dove. The man-of-war was joined by another, and yet another, until there were a half dozen of the great black birds slicing the evening sky.

  “Would you like to go out on deck where you can see?” Nikolaos suggested, his eyes on her rapt face as she watched.

  For an answer, Maura rose and led the way outside, moving to the railing. At the stern of the ship, there was a flock of gulls. Their sharp cries filled the air, shrieks with the sound of outrage as they fought with the swirling man-of-war birds for a patch of refuse in the water. The contest seemed equal however, for what the gulls lacked in size they made up for in numbers and sheer, ill-tempered persistence. Despite their struggle for survival, the sea birds were beautiful to watch as the man-of-wars soared, hanging motionless at times in midair, and the gulls wheeled, catching the gold of the setting sun on the undersides of their white wings.

  They were silent for long moments. Nikolaos stood beside her, leaning with his back to the railing. The tension that usually hung between them seemed to have dissipated, and the quiet was almost companionable.

  “Are there man-of-wars on the Greek coast?” Maura asked.

  “No. The man-of-war is a tropical bird, but there are gulls. Everywhere there are gulls.”

  “Even on your island?”

  “Who told you about that?”

  “Your grandmother mentioned it,” Maura answered, a shadow of defensiveness in her tone.

  “Yes, there are gulls on our island. But we don’t often stay there. Because it is necessary for me to stay near the offices of the shipping line, we have a townhouse in Athens.”

  “With a view of the Parthenon.”

  “Of course, and of Mount Lykabettos, the mountain of wolves.”

  “Of course.”

  “Have you ever been to Athens?” he inquired, a curious note in his deep voice.

  “Never.”

  “I think you would like it. Many are disappointed. They come expecting to see a great spectacle, like in a Hollywood movie, and see instead crumbling stones and falling columns that must be looked at with imagination to be appreciated.”

  Surprised by the compliment, she turned to stare at him. The golden rays of the sun played over his features giving him the look of a bronze statue, and yet the gold T-shirt with its ridiculous piratical turtle made him seem more approachable than at any time since they had met.

  Maura faced the sea once more. “Nikolaos?”

  “Yes?”

  “What is wrong with your grandmother exactly? I mean, why does she have to be so careful?”

  It was a moment before he answered, and then his tone was distant. “It’s her heart. She is taking medication, but it can only do so much. The surgery she should have, she puts off; the time is never convenient. It’s possible that when she finally becomes ill enough to accept the fact that the knife is necessary, it may be too late.”

  “Then any — incident that might occur could be of importance.”

  He stared at her averted face. “What are you getting at?”

  “On the day we boarded this ship,” Maura said, slanting him a troubled glance, “her travel coffeepot caught fire. She told you of that, I think, and of how afterward I asked her to share my cabin.”

  “Yes. Go on.”

  “She was upset, and angry with herself for her thoughtlessness, and then the next moment, she turned faint. It passed quickly, but that — was not the only time.”

  His frown was puzzled. “You mean this afternoon?”

  “She asked me not to tell you about it, and I agreed. I dislike going back on my word, but I couldn’t make up my mind that not telling you was the right thing to do.”

  He gave a grim nod. “You are referring to her tiredness in town, I think. Did she lose consciousness?”

  His grasp of her dilemma and his questions that were designed to help eliminate the need for her to tell him too much were a relief. “I don’t think so, but she was close to it when I found her. She blamed it on the heat.”

  “She would, on anything except the real cause. Why couldn’t she have stayed in Greece where she belongs instead of trying to make this cruise?”

  “Maybe she preferred being useful to the prospect of a safe and dull old age. Besides, isn’t it possible that fretting about a problem could cause more stress for her than doing something about it?”

  “It’s possible. I don’t know. One thing I am sure of, if she had problems this afternoon, she should be resting now.”

  “I hope you don’t intend to tell her so.”

  “No.” He ran his hand over his hair, clasping the back of his neck. “The bingo session should be nearly over. I wonder, if you should mention that you mean to rest before dinner, would she feel she could bend her pride enough to do the same?”

  To be included in the plan gave Maura a feeling of warm gladness that she did not stop to examine. With a smile she said, “It’s worth a try.”

  They descended the steps to the promenade deck and entered the heavy outer doors. As they moved down the inner stairs that led to deck four, they heard the babble of voices. The bingo game, it seemed, was causing more than its usual quota of excitement.

  At the door of the lounge, they paused. Three-quarters of the people in the place were on their feet, crowding toward the center of the room. Nearby, a new arrival like themselves, attracted by the noise, asked one of the players still seated for an explanation.

  “There was a nice old lady with a foreign accent won the jackpot. When she got up to collect her prize, she passed right out.”

  Nikolaos, his face grim, started forward. As he pushed through the crowd, Maura slipped in behind him, taking advantage of the path made by his broad shoulders. Then they saw her. Mrs. Papoulas lay stretched on the carpet with her eyes closed and her head with its weight of gray , hair resting in the lap of the assistant cruise director. Nikolaos went down on one knee. “Grandmother?” Her eyes flew open and she stared up into his face, the grip of her fingers tightening on his as he took her hand. “I was hoping,” she said, her voice a little weak, but perfectly
steady, “that I could get to my cabin before you heard of this.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” There was the sound of soft relief in his voice.

  “It’s really nothing, only the heat in town today. I will be fine.”

  Nikolaos glanced at the blonde employee of the ship in her neat uniform. “Has the doctor been notified?”

  “Yes,” the woman answered. “He is on his way.”

  Maura stood back. There was no room for her to go to the older woman, and she had no right to push herself forward. At that moment, the doctor entered the room with the Englishman who served as cruise director beside him.

  “All right, folks, let’s break it up, give the lady a little air. The doctor here needs room to get about his business, too. The bingo session is over, and the lounge will be closed for the next half hour for cleaning, getting ready for the show later on. We hope to see everyone back here then, but in the meantime, there are tea and coffee being served on the lido deck. Everyone is invited!”

  Nikolaos seemed to have forgotten everything except his grandmother. He did not look up as Maura was skillfully maneuvered from the room. There was nothing she could do. She was forced to leave with the others, though she hovered in the vestibule outside.

  She saw a pair of stewards step off the elevator with a regulation hospital stretcher between them. They entered the lounge while another steward came forward to hold the elevator car on that deck. The seconds ticked past. At last they emerged from the lounge with Mrs. Papoulas upon the wheeled carrier. On one side walked the ship’s doctor, and on the other was Nikolaos. The door of the elevator closed upon them, and the car slid upward.

  Seven

  They sailed at dusk, just as night was coming down upon the sea and the lights of the town were blooming with bright golden pinpoints along the shore. They passed a Norwegian liner on their way from the harbor, and also the Russian ship. Each was ablaze with lights that outlined the vessel from stem to stern and reflected on the ever-moving surface of the water. Along the decks of the other ships, there were bright flashes as the passengers that lined the rails used their cameras to try to catch the image of the Athena as it sailed majestically away from them. And from the Athena there were answering flashes as her own passengers tried to do the same with those lighted ships still sitting at anchor.