Painted Blind (13 page)

“She lied,” I said coldly.

He wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know what to tell you, Todd. I had her blood tested before we left the hospital.”

“Tested for what?” Apparently everyone was taking to betrayal these days. “I’m not on drugs, Dad. And I’m not crazy!”

Todd eyed my dad kindly. “And?”

“Clean,” he replied.

“Duh,” I said.

“Here’s the thing,” said the younger cop. “Whatever the story, did Savannah believe you about this Erik?”

“Yes.”

“So, you know where she might have gone?”

“The same place they found me, but if she got through, she won’t be there. Her car will be, though.”

Todd stood. “We need you to take us there.”

My dad and I drove in silence. It was hard when he was mad at me, miserable now that he thought I was insane. Eros told Pixis to close the portal. The bridge was gone. Savannah couldn’t possibly cross to the cave. I said a hundred silent prayers that she would be standing there on the rocks unable to get across. The thought of her in the palace basking in Eros’s beauty made my whole body ache.

“Here.” I pointed to the clearing in the brush. Twin tire tracks in the snow forged through the pines and junipers.

Dad parked the pickup on the road, and the police car pulled in behind us. We followed the tracks to Savannah’s car, where all three men inspected it with their eyebrows raised.

“My Subaru is over there,” I said. It obviously hadn’t moved since the snow fell Saturday morning.

“So, where’s the portal?” Dad asked meekly.

“See the cave on the other side of the ravine? The portal was in there. There used to be a bridge across the ravine, but it’s gone now.”

The young officer started toward the rock outcropping facing the cave. “You say there was a bridge? There’s no trace of where it attached to the … Todd!”

Both Dad and Todd ran to the ledge and looked over.

“What? What is it?” I demanded.

“It’s Savannah,” Dad said quietly.

I rushed toward the ledge, but Dad caught me by the shoulders. I pushed him away and grew woozy looking over the edge. Savannah lay on her back at the bottom of the ravine with her eyes open. She wore my white gown and the pendant around her neck. I teetered; the rocks spun.

My dad pulled me away from the ledge and hugged me to his chest. “I’m sorry, Psyche.” I felt him shiver. “I am
so
sorry.” He led me back to the truck and ordered me to stay inside.

I stared blankly at the dashboard. The young deputy found a path and hiked to the bottom of the ravine, but we were too late. Savannah was dead. The news went into my ears and stayed there, unable to penetrate the rest of me. I waited for a paramedic to say we were mistaken. She was badly injured, but she would come around. I turned my face away as they loaded the body bag into the coroner’s van.

My mind swirled in irreverent courses. I wondered how Travis would take the news and what her parents would do with all her shoes. Would they blame me for her death? Mostly, I wanted someone to tell me whether I was angry or sad. Her last act in life had been to betray me. Did that somehow cancel thirteen years of friendship? Could I hate her and miss her at the same time? Could I survive high school without her?

Savannah wasn’t afraid when we crossed the bridge the first time. She didn’t know it was gone. The police report would list her death as suicide, but I knew better. She tried to march across a bridge that was no longer there. She wouldn’t have stopped to test it like I had. No, Savannah was always supremely confident that what she wanted, she would get. She had set her course for Eros, and she died for it. I wondered if he knew.

“I’ll pick up your car later,” my dad said quietly as he put the truck in gear. He drove far off the road to get around the police and emergency vehicles.

The ride home was bumpy. My vision blurred. I found myself at home sitting on the bed but didn’t remember getting there. I changed into pajamas and stared at the ceiling.

My dad came and went. In the morning he brought breakfast and put it on the nightstand. At night he gathered up the full plate with a sigh and put dinner in its place. Sometimes I slept. Mostly I just lived in my mind with Savannah and Eros, unwilling to see a world beyond the walls of my room that existed without them.

Chapter 12

I woke to a crash and found my dad standing over me, a shattered plate on the carpet and taco casserole splattered across the wall. “Get up! It’s been three days. I will not let you die with her!” He pulled me out of the bed.

I tried to jerk away.

“Get in the shower and go to school. People die, Psyche. You have to deal with it.”

“No.” I tried to crawl back into bed, but Dad moved in front of me.

“Take your clothes. You will shower, you will eat, and you will go to school.”

I stared blankly at him.

“Or I’ll check you into a hospital.”

I searched his eyes for some sign of uncertainty, but it wasn’t there. He meant it. Go to school or he’d ship me off to the funny farm. With clenched teeth, I moved past him to the dresser, where I dug out clean clothes. I slammed the bathroom door so hard the fixtures rattled. After scalding my skin in the shower and yanking the tangles out of my hair, I finally relented enough to go downstairs.

On the bar lay a circle of familiar items: a gold belt, an arm cuff, an amethyst bracelet and Eros’s pendant. “What are these doing here?”

Dad put a plate of pancakes in front of me. “Savannah’s parents said they’d never seen them before. They wanted you to have them back.”

I fingered the pendant as I slid onto a bar stool.

“The funeral is tomorrow,” Dad continued. “You should go.” When I didn’t answer, he added, “I’ll go with you.”

I nodded jerkily and poured syrup on the pancakes. I took a bite, and my stomach lurched at the intrusion. “Did it hurt when she left?”

“Jill?” he asked, confused. He sank onto a barstool opposite me and folded his hands. “I asked her to leave.”

I should have known he wouldn’t understand. “I wish they hadn’t found me.”

“No, Psyche.” He put his hand over mine. “You can get through this.”

How could I tell him that I didn’t want to get through it? I wanted to bury myself in a dark hole where I would never have to look into the eyes of another man or wonder if I might have been happy if I’d never seen Eros’s face. I wanted to hide from the fact that I led Savannah to that ravine, and that it was my fault she was dead.

Dad gathered up his keys and a stack of contracts. “Go to school. I’ll check back later.”

I nodded out of habit not obedience. After scraping the full plate of food into the trash, I left the house, but I didn’t go to school. I found the wrinkled business card for the fortune teller at the MSU carnival. She’d been one of the immortals. She was my only hope of finding Eros again.

Her shop was in a shabby section downtown, a rundown neighborhood where several houses had been turned into businesses. Between an accountant’s office and a used bookstore was a bright blue bungalow with a wooden sign over the door. The door was locked, and the sign said it was before business hours, but I pounded relentlessly until she opened the door.

“You have to help me,” I said through the sliver in the doorway.

She gave me a scowl, but didn’t fight as I pushed the door open and went inside uninvited.

“You were one of them. You’re the only person who can help me get him back.” When she didn’t answer, I begged. “I’ll do anything—pay any price.”

A fraction of compassion entered her eyes, and she motioned me into a small room at the back of the shop where she poured me a cup of tea and made me drink half of it before letting me speak again.

My words came in a tidal wave that splashed all my secrets onto the dingy wooden table. I held nothing back, not of the time I spent in the kingdom or the tenderness I found in Eros’s arms.

The woman listened without flinching, and when I finished, she lit a cigarette and considered me quietly. “You won’t be able to get into Eros’s kingdom,” she said finally. I opened my mouth to protest, but she raised a hand to silence me. “He is very careful about opening portals into his land. He’ll move it, and there’s no way you could find it.” She took a long drag and blew the smoke away from me. “He doesn’t keep a permanent residence here either.”

“Others do?”

“Fewer now than used to, but some of them cherish the worship they get from mortals.”

“One of them can help me,” I said.

“Aphrodite frequents this world more than …”

“Tell me where to find her,” I demanded.

The fortune-teller—her name was Gina—shook her head. “You don’t understand. She will
hate
you for that billboard. Plus, you won Eros’s love then betrayed him. If there was ever a girl in this world Aphrodite would despise, it’s you.”

“I don’t care. I have to find a way to reach him.”

Gina’s expression grew darker. “Her bodyguard is dangerous. He may kill you on sight.”

I was unmoved. “Better dead than living like this.”

Something in her face changed, a shadow of understanding. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll tell you how to find her mortal palace. It’s on an island in the Tyrrhenian Sea, northwest of Naples.” She smashed the cigarette in an ashtray and lit another.

“Those things will kill you, you know.”

Gina scowled. “So they say, but I’ve lived nearly eighty years in this miserable world.” She went to a cupboard and took out a world Atlas. “Of course the island isn’t shown on this map, but it’s there. Only a quarter mile wide and two miles long. No one is allowed on the island except Aphrodite’s guests.” She pointed to the location, then scribbled the coordinates on a piece of paper.

“I wish you would reconsider,” Gina said. Then she leveled her gaze at my desperate eyes. “Take the pendant as proof of who you are. It may soften her stone heart.”

“She’s supposed to be the goddess of love and beauty,” I replied.

Gina’s eyebrows arched in amusement. “Mortals wrongly believed that love and beauty went hand in hand. She’s beautiful, but her love is always self-serving.”

I thanked her and turned to go.

“Did you meet Aeas?” she asked as I reached for the door.

Confused by her question, I muttered, “He showed me around the village.”

“How is he?”

I shrugged, not really knowing what to say. “Fine, I guess.”

She nodded sadly. “I still miss him. Every day.” She turned away.

Another day I might have asked her why, but today I was too consumed with my own loss, so I left her stooped over the table clearing teacups.

Without any other plan than to catch the next flight to Europe, I packed a duffle bag with jeans, two shirts, a couple pairs of underwear, an extra bra, a toothbrush and a hair brush. As an afterthought, I threw in some socks. The clothes mattered little. The most important things I laid on top: the amethyst belt, arm cuff, bracelet and Eros’s pendant, all proof that I was his betrothed.

The back of my old travel itinerary listed the airline’s phone number, which I dialed on my cell. If I was flying on my own dime, I wasn’t booking first class, and the thought of being packed into coach made me cringe. I was still on hold listening to corny music when I heard the front door open. True to his word, Dad was checking back, and I was caught at home.

I pocketed the phone and tossed the bag into the closet before my dad came upstairs. I slipped my passport into the back waistline of my jeans and covered it with my shirt.

“You’re supposed to be at school.” His voice was stern, but his eyes betrayed him. He was more sympathetic than he let on.

“I’m not in bed,” I protested.

He leaned against the doorjamb and waited.

“I left the house…but I didn’t… go there.”

“You have to face it eventually.”

“After the funeral.” I was able to meet his eyes then, because I wasn’t lying. By the time I got home, the funeral would be over. I couldn’t tell my dad I was flying to Italy to meet a mythical Greek goddess. I couldn’t think of anything I could tell him that would make him agree I should take this trip. I decided it would be easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

Before catching the plane, I made a substantial cash withdrawal at the bank, most of which I tucked into the front pockets of my jeans. Somewhere over North Dakota, I sent my dad a text message:
I’m fine. There is something I need to do. I’ll be home in a few days. Love you, Psyche.

I turned off the phone, so he couldn’t call back.

Chapter 13

I typed the coordinates of Aphrodite’s island into a search engine. After scrolling through a bunch of garbage travel sites offering tours of Italy, I found a site dedicated to the island known as “The Fortress of the Goddess.” Photographs of the island showed high stone cliffs surrounding most of the island. In the background were white, marble-like cliffs. If I hadn’t been to Eros’s palace, I would not have realized that the cliffs were more than they seemed. They were the exterior walls of Aphrodite’s palace, so well set into the background of the island as to become part of the landscape. Plus, to the record of mortals, the island had always looked that way. The website reported that references to the Fortress of the Goddess were found in buried Pompeii.

Legends claimed the island was inhabited by gods. No mortal could step foot on the island uninvited, though a few sailors reported they had delivered goods to its shores. Three small vessels over the past hundred years reported making deliveries to the Fortress. All agreed on their means of delivery. They were directed to the northernmost shore of the island, where there was a small strip of beach. They dropped their goods on the beach at night and left immediately. In his journal one sailor recorded that he received payment in cash by post, and it came with instructions about how to deliver the items wanted by the gods. If he stayed at the beach past the delivery hour, he would be struck dead. If he ventured off the beach onto the island, he would be struck dead. He was instructed never to tell anyone about the delivery. Over fifty years he kept the secret. After he died, his children found the account. He wrote that he kept the secret out of gratitude because the gods paid him more than two years’ wages for one night’s work.

I clicked off the Internet and went downstairs to the front desk. The clerk, a man in his mid-thirties with wavy hair and a five o’clock shadow, smiled widely at the sight of me. “What can I do for the beautiful lady?” he offered.

“I need to go somewhere tomorrow night…” I looked at the clock on the wall. It was three o’clock in the morning here in Naples. I awoke sweating and disoriented a few hours ago. “I mean, tonight, and I don’t have a dress to wear. I’m looking for something very specific—a white silk or satin dress like the goddess Venus would wear. Do you know where I might find such a dress?”

“Something
very
nice, yes?”

“Yes, high quality and it must look like the goddess. Understand?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

From my pocket I took a hundred dollar bill and laid it on the counter. “If you find me this dress, I will be very happy.” I slid the bill across the counter and smiled.

“As soon as it is morning I will call the best shops.” His English had the most charming accent. He was probably used to American women swooning over him.

“Size four. Have it sent here and charge it to my room?”

“Yes. I will call when it arrives.”

From the desk beside him, I pulled a city bus brochure. “I want to go to the docks before the fishing boats go out for the day. Will the bus on this route take me there?”

“Oh, no.” He shook his head furiously. “I mean, yes, the bus would take you there, but a beautiful woman should not be roaming the streets alone before dawn. I will call a cab.”

After thanking him I waited with the doorman. The air was warm. Fall here was temperate compared to home. It gave me hope that Aphrodite would understand I made a mistake and I really loved Eros. She would give me a chance to apologize to him. With optimism brewing in my chest I went to hire a ship to the Fortress.

None of the fishing vessels wanted to take me to the Fortress, and my efforts to bribe them failed. A few of the fishermen didn’t speak English at all. Most of the others got the gist of what I was saying and adamantly refused, even with a handful of green-backs in front of them. Frustrated and nursing a splitting headache, I sank onto a bench near the pier at war with myself. The rational part of me said to catch a cab back to the hotel, sleep off the headache, then take the next flight home. The stubborn, love-sick part of me wouldn’t move and kept gazing across the water wondering if redemption waited in the serenity of the sea. The turquoise water reminded me of Eros’s kingdom and made me ache. I hauled myself up, not knowing what else to do but admit defeat.

From down the pier came a trill, someone whistling with skill. A man sauntered along the planks, coffee cup in one hand and a set of keys in the other. He wore khaki shorts, a dark T-shirt and loafers.

I moved toward him unnoticed until I was standing at the edge of his vessel. He balanced the coffee on a ledge and unlocked the cabin. The boat bore Italian words on the bow. “You’re not a fisherman?” I said.

He spun around, then stared at me while I squinted into the sun.

“And, you’re not Italian?”

“Swiss,” he said finally. “I run a shuttle.”

“How much to hire your boat for the next twenty-four hours?”

He sipped his coffee and stowed the keys into his shorts pocket. “That depends on how far you want to go.”

“Twenty-four miles.”

Moving toward me and really studying my face, he replied, “It won’t take all day to travel twenty-four miles.” A month ago this close study would have creeped me out, but I saw in him curiosity more than longing. Eros taught me that most men were cowards. I needed to be cautious, but not afraid of everyone.

“I need to make two trips, one this morning and one tonight. I want the assurance that the boat will be available.” He nodded and quoted me a reasonable price, so I agreed without haggling. “You’ll accept US dollars instead of Euros?”

“Of course,” he answered.

He might have been forty, but his unkempt hair and casual clothes gave him a more youthful appearance. I supposed he was handsome. It was hard to say anymore. My sight was tainted. “You have GPS?”

He set his hands on his hips and grinned at my checklist as I rattled it off. “Yes.”

“Binoculars?”

“Yes.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“No,” he answered with a chuckle.

I stepped aboard. “Well, that’s good, because I want you to take me to the Fortress of the Goddess. A fisherman told me that seven men have gone missing near its shores in the past two years.” Handing over the coordinates, I continued, “This morning I want to see it from a distance. Tonight I’ll have you take a crate ashore for me. By the way, do you know where we can find a large delivery crate?”

“What will be in the crate?”

Now it was my turn to smile. “Does it matter?”

We circled the island but kept our distance. The photos on the website were accurate. There was only one way onto the island, and it was the small strip of beach on the north shore. The west, sea-facing side of the island had large caves cut into the cliffs, but there was no way to explore them without being seen. From a quarter of a mile off shore I studied the beach with binoculars. There was too much foliage to clearly see how the cliff tapered down, but I was willing to bet there was a trail leading to the white, marble walls.

I handed the binoculars to my shipmate and asked, “If you were guarding that island, where would you put your look-outs?”

He threw me an incredulous look.

“Humor me,” I insisted.

After a long study of the north shore, he answered, “You could place men anywhere along the upper cliff, but they would be seen. If you wanted to guard it without being seen, you’d have to place them in the trees along the ridge.”

“We wouldn’t be able to see them. Don’t you know? The gods can make themselves invisible.” I told him about the accounts of deliveries to the island, the strict protocol followed on each sailor’s delivery. “The thing is, this is not an expected delivery. There won’t be someone waiting on the beach. It’s a scout from above you’ll have to worry about.”

“You think they’ll shoot me?”

“Not with bullets. Plus, you’re simply delivering a crate. It will catch them by surprise. Hopefully, it’ll make them curious instead of angry.”

“Are you coming with me for this delivery?”

“Yes.” I didn’t say more. If all went well, I would leave the island another way. If things didn’t go well, I wouldn’t be leaving at all.

Two dresses waited for me at the hotel. The desk clerk was just heading out the door at the end of his shift when he saw me and ushered me with enthusiasm toward a closet in the office. “They are very nice. Yes?”

Both dresses were white. One had a halter bodice similar to the one I’d worn in Eros’s kingdom. The fabric was white satin, and the waistline was fitted with a back zipper.

The second dress had a drape neckline that was set with sequins and rhinestones. At the waist was a gaudy gold belt. I handed it to the clerk. “Send this one back. I’ll take the satin one.”

He agreed, and I took the elevator upstairs, where I immediately tried on the dress. The label was a designer I recognized. I wore his clothes on the runway, and without standing in front of the mirror, I knew the fit was perfect. He was a lesser known designer whose line focused mostly on the Italian market, so the dress cost a fraction of what the Valentino had.

Though I tried to sleep, I couldn’t. I thought of ordering room service, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat. In the early afternoon I ventured out to buy sandals to wear with my dress. It was fall, and the shops were pushing leather boots for winter, but I found some strappy, gold sandals on a clearance rack.

The breeze lifted my hair. The smell of coffee and baking bread floated in the air. Of all the places for me to seek Aphrodite, I was glad it was Italy to which I’d come. Though the city was different, and I didn’t speak much Italian, it felt familiar. I didn’t realize until now how much I enjoyed Milan. Italy was my home away from home, and I found some solace here.

I probably could have used a strong cappuccino, but I ordered a pastry and herbal tea at a café. I didn’t want to be any more jittery than I already was. While I waited for my order, I wrote a short letter to my dad explaining why I came to Italy. I apologized for running away, told him I loved him, and asked that he not hold a public funeral for me if I never returned.

Nightfall came slowly. I stood at the window of my hotel room and wished I could reach out and push the sun down. I was dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt, and tennis shoes. My duffle bag lay at my feet. The clothes I’d packed for the trip were strewn on the bed, and now the bag held only the white dress, sandals and Eros’s gifts. I left instructions at the front desk to mail the letter to Dad if I didn’t return by tomorrow night.

The Swiss was waiting on the shuttle, also dressed in dark clothes and probably hoping it would make him a more difficult target, not that he believed there was really anyone on the island. A large wooden crate sat on the bow of the boat. The print on the side said it contained furniture. After checking that it was secure, I tossed the duffle bag inside. “How do you plan to unload this?”

The man shrugged. “I can run aground on the beach and drop it off the front. The cargo isn’t breakable is it?”

“No, that will be fine.”

The engine’s roar drowned the lap of the water on the pier and the music wafting from a bistro down the street. I stood near the steering column taking calming breaths while he drove. The trip to the Fortress took just under a quarter of an hour. When the shadow of the island came into view, I told him to cut the engine. It was time to load the crate. He watched dumbfounded as I climbed inside.

“Oh, come on. You had to have guessed I was the package?” When he didn’t answer, I continued. “Just make sure you get me onto the beach. Don’t dump me in the water. Then get the heck out of there.” I paid him the rest of his fee.

He looked down at the bills and shook his head. Then he stowed the cash in his pants pocket and pressed the lid down on the crate. A moment later the engine roared to life again.

My heart pounded a hurried rhythm as the motor softened. Shards of moonlight slanted through the lid of the crate. The bright moon made the boat easier to see. We glided slowly to the beach. I felt a sudden jerk as the bow struck sand. We were there.