Seven Days of Friday (Women of Greece Book 1) (14 page)

W
herever they’re going
, it’s
by car.

Well, Jeep.

She figured him for a BMW or Mercedes kind of guy. Boy, is she astute.

“Mrs. Tyler, I've arranged for the hospital psychologist to visit with Melissa today. Doctor Triantafillou is very good.”

“It’s just Vivi. I was wondering when you'd bring up therapy. It’s a good idea.”

“Great. Greeks aren’t big on therapy. Here if you have a problem you go to your family or the church. Not an outsider.” He pulls out of the garage and onto the busy street. “I'd like to keep Melissa for a few days, to rest. I think you need it as much as she does.”

“I'm fine.”

“I don't think so.”

She looks surprised. “Does it show?”

“Not really, which is how I know. And call me Max.”

Greece is on her best behavior as Max (is that entirely professional?) steers his car up Mt Pelion. Turns out the doctor doubles as an excellent tour guide, pointing out this, pointing out that.

“It was up here on Pelion that Thetis and Peleus, parents to Achilles, wed.”

She smiles on the outside, worries on the inside.

Max carries on. “Pelion was also home to the hero Jason, and his Argonauts.”

“Now that I already knew,” Vivi says.

He takes his eyes off the road for just a moment. “Did you know Pelion was also home to the Centaurs? They came here because the mountain was so rich with healing and magical plant life. Some people believe they still roam, just out of sight.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open.”

Is Melissa okay? What if she needs something and Vivi isn’t there?

“If I see one I will point him out,” Max says, smiling.

The winding road scales the mountain. Destination: sky. “Where are we going?”

“A small village. There is a church there I want you to see.”

“And you go there to pray?”

He holds her gaze a fraction too long. “When I forget myself it helps me remember who I am.”

“It's hard to imagine you losing your way. You move like you’ve got it all figured out.”

He doesn't reply.

What did she say? That’s the thing about people: they’re all walking minefields. Step on a crack, and Mama’s back won’t break, but her head might explode. Who knows what part of Max just silently exploded.

Finally, he says, “You love your daughter very much.”

The Jeep stops. Sheep flock across the street, shepherd coaxing them with his crook. A lanolin and shit cloud wafts behind them.

It’s a movie moment, and Vivi falls a little bit in love with the otherness of Greece.

“She’s my daughter, I’m her mother. I loved her long before she was born.”

“Mothers don't automatically love their children.”

“They should.”

“I think some love more easily and quickly than others. I see parents with their children every day. Love is not always equal. Sometimes there’s no love, only tolerance.”

“Maybe,” she says. “Or maybe they hide it well. You see parents in hospitals when they’re pushed to extremes. Maybe they detach to cope.”

“Now who’s got it all figured out?” Last few sheep scuttle across the road. The Jeep gets a move on. “My mother, her love is based on conditions. Be good, follow her plan, and she will love you. If not . . .”

“Chop, chop?”

“Yes.”

Vivi laughs. “Wait, are we related?”

“You're much too beautiful to be part of my very ugly family.”

Clearly the man has never looked in a mirror. Her cheeks go pink on pink.

“Today I feel like I'm the world's worst mother,” she says. “Melissa is a fantastic kid. She’s my favorite person. It’s been . . . difficult lately.”

Max slows the car. “She'll be fine. You both will.”

Straddling the road up ahead is a calendar-worthy village. It’s straight out of a movie, with its rough stone streets and goat herder coaxing his tribe through the thoroughfare. The jingle jangle of their bells reminds her of Christmas.

The Jeep stops outside an iron gate. Nothing behind it except a pair of doors stuck to the mountain’s face, and a couple of pink geraniums in those ubiquitous red pots.

The doctor’s face gives nothing away. “Come, Vivi. We’re here.”

He helps her out of the car. Nice touch. Thoughtful. Sweet. His hand is warm and big and strong. Then he drops it and the warmth fades, until the sun picks up where he left off.

Interesting door. She’s never seen anything like it.

Max must have a direct line to her thoughts, because he says, “The Church of the Holy Mother is built inside a natural cavern.”

She opens the door, steps into night.

Slowly, the stars become candles.

Max takes her elbow, navigates her through the dark maze. He performs the Greek Orthodox ritual, crossing himself, kissing the holy icons.

She copies him, because that’s what one does when they’re grateful.

The Church of the Holy Mother is anything but typical. The Orthodox Church loves to separate its constituents: men on one side, women on the other, with very few seats for either. Be cohesive, one people, yet segregated. But here are pews in even rows, with no dividing lines.

“Have you brought me a gift this time?”

Vivi jumps. The priest has materialized beside them.

He nods to Max. “I saw the Jeep.”

“Vivi, Father Kostas. Father Kostas, Vivi Tyler.”

The man in black kisses her hand. He’s young and vaguely familiar.

“Shouldn’t I be kissing your hand?”

He laughs. “The church makes exceptions for beautiful women. The church also says beautiful women can call me Kostas.”

Yeah, that laugh gives away his secret identity.

“You're brothers,” she says, almost breathlessly.

Kostas groans. “I hope I’m not as ugly as Max. It is a wonder anyone can stand to look at him.”

Max holds his hand up, palm flat facing his brother. “I know this is a house of God, but . . .”

The priest looks at Vivi. “He’s an animal. You should have him neutered.”

Vivi can’t help laughing. A flat palm is the Greek hand gesture for . . . uh . . . Rhymes with mastication.

Kostas’s eyes go back to Max. “Is this – ?”

“Vivi’s daughter is a patient of mine. I brought her here to see you.”

“I hope your daughter is not too ill,” Kostas says.

“She's doing better today, thank you. It’s been a difficult time for our family – Melissa especially.”

“And for you too, I think.”

Not easy being around these two. The way they look at her, they see her secrets.

“That’s what Max said.”

Kostas laughs. “And they say he is the stupid one!”

M
ax leaves them to
it
.

This is Vivi’s time, not his, so it’s back to the Jeep.

Good old Kostas. He should have known his brother would assume Vivi was Anastasia. Who else would he bring here?

Answer: Not Anastasia.

Thing is, up here she doesn’t exist, which is why he stopped Kostas from speaking her name. A world without Anastasia is relaxing.

Who is he kidding? Yeah, it’s partly Anastasia thing, but also the Vivi thing. Her company feels good and she’s nice to look at. Anastasia is all flash and glitter, but Vivi has a quiet, comfortable beauty.

She’s easy on the eyes and soul.

And she understood when he mentioned Mama and her mother lode of expectations. He almost told her, then, about Anastasia. But having a woman understand him felt too good. It’s been a long time. Now he’s wondering if Vivi’s mother has her tied up with the same Greek string.

Yeah, there’s something about the American woman he finds relaxing and exciting. And, God, she’s lovely.

The bastard inside him doesn’t want Vivi to know he’s engaged. Not because he’s going seduce her, but because he likes the spark, the connection, the zing of potential.

He laughs at himself, because even if there was no Anastasia, Vivi’s door is locked. She’s got unresolved issues, that much is obvious. And Max likes his love life easy and uncomplicated.

And there is an Anastasia. The Anastasia. His Anastasia. Anastasia who might be pregnant with his child.

In a few days the hospital will discharge Melissa Tyler, and then no more Vivi. She’ll go back to her life and he’ll go back to his. And Mama will be happy – at last.

They need to announce their engagement, and soon. Otherwise he’s going to change his mind.

He calls her – Anastasia, that is. Hearing her voice will keep him focused. If she answers. If she’s not already knee deep in bridal magazines and cake samples.

She picks up. He ends the call.

A moment later, his phone buzzes.

“Did you just call?”

He winces. Anastasia is shrill. How did he ever find that sexy? It’s high. No soft tones. He can see her ten years from now, still shrieking and nagging about how much time he spends at the hospital.

“Yeah. I just called to see what you were doing.”

“I'm working. What else would I be doing?”

Eyes closed, Max leans back in the seat. “I don't know. That's why I asked. I'm up visiting my brother.”

“Really? The one your mother hates?” She sounds surprised. How many brothers does he have?

“She doesn't hate him. She's just bitter because she can't manipulate him.” Unlike Max.

“I'm a woman, I know these things. Trust me, she hates him.”

Her certainty pisses him off. She’s never met Kostas and barely knows their mother. She barely knows him.

“I have to go,” he says.

“Wait, are we going out tonight?”

“Can’t. I have to be at the hospital.”

“But you have time to see your brother? Why can't you work now and see me later instead?”

“It doesn't work that way.”

“Fine. I'll make plans with my friends.” Her voice is an off-key violin.

He doesn’t say goodbye, doesn’t wait to hear it. Doesn’t want her to use those three words he doesn’t feel. Doesn’t want to lie.

Plain and simple: End Call.

H
e’s staring
at nothing when a brown blur catches his attention. Some kind of animal.

Max whistles.

The Jeep shakes when a massive dog leaps into the car.

“Get out of here,” he says, but his hands are busy contradicting his words. He can’t help patting the big brown beast.

He jumps out of the Jeep, calls the dog to him. If Max knows his brother, the man’s got room at his table for a hungry dog.

T
he priest makes
frappe
.

“Did Max tell you anything about our family?”

“No – why would he?”

The view is amazing. Every time she tilts her head, the water morphs to a new blue-green.

“Max is the best of men. He has a good heart. And our mother is taking advantage of that.”

That conversation on the drive here. He talked about strings, and she laughed because his mother sounds like Eleni’s twin. Now Vivi is doing the math.

“How so?”

“She has nobody, since our father died, except Max. And she pulls his strings and makes him dance and dance. And he does it because he knows she needs one good son.”

“She’s a Greek mother,” Vivi says. “I think they’re all crazy.”

“Our mother is special. She’s a crazy, manipulative witch.”

“I told Max we might be related.”

Kostas laughs. “If your mother is like ours, you have my condolences. She is the reason my brother looks like a haunted man. I rarely see him, and our mother never writes, never calls. Not that I'm complaining.” There goes the Andreou twinkle again. “Now tell me about you. What brings you to our country, American?”

His tone is kind, easy.

“My marriage broke down after fifteen years. My home dissolved along with it. At the time I felt we had nowhere else to go.”

“How do you feel now?”

“It's only been a few days.” The damp glass squeaks between her fingers. She hasn’t answered his question, so she gives it another shot. “It changes. Sometimes I hate it here. Other times I feel that this place is so much a part of me that it flows through me like blood. To go would be to destroy myself; to stay would be the end of me. And that's just week one.”

Kostas nods like he knows. “That’s how I felt when I left the army and had to choose between the priesthood and law school. Hard choices, but better to have hard choices than none.”

“Did you make the right decision?”

Nothing moves except his hand and the
frappe
’s foam.

“I made the only choice that could give me inner peace. It was not without sacrifices, but it was the correct path. Tell me, your marriage, why did it fail?”

“The real reason or the reason I give people?”

“God will know that you're lying, and I will too.” He smiles. “Truth. Let us always be honest with each other, Vivi Tyler.”

So she tells him. About John, about Ian, about all of it.

Kostas listens with his impartial ear and serene composure. “And he concealed this from you for all those years?”

“Maybe I suspected. I’m not really sure. Psychologists say we rewrite history in the light of new experiences and information.”

“I believe it,” he says. “We’re all deluded, in our own way. It makes life more bearable.”

“Melissa – our daughter – discovered his secret. In her mind, I think, John cheated on her, too. Now . . . now she's in the hospital with a self-inflicted injury and I don't know what to do. Should I stay here and make a home, or take her back where all our demons are at least familiar?”

She looks down at an empty glass. Kostas smiles and makes it full again – with the shaker, not divine intervention.

Wouldn’t that be something?

“In time, she will be happy where you are. It is up to you to decide where it will be best for you both to live. But don't make any major decisions until you give Greece a chance. She might just surprise you. Are you staying with friends or family?”

“Family. My aunt.”

“Look for your own place. The world is different when you have space to call your own.”

“I'm both ridiculous and pathetic. Look at me.”

“Vivi, you are neither pathetic nor ridiculous. You've been through many things, and now you've faced a parent's worst nightmare. Do what makes you happy now, and the rest will follow.” He pauses. “I hear my brother coming. It's time to speak of happier things.”

Good idea. They’ve shared too much. Now Vivi’s thinking about houses and money and wondering if it’s smarter to rent or buy.

“Do you know a good real estate agent? Preferably one who can find me a house with a proper toilet.”

Max’s laugh shows up first, followed by the rest of him.

“Old fashioned Greek plumbing. The newer houses have proper toilets, but the pipes are still last century. It's your lucky day, we do have the name of a very good real estate agent.” He clicks his fingers at the top of the stairs. “Come on.”

Max has a new friend. No purebred, but the mutt is cute. He slinks across the room, all bones and ragged fur, zeroes in on Vivi.

Love at first sight.

“It's true, the Lord does work in mysterious ways. You have a new friend,” Max says

“He's homeless?”

“Just like you,” Kostas says.

Vivi looks into those big, brown eyes. “I can't keep the dog.”