Love at Sea Page 9

  Maura could do nothing but place an order for cool drinks for both of them and wait. After a few anxious moments, the gray began to fade from under the woman's skin and she sat up straighter.

  “I'm sorry to be such a nuisance,” she said on a sigh as she reached to pat Maura's hand.

  “I'm glad I could help, though I still think you should let me get a doctor for you."

  “The man on the ship is excellent, I'm told. I may call him when I return. But these little spells pass quickly; they are not too unusual for me when I do more than I should."

  “I wish I had known you wanted to come into town,” Maura said. “You could have come with me."

  Mrs. Papoulas shook her head. “It was a sudden impulse. Nikolaos would have brought me, but I refused. Then after he had gone, a woman I met told me of some pieces of exquisite embroidered linen that she had found here before. I have a great weakness for such things. Naturally, once I began to shop I found more and more to see and to buy."

  Maura gave a nod of sympathy. “Is Nikolaos in town then? If you know where he could be reached, I might find him for you. He could take you back to the ship."

  “I'm sure that won't be necessary. Anyway, he went to the beach, Seven Mile Beach I think it's called."

  “To the party given by the ship?"

  “I'm not certain, though I would doubt it. He prefers to swim alone."

  Maura abandoned the idea. If Nikolaos was not at the hotel where the party was being held, then he could not be reached. She would have to make other arrangements to get his grandmother to the ship. Though the older woman was stronger now, nearly back to normal, as she sipped at a glass of iced pineapple juice, it seemed best for her not to attempt the walk back to the dock.

  “What about you?” the older woman queried. “Why are you alone?"

  “I didn't care for the idea of the beach party either."

  “You could have gone with Nikolaos, or else he could have come with you to carry your packages, and to buy a trinket or two."

  “He would not have liked the shopping."

  “That isn't so. He would have been perfectly willing; he often goes with me to give me the benefit of his opinion. Furthermore, I know he dialed your cabin earlier, but you were already gone."

  “I expect he was only being polite. It's more than likely he was relieved that I wasn't in."

  “That isn't true. I can assure you he would not have called if he had not wanted your company."

  There was no point in debating the subject. Maura only shook her head.

  The older woman sighed. “I'm sorry that you and Nikolas cannot get along with each other. I had hoped—but never mind."

  “Sometimes people dislike each other on sight."

  “That's possible, though it seldom happens between an attractive man and woman. Or perhaps you don't find Nikolaos attractive? Perhaps he is too foreign to you?"

  “Of course he is attractive.” Maura swirled her straw in her juice, making the ice tinkle against the glass.

  “I confess I think he is exceptionally handsome, though I am somewhat prejudiced. Still, I worry. He has had many women friends, pillow friends, but none who have captured his heart, none who remain in his thoughts when they are not with him, and none he has ever cared to introduce to me."

  “Pillow friends?” Maura asked, glancing up as her interest was caught by the unusual phrase.

  “It is a Greek term for what I suppose you would call his mistresses, though the women he chooses usually have careers in the theater or the arts. They are considerably better off financially when they leave him, but not—not devastated. They understand such arrangements, and know from the beginning that marriage is not a part of his plans."

  “You would like him to marry,” Maura said, a faint rose flush on her cheekbones.

  “Ah, yes. I would like to see him happy and settled, see my great-grandchildren. But I fear it will never be."

  “Never?"

  “He resists it. There have been too many young women of few principles who have tried to entice him into marriage while they visited at our island home. Then also, the marriage of his parents was not a good one."

  “I understand his father was killed in an accident just before he was born."

  “Yes, that was my son Paul. The Englishwoman he married was cold and silly. Instead of finding happiness in her husband, she moped and cried for her family in England. She hated being with child, hated Paul for giving it to her. As soon as she could, when my son was dead, she deserted Nikolaos and went to her country and her own people."

  “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.

  Chapter 6

  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 me 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 it's 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."