Lovers Never Lie (24 page)

"If it weren't for you, a lot of things would be different."

Guilt swept back, hot and heavy and disheartening. "I know," she admitted, wishing for the millionth time she had found some way to keep Andrew's diamonds out of Maria's hands. "That's why I have to help."

Andrew turned toward the reception desk. "Ring a taxi," he barked at the now wide-awake clerk, then without another glance in Stacia's direction, stormed up the stairs.

He could think again if he thought she was going to follow. Fury burned Stacia's face. Within five minutes, Andrew was back, her suitcase gripped in his hand. He grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her out the door. The taxi he ordered was already waiting by the curb.

"Get in," he said, yanking open the taxi's door. "Airport," he instructed the driver, once she was safely inside. He thrust an airplane ticket in through the open window.

"Aren't you coming with me?" she demanded hotly. "At the very least to make sure I get on the plane."

"You'll be on it," he said. The expression in his eyes told her she had better be then he slammed the door behind her and slapped the taxi's roof.

Stacia leaned forward, too furious to look back. "To the bus station," she told the driver, feeling inside her pocket for some of the money she had borrowed from Andrew days ago.

The hot vinyl caught damply at Stacia's thighs as she slid across the seat and peered through the fly-specked window. Far more people than seemed possible to fit on one bus stuffed their luggage into the compartment along the bus's side or threw it to the driver waiting on the roof. There couldn't possibly be seats for everyone, but no one seemed to care. It was as though this were a party and they were all invited.

She had left her luggage with the taxi driver, instructing him to take it back to the hotel and give it to the desk clerk. She didn't want to be encumbered with anything that would slow her down. What she needed now was speed.

The bus schedule indicated that tonight at eleven, a bus would return to Agios Nikolaos from Artemis, giving her plenty of time to get up to Maria's village, prove Andrew wrong, and get back again tonight.

Maria would be there. Stacia was sure of that.

Andrew would be furious, and in all likelihood would be there, too, for she was sure he had lied in order to get rid of her. Stacia frowned. If he had lied, why wasn't he on the bus? Perhaps he was intending to rent a car, which, unlike her, he could afford.

Stacia wiggled in her seat, and rolled her shoulders, tried to shake off the sadness weighing her down. She had left alone and in a fury, was still angry with Andrew, but most of all she wished that things could be different; that Andrew's business was not at risk because of the diamonds she'd smuggled and lost, and that Andrew was in love with her, not with a woman who was dead.

The bus filled rapidly with elderly men and women carrying bright scarves knotted into bundles; middle-aged women, whose handsome faces shone serenely despite the confusion, and middle-aged men with rounded bellies, plump faces and sharp black eyes.

The younger people's clothes were peacock bright against the black attire of their elders. Although not many young people traveled by bus, preferring no doubt the small scooters Stacia had seen careening around town, or the over-burdened and under-powered trucks that chugged along the highway.

But even without the young, more people came, the line twisting down the steps, out the door, and along the pavement.

One young woman, with flashing eyes and jaunty hips, sashayed down the aisle. Her lipstick matched the scarlet blouse showing so vividly beneath her sweater. There were baubles on its front, reminding Stacia of the sweater she had given to Maria.

The young woman had two little girls in tow, twins by the looks of them, and a baby in her arms. She seemed too young to be the mother of three, as she flounced into the seat in front of Stacia and settled the children around her. The baby's sudden wail overcame the girls' chatter.

An old woman followed the four down the aisle, and as she passed the young woman, plucked the baby from her arms. She clucked soothingly to the child as she sat down in the seat next to Stacia.

The baby stared at Stacia, tears glistening on his cheeks then another torrent of sound emerged from his O-shaped mouth.

Stacia gazed at him helplessly. The twin girls swiveled around and stared with wide eyes over the chair back. The young woman paid no attention, stared out the window instead, hunching her shoulders against the sound.

Stacia thrust her hand into her multi-colored tote bag and prayed the souvenir she had bought on the ferry to Crete for her friend Angela's new baby was still in her bag.

Something hard met her fingers. She pulled out the gaily painted wooden
minotaur
, and held it toward the baby. The child's howls died mid-scream, and he lurched toward the mythological monster in a straight-backed lunge, nearly tumbling off the old woman's lap.

Hastily, Stacia handed him the toy. The twin girls stared at their brother, then at each other. They giggled behind their hands. The young mother turned around and smiled gratefully at Stacia. The old woman grinned toothlessly.

"My sister's boy," the young woman said, pointing toward the baby.

"Not yours?" Stacia asked.

"No," the woman said, looking horrified at the notion. "Sister sick. My mother took children. Sister wants them back." She rolled her eyes as though she thought this incomprehensible, yet she gave her nearest niece an affectionate pat.

The old woman nodded and smiled. She obviously didn't understand the words but was enjoying the interaction between her loved ones and this foreigner. She jabbed her bony finger into her own chest and said, "Sophia." Then she pointed to her daughter in the seat ahead and proudly said, "Natolie."

"Stacia," Stacia said slowly, pointing to herself.

Sophia was totally unlike Stacia's own grandmother. The old woman appeared much softer. Although, perhaps, the two women weren't so different. After Stacia's mother had died, Grandmother Roberts had stepped in as this woman had done, and had tried to instill in her grand-daughter what she knew to be right and wrong.

Which was probably why Stacia was in this pickle. If she hadn't listened so well to what Grandmother Roberts taught her, she wouldn't have cared enough about anyone else to want to help them. She would have looked out for Number One.

* * *

Andrew glared at the road in front and pressed furiously on the gas pedal. Still the car failed to increase its speed. The car rental man had nodded vigorously when questioned about the car's capabilities, had said it was the fastest they had and would suit an American, had even added a verbal
vroom, vroom,
as though the sound effect would indicate how fast was fast.

It was not very fast as far as Andrew could make out. But they'd had nothing else and he'd been anxious to get going.

With a frustrated sigh, he pulled the car up in front of the hotel. Five minutes to collect his bag and he'd be off. No telling where he'd be going next after he checked out Artemis. He hadn't admitted it to Stacia, not wanting her to become even more insistent on accompanying him, but his instincts told him Maria Argolis probably was in Artemis or at the very least had gone there first after leaving Spinalonga. If she was there, he'd find her.

He drew his room key from his pocket, and pushed open the hotel door. He saw the luggage before he moved another inch.

He had carried those suitcases in both Greece and Chicago. Those suitcases shouldn't be here at all. If Stacia's luggage was here, where the hell was she?

* * *

Stacia shut her eyes, and prayed the wooziness would go away, but it probably wouldn't abate until the bus finally stopped, or the corkscrew twists in the gravel road straightened themselves out. She didn't think her nausea could be from something she ate, for she'd eaten nothing since last night. She was probably just hungry, should have listened to Andrew about the orange.

With a shudder, she pried open one eye and squinted out her window. It was dry here in the mountains, the ground rocky and the grass spiky. Yet goats munched contentedly along the side of the road, clinging to the rocks as they'd been born to do, with the only sign of their owners being the faint whisper of smoke from far off chimneys.

Perhaps they had no owners, were simply pets of the Gods. The landscape was ethereal enough to imagine Zeus himself looking down from on high and raising his arm in some godly decree. She hoped he would intervene if the bus went off the road.

There seemed little holding the road to the mountain except a few olive trees, their leaves shimmering even without a wind. One misstep, one false turn of the wheel and they'd all plunge to their deaths. Stacia fought the bile crowding her throat.

Yesterday's cliff hung in her memory. Only this time there was no Andrew to offer her his hand, to hold her eyes with his strength. This time her sole protection was a casing of thin metal and a driver who drove like a crazy person.

The bus rumbled around another turn, its gears grinding in protest, and the ground dropped alarmingly away as the bus seemed to balance on three wheels. Sharp knuckles prodded Stacia's arm, forcing her gaze from the window.

Sophia peered at Stacia anxiously, her weathered brow furrowed into a thousand wrinkles. She held out her hand. Pumpkin seeds lay in her rounded palm, a few spilling out each time the bus swayed around a curve. The woman picked them off her dress and carefully placed them back in her hand, then offered them to Stacia, her face creasing into a smile.

Stacia's stomach quailed at the sight of food, but she forced herself to reach for the seeds. Perhaps if she ate, this sick feeling would disappear. If she were going to look for Maria Argolis, she had to be strong.

Sophia's smile widened, and she murmured something to another elderly woman across the aisle. This woman peered around Sophia at Stacia then rummaged in a bag at her feet. Eventually, she pulled out a rounded loaf of bread and a piece of waxed paper, from which wafted the pungent smell
of feta.
She solemnly passed the food to Sophia, who placed it straight into Stacia's hands.

She shook her head in protest, her stomach still rebelling, but with smiles and a vigorous waving of her hands, the woman across the aisle insisted. It seemed all the passengers were watching, as though national pride was at stake that she eat the food offered. Smiling weakly, Stacia tore off a crust of bread, laid a sliver of
feta
on top then brought the bread to her lips.

Her stomach seemed to calm as soon as she swallowed. Ambrosia of the Gods couldn't have tasted better. Even the jerking of the bus as it ran over a rock had no negative impact. Swiftly, she ate more. The little girls in front clapped their hands and giggled, and Stacia grinned back at them, rubbing her stomach to show how much she had enjoyed the food.

"Olives?" Natolie asked, thrusting ajar at Stacia.

"Thank you," Stacia replied, plucking out a plump one and popping it into her mouth. She couldn't believe how much better she felt, how mere food could make such a difference.

Although perhaps it wasn't just the food. It was the women and the fact they cared. Moisture pricked Stacia's eyes as she smiled at the friendly faces. Andrew might not be here, but she wasn't alone.

Chapter 15

The sun was still hot as Stacia descended from the bus, but when she ran her hand up her arm, her skin felt icy. The impulse to turn back was overwhelming, to endure anything rather than look for Maria Argolis, even if it meant riding on a bus where the driver kissed the good luck charm hanging from his mirror before recklessly passing other vehicles in oncoming traffic.

Artemis was smaller than Stacia had imagined. A single shop and two or three houses straggled untidily along the road. Beyond that, there was nothing. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but she had imagined at the very least a cafe, some place she could catch her breath and gather her courage.

And where was the church?

Behind her, the driver revved the bus's engine then with a strident blare of his horn, swung the vehicle out onto the road. She took a step after it, but stopped as the bus roared down the road away from her, gravel and dust churned up by its wheels.