Turkish Delights Series (2 page)

He kept pointing, sensing when she looked up to see the airplane that must be casting a shadow over the water. But he knew better. The shadow was from below. As they watched, a massive black, torpedo-shaped vessel emerged from the water. He heard the cheering of the men in the tea house. His heart sped up. It was magnificent. The water sluiced off it. The American flag on the side glittered in the sunlight. Without realizing it, he had the girl’s hand clutched to his chest.

“Wow. Neat-o.” She breathed, letting him keep her warm hand close to his body.

“Yes. Very.” Levent watched the massive submarine as it travelled up the straight past shops, docks, and gaping, mostly male citizens. Unlike many young Turkish boys, Levent couldn’t wait to serve his country. At the first opportunity he planned to join the navy. Spend the rest of his life on the seas, just like the soldiers who had emerged from the upper hold and waved to the cheering people lining the water’s edge.

Vivian squirmed. “It’s cold. Can we please go now?” He looked at her, let go of her hand, embarrassed at their contact, and ran his fingers through his hair. It was getting dark. He should get her home.

She gripped his arm as they picked their way back along the bridge, not letting go when they reached the broken cement sidewalk. Levent stared down at her, surprised she still held onto him. Her dark brown hair and eyes shone in the twilight, already plotting the type of mischief he’d enabled for the last few months. He knew that look well and grinned at her next words.

“Race you!” He stumbled backward when she pushed the arm she’d been gripping to get a head start. “First one back gets the
simit
!” Levent smiled at her small body dodging through the masses of male figures crowding the streets since the release of the evening prayers. He bit his lip, gave her another few minutes then started weaving through the crowd, following her.

After about ten minutes headed in the general direction of her father’s diplomatic residence, he still hadn’t spotted her. But they knew cheater’s shortcuts after an entire summer spent exploring this area of the city. She’d be okay. The girl caught some grief from the men in the crowd. Istanbul’s streets teemed with all manner of dangers from pick pockets to uneven or non-existent sidewalks to packs of wild dogs that lived off garbage and the good will of citizens. It really was no place for a girl.

Levent caught sight of her maroon skirt twitching through a mass of dark trousers at the same moment he heard the growling. He picked up his pace. He had planned to let her win and get the prize—the morning’s
simit
, a sort of bagel-like bread covered in sesame seeds, a staple of Turkish bread baskets. But he had another reason to lose. The smile she’d flash when she beat him made his whole body hum with happiness. The low growling came from ahead and to the right, in an alley nearby. But she stayed beyond his reach. His heart sped up again, and he shoved past the few remaining men between them.

“Better hurry,” he yelled, as he lost all sight of her. He stopped, breathing heavy, trying to quell rising panic.

“Boo!” She yanked his hat off as she passed, nearly making him leap out his skin. She turned and faced him, walking backwards, and Levent felt his heart do the first of many slow flips in his chest at the sight of her. He put his hand on his chest once, started to call out, but she whipped around and took off, moving quickly through the crowd once again.

***

Vivian’s lungs screamed with the effort of maintaining a breakneck pace through the busy streets. She’d learned to ignore the grumblings of men who disapproved of her presence among them. There was no way she could spend every waking moment cooped up either in school or at home. Her body craved activity. It wouldn’t let her sit still. The first time she’d snuck out to follow the servant boy as he made his rounds of street markets for fresh fruits and vegetables, she’d stayed hidden in shadows and alleys. Fascinated by his ability to come and go as he pleased, she’d tracked him for nearly an hour before he turned and pointed at her. She’d stayed hidden, or so she thought, tucked nearly underneath a street merchant’s table and had been congratulating herself on her spy-worthy skills.

The boy’s face had looked stern, but his dark blue eyes had twinkled, amused at her. “Go back, girl,” he said in pure, sing-song English. “You do not belong here on street.”

She’d stood, brushed the dirt off her proper school uniform, and crossed her arms, not moving. “No. And you can’t make me.”

He’d shrugged. “Then you have to catch me.” And he’d taken off like a shot.

She’d made a point to join him nearly every day after that. He showed her how to steal bread and eat it while they sat along the mighty Bosporus. On their forays she also learned how to really hide, to see while being unseen. A skill she treasured.

Her memories were snapped to present when he dashed by her, grabbed her hand and yanked her into a dirty narrow passageway between wooden buildings. His eyes were wild as he pushed her into a pile of wooden pallets. “Climb! As high as you can go!” A dog’s bark drowned out her response. She looked down at the sound of a loud yelp of pain and saw he’d whacked one of the feral animals on the nose. It kept coming at him though. Vivian was terrified but wasn’t about to hide while he did all the fighting. She crested the top of the pile, found some chunks of concrete and started hurling them down behind the dogs to distract them. He glared up at her. “Hide!”

She backed up against the smooth side of the ancient building. Her heart pounded in her ears, but she couldn’t stop smiling. As far as she was concerned, this was living. Sitting around and reading
Jane Eyre
and doing crochet like her mother expected was simply maddening.

He called out, yelling at the three dogs that had them cornered. Vivian leapt from her leaning pallet tower over to a balcony that jutted out into the dirty alleyway. There were some empty iron chairs up there, in a tangle of rusty metal. She heaved one over the side, distracting the dogs long enough so her friend could scramble up the wooden pile out of immediate danger. He stared at her, his chest heaving. She smiled, unable to stop herself, as he laughed at her. If she had a brother, she’d want one like him. But suddenly his blue gaze took on an intensity she didn’t understand, although it made her tingle. She looked away.

By the time the dogs wandered away, she realized they had been sitting for nearly an hour as it got dangerously close to dark. They’d passed the time seeing who could hit the opposite wall with pebbles, talking in a mish mash of English and Turkish about what tomorrow might bring. She heaved herself over the side of the balcony and dropped down, surprised when he caught her. Vivian gulped. His strong arms felt so good, holding her close. She was late and could face all sorts of trouble, but his hands were so warm, his arms so strong. They made her feel safe.

He let her go and dashed away. Within minutes, the dogs were on their heels again but time was short, they couldn’t hide anymore. Their feet pounded the cobblestones, she in front, so he could reach back every now and then and smack the lead dog’s nose with a stick to delay them. As Vivian took the final long jump over the dirty canal that separated the diplomatic neighborhoods from the rest of Etiler, she heard a cry of anger and pain. She wheeled around and didn’t see Levent. Breathless, she doubled back and found him, crouched against a rusting pipe that jutted out from the street, his hands on his face. Blood covered his neck and shirt.

“Oh no, Levent, did the dog bite you?” She tried to touch his hands, but he jerked out of her reach and walked away. “Let me see!”

He headed for her father’s compound. Blood dripped on the cobblestones as she followed, pleading with him to let her help. He ignored her and moved toward the house.

Chapter Two

“Merciful Virgin child where have you been?” The girl’s mother stood at the kitchen door, her hands clutched together so tight Levent couldn’t make out where one ended and the other began. He watched Vivian try to smooth her hair, but the blatant dirt splotches on her once-white school shirt and maroon skirt were impossible to deny. So she simply stood, staring as he ducked behind the tall, elegant woman and into the dim front hall.

He winced at the sight of his own mother, as she walked out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. Her reaction came close to what he expected. Calling for the kitchen maid, she shoved him down onto a bench and pulled his hands away from his face. Blood ran down his neck, covered his shirt, made crimson puddles on the clean floor. She railed at him, smacked his head once or twice, yelled for his father. But went about the business of cleaning up the gash at the corner of his upper lip.

“This is your reward for stealing away with the little girl. You must stop now. Her parents know. It is inappropriate for her. She must stay here. And you must go. We are sending you to academy. You can get started on that military career you want so badly.” Another clout to the back of the head signaled that his father had arrived. Levent felt his chest tighten. Never see her again? How could that be?

“No,” he claimed. “I…I want to work. The academy is too expensive. We can’t afford it.”

Whack. That one from his mother’s hand again. His head spun. “How do you know what your father can and cannot afford, you cur?” She shook her head and pressed yet another fresh towel to his dirty, bloodied face. “Insolent spawn.” She muttered all manner of Turkish curses on his hide as she cleaned his face and put a bandage over his upper lip. His father’s heavy hand fell onto his shoulder once his mother was finished.

“Son, I found you a job you can take for a couple of years, if you like. I know you love building things so an uncle has offered to take you on as a tradesman. Starting tomorrow.” His father’s voice was low. “I want you to learn, do you hear me? Get all the knowledge you can then spend your two years defending our beloved Republic, then I will have money for you to start your business. No son of mine will serve another like I have done.”

Levent frowned. “You are noble, father. I am proud to be your son.” His father stared hard at him. “But, I don’t want to leave…here.”

His parents exchanged a significant look. His mother moved into the kitchen presumably to fetch bandages, mumbling about “ungrateful sons” and “inappropriate friends.” A stone dropped in his gut when he looked back into his father’s dark eyes.

“You must, my son. It is for the best. For everyone.” For the first time in his nearly fifteen years, Levent let his temper loose to a beloved parent. He stood, aware his shirt was stiffening with his own blood and his upper lip hurt like the devil had it in a vise. But he was not leaving. Not leaving her.

“No. I won’t. I don’t care what you think. She is my friend and I….” His shoulders sagged. He’d given away his position, betrayed how he truly felt about the daughter of the diplomat his parents served. The look in the older man’s eyes told him it wasn’t a huge news flash. His father stood, his six foot six frame taking up most of the room in the small kitchen alcove.

“You will go, Levent. This girl is not your friend. She is your superior. Don’t ever forget it.” He put a meaty hand on the boy’s shoulder. The weight of the world seemed to settle over him. His childhood—running the streets, laughing and joking, getting into and out of trouble, watching her lips curve into a smile, and listening to her voice as she spoke—was over. His father was right. He swallowed, nodded his head, and moved into the kitchen to receive first aid. Bitter unshed tears made his throat ache. He sent a silent good bye to the girl, hoping she wouldn’t be angry when she woke up tomorrow, and he was long gone.

The shouting, curses, and general craziness of a large construction site were familiar to Levent. Truthfully, it was his favorite place. He sighed and put his boot-clad feet up on the desk. The office was still bustling with workmen, but as the day came to a close, the place was emptying out. He’d placated an entire battalion of electricians today, and the general contractor was across the room singing his praises to a frazzled secretary so she could type a letter for his file. Levent smiled at her. He’d maneuvered her into a dark corner a few weeks ago, stolen a few kisses. As he recalled the fairly forgettable moment, his fingers gripped the folded paper Vivian had stuffed into his pocket earlier that day.

His heart pounded. He’d let the chaos of the afternoon’s work push the images of Vivian out of his head. Which somehow forced it all back, nearly bowling him over. Memories of those deep brown eyes made him clench his jaw. He’d tried to sneak past her, writing a mental note to transfer out of that class. But she’d grabbed his arm. His entire body had zinged in pleasure at that one touch. She hadn’t spoken. Had merely handed him a piece of paper. Because he wasn’t able to trust his voice, and besides had no idea what he’d say to her anyway, he’d nodded and rushed out.

He caressed the paper between his hands. Then opened it, found a few simple words: 101 Cannakkale Place Dungeon ten p.m. He frowned. That was a bad part of town slowly being rehabbed. He had no idea why she would be there at ten p.m., well past the time nice American diplomatic daughters should be tucked up with hot chocolate and a book. His father’s words filled his head. “She is your superior.” He groaned. The almost fourteen years since he’d laid eyes on the girl felt like fourteen minutes right now. He’d missed her so much but had buried himself in work, then two years on the Syrian/Turkish border in the military. He never wanted for female company. But he was getting tired of the string of endless opportunity with women he felt nothing for beyond what their bodies provided.

“Deniz!” The electric foreman stomped into the temporary office. “Let me take you to tea, my son. You are a wise man beyond your tender years. I want to celebrate the deal you have made for us with the surly dog of a subcontractor.”