Shadows 03 Greek Shadows

by K C West

  “Yes.”

  “Sandy has told me so much about you and Dr. Blair.”

  “And you must be?”

  “I am Irini.”

  I shook her hand formally. “Sandy has not told us nearly enough about you, but then, we haven’t been in touch until the past week or so. Please call me PJ.”

  Sandy had turned at the sound of her voice. A delighted expression spread across his face, and my heart gave a little thump. Whether he knew it or not, it looked as though he’d met that special someone.

  “Doctors,” he said, with a wave of his hand, “may I present Irini Thanos. Irini, this is Dr. Kimberly Blair, the best archaeology professor I ever had, as well as my mentor, and very good friend.”

  Kim asked to be called by her first name also, and soon we were chatting away like old friends. I watched Sandy relieve Irini of the basket and slide his free arm around her waist. They made a handsome couple: her olive skin, flashing dark eyes, and waist-length, shiny black hair complemented his blonde hair and blue eyes.

  They led the way toward the mess tent for our first lunch on site.

  I elbowed Kim. “Looks like our cowboy has found himself a woman.”

  She poked me back. “Think she’ll stunt his growth?”

  Her teasing comment brought a pang of regret at losing my number one spot in Sandy’s affections. “Hey, I found my true love. Why shouldn’t he?”

  We watched him snatch a pastry out of the basket he was carrying and stuff it into his mouth as they walked.

  “I think she’ll be perfect for him,” I said. “She’s already found a way into his heart.”

  “Men are so easily led.”

  “Says someone who can’t wait to get to the food tent.”

  “Can you blame me? The aromas coming from that place are incredible.”

  I don’t know what Kim was expecting lunch to be like, but it certainly didn’t disappoint me. Sandy assured us that it wasn’t an affair of festive proportions every day. Thank goodness for that. If it were so, we’d be the heaviest archaeologists on the planet. We suspected that this feast was in honor of our joining the expedition.

  We were introduced to the chefs, Demetri and his son Pietro. Both men were big and unmistakably Greek, with dark curly hair. Demetri sported a full handlebar mustache and spoke in loud bursts of Greek-accented English. His son was more reserved and spoke English with very little accent. Sandy told us that Pietro had attended culinary schools in France and England before returning to his native Greece, and both men had worked in Athens at one of the more fashionable restaurants. Sandy was able to hire them for as long as they were needed.

  They greeted us with effusive hugs, kissed our hands, and asked a multitude of rather personal questions. We weren’t too surprised because the guidebooks we had hastily consulted prior to our trip had warned that many Greeks were friendly and inquisitive.

  “Ah, pretty lady,” Demetri tapped his large, surprisingly soft palm against my cheek. “Dr. PJ, you are American?”

  “I am.”

  “Are you married?”

  That caught me off-guard. “Um, no.”

  “Ela! Impossible. How old are you?”

  I was not prepared for such a thorough grilling and cast a quick glance at Kim who seemed to be enjoying my predicament. “Thirty-six.”

  He turned and dragged Pietro to his side, giving his son’s back a solid thump. “You like my boy, my Pietro?”

  “We just met, but - “

  “He will make a good husband, no?”

  My face burned from this scrutiny. Sandy and Irini, trying to keep from laughing, found seats along one long table. I tried to join them, but Demetri was waiting for my response, and his large frame blocked my escape route. “Yes, I’m sure he will. I’m… um… not married, but I have someone very special in my life. Thank you, though, for thinking of me. I’m flattered.”

  “Ah, so.” He shoved Pietro back toward the serving trays and wiped his hands on his snowy white apron. “The pretty lady has someone special. He is a lucky man.”

  I didn’t know how to respond at first, but when I looked over at Kim, the right words came easily. “No, I’m the lucky one.”

  Demetri marched me to a seat and then focused on Kim. “Are you American, too, beautiful lady? Dr. Kim?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Married?”

  She shook her head.

  It was my turn to watch her squirm.

  He made sympathetic noises, then thought for a moment. “Special someone for you?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, there is.” Kim glanced quickly in my direction. “But before you ask how old I am, let me ask you a question.”

  Demetri pressed his palms together and bowed. “For you, Dr. Kim, anything.”

  “What are we having for lunch that smells so good?”

  Demetri beamed. From my vantage point, it appeared Kim had made a good friend. Lunch began with salads of olives, tomatoes, feta cheese, mushrooms, and some dry, crisp bread. That was followed by lamb souvlaki with warm pita bread and a medley of vegetables, all presented with a flourish.

  Pietro watched while we ate and enjoyed the feast, giving us a shy nod when we offered our praise. Demetri, on the other hand, seemed to take our compliments in stride, acting as though he expected them.

  Sandy requested a simple dessert of fruit. “We don’t usually have this sumptuous a lunch,” he admitted. “I guess our chefs heard about our illustrious guests and whipped up a banquet.”

  “I’m certainly glad to hear that.” I patted my stuffed belly. “I read that Greek suppers were usually the biggest meal of the day.”

  “Oh, they are,” Irini said. “We often take a rest in the afternoon and don’t start dinner until later in the evening. “But Sandy has his workers on a more American schedule.” Her eyes glittered as he squeezed her hand, and she blushed when he kissed her check.

  We made a few toasts to the project and to our good health. Some of the crew drank a small glass of wine. Kim and I had bottled water. I looked around at the assembled staff. Quite a congenial group.

  Irini’s voice brought me out of my reverie. “Kim, PJ, I have brought you both small gifts from my village.” She offered Kim a lovely pendant of blue and white beads. “This will ward off the Mati, the evil eye,” she said. “Superstitious, I know, but a wish for good fortune, just in case.”

  “Thank you, Irini. It’s lovely.” Kim held up the amulet so we could all see it.

  “And for you,” she said, handing me a string of wooden beads, “I offer Komboloi. Greek worry beads. Traditionally, only for men, but lately it has been most fashionable for women to use them.” She held them up to show us how the string was held with most of the beads hanging over the middle finger, then flicked up onto the palm so the index finger and thumb could rub each bead individually. “They are made of olive wood from very old groves. Sandy told me of your recent troubles, PJ, and I wish to take some of the stress out of your life.”

  My eyes stung with tears. I took the beads and practiced the maneuver she had demonstrated. “Thank you so much. I will treasure them always, along with your kind thoughts.”

  We offered our thanks to Demetri and his son, praising them for their culinary efforts, vowing to return for dinner with appetites worthy of the occasion.

  Apparently Sandy had declared our arrival some kind of a holiday. He and Irini left the group to stroll around the compound. Kim and I returned to our tent.

  Neither of us noticed that Pup was missing until he padded into the tent with a large bone clenched between his teeth. He flopped down on his bedding with a throaty whine.

  “It seems our Pup has found a kindly benefactor,” I said, as Kim and I stretched out alongside each other on the air mattress.

  “Mmm,” she whispered in my ear before nibbling on the lobe. “I’ll bet he didn’t have to go through any third degree to get it either.”

  “Yeah, wasn’t that something?” I remembered the lo
ok on Pietro’s face. “I think the son is kind of shy. I was embarrassed for him.”

  “He’s probably used to it,” Kim said. “I think Demetri is eager to push poor Pietro to the altar.” She slid her hand under my shirt and traced lazy circles around my bellybutton, making me giggle.

  “But enough about them. We have a whole afternoon to pleasure ourselves.”

  When she lifted my shirt and kissed my belly, the giggles turned to moans.

  Chapter 6

  “This is the hardest part.” PJ and I stood watching the laborers going about their work. “The waiting, the anticipation, and the inability to do much. It’s tough.”

  She glanced in Sandy’s direction. “And it looks like it’s really getting to him.”

  We were standing beside a makeshift table composed of a faded green door that a local worker had found and placed on top of a couple of sawhorses. On it, Sandy’s charts lay open, anchored at the corners with four rocks. The sound of shovels sliding into the dirt was mesmerizing. Whenever metal clanked against stone, everyone stopped, picked up less damaging tools, and scraped or brushed the area at a slower, more cautious pace.

  “This is wearing on anyone,” I said, “especially Sandy. He’s put his heart and soul into this project, and it’s taking longer than he thought to uncover anything of value.”

  “Tell me about it,” PJ said. “I can remember the frustration a certain archaeologist suffered when she bet her whole life on a lost tribe of Amazons.”

  “Point taken.” I hoped my look conveyed all the love I felt for her. Thinking of our love brought something else to mind. “It’s not true, you know, that his heart is one hundred percent into the project. A good part of it belongs to a certain Greek beauty.”

  PJ narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. “It is possible to fall in love and devote most of your time and energy to a major archaeological project.”

  I gave her hip a nudge. “You’re sure about that?”

  “Uh-huh. I heard of a rare case in Arizona awhile back, but I forget the details.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll refresh your memory.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Later, when we’re alone.”

  “Mmm. I think I’d like comparing notes with you on that subject, Dr. Blair.”

  *

  It was disappointing and tiring when days passed with nothing but dirt and rock to show for our work. PJ and I joined the crew, sifting loads of soil for signs of ancient habitation, but so far, we’d found nothing. Sunshine beat down on our heads, and we were often distracted by curious visitors who stopped on the outskirts of the compound to see what was going on. Sandy had signs posted around the area indicating that this was an archaeologically-sensitive site. Security personnel would remove any trespassers.

  One morning, during our digging and sifting, I noticed Sandy standing apart from the project, hat off, scratching his wispy mustache, talking to himself. I wiped my hands and walked over to him. “Don’t sweat it, buddy.”

  “What? Oh, sorry. I didn’t hear you, Kim.” He replaced his hat.

  “I’ve been over and over those aerial photographs, and I believe that you’re on to something. Just what, remains to be seen.”

  “Yeah, that’s what worries me. Suppose I overestimated the historical value of the site?”

  My attempts at reassuring him didn’t appear to be working. Perhaps he needed a more professional approach. “You were smart having your photographer take overlapping vertical and oblique shots, so they could be viewed stereoscopically. That, in itself, tells us a whole lot.”

  “I did everything I could, Doc. Shortchanging the initial investigation was something I wasn’t about to do. I needed to be as sure-as-damn-is-to-swearing that I was right, before I put other people’s money into the cause. I don’t understand why we haven’t broken through. According to my calculations….”

  This was Sandy’s first major discovery. It was his baby. I could understand the pressure, the second-guessing; I’d been there myself, often.

  “Incorporating the digitized and mapped information within the Geographical Information System plots was a smart move,” I said, mainly to underscore the fact that so far, he had done everything right. “You have a three dimensional image of something, be it a labyrinth or the remains of an ancient village - either will be important.”

  He nodded slowly and thoughtfully, as if mentally reviewing the steps he had taken and the comments I’d made. “The GIS plotting zeroed me into this spot. It’s one reason I’m so sure - “

  PJ squealed, and the laborers chattered excitedly. Sandy and I rushed to their location. A dirt-filled wheelbarrow stood in our path, but Sandy vaulted it easily. I went around it. One of the laborers had struck stone. PJ, Dorian, and Tifani were on their knees, trowels in hand.

  “I think we’re onto something,” PJ called over her shoulder, as she and the others continued to scrape and scratch with careful urgency.

  I felt that familiar thrill of discovery building inside me. This was not an odd rock blocking the path of progress; this object was tall and rounded. As fast as PJ and the others worked, dirt fell about them, the dust coating them in a tan-colored cloud. After carefully brushing the dirt away, they uncovered the base of a broken column. The diggers backed off to allow Niklas to photograph each piece, while Gregor took measurements and charted the find.

  “Your calculations are off by about two meters.” Gregor looked at Sandy as he spoke. “That’s pretty darn close, boss.”

  Sandy was speechless. He stood staring at the broken column.

  “I knew it,” he managed to utter in a hoarse whisper.

  I felt that one word from any of us just then would probably reduce him to tears.

  PJ stood up, dusted herself off, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Nice going, fella.”

  He pulled her into a clumsy embrace. “Thanks.”

  “Congratulations, Dr. Arnold.” I shook his hand, as tears smudged both his cheeks and mine.

  “Congratulations to all of us,” he said.

  We allowed the laborers to take over, carefully, but swiftly moving the dirt from the center of the excavation to the entrance, using gentle strokes to scrape the surface with their shovels before digging deeper into the dirt.

  It was a slow process, taking several days, as more pieces of the collapsed column were unearthed, measured, and photographed. Through it all, the workers maintained a quiet, almost reverent demeanor, never losing their patience or their interest in reclaiming some of their heritage.

  A few weeks after the initial discovery, one of the laborers, a grizzled villager by the name of Eugenio, slid his shovel into a void. He shouted as the dirt gave in around him, revealing a half dozen crumbling stone steps and a passageway.

  “The sun shines on my past,” he said, in excited, halting English.

  Although the light was bright outside, we could see only a little way into the passage. It appeared to be accessible.

  Sandy released the laborers for lunch while we, together with the excited students, continued to probe first the opening with trowels and brooms, and then the interior of the passage with strong flashlights. Two columns flanked the entrance. The first one was fragmented; the second one had survived in somewhat better shape, though it, too, was broken in half. We studied the spiral scrolls on what remained of the capitals and determined them to be of Ionic design. We worked until darkness forced us to stop.

  “Loukas did the electrical hookups for the generators. I’ll have him run some power in there so we can see what we’re doing,” Sandy said, after thoroughly examining the immediate area of the entrance and pronouncing it safe. “Let’s get cleaned up and break for a meal. After that, we’ll rest a bit and make some plans for further work shifts.”

  *

  That evening, the moon illuminated our tent village in a pearl-white, shadow-casting glow.

  “The light of the Gods,” PJ said, as we walked with Pup close on our heels. Although we were bone tired, we
couldn’t sleep. The events of the past days, the opening of the entrance and all that it implied, had left us with too much on our minds.

  At the top of the ancient stone steps, staring downward into the dark unknown, I put my arm around PJ. She was trembling.

  “What is it?” I glanced sideways, but her face was in shadow, so I couldn’t read her expression.

  She leaned into me. “I don’t know. I’ve been having a weird feeling that there’s more down there than we expect.” Pup sat at her feet, looking up at her as if he, in his own canine way, was trying to put her at ease.

  “You’re still on edge, after what happened in Wales.” I brushed my lips against her sweet-smelling hair. “Dr. Armstrong told us it would take time, so don’t be impatient with yourself. Try not to read more into this excavation than is really here.”

  “I’m not, am I?”

  “You tell me.”

  She took a step downward. “Let’s take a look.”

  “Now?”

  “There’s nothing here but empty passages and, if we’re lucky, some artifacts that will date the structure. Isn’t that what you meant, when you told me not to read anything more into it?”

  “That’s what I said, but I hardly think that one in the morning, when no one else is around, is the time to go exploring.”

  PJ shone her flashlight into the depths. “So you’re reluctant, too?”

  I added my light to hers. “I prefer to call it prudent. All we know for sure is that these steps lead into what appears to be a fairly well-preserved passage. We don’t know where it goes from there or what condition it’s in beyond the entrance, and we have to make sure it’s safe. That’ll take time.”

  PJ exhaled and climbed back to my level. “You’re right, of course. I wasn’t thinking.”

  I couldn’t blame her for being impatient. The Ionic columns marked the entrance to a potential blockbuster of a find, but much work had to be done before we could continue.

  “We’ll be in there soon enough,” I said, taking her hand.

  On the return loop to our tent, we passed Sandy’s tent. We could see a light glowing inside.