Ni-Cio was floored that her English was so good; he had been prepared for Greek. “Good morning. I am in need of assistance. Is the doctor available?”
The woman glanced at the schedule and nodded. “He’s just about through with a patient. If you can fill out some information, I’ll get you in to see him shortly.”
She handed him some papers that looked very confusing. Ni-Cio’s brows knitted together. “I will do the best I can.”
He took a seat and scratched his head as he looked over the forms. He could read English, but the questions were unknown to him. He had no idea what any of it meant. He glanced at the receptionist. She was busy typing, so Ni-Cio decided on a mild deception.
He bent over the paperwork and scribbled here and there until the young lady opened the door. “Please, follow me.”
Ni-Cio smiled and stood. Holding the clipboard next to his chest, he hesitated, “I have not finished these papers. May I take them with me?”
The woman smiled. “Certainly. Just drop them off at the desk on your way out.”
She took Ni-Cio through a small hallway and opened the door into another room. Ni-Cio noticed a couple of chairs. However, unfamiliar with an elevated table that stood in the center of the room, he pointed and asked, “What is that?”
The lady glanced at the examination table and looked back at Ni-Cio. She shook her head and shut the door without answering. Quirking his brow, Ni-Cio took the chair and settled to wait. It wasn’t long before a tall, gangly man came in and offered his hand. “I’m Dr. Ayers.”
Ni-Cio was again surprised. “You are American.” The man’s glasses gleamed in the light, framing kind, sparkling eyes.
The doctor grinned. “My wife and I came to Santorini on our honeymoon and we just never left. I started my practice and voila! The rest, as they say, is history.” He took out a pen and started to take notes. “Now, tell me your name and why you’re here today?”
“I am Ni-C, er, ah! Evan Gaddes. I am having stomach pains and they are increasing in intensity.”
“Well, let’s have a look.” The man put his tablet down and patted the metal table.
Ni-Cio quailed. “Uh, no.”
“I have to examine you. And you’ll need to get up on the table.” The doctor looked confused.
Ni-Cio shook his head. “I cannot take off my shirt.”
“Fine, leave it on. I just need to palpate your stomach.” The doctor sounded exasperated.
Ni-Cio slid up onto the table.
“Can you lie back?”
The Atlantean’s eyes widened, but he did as he was asked. “Now what?”
The man studied his patient. “Have you not seen a doctor before?”
“I have never needed to.”
Nodding his head, the doctor explained what he was going to do. When Ni-Cio consented, he bent to his examination. He poked and prodded, took Ni-Cio’s temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure.
Puzzled, he finished his cursory observation and stood back, tugging his ear. “Are the pains constant? Or do they come and go?”
“They come and go.” Ni-Cio got off the table and straightened his clothes.
“Have you noticed how far apart the pains are?”
Ni-Cio frowned in thought and shook his head. “I have only experienced them maybe two or three times.”
“Well, I’m stumped; you’re a perfect specimen. All your vitals are excellent. I don’t feel a mass in your stomach, so unless you are willing to submit to further tests, I have no way of knowing what’s wrong with you.”
“What other tests?”
“X-ray, MRI that sort of thing.”
Ni-Cio vehemently shook his head. “Out of the question.” He slid off the table, ready to leave.
The doctor placed his hand on Ni-Cio’s arm. “Mr. Gaddes, are you married?”
“What business is it of yours?” Ni-Cio scowled.
The man’s brows lifted. “Well, if you have a wife and she is pregnant, I would almost suggest that you are experiencing sympathy pains. But, as I say, unless you want more testing, that would be an extremely wild guess.”
Ni-Cio couldn’t speak. His brain had seized—he felt like he had entered a dream and everything was moving in slow motion.
The doctor thanked him for coming in, but Ni-Cio barely noticed his departure. As the door closed, Ni-Cio dropped into a chair, eyes unfocused. He ransacked his mind for an indication that the man could be right. He ran through the times he had felt the pain.
Slowly, a light dawned. At last, the full realization hit and Ni-Cio slapped both knees. He jumped up, threw his head back and let out an enormous Atlantean yell. “I am going to be a father!”
He started laughing so hard, he didn’t know if he could stop. The relief was staggering and his heart swelled with joy. Daria carried their child and she was alive and well! His spirits soared. “I am going to be a father!” He shouted again.
He banged the door open and rushed back to the front office. Startling the woman at the desk, he tossed a stack of money to her and yelled with delight, “I am going to be a father!” He heard her echoing laugh as he tore out the front door. “Rogert! Where are you? This party is going to be better than we thought!”
Possibilities and thoughts raced through his mind until he latched onto one magnificent certainty. “Daria, my love, I swear … it is only a matter of time before I break through!”
As he ran back to the parking area, Ni-Cio knew, as he knew Rogert would always get the better of the old truck, that it would not be long before he found the woman of his heart.
Dr. Diaz had come and gone and evening shadows were encroaching into the last moments of daylight. Daria’s stomach rumbled with a vengeance. “Wow, that’s something new.” Chuckling at the urgent demands her precious daughter imposed upon her body, she rubbed her growing belly. “Patience, little one.”
She vacated her room, and tailed by her groupies, hurried to the dining area. Travlor was already seated. Not waiting for him to rise, she slid into her seat and started eating. She didn’t feel like talking.
“I did not think you would join me.”
Between ravenous bites, Daria managed a reply. “I didn’t want to, but my daughter’s needs seem to be the driving force these days.”
Travlor huffed, “I am in no mood to suffer one of yours.”
“I really don’t care.” Daria didn’t look up and continued to eat as fast as she could work the food from the plate to her mouth.
Travlor swept his napkin into his lap and picked up his fork. He stabbed a piece of blood-red beef and raised the bite halfway to his mouth. He paused, “I have decided on another healing. The word is not spreading as quickly as I need it to. So, we must be prepared to make more of a splash.” He shoved the meat into his mouth and chewed, looking at Daria from under his eyebrows.
She refused to meet his stare and she didn’t feel like rising to the bait. As quickly as possible, she loaded her fork and crammed more food into her mouth. She chewed so fast, she thought she might choke. However, it was no longer the hunger that drove her. She needed to be away from this reprehensible man, but from the way he poked at his meal, it was obvious he was in no hurry to leave.
“Are you listening? My men are scouting another site for a healing. If you can cease eating for a moment, I need to know if you’re up to it.”
Daria threw her fork down and pushed away from the table. She stood up, trying to tower over Travlor, but all she accomplished was crowding his space. Pushed to her breaking point, she bent closer to him and looked him in the eyes. “I’ve just had news that I don’t quite know how to take. I’m not sure what’s happening to me or to my child. I don’t care about your schemes or your plans or you!” She picked his plate up and dumped the food in his lap. “I’m sick of this! I’m sick of your control and I’m sick and tired of try
ing to understand you!”
She ran out the back doors, and after crossing the large yard, found herself at the croquet set. Without thinking, she picked up a mallet and whacked one of the balls as hard as she could. It blasted past the lawn and sailed over the terrace.
The wooden ball hit the glass with such force that cracks spread over the windows like thousands of creeping vines. Daria cringed and held her breath. Pieces of glass started to drop away. The tinkle of falling glass, shattering on tile, took on a somewhat musical quality. Daria dropped the mallet.
She hadn’t meant for that to happen. She really hadn’t thought the ball would go anywhere, but now she felt supreme satisfaction at having caused something to happen, at having damaged something that belonged to him. She had an overpowering desire to stick out her tongue and waggle her fingers in her ears, but even she knew that discretion was sometimes the better part of valor. She turned and fled. Travlor wouldn’t be able to catch her. Her groupies, however, stayed close.
Prior to Travlor’s and Daria’s arrival, the local hospital had received a strange demand; any and all signs referencing location or name had to be covered. The only explanation given was that the honored guest required anonymity. So, the baffled staff complied.
Two weeks later every plaque, every sign, and every name tag had been hidden or draped. The staff had done such a thorough job that Daria had no idea where she was. The hospitalist escorted them to the over-crowded cancer ward. In shocked silence, she surveyed the gruesome scene.
Children of all ages lay in varying stages of the rotting disease, tenaciously clinging to life while edging closer to death. Daria’s soul ached to see so many bald heads, sunken, purple-reamed eyes, and exhausted, emaciated bodies. The poisonous introduction of chemotherapy had ravaged their tender systems.
As Daria waited for Travlor’s lead, she remembered back to the day that had initiated this moment.
After her crazy mallet swing, she had thought Travlor would seek retribution. Instead, he had respected her space. Eventually, he had wound his way through the gardens seeking her out. He had even brought more food. When he located her in one of the gazebos, she readily accepted the meal as she was still famished.
She realized that the food was as much of an apology as she would ever get. Somewhat pacified, she had followed Travlor back to the house and listened while he discussed his plans for the local hospital. She quickly agreed. She had always loved children, but her heart held a special place for those in pain. She not only wanted to go to the hospital, she needed to go. She would heal all of them if Travlor allowed it. However, if all she could do was help one child, she was willing … no matter if it furthered Travlor’s cause or not.
Travlor had already requested that his “healing” be done in complete privacy. No parents, no doctors, no witnesses. His insistence that he wasn’t seeking publicity rang so false that Daria couldn’t believe others didn’t see through his act. Nevertheless, the hospital had quickly and efficiently opened the way for his dog-and-pony show.
The hospitalist shook Travlor’s hand before leaving the room. “If you can do as you say, then we will be eternally in your debt. You do understand why I am doubtful?”
Travlor nodded and signaled the man to leave. Once the doctor was out of the room, Daria heard Travlor’s thought.
“Administer a sedative. I do not want the children witnessing anything . . .”
Daria immediately uttered the healing tones for the administration of a gentle sedative to wrap each child in sleep. Almost as soon as she did this, the children’s eyes grew heavy and closed. All of her charges faded into an easy, dreamless repose.
Travlor shifted and jerked his chin toward the sleeping children. “All of them. Heal them all …”
Daria was so excited she couldn’t find the words to express the feelings that engulfed her heart. She stepped to the first bed and began the rites that would bring the slight child back to glowing health. It didn’t take long before she was able to move to the next and then to the next. Each little body responded so well that their color returned instantly. Shy smiles spread across pink cheeks as though even in sleep, the children sensed that their sickness had disappeared.
When she stepped to the bed of the last child, she didn’t slow her healing tones, however, she stopped her healing motions. The boy was closer to death than the others. His breathing was nearly nonexistent. She glanced at Travlor. “I don’t feel I should interfere. He’s too close to death.”
Travlor brooked no argument. “Continue; everyone must be healed.”
Daria didn’t want to go on, but rather than risk Travlor’s wrath, she began the proper ministrations that would increase the power of the healing.
The child stirred and she could see that he was trying to open his eyes. She sent more sedative through his tiny body. He relaxed so much that his breathing stopped altogether. Her panic flew to Travlor. “He’s dying. I don’t know what to do . . .”
Travlor came to her side and took her hands. He infused her with his strength and followed her motions. Daria continued the healing. Time passed and still more time. Sweat trickled down her back and she could feel the heat radiating in waves from Travlor’s body. They never ceased their motions, but Daria did increase the tonality of her ethereal song. Finally, the child’s chest began to rise and fall and his breathing evened out.
After more time had elapsed, Daria noticed the color creeping back into his sunken cheeks. She meticulously scanned his meager body. There was not a single trace of cancer. Her hands dropped to her sides and she sagged against Travlor. It took her a moment, but she realized that her body was holding his drooping form upright. His voice came out in a cracked whisper. “Call the men to take us to the car.”
Daria forced herself to stir. Barely able to speak herself, she managed enough noise so that one of the soldiers looked in on them. Daria nodded and the guard summoned the others.
The squad crowded into the room and lifted both of them, then rushed back to the car. Held securely against a rock-hard chest, Daria caught the doctor’s eyes on their way out. She smiled weakly. The man raised his arms in praise and gratitude and all she could think was, Here we go again.
As soon as her head hit the car seat, she let go of everything and plummeted into nothingness.
Yet a second Atlantean party was in full swing. Reveling in the warm, summer night and the beer that Rogert kept in ready supply, the Atlanteans had been so focused on getting the compound into shape and scouring the walls, ceilings and floors of their adopted home that everyone was ready to let go.
It was a much-needed release, but the festivities were made even more boisterous with the news that Aris and Mer-An had shared two weeks ago. That a new life was to be born in their midst lifted every heart, bringing them even more reason to celebrate. The way his people smiled, sang, danced, and laughed was almost like their life before Travlor happened.
Ni-Cio sat removed from the noisy fray. Content to let the attention center around Aris and Mer-An, he had decided not to tell anyone about Daria’s pregnancy. Without a more thorough set of exams, the doctor couldn’t tell him definitively that the source of his pains was a phantom link to Daria. But he knew with every fiber of his being that the man had hit upon the exact reason for the sudden cramps. He released a thought. “I am with you, my love. I know that you carry our child and I am thrilled … look to yourself and your health …”
He mulled over the problem for a bit. He knew that Travlor still walled the gap between his and Daria’s thoughts. But he still hoped that something would slip through. So, he persisted. “I will find you so that we may be together when our child comes into this world. I love you to the depths of my soul … be well . . .”
Daria stirred. When she raised her head, she saw that they were still in the car and that Travlor slept like the dead. His mouth was slack and his breathing was labored. He had helped h
er rescue that boy from death but at what cost to himself? The man was a mystery. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift; she didn’t have the strength to ponder the workings of a deranged mind right now.
Somewhere in the depths of her longing and her memories, she felt rather than heard a whisper. It was a whisper so infinitely soft that had she not been in her current state, she would have missed it.
“… to the depths of my soul …”
She sat bolt upright. Her thoughts rocketed from her. “Ni-Cio, can you hear me? Ni-Cio!”
Furtively she looked to make sure Travlor still slept. Suddenly a thought blasted through her mind.
“Daria, where are you?”
She knew they shouldn’t waste the precious time but she couldn’t help herself. “Ni-Cio, I love you! I’m carrying our child!”
Topside, on Santorini, Ni-Cio leapt into the air. Contact! He didn’t know what had happened but he realized that their time was probably limited. He had to get them both under control. “Daria! Listen! Tell me where you are!”
Waiting apprehensively for her reply, he was afraid to move, afraid one errant breath would make him miss her reply. He stood so still that he heard his own heartbeat. As his wait lengthened, he thought that they had lost contact when finally, her answer gentled into his mind.
“I’m not sure … somewhere in South America, I think … are you well? How is everyone else?”
“Fine, love … we are fine. You have no idea where in South America you could possibly be?”
“No …”
It was the last thought he received. He didn’t wonder how or why they had been able to breach the silence because he was too overjoyed. All he could think about was that now, at least, they had a direction. Maybe it was an entire country, but Daria had narrowed it down from the whole world. His thoughts screamed through the atmosphere to find Evan. “South America, Evan! They are somewhere in South America!”
Currents of Will Page 12
