Chapter 6
Maggie
FOUR MONTHS LATER
Loyola Marymount University, Los Angeles, CA
Teaching freshman chemistry seemed so pointless to me now after Greece. I thumbed through photos on my phone in my disassociation and saw the screenshot of the formula that was mysteriously texted to everyone on the island that last night.
LMU’s chemistry software had proved my assumption that the unidentified element from the text was indeed gelatinized bone marrow from goats or sheep.
Just like Nancy had theorized about the substance protecting the icon.
But who sent the text with the formula to everyone and why was still unknown?
More sleep had been lost over that mystery.
But it wasn’t my job to find out. The Tinian’s needed to fix their own problems. They probably couldn’t afford me anyway.
Woefully gazing out at the room of apathetic students, my eyes caught a grown man standing in the back. Shaggy dark hair, tanned skin and that sexy scowl.
Alex
He waited as the students finished a pop quiz I’d dropped on them because things needed to be spiced up to keep my interest these days.
I tried not to meet his eyes as if the flashbacks would blow me over.
Rushes of excitement and flutters in my belly were exactly what I should want in my current lull of an existence.
But he was too complicated. Too young. Too everything.
“When you are finished you may leave,” I announced hoping they’d get out quickly so I could talk to Alex and find out why he was here.
When the last student left passed him, Alex walked casually towards me with his hands in in pants pockets.
I closed my laptop and crossed my arms waiting to see how close he’d come.
He stopped about three feet away and held a casual stance.
“Did you miss me, Maggie?”
“Maybe,” I teased.
Okay, I liked the feeling of excitement this was sending to my sad underused receptors. The chippy banter, the battle of wits, the word wrestling to see who would give in was exhilarating. I wanted to have more of this, it didn’t matter why he was here.
Plus, he started it.
He smiled and that dimple—gah. Zing, pulse.
“Glad to hear it,” he said, and eyed me from my toes up, stopping at my face. Then we were back to the silent tennis match that had become the hallmark, stalemate and foreplay of our entire relationship. We were locked on each other, no words for what seemed like an eternity.
“He didn’t tell me I’d forget to breathe.”
He shook off a dazed moment and I had to step back, unsteady on my feet.
“Uh, I wish I was here for a reunion, but I’m here to ask for your help,” he said and leaned back on the closest lab table.
“My help?” I asked truly surprised and unable to mask it. “Why send you?”
“I volunteered,”
Why was I turning into molten goo with that knowledge?
He pushed off the table with an exasperated huff, like the grumpy shithead he was when we first met.
“Our internet and cell service went dark again,” he said. “The summer season was a disaster for the island, word got around about our technology issues and the tourist dependent businesses are furious.”
“Okay,” I said still not knowing why he was telling me all this.
“There have also been Russian trawlers in the area, rumored to be mining pirates. And last week George’s brother reported men with night vision goggles on his land.”
His reason for seeking me out started to become clear. I was a fixer. They needed my skills.
So, he didn’t come to rekindle our affair, to my disappointment.
“But that’s not the only reason I volunteered to come,” His voice dropped and he took my hand pulling me close.
A bright light pierced my eyes, and I heard my name, making me pull away and round the back of my desk.
“Oh, sorry for the interruption, Professor Lavelle. Do you have a moment?” Derek Laslo the deputy chancellor and a devout priest said then cleared this throat.
“Sure, Father Laslo.” I said hoping my cheeks were not visibly pink from either a hot flash or Alex standing there—or both. “Can I come to your office in ten minutes?”
“That’s fine,” he bowed and left.
Alex never turned to the other man; his heated gaze stayed right on me.
“So, where are you staying?” I exhaled a very long breath.
“I was hoping to crash—with family,” he leaned in and paused.
That pause and the dimpled grin. I’m in big trouble.
“Am I the family you are hoping to crash with?”
He nodded once.
“Oh, of course. Yes. We are—or will be—family soon, won’t we?” I babbled and started to gather my files and my laptop. “Let me just see what Father Laslo wanted and then—"
He chuckled when I dropped my bag and everything spilled out. I had become a silly, awkward schoolgirl all of a sudden.
“Um, I could give you the address and you can meet me there.”
I dropped to my knees and started to collect my items.
“Looking forward to it,” he said kneeling with me to help. “I’d like to cook you dinner.”
I shot upright. “You want to stay with me and cook me dinner?” I repeated only my voice had gone up a few octaves.
“Yes, is that so strange? A man wants to cook dinner. At your house? In your kitchen? You do have a kitchen, right?”
I rolled my eyes and took a sticky note from my desk, jotted my address down, slapped it on his chest and started for the door.
“See you there in about an hour?” He asked holding up the square, neon yellow paper.
“Okay,” I said. Then my brain went haywire.
He’s too young, too complicated and not my type.
I stopped my fleeing exit and dropped my hands to my side straightening my posture. Enough! My mind shouted. You want to fuck him, so do it. You are a grown woman, too grown. Take what you want goddamnit.
He caught up to me and we walked to the doors.
“You’re in for a treat. I’m an excellent cook.” He said and took his jacket off when we got outside into the typical overcast fall day, then he rolled up his sleeves. “You don’t have any allergies, do you?”
I didn’t answer because I was staring at a stream of sunlight beaming through the clouds and off his golden vein corded forearm.
He was far too good looking. I’d never remembered being romanced by a man like him.
I tended to attract the intellectuals, scientist types.
Those with attractive brains, not forearms.
“He didn’t tell me I’d lose my mind around you.”
“Maggie? Allergies?”
“He didn’t tell me I’d want to keep you.”
“Oh,” my face snapped up to his. “No. No allergies.”
“Great, then I’ll meet you there.”
I watched him walk away in the tight suit pants only young men and Europeans wore showing off a very splendid ass.
Ugh, you are a total Cougar, Margaret.
Now I have to go meet with a priest? I’m a sinning, immoral wicked old woman. Who will soon be Alex’s—what? His ‘aunt-in-law’? ‘Cousin’?
No, no, no. I am nothing. We are family by default, only.
Before I knew it, I was standing outside the father’s office. I’m going to hell. Tsu, tsu, tsu.
A white sedan was parked in the alley behind my house. Usually, I’d assume it was some kind of unmarked law enforcement vehicle sent to monitor me, but then I remembered a beautiful, young, Greek man was waiting. What is my life right now?
Father Laslo had a copy of my resignation letter. He said I was relieved of my teaching duties, if that’s what I wanted. But I could still use the lab facilities for my sunscreen research as stipulated by my grant and donation to the University.
The meeting was quick and devoid of emotion, as I hadn’t been at the school very long and made no connections with the faculty.
I thought about how I felt more of a connection to the people on Tinos.
That made me think of Alex, again, causing me to tune out everything Father Laslo said after the lab privileges.
I missed Eleni, Gianna, Nancy and Irene. I missed the island, which was strange, like it was one of those wonderful women. I missed it like a friend.
I missed who I was there; unconcerned with my hair or if I was eating right. Not worried if I got enough sleep or how much I drank. I danced and reveled and watched the sunset and read. No alarm clocks or papers to grade or snarky department heads.
I wondered many times if Alex had ever finished “Pillars of The Earth”. It took me weeks when I got back but I finished it and the sequels. I wanted somebody to discuss it with, but my cats weren’t up to it.
And I missed James. His happiness was infectious with his bride-to-be and her close-knit family.
Alex sat on the steps of my cute beach house on a quiet walk-street sloping down to the Pacific Ocean. He had four grocery bags and a brown leather overnight bag.
“Nice place you got here,” he said, and I noticed his Chicago accent for the first time.
He held all the bags and didn’t say another word, but his chest heaved, and his eyes darkened at my stare.
Pulling myself out of the ridiculous staring match I lunged for the shopping bags.
“Oh, where are my manors, please let me—"
He pulled them back, holding all of them in one strong hand.
“I got it. Just lead me to kitchen,” he insisted.
“You’re sure? I can—-”
He tipped his chin to the hallway behind me, and I took his cue to move into the house.
That’s what Alex did to me. He made me entirely too agreeable.
Three furry bullets shot back down the hallway and out of sight.
“Uh, cats?” Alex asked about the sounds of scraping claws on the hard wood floor.
“Oh, yes. I forgot. You’re not allergic, are you?” I turned back to him.
“Greeks aren’t allergic to cats. My Yiayia would say; they are our landlords. We don’t always like them as individuals, but we always respect their land. They’ve been here for a much longer, we only rent from them for a short time.”
I grinned at that. The cats in Greece were pampered, fed and happy. I loved the way they were taken care of on the island
“So, what are you making for dinner?” I asked turning on every light along the way to the back of the house and my large open concept kitchen.
“Gemista,” he said placing the bags on the large island in the middle of my very modern kitchen. “Stuffed tomatoes and peppers.”
“Wow, that sounds amazing.” I said staring again.
Why do I keep doing that? We don’t speak; we just look. It could be uncomfortable but for some reason it’s not. I can’t know what he’s thinking, and he can’t know what I am, really. But I feel like we do, like we can read each other’s minds.
I’d like to think he wants to pick up where we left off.
I am teetering between the same old arguments in my head of his complicated life, his age, his crazy girlfriend, the family finding out about us—all of it.
Then I have flashbacks of his apartment, the true euphoric state I was in on his couch, with him running the soft wet cloth over my heated skin and I wanted more of that feeling in my life.
Before I say anything else he’s right in my space, I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes.
“Why don’t you just relax and let me do my thing,” he said, and I imagined everything except cooking.
Stepping back with heat sweeping up my neck I nodded. “Right, okay. This is payment for your room and board.”
He just smiled and I realized neither of us were big talkers.
No idle small talk necessary or conversation gap anxiety.
I liked looking at him with his darkening five-o’clock shadow and smoldering gaze that he probably never intended to make me feel lightheaded, or maybe he did.
It was comforting knowing we didn’t have to fill the space with pointless chatter.
I scurried away from him.
“Pans are here,” I opened a low cabinet and pulled out a sliding shelf. The pots and pans were stacked neatly and never used. I opted for delivery or takeaway. Sometimes I’d eat at the pub around the corner. Sometimes I forgot to eat at all.
“I’m going to clean myself up,” I said heading for a back stairway just off the walk-in butler’s pantry of my updated 1930’s Craftsman bungalow.
“Need any help?” He asked with that smirk and that dimple.
Yes, no, yes, ugh no.
The smirk faded and he stepped toward me in the arched doorway.
“Just so you know, my life is not complicated. I am not a complicated man.”
This man catching me off guard was becoming worrisome.
“Y-you talked to Tommy?” I stuttered, then exhaled wanting to kill him. He obviously told Alex what I’d said.
He nodded. “I am not with Maria, not for a long time. I’m not with anyone. I’ve been taking care of my mother and my kids when they visit in the summer. And I’m trying to write this damn book that has me infuriatingly stumped.”
That scowl was back, but not for me.
“It seems you are the complicated one, Maggie.”
The accusation sent a flood of emotions up my spine and straight to my eyes that started to well up.
He was right. I’d had to go every three weeks to get a scan on a growth.
All tests were inconclusive if there was malignancy present.
Which meant fuck all. Something was growing and I already had a history of cancer.
There was a constant battle going on so deep inside me, teetering from acceptance to warrior-mode and I was dealing with all of it by myself.
My left hand found its way under my right arm where I pressed on the walnut sized, rock-hard motherfucker that would most likely kill me. I hadn’t told anyone.
I hadn’t told ANYONE.
I’d die alone with my three cats.
The thought had my knees buckle and as if in slow motion I slid down the wall as the sobs burned my eyes and throat.