The Divided Child by Ekaterine Nikas

"Good,"
he said.   But his expression was
unreadable, and I couldn't tell if he was pleased with my decision or
disappointed.
     
    *                                   *                                   *
     
                I
warned Geoffrey that it would take me some time to get dressed.   He told me he'd be back in an hour.
                It
took me almost the entire time to ease my sore body into clothes, rebandage my
cheek with some gauze I'd been foresighted enough to include in my makeshift
first-aid kit, and comb and dry my unruly hair.   I surveyed the results of my labors in the long, narrow
mirror on the wall with mixed feelings.
                I
had decided to wear a sky blue halter dress I'd bought in Athens, partially
because the color cheered me, but mostly because it was the only dress I had
that I could wear without a bra (sore as I was, maneuvering on a bra was
impossible.)   As I looked in the
mirror, I was pleased with how the dress looked on me, but neither the dress
nor my hair, which for once was cooperating and drying in symmetric waves
around my face, could make the large white bandage on my cheek look less
obvious.   I thought about the scar
I might have and contemplated a career as a lady pirate.   Perhaps it was time to go shopping for
a parrot.
                Such
musings were interrupted by a knock at the door.   I went to answer it half-expecting, after my recent
experiences, to find some new and unexpected visitor on my doorstep, but it was
only Geoffrey.   Perhaps he was
expecting someone else, too, for he stared at me with such a look of surprise
that I nervously looked down.   "What is it?"   I
said.   "Is something wrong
with my dress?"
                "Quite
the contrary," he said, and for a moment the gleam was back in his
eyes.   Then he looked away.   "Shall we be going?"
                I
grabbed my purse and key.   "I
don't suppose you want to tell me where we're going?"
                "I
thought you might already have guessed."
                "The
Old Fort?"
                He
nodded.   "As I said, there's
something there I think you ought to see."
                "That's
what I thought yesterday," I quipped, closing the door, "and look
where it got me."
                Geoffrey
was in a pensive mood during the taxi ride over.   He spoke only a few words of instruction to the driver and
to me not at all.   He paid the
driver silently, but apparently tipped him well, for as Geoffrey helped me out
of the car, the driver wished us happiness and many sons.
                Geoffrey
flushed and strode quickly away.   I
struggled to catch up, and reluctantly he slowed his long stride to match mine
as we crossed the Contrafossa and wound our way up the hill.   We climbed to the lighthouse and the
remnants of the old castle that had been converted to a school for Greek army
officers during World War II.   It
was empty now, abandoned to tourists.   We passed through deteriorating rooms with mustard-colored walls built
upon ruins seven hundred years old. We turned down a hallway decorated with
murals depicting the martial virtues, and then the mustard colored walls gave
way to a damp stone tunnel.
                "Where
are we going?" I asked my silent companion.
                "I
told you I had something to show you -- watch your head!"
                I
ducked to avoid an overhang of porous rock.   A large, cold drop of water splashed down the back of my
neck.   "But Michael and I
didn't come this way yesterday," I said.
                "I
suspected you hadn't."   We
reached a point where the tunnel became quite dark, and he took my hand.   "Careful, we'll be rounding a
corner -- here."   He guided me
to the left.   Suddenly there was
more light, and in the distance I