Their Greek Island Reunion. Carol Grace
so over Jack. If she thought she was, it took ten minutes to tell her she wasn’t. It was all this pent-up emotion, all the bottled-up anger. And maybe some unfinished business. If only she could stop trembling on the inside. Stop the memories from crowding in on her.
“That’s good to know,” he said calmly. “It will make the summer easier for both of us. All it takes is an ability to separate the brain from the emotions.”
How many times had she heard him say that? She used to say it wasn’t possible, while he insisted it was. Why argue? Arguing with Jack was pointless and painful. No one won. Everyone lost. “Nothing to it,” she agreed.
“Now that we’ve settled that.” He sat next to her and stretched his legs out in front of him as if they were casual acquaintances instead of a married couple who’d been at each other’s throats a few minutes ago with recriminations and accusations.
How could he be so nonchalant? Because he didn’t care. He’d moved on. Really moved on. She had to show him she’d done the same. She felt his eyes on her. He was scrutinizing her as if he were trying to classify her. Late Roman or Hellenistic. “You look better,” he said.
“Thanks,” she muttered. But she wondered, did he mean better than a few minutes ago or better than two years ago? She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking. What did it matter what he thought? Their marriage was over. “It’s good we’re working together again,” he said. “One more time.”
One more time? And then what? Would he sign those papers? Was he even going to acknowledge getting them? As of now he was treating her as if she was just another team member he had to work with. A difficult team member who had to be humored. Not someone who’d meant everything to him. Or so he’d said. Now she was someone who had to be treated carefully or she’d fly off the handle. It shouldn’t bother her. But it did. She couldn’t go on being tied to him legally but living apart.
She wanted to shake him. She wanted to scream, We met on this island. Doesn’t it mean anything to you? We’re married. But in name only. You have to admit it’s over. We can’t go on like this. Sign the papers. Let’s stop pretending. Of course she didn’t. “I read your article in Archaeology Digest,” she said, desperately looking to change the subject. “Interesting conclusion.” She didn’t say wrong conclusion, but that’s what she meant and he knew it.
His eyes glittered like the blue Aegean. Jack loved a challenge. That much hadn’t changed. “That means you don’t agree with me, doesn’t it?” he asked.
“That the Age of the Pharaohs was brought about by climate change? That’s ridiculous. You have no proof.”
“Nobody has proof of anything. I thought I made a good case for it.”
She shook her head. “In your dreams.”
“Then what’s your theory? Or haven’t you got one?”
“Does it matter?” she asked.
“Of course it does. We always had some good discussions. No reason to quit now. I value your opinion, you know that.” He put his arm on the back of the bench where it brushed against her shoulders. A small gesture, so familiar that it caused an ache that spread all the way to her heart. If he valued her opinions so much, why hadn’t he asked for them in the two years he’d been gone? She’d barely heard a word from him.
He’d reminded her of the heated discussions they’d had about work, yes. Those were stimulating. But about their personal problems? No one mentioned those. That subject was off-limits. They’d both said things they shouldn’t have. Things that left wounds too deep to forget. At least for her.
Suddenly the summer stretched ahead of her like a long road full of potholes. Dangerous, deep holes a person could fall into and never get out of. She’d have to try to ignore Jack as much as possible. She could talk to him if it was about work. She’d be walking a tightrope for more than two months. But she could do it. She had to.
If she could walk the tightrope and not fall off, she could get a lot out of this dig. There was the chance of finding an important tomb on this island, buried under thousands of years of civilization. She would get an article out of it, maybe a book. She would get along with Jack. She would forget the past. But right now he was so close she could smell the same citrus aftershave he always wore. He was too close for comfort.
She shifted away from him. She had to treat Jack like a colleague and nothing more. Just the way she treated everyone else on this dig, including Marilyn Osborne, a middle-aged archaeologist from the University of Pittsburgh who was ambling toward them across the deck.
“How are you feeling?” she asked Olivia.
“Fine, thank you,” she said stiffly. She did not want anyone to think she had any health problems.
“As Homer said, ‘Beware the stormy seas of May.’ Have you been to the island before?” Marilyn asked.
Olivia exchanged a brief glance with Jack. What was she supposed to say? What had he already said?
“Well, yes, a few years ago,” she said. “Very intriguing site. I’m looking forward to getting back.”
Jack stood. “I’m going to the snack bar. Can I bring you something, Marilyn?”
Marilyn shook her head.
He turned to Olivia. “More tea, sweetheart?”
She bit her lip. How dare he call her sweetheart. If she could have kicked him in the shin without Marilyn noticing, she would have.
“No, thank you,” she said. How like him to skip out when the conversation got dicey. How like him to act as if everything was just dandy between them. How like him to pretend he’d never gotten those divorce papers.
Marilyn took Jack’s place on the bench. As soon as Jack had disappeared down the steps to the lower deck, she spoke. “So I heard that you two are married, right? Did you have any idea that he would be coming along?”
“Technically yes, but we’re actually separated. In the process of getting divorced. We…Jack’s at California U and I’m at Santa Clarita.”
“I had no idea. I hope it won’t be awkward.”
“No, of course not. We’ve worked together before. We get along just fine.” Olivia gave Marilyn what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
“That’s very professional of you,” Marilyn said. “I could never do it. Married seventeen years. Roger is a stay-at-home dad. Fortunately for me because two of our boys are teenagers now. You know how that is.”
“Not really,” Olivia said. She felt the nausea returning. Was it the thought of teenage children that she didn’t have and never would have? The idea of being a stay-at-home parent which she wasn’t and never would be? Or was it simply the boat rocking a little more than usual?
“No children?”
Olivia stood up and raced for the side of the ship. No one had asked her that question for years. If she hadn’t run smack-dab into Jack on his way back she would have made it. Instead she threw up all over his shoes.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” she said, a hot flush covering her cheeks.
He put his hands on her shoulders. “What happened? I thought you were okay.”
Somebody mentioned children.
“I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. I do have a weak stomach. How much longer before we dock?”
Jack glanced toward the horizon, thinking he might catch a glimpse of the craggy outline of Hermapolis.
“That’s strange,” he muttered as he walked over to the railing.
Olivia followed him. “What is?”
Thank God she was feeling better. He couldn’t stand to see her suffer. It reminded him of the last year they’d been together. She’d tried