spread before her like a bottomless pool of azure tears.
She turned back to the room and tried to find some sense of peace in the simplicity of her surroundings. An earthenware bowl of peaches sat on the scrubbed wooden table, while a basket of geraniums caught the sunlight in one of the windows. The windowframes, shutters, and door were all painted the same bright cerulean blue as the Aegean, and the thick stucco walls of the cottage were so crisp and clean, they looked as if they had just been whitewashed. She felt as if she had been plunged into a world where only three colors existed-the dull gray-brown tones of the bare hillside, the blazing white of stucco and sky, and the rich, cerulean blue of sea, shutters, and doorway.
A fat tabby walked across the flagstone floor and rubbed against her ankles. 'That's Rudy,' Paige said, coming into the room from outside. 'Misha's taking a nap on the patio.'
Paige wore a faded bandanna top and a pair of cutoff's so threadbare that her skin beneath was visible in several places. Her feet were bare, her face free of makeup, and she had snared her hair into an untidy ponytail. Even so, she looked beautiful.
Susannah couldn't believe that she had put herself in the position of being dependent on Paige. She had to get out of here. As soon as possible, she had to leave.
'You look like shit,' Paige said, picking up the blue and white striped dish towel that hung next to the stone sink in the kitchen and using it to pull a fragrant loaf of brown bread from the oven. 'Go keep Misha company on the patio. The table's all set and breakfast is almost ready.'
'You shouldn't have bothered,' Susannah said coldly. 'I've made a mistake. I have to get back.'
Paige set a sweating pitcher of fruit juice on top of a tray that held two blue glass goblets. 'Carry this out. I'll be there in a few minutes.'
For the moment it was easier to do as she was told than to argue. Susannah stepped through the door onto a patio paved with smooth brown pebbles. She squinted while her eyes adjusted to the light and the breathtaking view of sky and sea below. An old olive-wood gateleg table holding handwoven place mats, ceramic plates, and cutlery was sheltered from the sun by a lacy network of jasmine trees growing up from the other side of the stucco wall. Wooden chairs sat at each end, their rush seats covered with plump blue pillows. Flowers spilled over the tops of fat pottery crocks, and the old stone head of a lion provided a spot of shade for a sleeping cat.
The animal looked up as Susannah set the tray on the table. Then he stretched, yawned, and went back to sleep. Paige began bringing out food: mugs of coffee, a bowl of eggs soft-boiled in their speckled brown shells, a majolica plate arranged with a sunburst of melon slivers. She cut the bread she had just baked into thick slices and then spread one with butter. It melted into little amber puddles as she held it out to Susannah.
Susannah shook her head. 'I'm sorry. I don't feel like eating.'
'Give it a try.'
Susannah couldn't remember the last time she had eaten-not on the plane, certainly. She hadn't eaten at the party. Her stomach rumbled as the warm, yeasty scent pricked her nostrils. She took the bread, and as she bit into it, she discovered that the simple act of chewing provided a momentary distraction from the pain that wouldn't go away. She sipped at a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and ate part of a melon slice. When her stomach began to rebel, she cuddled a mug of coffee and gazed out at the sea.
With the meal over, the awkwardness between them increased. In the past she would have broken it with inconsequential chatter, but she no longer cared enough about her relationship with Paige to make the effort. The fantasy of sisterly love had died along with everything else. Paige began to tell Susannah about the cottage and how she had restored it. Then she fetched a San Francisco Giants baseball cap for herself and a straw hat for Susannah and announced that they were going to walk down to the beach.
Susannah followed, simply because she couldn't summons the energy to do anything else. Paige led the way around to the side of the house where there was a gentler drop to the beach than the sheer cliff face that fell from below the patio. Even so, the descent exhausted Susannah. Paige walked over the rocks and hot sand to the water's edge, then dipped her toes in the sea.
'You didn't say anything about breakfast. How did you like my homemade bread?'
'It was delicious,' Susannah replied politely. What had she done wrong? her brain screamed. Why had Sam gone to other women?
Paige kicked at a wave. 'I love to cook.'
There was a long pause. Susannah realized that she needed to say something. 'Really? I hate it.'
Paige looked at her strangely. 'You always took over the kitchen on the cook's days off.'
'Who else was going to do it?'
Paige leaned over and picked up a small smooth stone. 'I might have.'
'Maybe,' Susannah said bitterly. 'Or maybe you would have just told me to go to hell.'
It was the first time she could remember inflicting the initial blow, but Paige didn't respond. Instead, she pulled off her baseball cap and tossed it down on the beach.
Susannah gazed up the hillside. The cottage seemed miles away. 'I think I'm going to climb back up and take a nap. Then I need to make arrangements to get back.'
'Not yet.' Paige unsnapped her cutoffs. 'We're going to swim first.'
'I'm too tired to swim.'
'It'll do you good.' Paige pulled off her cutoffs to reveal lacy white underpants. She slipped them down with her thumbs and then unfastened her top. 'This is my very own nude beach. Nobody ever comes here.'
As Paige discarded her clothes, Susannah looked at her sister's body. Paige's breasts were larger than her own. Her waist was trim and her stomach flat. She was golden all over. Sam would have liked Paige's body. He liked big breasts.
'Come on,' Paige taunted, dancing backward into the waves. 'Or are you chicken?' She slapped the water, sending a splatter of drops in Susannah's direction.
Susannah was pierced with a desperate longing. She wanted to forget what had happened, to be young and carefree and splash in the waves like her sister. She wanted to touch the childhood that had been denied her, to go to a place where betrayal didn't exist. Instead, she shook her head and climbed the hill back to the cottage.
That afternoon, Paige went off to the village on a battered moped while Susannah lay in the shade of the jasmine trees and punished herself. She should have cooked more meals for Sam. She should have shared his passion for that awful house.
A chill settled over her that even the Greek sun couldn't dispel. Hadn't these last six years taught her anything? Why was she so quick to assume blame for the problems in their marriage? Sam had been betraying her for a long time-and not just with other women. He had been passing judgment on everything she did and criticizing her when she didn't live up to his invisible spec sheet. He had scoffed at her need for a child, ignored her attempts to repair their marriage. And like a little boy, he had looked to her to fix all the problems he had within himself. She had endured Sam's bad temper, his arrogance, and his small cruelties. But if she endured his infidelity, he would have swallowed her whole.
They ate an early dinner and went to bed not long after dark. In the morning she told herself to make arrangements to return to San Francisco, but she dozed on the patio instead. One day slipped into the next. Paige fed her and made her walk down to the beach every morning, but otherwise she left her alone. Toward the end of the week, she produced a second moped and decreed that Susannah was riding into the village with her to help shop for dinner. Susannah protested, but Paige was insistent, so she did as she was told.
On the way, Paige pulled into a lovely old olive grove that had been part of the island for centuries. As they wandered silently through the trees, Susannah breathed in the fresh scent of earth and growing things. She rubbed her palm over her slim waist and pressed that barren flatness. The tears she had been repressing pricked her eyes. Now there would be no baby to grow inside her.
She stopped under a twisted old tree and stared off into the distance. Paige plopped down in the shade. The afternoon was so still, Susannah felt as if she had found the end of the world. If only she could locate exactly the right place, she might be able to drop off the edge.
After days of barely speaking at all, words began to tumble from her lips. 'I didn't know he was sleeping with other women. I knew we had problems, but I thought our sex life was all right. I really did.'
'It probably was.'
Susannah turned on her. 'It couldn't have been or he would have stayed faithful.'
'Grow up, Susannah. Some people don't feel alive unless they're having sex with half the world.' Paige's face
