“That’s right, avgolemono soup cures cancer.”
Andreas nodded. “It’s possible.”
“I’m sorry we haven’t seen each other. This has been a crazier week than I expected.”
“I have kept myself busy, but it would be good to share some time. Alone, not here.”
“Will you stay tonight?”
“If your mother asks.”
“She doesn’t ask because she assumes you will.”
Andreas waved off the subject. “Tell me how your work is going.”
“Hectic.” Matthew put his feet up on a chair. He looked tired.
“I’m clearing rights on some paintings for a new show. And I’ve been out a couple of days, doing research and making house calls.”
“This is about the Greek icon?”
“Much of it, yes.”
“And is the museum going to buy it?”
“To tell the truth,” Matthew answered, pausing for some internal discussion, “that’s looking doubtful.”
“Really? Why should that be?”
“The seller has gotten cold feet. Also, the museum has gotten nervous. Seems the icon may be stolen property.” The boy was staring at him hard. What did he know? Something, of course, but probably not much. “I guess that doesn’t surprise you to hear.”
“You know I grew up in that village, before I went to Athens. I was there during the war.”
“It was taken by the Germans,” Matthew added pointedly.
“That’s right.”
“And someone was killed trying to stop that.”
“How much has Fotis told you?”
The younger man’s prosecutorial style faltered.
“Almost nothing. Just what I’ve said.”
Was it right to finally speak of it? Would there be relief, or just more pain? Could he do it to the boy? Could he do it, again, to himself?
“Truly, what have you been told?”
“Nothing. I want you to tell me. I want to hear it from you.”
There was no noise from the study. It was as if the other three had vanished. The old man looked at the framed pencil sketch on the wall behind the boy, Alekos’ face in profile, done by Matthew at age fourteen. Highly skilled work. He is fumbling in the dark, Andreas thought, he doesn’t really know anything. Someone had let a loose word slip and the boy is pressing the case. I’m not the first he has asked, which means he’s had no satisfaction elsewhere. He thought of the promise he and Fotis had made each other years before. Did he still owe that silence after all that had happened since then? Was there a way to speak to Matthew of this without breaking that bond?
“I am sorry,” he said finally. “It is one of those foolish situations where if you do not know, I cannot tell you. It is a trust between your godfather and myself.”
Voices were suddenly raised in the study. Matthew’s expression grew distracted. Either he was letting the matter go, or he was casting about in his mind for a different approach. Then footsteps in the hall, and both men looked up. A bewildered and defeated-looking Irini stood in the doorway.
“He threw me out. Do you believe that?” Matthew pulled out a chair, but she would not sit, just leaned against her son. “He can’t bear to have me help him.”
“You were probably trying too hard.”
“I just wanted to make sure he actually ate it.”
“What, were you trying to spoon-feed him?”
“He was spilling it all over.”
“You’ve got to let him do things for himself. He doesn’t want to feel like an invalid.”
She sat, shaking her head, palms placed flat on the table, eyes on the large rain-spattered window. Then her gaze shifted to Andreas.
“You’re staying with us tonight?”
He shrugged.
“No?” Her voice was hard. “You’re going to make my daughter drive you into the city in the rain and dark, you selfish old man?”
He was taken aback by her fierceness, even as he recognized the need. This was not the passive, manipulative creature who had married his son thirty years ago. She had grown tough, and he was proud of her for it.
“I would never ask such a thing. I will stay, if you will have me.”
“You are very welcome here,” she answered softly. “You’ve always been welcome.”
Let’s not go into all that, he thought.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your talk,” she continued. Neither man responded. “I don’t know what all of you have been whispering about this week, and I don’t care. But there will be no secret discussions, no arguments, no terrible stories while you’re in this house. I won’t have Alex being upset, or anyone upset around him. Do you both understand me?”
She looked to Andreas first, and he nodded. Matthew followed suit.
“Good. I need your help, boys. Matthew, go sit with your father. Babas, you go put your feet on the sofa, I’ll wake you in half an hour.”
They both moved to comply with her wishes.
She kissed him there in the doorway, for all the world to see, and Matthew found he didn’t care. He could barely remember walking here, had found himself almost unconsciously carried to her doorstep. The impulse had been visceral, intense, go to her, his body knowing what was good for him better than his mind. Ana pulled him in the door and held him for many long, comforting moments.
“Your father’s home?”
“Yes. We brought him home yesterday.”
“Are you OK with that?” She stood back, her knowing gaze upon him once more, reading his doubts. “Is that good?”
“It is.” He seemed to discern the truth of it there on the spot. The hell with more treatment, home and family were what was needed. Care. Hope. Faith. “It’s good.” He smiled at her as if it were her doing. “We’ll see how it goes from here.”
When she did nothing further, he started down the hall toward the kitchen, his mind already seeing the stairs beyond, the small chamber and that other woman who was the third part of this triangle. Ana took his arm and pulled him the other way, toward the stairs going up.
“No, no icon today. Just you and me.”
He let her lead him up the stairs, his legs willing but his muscles clenched, while his heart began to race. Weird fears hounded him once more. He wanted to be up here, with her. He wanted to be down below, with it. She couldn’t really mean to keep him from it. The idea angered him, and the anger shamed him. He strained to control his emotions as Ana stripped her clothes off, slowly, methodically. It was no good. She saw everything, he could tell.
“I want this to be about us, Matthew. I want there to be some part of this that is only about us.”
