The Medusa Stone

Chapter 16

Having spent most of Sunday in Don Graham’s company, Nina elected to take a walk in Purdue’s magnificent gardens before retiring to bed. The rain relented for the day and evening, allowing the members of Purdue’s party to have a patio dinner and Nina was engrossed in Don’s tales of the strange things he had encountered during excavations. His oddest and creepiest stories coincidentally took place mostly in Northern Africa, New Zealand, and the Hebrides. To make his companionship even better, the man was a consummate story teller, not in the dramatic sense, but in the way, he could describe situations and venues so vividly that Nina felt she was practically there.

A call from son in Singapore drew him away from her after dinner and from there she was pretty much on her own. Mostly avoiding another verbal altercation with Prof. Megalos, she visited the laboratory to admire the strange relics that instigated the chain of events that got her here at Wrichtishousis again after so long.

It was her home briefly. She lived here while involved romantically with Dave Purdue a few years before, and even held the fort at the mansion when Purdue vanished off the radar. He never shared with her what he was really wrapped up in during those eight months that he absconded without a trace, but she did not care enough anymore to pry.

She could hear the varied male voices talking and laughing up on the second-floor concrete balcony. They were all there, but she had asked Purdue not to summon her, as she needed some time alone. Perhaps Purdue could tell that she missed her reclusive home, that she missed Sam because he did not question her or try to change her mind.

Above her, the night sky had turned from a soft grey and white mess of clouds to a clear starry heaven with a halo of scattered clouds letting the moon shine through. Around her, the vast garden of rolling landscaping and tall hovering trees hissed in a whisper of wind. Nina stretched her arms out beside her and closed her eyes. Her dark tresses snaked over her shoulders and lapped against her back, just below her shoulder blades and her full lips opened slightly in a silent cry of passion.

In her mind, she imagined kissing Sam, like the first time he dared cross that boundary. Her senses were alert in the darkness from her core to her ears, where she heard the masculine merriment and imagined that she smelled Sam’s skin and hair against her cheek. Tears lined her closed eyes as the memories came too strong again. While she reminisced over his voice when he teased her, she imagined the warmth of his chest under her hands. Then came those eyes. Sam’s long black lashes fell sensually over his dark brown eyes, lending him a vulnerability his heavy eyebrows would not easily allow. As the gusts of wind played with Nina’s hair and the scent of pine needles faintly flirted with her nostrils she remembered Sam’s face and his wild black hair.

Beneath the shelter of the cedars and oaks he reached for him with her stretching fingers, pretending to touch him. Under her fingertips she suddenly felt his skin and hair for real, scaring her into a violent gasp that ripped her breath away. Nina retreated so rapidly that her ankles failed her and as she fell her eyes opened inadvertently to reveal the source of her fright.

Costa towered over her in the moonlight, his dark eyes staring from under his wild black hair. Nina could not scream as the fear gripped her, but Costa lunged forward and caught her inches above the thick lawn, preventing her from injuring her back.

“Jesus Christ! Are you trying to kill me?” she shouted furiously.

“I am so sorry,” he implored in his gentle tone. “Please, Nina, allow me to explain. I did not mean to frighten you.”

Her heart palpitated wildly, prompting her to gasp for air. He said nothing more, shedding his coat to let her sit down on the lawn.

“The grass is wet,” he said, hoping that she would at least understand why he put his coat down. “It is freezing out here. How can you be so comfortable out here?”

Nina calmed her breathing and composed herself. Angry as she was, she decided to collect her thoughts and let Sam rest for now.

“Well, you see, that is because I am Scottish, Professor, and you are not,” she retorted. He instantly recognized her rejoinder as a counter for what he had said to her two days ago. He sank his head, “Touché.”

Nina was satisfied. In an admittedly childish way, she got her revenge, on the Greek know-it-all and that elevated her mood considerably. Naturally she could not admit it to him outright, so she opted for small talk instead.

“Why did you come out here?” she asked him.

The attractive man sat down on a low stone and mortar wall made to border the understory of the tree above. He shrugged, “I was looking for you to…” he sought the correct phrase, “…bury the hatchet?”

Nina said nothing in response, only nodded in understanding.

“I did not mean to antagonize you with that lecture. Really,” he explained. “But you know how it is when you are an authority on a subject, and someone remarks on something you know a thing or two about.”

She had to agree. What Costa referred to was something she was very familiar with. How many times did she watch documentaries or listen to conversations where she knew people to be absolutely wide off the mark! Although she did it more tactfully than he, she fathomed Costa’s urge to correct her that day.

“You are right,” she affirmed. Her eyes flared up again, but this time, it was in mock battle. “But that does not mean your theory is correct, good sir,” she warned with a finger pointed at him. Costa smiled. It was obvious that he did not accept her opinion, again, but this time, he just shook his head.

“You would have made a feisty Greek,” he told her casually. “You already have the features and the unyielding charisma of fire and blood. Ever consider moving to the Mediterranean?”

‘Was that a proposal of sorts? Am I being propositioned by this hot piece of…?’ she thought before his interruption.

“I’m sorry, was that a bit forward?” he asked sincerely.

Nina did not want to embarrass him. “No, it was not too forward. But no, I have no desire for that constant heat and sunshine. It is lovely once in a while, but if Greece is anything like Italy I would have to pass.”

“I understand,” he smiled. “You are just too Scottish… for now.”

Nina smiled, but her expression revealed her bewilderment. What was he really trying to say?

‘God, he looks just like Sam in so many ways,’ she thought as she watched him run his fingers through his long dark hair. Between Don Graham and Costa Megalos, she almost had a Sam-replica, a most pleasurable combination of his looks and behavior.

‘But he is not Sam, and neither is Don. They will never be Sam,’ her conscience reminded her rudely.

Costa became less visible as the darkness veiled him. The moon was being smothered by the clouds again, stealing the blue tinged light that illuminated the garden. Nina cleared her throat and looked up at the sky, “We had better go in.”

The voices of the three other men persisted, but Nina was not in the mood to be social tonight. She stood up and returned Costa’s coat. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he said. “I was hoping you would go back into the house before I froze to death out here.”

Nina laughed. “Never tell a woman your weakness, Professor Megalos. Don’t they teach you that in Greece?”

“They do. Actually, they teach men that all over the world. We just have trouble remembering that,” he jested, keeping his step a small distance behind her.

Nina loved his sense of humor, a bonus to his appearance without a doubt. But he was not Sam. As they walked back to the mansion in silence, just serenaded by the wind, Nina wondered if it was not a sign to let go of Sam once and for all. She would still have Bruich. Maybe she was supposed to leave her home for another reason than an expedition. Perhaps Purdue’s search for Medusa was just a fateful push to cross her path with Costa. After all, why did he look so much like Sam if there was not some sort of destiny at play?