by Enginerd
In the morning, Sophia returned to her room and stopped in her tracks. Janice was still in bed? Mel’s bed?? With Mel?!? It’s about damn time, she thought with a big smile, then cringed, not wanting to intrude. As she attempted a silent retreat, Janice shifted on the bed and looked right at her.
"You might as well come in," Janice said and started to sit up. The Southerner groggily protested, pulling her back. "Uh, Sweetheart? We’ve got to get up now. Sophia’s here."
Mel reluctantly released her archeologist as she yawned and blinked at Sophia, who smiled weakly.
"Good morning," Sophia responded uncomfortably as the Southerner sat up and squinted at her. "Hey, it’s already 9 o’clock," Sophia said defensively, surprising the archeologist.
Mel reached around Janice to grab her glasses on the nightstand and groaned in pain, holding her numb arm.
"You OK?" Janice asked with concern, getting her glasses for her.
"My arm is sore," Mel said sheepishly, awkwardly putting her glasses on.
Sophia snickered.
"Let me," Janice said with concern, massaging her sleeping arm. Mel winced, then moaned as the feeling returned in the form of a prickly pain.
"Why don’t I come back later?" Sophia blurted and quickly left.
"What’s with her?" Mel asked, looking up from her arm to the door curiously.
"Hmmm?" Janice said, focused on massaging Mel’s arm.
"Sophia," Mel said, looking down at the very attentive archeologist, who was making her arm feel much better.
"What about Sophia?" Janice said, pulling Mel’s hair aside to kiss her on the neck before massaging her shoulders too.
"Hmm?" Mel blurted, now much more awake.
"What’s up with Sophia?" Janice asked, making Mel look at her in confusion.
"That’s what I asked you," Mel complained, pushing up her glasses.
"So, you don’ t know?" Janice said with amusement, kissing her temple as she got up.
Mel rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smile at Janice’s chuckling. "Good morning to you too," she said wryly, watching the archeologist change into her shirt. "So, when do you think Sophia will come back?" Mel asked, eyeing the archeologist with great interest.
"Soon. Her makeup is here, you know," Janice said as she put her trousers on, unaware of Mel’s gaze of longing. Mel nodded with a heavy sigh, knowing neither of them wanted to rush their first time.
"When do you think you’ll get done with the translations?" Janice asked as she sat and put her socks on.
"Well, I’m actually finished," Mel said uncomfortably as she got up and started to dress.
"Really?" Janice asked with great surprise, putting her shoes on.
"Would you like to see?"
"Hell yes!" Janice blurted excitedly, then noticed Mel’s surprising unease. "Uh . . . if you don’t mind," Janice added cautiously.
"No, I don’t mind," Mel said with a small chuckle, reminding herself how silly she was being for still getting nervous with Janice, who was wonderful, especially after last night and her errant knee.
Janice grinned, quickly walking over to the table, and waited eagerly. She was always excited to read her translations, Mel noted, wondering what Janice’s reaction would be to some of those scrolls. Taking a deep breath, she considered there’s no better way to find out than to just show her.
"Remember, this is your ancestor’s writing," Mel cautioned vaguely as she pulled out the scrolls and her tablet from the satchel.
"Okay," Janice said with a delighted smile.
Mel pulled out a chair for the archeologist, who eagerly sat. "Almost seems like you are anxious to read this."
"You have no idea," Janice said as she flipped furiously through Mel’s translation pad, not finding the right page for the first scroll. Mel gently stopped Janice’s hand, took the pad, turned to the correct page, then handed it back to her.
"Thanks, sweetheart," she said and started to read the translation. Mel smiled happily at the sincere term of endearment and how naturally it rolled off her lips.
Mel sat and watched as Janice read through the introduction, then followed the translations through the rest of the scrolls. Mel fidgeted each silent moment that passed and had to comment.
"It doesn’t seem like you were surprised by this," Mel said uneasily, pushing up her glasses as she glanced back down to the parchment.
Janice looked up from the scrolls. "That my ancestor wrote sex instructions?" She asked with an amused smile. "I am surprised, actually."
"No, that they were . . . lovers," Mel clarified.
"Were you surprised?"
"I asked you first."
"I hadn’t really thought much about Gabrielle’s role in Xena’s life, until that day in Ares’ tomb."
"When you met her?" Mel asked softly.
"Yeah, and she gave me that pep talk after I found out I was only related to the "annoying blond," Janice said, immediately lifting her hands in surrender before Mel had a chance to scold her. "I know, I know, you don’t have to say it," Janice said with amusement.
Mel pushed her glasses up and sighed.
"I guess it was the fire in her eyes when she spoke about Gabrielle. It dawned on me that it was possible they were lovers," Janice said and shrugged, returning her attention to the scrolls and the various images. "Hmmm."
"Hmmm, what?" Mel asked, noticing Janice looking between pictures and finally pausing on one in the foreplay scroll that depicted the "Massage of the Quill."
"I wonder who drew the pictures."
"You don’t think Gabrielle did?" Mel asked with surprise, looking at a picture curiously.
"There were no pictures in her other scrolls," Janice noted, her eyes falling on the fantasy pictures with interest.
"Well, perhaps she didn’t think her other stories needed illustrations," Mel said, noticing with great interest which picture Janice seemed to linger on.
Pointing to a different picture, Janice said "Look at the details. Gabrielle usually has clothing on in the picture. And where she doesn’t have clothing, her body is conveniently covered by a leg or arm."
"Well, maybe she was just shy about drawing herself?" Mel suggested.
"Someone writing sex instructions is shy?
"Well . . . words and pictures are different," Mel said, then fell silent, thinking about that.
"If you also notice, Xena seemed to be nude most of the time," Janice said pointing to a number of examples that supported her argument.
"So?"
"I am positive Gabrielle would not want others ogling what was hers," Janice said, glancing down at the pictures again.
"You have a point," Mel said thoughtfully, then frowned. Was Janice hers? She certainly thought so, not liking the idea of anyone else seeing Janice, let alone being physically intimate with her. But they had never discussed it. What did Janice think? How was she supposed to bring that up? "Why do you think she wrote these scrolls?" Mel asked instead, glancing at the parchment thoughtfully.
Janice looked at the introduction again then to Mel. "Why do you think she wrote them?"
"I asked you first."
"Well, I asked you second," Janice said with a smile.
"She was your ancestor," Mel countered wearily.
"And your ancestor was her lover," Janice responded with amusement.
"So these pictures would indicate, but why do you think she wrote these?" Mel asked again.
Janice smiled at the woman’s persistence and thought a moment. "From the scrolls we've found before, Gabrielle wrote about what she had seen or experienced with Xena. If the same holds true for these scrolls, this introduction would lead me to believe Xena and she may have had some trouble at some point and "lost their way" on their journey together. Gabrielle probably felt she could help other women avoid the same painful mistakes with the lessons they had learned."
"Really?" Mel blurted with fascination, pushing up her glasses, looking down at the scrolls thoughtfully.
"I’m guessing, of course," Janice said sitting back and eyeing Mel with interest.
"I would have thought once they got together . . . and with Xena’s experience . . . and all," Mel said uncomfortably.
"I’m sure the former warlord had many interesting experiences to draw upon, but I’d bet they probably didn’t prepare her for a relationship with Gabrielle."
"True. And I’m sure Gabrielle’s feeling of inadequacy didn’t help at first. . . ."
"And Xena’s too," Janice quickly added, prompting an amused chuckle which faded when Mel realized Janice wasn’t joking.
"By the time she met up with Gabrielle," Janice explained. "Xena probably didn’t expect that no matter how much she resisted, someone would actually have enough patience to become a close friend. That was probably frightening as hell."
"Why?" Mel asked curiously.
"It’s the first step to becoming vulnerable. She probably didn’t know how to deal with this new close friend, knowing she could lose her heart to her. And I would think at that point in her life, she had already learned the painful lesson that once you let someone in, all the armor in the world can’t protect you from injuries to the heart. Xena didn’t want to go through that again . . . yet . . . there she was," Janice said thoughtfully, staring at the scrolls a moment, then looked up into questioning eyes.
"I’m guessing, of course," Janice added uncomfortably, thankful to hear knocking. "I’ll get it."
Before she could say anything, Mel felt the breeze from the archeologist as she quickly answered the door.
Sophia entered cautiously. Seeing Mel’s annoyed glare, she swallowed and quickly blurted. "Why don’t I come back?"
"No. You’ve got to pack, just like the rest of us," Janice said with a grin.
"Khajuraho?" Sophia asked with excitement.
***
At the train station, Mel stood next to Janice in a long line, glancing at the map. "Sophia was far more impressed with our theory that Gabrielle’s scrolls were the precursor to Vatsyayana’s Kama Sutra than Dr. Tangore. She thought the similarities between the texts made a very compelling case."
"Something tells me the academic community as a whole will also be less receptive to our theory than our Kama Sutra expert," Janice said wryly, shifting the saddlebags over her shoulder.
"Well, what do they know anyway??" Mel said dismissively, pushing up her glasses. Janice smiled at the tall woman, then looked at the long line.
"Ugh! We might be able to walk there faster," Janice moaned, looking at the schedule in her hand and her watch.
"Next!" The line lurched ahead after a large family of ten got their tickets and left the line.
"How is it, Dr. Covington, you can exercise extraordinary patience with some things, yet not others?" Mel said, looking at her expectantly.
Janice looked at her. "I‘ve got one word for you."
"You are going to make me regret ever mentioning that, aren’t you?"
Janice grinned.
After a group of English travelers got their tickets, Janice edged to the counter and placed her rupees down. "Five tickets for 7E." Receiving her tickets, Janice and Mel left the counter as the archeologist returned her wallet to her back pocket.
"You know, Grandfather never did mention how long was long enough," Mel said, suddenly finding the archeologist in her arms. "Uh, Janice??"
Janice pulled back from the Southerner and reached for her wallet. "Son of a . . . , " Janice spat and handed over her saddlebags and the tickets to Mel. "Here."
Mel silently watched as a small Indian boy dash off like a bat out of hell and Janice run after him.
"Thief!" Janice called out, getting the attention of Frank, who saw the boy dart through the crowd. With her still tender ankle, Janice found it difficult to chase the little thief but she was damn-well going to try.
Seeing where the boy was going, Frank sprinted to head him off, jumping over a bench in a graceful leap. The pickpocket looked at Frank with panic, realizing he was either going to have to face the tall wall or the short woman. The boy turned abruptly as the man closed in on him and rolled underneath another bench. Quickly popping up on the other side with a grin, he came face-to-face with the angry woman, who had somehow anticipated his move.
Sucking in a startled breath, he quickly changed his mind about which was worse. Dogging her hand, he turned back, running right into the man, who scooped the squirming boy off the ground.
"Put me down!!" The pickpocket yelled.
"Drop the wallet and we can discuss it," Frank said to the boy, who continued to squirm and demand to be put down.
"Thanks, Jack. Nice moves," Janice said to the nimble man as they caught their breath.
"You’re welcome," Frank said flatly.
"Wow. That leap was amazing, Frank!" Sophia said, eyeing Frank appreciatively as she, Mel, and Raj joined them. A small crowd gathered around to watch as the boy continued to squirm and yell.
"Nadoor?" An Indian woman in a bright orange and yellow sari called out, not finding her son as she emerged from the public restrooms. She spotted her son held by a large man and gasped. "Nadoor! What trouble are you in now?!?" The mother marched up, oblivious to all but her son.
"I didn’t do anything!" Nadoor squirmed. Mel rolled her eyes and looked at Janice, who stared at the woman. Glancing at the Indian woman, Mel understood why. She was an amazingly beautiful woman, Mel considered uneasily, pushing her glasses up.
"Again, you didn’t do anything!" She cried wearily. The wallet dropped to the ground.
"And what is this!" The Indian woman picked up the wallet by Frank’s feet. "I do not recall you having a wallet such as this!" She said angrily and opened it up. "And have you also changed your name to . . . ??" she said, then fell silent, reading the owner’s name.
The Indian nervously turned, finding green eyes staring at her, and gasped. Mel looked curiously between the two, then at Sophia, who shrugged. Raj looked around the train station with concern.
"Is everything all right here?" Two British officers in khaki uniforms appeared, joining the group. They eyed the now-still boy in Frank’s arms with great interest.
"Everything’s fine officer," Janice answered, plastering on a smile. "A simple misunderstanding. I lost my wallet and Nadoor," she said, motioning to the stunned boy, "found it for me. When he tried to catch up to me, Tom here," she said smoothly, motioning to the surprised tall man, "though the boy was stealing it, when actually he was returning it."
Mel rolled her eyes at the tall tale as Frank slowly lowered the boy to the ground and looked around uncomfortably. He shrugged and smiled weakly at the suspicious officers.
Nadoor smiled innocently and nodded at the officers as he took a big step away from the tall man.
"It’s good to know there are honest young Indians like Nadoor here," Janice said, reaching out and pulling the small boy closer and tousling his hair. He grimaced. "All too often, young kids these days get caught up in things that can ruin their lives," she said, squeezing his shoulder.
Nadoor looked up sharply at her, finding a green glare of challenge.
"Parents must have trouble sleeping at night, worrying where their children are, what trouble they might get involved with, whether or not they might end up in jail, taken away from their loved ones for many, many years," Janice said pointedly, staring at the boy, who stubbornly stared back.
Not understanding what was going on, Mel listened with amazement to the archeologist’s speech. It was clear whose ancestor was the bard. She absently glanced over to the Indian mother, not liking how she continued to look at the archeologist.
"I just don’t know how parents do it," Janice added softly. The boy’s defiant gaze finally dropped to the ground.
"I see," the ranking officer said skeptically. "You are the boy’s mother?" He eyed the striking Indian woman with appreciation.
"I am," the woman said firmly, looking directly into his eyes. The officer did not appreciate her proud attitude.
"Where’s the father?" the officer asked curtly, looking around the station.
"Dead."
"I see. Make sure you keep him out of trouble," the officer snapped briskly. With great effort, she bowed her head in deference and nodded, just wanting this day to be over with.
After the officers left and the small crowd dispersed to go about their business, the Indian woman looked at the archeologist, who quietly stared at her a moment before, dropping her gaze. Swallowing hard, she held out the wallet with a trembling hand. "Thank you," the young Indian mother said.
Janice silently nodded and took the wallet.
Even Frank noticed the awkwardness between the women, but considered it would be embarrassing to have your son caught stealing. Though, after that story, he would have expected Dr. Covington to make some effort to settle the poor woman’s nerves, instead of remaining silent.
"Apologize to Miss Covington, Nadoor," she said, glaring at her son.
"But. . . ." His protest was quickly squashed.
"Don’t you dare deny the truth, Nadoor," she said angrily. "Let these people know that I have at least taught you that."
"I’m sorry, Miss Covington," the boy grumbled.
"Actually, it’s Doctor Covington. Doctor Janice Covington," Frank said pointedly, eyeing the archeologist who, for some reason, had the hardest time with his name.
The Indian woman looked at Janice with surprise, then a small pleased smile.
The train whistle blew, making the group turn towards the train that was going to Khajuraho.
"Janice? We’ve got five minutes before it leaves, if the schedule is accurate," Mel softly reminded as she looked at her watch. The archeologist nodded.
"You’re going to Khajuraho?" The Indian woman sputtered.
"Small world, isn’t it?" Janice said.
***
Three men watched from behind newspapers as the passengers started to board the train. They were particularly interested in the short, khaki-clad woman, who boarded a car after the tall brunette.
"This had better not be another wild goose chase," Eric Donavitchi growled as they folded their papers and headed towards a car further down.
"It’s not. She thinks she’s given us the slip," Simon mentioned, getting annoyed looked from the brothers as they boarded. "Guys, come on. We’re getting close. I know it," Simon said nervously to the skeptical brothers.
"For your sake, I hope so," Eric said, pulling out a switchblade and opening it. Simon gulped as Eric stared at him and dug out the dirt from beneath his fingernails with the tip of the sharp blade.
***
"Are you all right?" Mel quietly asked as the train started moving. Janice had been very quiet ever since the wallet had been returned by the boy’s mother.
"Yeah. I should have been more alert," Janice said softly with a shrug, returning her unfocused gaze ahead.
Mel knew there was more Janice wasn’t telling her about that woman. But what did she expect? She sighed, staring out the window, watching a man in the distance riding an elephant along a dirt road. The tight-lipped archeologist wasn’t suddenly going to open up to her just because they were attracted to each other.
She suspected Janice’s reluctance to volunteer information would continue, no matter how close they got. Though, Janice had vaguely told her she had lost "a lot" in India and that going back had brought back bad memories, Mel considered thoughtfully. For Janice, that was a huge admission. Glancing down to Janice’s hand on the armrest between them, she covered it with her own.
Janice looked over at her partner curiously, though happily accepted the offering with a small squeeze.
"Xena drew the pictures," Mel said, making the archeologist chuckle. After the excitement at the train station, she had expected Mel to say something, just not that.
"Oh? How do you know that?"
"Simply extending your logic. If you think that Gabrielle wasn’t the artist because she wouldn’t have drawn Xena without clothing due to a feeling of possession. I would think the Warrior Princess would feel even more possessive of her bard and personally ensure those pictures were done properly, or more specifically, not showing her lover's . . . personal bits to the world."
"Personal bits?"
"You know what I mean, Janice," Mel said with a sigh.
"Yeah, I just never heard "personal bits" used to describe ti . . . " Janice said innocently.
"Janice," Mel said in warning. Janice grinned.
"All right, Miss Pappas, if Xena's possessive streak was so damn large, how the hell did those scrolls ever get written in the first place?!?" Janice argued with amusement.
Mel answered with a raised brow at the silly question.
Janice frowned. "Yet but . . . how do you know she could even draw? I don’t recall any scrolls mentioning that particular skill," Janice said, trying another tack.
"That doesn’t prove she couldn’t draw," Mel countered and pushed up her glasses. "But even if she couldn’t at first, I think she would have learned for that particular project," Mel said with conviction.
Janice thought about it a moment and shook her head.
Mel waited, ready to debate the archeologist, firmly convinced of her conclusion.
"That would really be something, wouldn’t it?" Janice said approvingly. "Scrolls they had both worked on."
Mel smiled, pleased. "Extraordinarily appropriate, considering the subject."
Janice nodded thoughtfully, then looked at Mel. "I wonder if Grandpappy Pappas had any sayings about working together and food."
Mel looked blankly at the woman with a never-ending supply of audacity. Unable to think of anything to say, she just shook her head and chuckled.
The train slowly rolled to a screeching stop at the Khajuraho station. A loud whistle announced its arrival. As the passengers got up and started to disembark, Mel glanced over to Nadoor and his mother, noticing the woman’s unease.
"She doesn’t look well," Mel noted to Janice, who also looked over to Najihma, briefly.
"Maybe it’s motion sickness," Janice said vaguely as she placed the saddlebag over her shoulder.
To Mel’s surprise, the worried woman came towards them. Mel didn’t understand what she said since she spoke Hindi.
Mel looked between the two curiously, then at Raj, who appeared next to Janice. Concern flooded his face.
"I’m not here to cause you, or your brother any trouble, Najihma," Janice said in English. The woman looked at her with frustration, then looked over to her son, who was confused about what was upsetting his mother.
"Come, Nadoor," Najihma ordered briskly and quickly left.
***
"I’m going to the restroom," Janice quickly told Mel as she stepped off the train. Mel nodded and pushed up her glasses as she looked around the train station, focusing on the mysterious Indian woman.
Najihma nervously looked around, exhaling nervously when she finally found her transportation. Grabbing Nadoor’s hand, she quickly went to meet her brother, who was smoking a cigarette, and leaning against a car in the parking lot. Inside the old vehicle, was her mother, in a light blue sari, reading a book. Seeing his sister and nephew approach, Tanje finished his cigarette and threw it on the ground, extinguishing the butt with the toe of his shoe, before going to the driver’s side and getting in, never acknowledging his sister with words of welcome or a simple smile.
Mel looked curiously at Raj, who also watched the family reunion in the parking lot and tensed up, expecting questions that never came. Instead, Mel sighed and shook her head, looking around the station curiously, noticing with a smile how Sophia and Frank were enthusiastically chatting about something.
When Janice finally returned, she looked around nonchalantly.
"She's gone," Mel offered, surprising Janice, who glanced at her uneasily then to Raj, who looked at her uncomfortably but discreetly nodded in agreement.
"So, what do you think, bus or taxi?" Mel asked, once again surprising the archeologist.
***
At the front of the busy station, cars, buses, and rickshaws crowded the street, which was more like a parking lot, as a wave of people darted through the traffic, coming and going. Horns honked and smoke issued from exhausts in dark plumes.
"Just like the streets of New Delhi!" Sophia said with enthusiasm as Mel and Janice coughed.
"So what’s the plan?" Frank asked eagerly, getting a nod from Sophia, who looked at Janice and Mel expectantly.
"Cab, hotel, dinner, sleep, then the site in the morning," Janice said efficiently, glancing around the crowded area. Something was not right.
"But . . . can’t we go to the site now? I hear the temple carvings are fascinating," Sophia blurted. "And you can get a start on finding more clues."
"Janice?" Mel asked, noticing the archeologist staring at a group of people in the corner of the station. Looking where Janice had been staring, Mel didn’t see what had captured her interest.
"Hello?!?" Sophia said impatiently, waving her hand in front of her friend’s face. "Shouldn’t we go to the site first?"
"Oh . . . uh," Janice said, returning her attention to Sophia. "It’ll be dark soon. You won’t be able to appreciate the detail," Janice offered, getting a frown from the prostitute. "Besides, we don't want to rush. Because as every wise ol’ Southerner knows, good investigating is like . . . ."
"Dr. Covington, if you could hail us a cab, I'd be truly grateful," Mel firmly interrupted with a warning glare.
"Truly?"
"Truly," Mel confirmed, causing Janice to grin and do as requested. The confused Southern gentleman looked at Mel, who shook her head and pushed up her glasses. He glanced at Sophia, who shrugged, just as confused.
After Janice hailed two taxis, they loaded their luggage and started to get in. With a grin, Janice opened the door for the Southern lady and politely motioned for her to get in. Mel eyed her, then shook her head as she got in and softly muttered "Do I even want to know what good investigating is like?"
Janice chuckled and started to follow the Southerner into the cab. Instead of a smile on the Southerner’s face, Janice saw wide-eyes of concern, just before she was suddenly pulled back and rammed head-first into the window of the taxi.
***
Mel numbly paced in the waiting area, passing Frank and Sophia, who sat silently staring at the floor. Janice never saw him coming, Mel cringed at the violent memory, knowing if she had, Janice wouldn’t be laying unconscious in a hospital right now. She uneasily pushed up her glasses and continued to pace, one outlet for her nervous energy. That and praying. Crying wasn’t going to help Janice get better any faster.
Two British army officers entered the waiting area and spoke with the nurse at the reception desk. She smiled and pointed to Melinda and her friends. They nodded and headed towards the tall Southerner.
"Excuse me, are you Miss Pappas?" The white-haired man asked gently, his soft, deep voice complementing his trusting appearance. His face wore the creases of age with dignity and his eyes reflected an understanding from a life of lessons learned.
Mel stopped pacing and looked at him as Frank and Sophia joined her side. "Yes."
"I am Colonel Whitcomb, and this is Captain Bennington. Do you have word on Dr. Covington’s condition?"
"No, not yet," Mel said, looking over to the reception desk dejectedly.
He nodded thoughtfully.
"Would you mind if we asked you a few questions about the incident at the train station?"
Mel looked at the older man with a cringe of displeasure. Discussing what had happened was the last thing she wanted to do. She knew the attacker was taken into custody and Raj was giving a statement at the police station. How much more did they need?
"Miss Pappas is still shaken up from the whole ordeal," Frank smoothly interjected, putting a gentle hand on Mel's shoulder. "Miss Themopolis and I are traveling with Dr. Covington and Miss Pappas, and would be more than happy to tell you what we saw," Frank offered.
"Of course," the older man said and looked at Mel sympathetically. "However, we may need to ask you a few questions later," he said politely. Mel nodded and looked at Frank with a small smile of thanks. He nodded and led the investigators away with Sophia.
Mel let out a small sigh of relief before continuing to pace.
***
Every time someone came through the area, Mel anxiously glanced up, then let out a disappointed sigh when she realized they were not coming in to report on Janice's condition. There was so much blood, she recalled with a sick feeling. After that nauseating crunch of glass, blood seemed everywhere, she remembered with a shiver, feeling so helpless.
She shut her eyes and prayed once again that Janice was OK.
Hearing someone coming into in the waiting area, Mel opened her eyes and quickly looked up. Her hopeful gaze quickly became hard and cold when she spotted Najihma and an older woman she guessed was her mother. Mel’s anger welled up as they hesitantly approached. They should hesitate, she considered, feeling very un-Christian-like at the moment.
Suddenly, Mel found herself surrounded with people, Frank, Sophia, and the two British officers.
"I think you . . . ladies . . . should leave," the younger officer said tightly.
"Ladies, I don’t think it is very considerate for you to be here at this time," the older officer mentioned softly, glancing at Melinda sympathetically.
Najihma sharply looked at the British officials before focusing on the tall woman. "I came to inform Miss Pappas that Janice's friend Raj is in jail because the police seem to believe he was part of the attack."
"What?!?" Mel said with shock, turning to the British officials with an angry gaze.
"We are only holding him for questioning," the Captain quickly said, getting a surprised look from the Colonel.
"In a holding cell, the same kind my brother is in," Najihma informed Mel, glaring at the British.
"But he volunteered to go to the police station to help explain what happened. How can you possibly think he was involved??" Mel asked impatiently.
"Some witnesses thought they saw him joining in on the attack," Captain Bennington interjected defensively.
"He was helping Frank pull HER brother off of Janice!" Mel cried incredulously.
"Miss Pappas, there is no need to get upset. We will sort out what happened," the soft-spoken Colonel said quickly, eyeing the Captain with irritation.
"There is nothing that needs to be sorted out! HER brother attacked Janice out of the blue and almost killed her. Raj and Frank helped prevent that from happening and detained him until your people took HER brother into custody!!" Mel spat angrily. "If you don't release Raj now, I will . . . I'll . . . Frank, what can I do?!?" Mel blurted angrily, looking at the Southern lawyer for help.
"Uh, he is under British rule, Melinda. If he were American. . . ." Frank said apologetically.
"He is just trash to them," Najihma spat, eyeing Captain Bennington, who glared back at her.
"Najihma, our family has enough trouble," her mother said with worry.
"Miss Pappas, I assure you, as soon as we are finished here, I will personally go . . . ." Captain Bennington said soothingly.
"No! No more interviews until I see Raj, free," Mel snapped.
Frank looked at her with amazement. He had never seen Melinda so fierce. "I’ll go with them to the station and bring Raj back," Frank volunteered, receiving an approving nod from Mel.
"Now wait a minute," the Captain blurted in protest.
"Captain, enough," Colonel Whitcomb said, raising a cautioning hand to curb the officer, then turned to Melinda. "We will have your friend released immediately. But we would still like to interview you and Dr. Covington, when she’s able to see visitors so we clearly understand what happened," he said softly.
"If you happen to figure out the "why," I would certainly like to know," Mel said crisply, and eyed the Indian women, who glanced down uncomfortably.
***
After the officers left with Frank, Mel shook her head and began to pace again, not wanting to be near the Indian women.
"No word on Jan . . . Dr. Covington’s condition?" Najihma asked Sophia.
"No," Sophia said with a long exhale. "Do you really think it's a good idea to be here?" Sophia asked uncomfortably, glancing at Mel.
"A member of our family has hurt someone, we cannot leave without knowing she is all right," Najihma said with worry. "But we can wait in the car," she offered, looking over to her mother, who had just sat down with a sigh of relief, and now stared at her with a frown.
"Chalo, mother," she said to the older woman, who got up slowly with a heavy sigh.
"There is no need to wait in the car," Melinda interjected wearily. "Please, sit down," she said to the older woman, who smiled gratefully and sat.
"Shukria . . . uh, thank you," the older woman said. "You are very kind."
Mel looked at the woman, sympathetically. "You are not the one who hurt Janice," Mel said softly and sat down next to her, pulling her glasses off and rubbing her eyes.
The older woman looked at her sadly. "I am the mother. I am responsible for my children's actions," she said, glancing over to Najihma, who dropped her gaze and sat next to her
Mother.
"Why did he attack her?" Mel asked softly, starting to feel the day catch up with her.
"Tanje is unable to let go of the past. A problem of all my children," the mother said sadly, looking at Najihma, who gazed at the floor uncomfortably.
Mel sighed, not happy with the situation which she suspected involved Najihma and Janice, and an intolerant brother. "I do appreciate you coming here to help Raj," Mel offered, looking at both women.
"We couldn't allow the tragedy to grow," the mother said.
"Raj is a good friend of Janice's," Najihma offered, looking down from the piercing blue eyes.
"Janice, what are you doing?" Najihma asked her young lover, who had suddenly turned and headed into an alley. Her concern grew when she spotted the commotion that had caught Janice’s eye - three Indian boys beating up a fourth.
"Evening the odds?" Janice blurted over her shoulder and jogged towards the group.
Najihma also entered the ally, but quickly ducked behind a large trash bin, nervously peaking out.
The three boys stopped their assault and curiously eyed the white girl, oddly clad in boy’s clothing as she approached them. "This is none of your concern." One young Indian, apparently the leader, spat in English.
"So you don’t want to know that there is a British officer coming this way?" Janice said innocently, prompting the boys to look nervously at each other.
"Over here officer! The fighting was in this alley," Najihma shouted from behind the rubbish bin. "Hurry!"
The already skittish boys panicked and ran away, disappearing into the busy Delhi streets. Janice knelt down beside the battered victim, who was shaking and still curled up in a ball. His clothes were no more than rags and he hadn’t bathed in a while, probably because the streets were his home, she thought sadly.
"Hey, they’re gone now," she said softly. "Are you OK?" she asked, looking at him to see any injuries that might require a visit to the hospital. The boy, no more than twelve or thirteen, looked at her suspiciously. She couldn’t blame him. He was getting the crap beat out of him and now a stranger was talking to him. One way to remedy that, she considered.
"I’m Janice Covington," she said, then called out loudly over her shoulder "that’s Najihma Singhare, still hiding behind the stinky trash." Returning her attention to the boy, she smiled and stuck out a hand. The timid and bruised boy relaxed a bit, but eyed the hand warily.
"I am Rajeer Shankahr," the boy said uneasily, still staring at the hand that continued to be held out in front of him. Seeing the American nod with encouragement, he hesitantly reached out and shook it.
"Janice, what are you doing?!?" Najihma said as she joined them, causing the boy to quickly retract his hand as if he had burned it.
"I’m trying to be polite," Janice said impatiently.
"Janice, he’s an untouchable," she said uneasily, staring at Janice’s hand which had been touched by the bold peasant boy, who grew more frightened at the Indian girl’s scrutiny.
Janice looked at her in confusion, then at the boy, Rajeer, who lowered his head. He was poor, no doubt, but that didn’t mean she’d get some disease because they shook hands, did it? Janice was still confused.
"Huh?"
"He is lower than the Sudras," Najihma explained. "To touch him is to become . . . unclean," she said with concern.
"Well, I’ll take a damn bath, OK?" Janice snapped back. "Come on Raj, we need to make sure your cuts are taken care of. They can get infected if you don’t clean them," she said, helping the stunned boy up.
Janice noticed Najihma staring at her uneasily.
"So Najihma, am I now untouchable too?" Janice asked in challenge, looking into her brown eyes. The foreigner’s defense of him surprised the boy, who watched with amazement.
"You do not understand our ways," Najihma said uneasily.
"You’re right. When something seems wrong and people hide behind a custom or habit , I have to admit, I really don’t understand that," Janice said with disappointment, and turned to Raj. "We can go back to my camp. We have a first-aid kit and can fix you up," she smiled at the stunned boy, who nodded uneasily.
"Are you coming with us?" Janice asked. Najihma looked at the beaten boy, then Janice.
"Yes. I must make sure you bathe," Najihma said firmly. Janice looked at her with disappointment, until Najihma stepped up and kissed her gently on the lips. "For later," she said. Janice smiled.
The surprised boy looked between the two women. "You don’t seem to worry about tradition at all, do you?" He asked Janice with wonder.
"My Dad says life is too short to worry about which fork to use. Though my Mom thinks that’s just because he’s too lazy to learn," Janice joked to the confused boy. "Mom is still away visiting friends, but Dad should be back at camp soon. I think you’ll like him," Janice said, leading them out of the alley.
Her mother’s voice brought Najihma back to the depressing present.
"I am Mrs. Aishwarya Singhare, the mother of Najihma and Tanje," the older woman introduced herself.
"I am Melinda Pappas, Janice's partner," she said, holding her hand out which the woman shook. "And this is Sophia Themopolis, Janice's long-time friend," Mel said, Sophia smiled and waved awkwardly.
When another person arrived, they all looked over to the reception desk to see an Indian doctor. Mel stood with hope, as the doctor talked with the nurse and looked at them.
"Excuse me, Miss Pappas?" The Indian doctor asked.
"Yes?" Mel said nervously.
"I'm Dr. Zafar. Dr. Covington is asking for you," he said with an uneasy smile, making Mel exhale with relief.
"How is she?" Mel blurted, bracing herself.
Dr. Zafar looked over his notes on his clip board. "A concussion, six stitches in her forehead, two cracked ribs, various cuts and bruises. She should stay a few days for observation but. . . ," he said and stopped with a frown.
"But what?" She asked with concern.
"Please, Dr. Covington, you just regained consciousness!! The doctor has said you must stay in bed," the nurse blurted frantically as Janice stiffly got out of bed.
"Like hell I will. Where the hell are my clothes!?! Fuck," Janice said, feeling woozy as she glanced around the room. Her hand darted out to the bed for balance. She cursed again, feeling a distinct draft upon her bare backside. They could run a goddamn mile of gauze around her head but couldn’t scrape up enough material for a GODDAMN hospital GOWN to cover her ass?!? She snarled angrily. Ow.
"Dr. Covington, please. Don't, you'll hurt yourself," the nurse pleaded. "I . . . I'll call the orderlies," she threatened uneasily.
"Go ahead. I'll kick their ass if they lay one fucking finger on me," Janice said, looking around the room, then saw the fear in the nurses eyes. Feeling a bit guilty for putting it there, she offered, "Look, just give me my clothes and you won't have to worry about me anymore." She tried to reason as she looked around the room for where they might be.
The door opened and Dr. Zafar entered with Melinda, who couldn't believe her eyes.
"What on Earth are you doing?!?" Melinda said with annoyance. Dr. Zafar held back a grin.
"I was looking for my clothes," Janice snapped. "They took them!!" She growled and eyed the nurse, who nervously stepped behind the doctor.
"Calm down, Janice. You won’t be needing them right now. Dr. Zafar thinks you should stay for observation," Mel said.
"Well Dr. Zafar can observe my goddamn breezy a. . . ,"
"Janice Covington, get into bed right now!" Mel snapped and glared at her. Janice took a breath to give a sarcastic answer, but Mel didn't give her the chance. "If you don't get into this bed, I will make you," she threatened in a low, slow voice of warning.
"I don't want to stay," Janice said stubbornly, looking up with determination that wavered slightly as she admitted. "I hate hospitals."
Mel sighed and said softly. "Then do it for me. Please."
Janice felt her resolve completely crumble. "You fight dirty, Miss Pappas," she mumbled with annoyance.
"I'll fight anyway . . . ," Mel blurted with annoyance. ". . . I have to," Mel finished in a weak exhale as she looked at her injured partner, realizing that she would do exactly that.
Janice’s brow rose with interest. "Ow," Janice said, gingerly touching her bandaged head.
Hearing the door shut, Mel glanced back, finding the doctor and nurse had quietly left.
When Janice returned to the bed, Mel was relieved that this battle was over. She winced with sympathy when Janice climbed into bed with a muffled groan. Immediately at Janice’s side, she pulled the sheet over her and sat on the edge.
"I don't need to be here," Janice grumbled, staring at the ceiling.
"You were knocked unconscious, got a half dozen stitches in that thick head of yours and four cracked ribs," Mel argued with amazement at Janice’s ridiculous stubbornness.
"I've had worse," Janice said, rolling her eyes. "Ow."
"And you should have gone to the hospital then too," Mel said with little patience.
Janice sighed unhappily.
"If anything ever . . . I just want to make sure you are OK, Janice," Mel said awkwardly, dropping her gaze as she pushed up her glasses, recalling the horrible sight and sound of Janice's head hitting the glass.
"I'm sorry," Janice said. "You shouldn't have to deal with all this," she added, getting an odd look from Mel.
"Me? You were the one attacked," Mel said in confusion.
"If you had been in Tanje’s way . . . ," Janice said uneasily.
"But I wasn’t."
"But you could have been," she said, then started to say something but stopped. "You shouldn't have to put up with this."
"What are you saying?" Mel said with concern.
Janice's eyes dropped and weakly said "I should get some sleep," unable to say what she knew she should. And would. Later. Janice decided as the weight of the unspoken words pressed heavily against her heart.
Janice’s sudden withdraw hurt Mel, who swallowed the angry words that almost escaped. She was not about to let Janice to retreat from her any more. But she needed time to think. Shutting her eyes and taking a calming breath, Mel silently vowed to convince the frustrating archeologist to stop that annoying habit of building walls.
Somehow.
"I'll be back," Mel said evenly and went to the door, turning the lights out before she left.
Alone in the dark room, Janice sighed, wondering why doing the right thing had to hurt so much.
***
Sophia jumped up, seeing the miserable look on Mel’s face when she returned. "What's wrong?"
Mel wanted to ask Sophia how Janice could so easily push her away, especially after everything they’ve been through. But she was interrupted.
"Is Janice all right?" Najihma asked with concern, also seeing the miserable look on her face. A look that quickly disappeared as Mel eyed Najihma coldly.
"Janice is going to stay for observation. But she should be all right from what the doctor said," she reported evenly and offered no more information to this woman, whose past with Janice had caught up to them, with violent consequences.
Sensing it best to leave, Najihma nodded. "Thank you for your kindness, Miss Pappas. No words can express how deeply sorry we are for the pain we have caused Janice . . . or her friends," Najihma said sincerely, going to her elderly mother's side to help her up from the chair.
Sophia and Mel watched them go.
"I think they really do care about Janice," Sophia offered, getting a sigh from the miserable Southerner.
***
"Excuse me," a blond-haired man said, startling Najihma and her mother as they departed the Hospital.
"Yes?" Najihma said, looking the man in the eye.
"I saw you at the train station," Simon said, immediately alerting the women, who glanced at each other uneasily.
"What do you want?" Najihma said crisply.
"Did they bring that American woman who was attacked here?" He asked pleasantly.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Uh, well . . . I’m a reporter and thought it would be . . . " the man said uneasily.
"We have nothing to say to you," Najihma interrupted briskly and grabbed her mother’s arm and quickly left.
Simon frowned as he watched the women get in their car and drive off. Eric Donavitchi shook his head as he emerged from the darkness and joined the man.
"You’re an idiot. Why would you tell the sister of the attacker that you were a reporter?"
"I . . . I was caught off guard. What would you have said?"
"Not that," Eric snickered.
Giorgio emerged from the hospital with a pleased grin. "She’s not going anywhere. She’s supposed to stay overnight for observation," he said.
"Good thing she didn’t die on us," Eric said, eyeing Simon menacingly.
Simon nodded weakly.
"So, when do we make our move?" Eric eagerly asked his brother.
"We wait. She’ll lead us to what we want, Eric. If we move too soon, she’ll play us again. I"m not too interested in another tour of the country," Giorgio said with a smirk.
"Wait. Great," Eric grumbled.
***
Janice stared at the ceiling for hours, unable to sleep.
Her mind kept playing the nerve-wracking "what if" game. What if Mel had been in Tanje's way? What if that crazy bastard had harmed her? What if the other handful of creeps she had pissed off in her lifetime wanted to get back at her? What if Mel became the way they chose?
Janice had finally grown confident that she could protect Mel from the general hazards of camp life. Mel was far less green and, since Ralph, Janice was much more aware of everything that involved Mel. But none of those general hazards compared to a plotting enemy. And there was no way to know when or where one of those creeps might pop up and cause trouble. Janice had already gotten an unpleasant surprise from simple Simon with his goons at the air strip. Thankfully, she was able to stop them. But what about the next time?
Was she willing to risk getting Mel killed? If she really cared for this woman, she’d tell her to run away as fast as she could, Janice thought uneasily as her head and heart ached again. Mel could still do what she wanted, Janice rationalized. She had talent. Gobs of it. She could easily translate for some university or another archeologist, one without a checkered past. Mel would be able to lead a long, productive, safe life. . . .
Jolting her from her depressing thoughts, she heard a faint rapping at the door before it slowly opened. Blinding light streamed into the dark room, causing Janice to squint, though she was still able to recognize the tall form in the doorway. Her spirits immediately soared, in spite of her difficult decision to end their relationship that never really had a chance to start.
"Janice?" Mel said softly.
It was the right thing to do, Janice reminded herself uneasily. She would just tell her there wasn’t a future for them. She would tell her . . . .
"Are you asleep?" Mel asked in a loud whisper as she entered the room.
Why the hell do people ask that, Janice wondered. "Yes," Janice responded in a loud whisper, unable to help herself.
When the door closed behind her, Mel blinked, attempting to help her eyes adjust to the dark room. "Oh," Mel said. "Well, I guess you wouldn't want to wake up to put on the night clothes I brought you," Mel whispered loudly, holding the bundle out as proof, assuming Janice could see them.
"You brought me clothing?!?" Janice blurted and sat up, causing her to cringe from the throbbing in her head and side.
"Shhh. It would be rude to wake yourself up," Mel said, walking slowly towards her voice. "And you do need your rest."
"People sleepwalk. I could sleep-change," Janice said very pleased to be getting some real clothing.
"Well, I suppose that might work," Mel said, carefully approaching the bed in the darkness, holding out a cautious hand in front of her. Hearing Janice getting out of bed, she stopped but not before bumping into her arm. "Oops, there you are," Mel said awkwardly and held out the clothes, which Janice gratefully took.
Mel looked at Janice with interest, seeing the figure before her more clearly as her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness.
"Thanks, Mel . . . ," Janice said, then feeling more of a breeze in the back. "Uh, Mel? Do you mind?" Janice tugged the gown away from Mel’s hand and tried to cover her back side with what little material there was.
"Honestly, Janice. I don’t know why you don’t like this gown," Mel said, adjusting her glasses, still inspecting the archeologist’s backside. "It nicely highlights your ass . . . ets."
Janice smirked, about to respond with a sarcastic comment but stopped herself. Trying to focus on the task at hand, not the joking, or flirting, or the joy she felt around this incredible wom. . . .
"Uh . . . . So, did you manage to get decent hotel rooms?" Janice asked instead, having difficulty with the tie in the back, which was in a stubborn knot. Which the goddamn nurse had probably sewn shut, she thought with irritation.
"Let me," Mel said and successfully untangled the tie. "Thanks to Mrs. Singhare, we had no trouble getting good rooms," Mel noted as she helped take the hospital gown off. Her eyes glanced down. Even in the darkened room, she could see Janice’s beautiful form marred by the large, nasty bruise on her side. She cringed, recalling how Janice was thrown to the ground and viciously kicked.
"Mrs . . . Singhare?" Janice said uncomfortably, stiffly pulling on a pair of boxers and slipping on the shirt.
"Yes, Najihma's mother," Mel offered unnecessarily, knowing Janice was aware of that fact.
"Oh."
Mel nodded, not surprised Janice didn’t volunteer any more of information. "Come, on. Get in," Mel said softly. "You need your rest."
After she sluggishly climbed into bed with her sore body, Janice looked at Mel and her hand with mild panic as the tall woman placed a steadying hand on the bed and took off her shoes and socks.
"W. . .Would you mind company?" Mel asked, stopping, wondering if she had made a mistake assuming Janice would want her to stay.
"You'll get wrinkled," Janice protested lamely and blinked, watching Mel smile.
"Ye of little faith," Mel said with amusement, starting to take her pants off.
"Uh, Mel??" Janice said averting her gaze. Out of the corner of her eye, she still saw Mel, who now started to unbutton her shirt. "Oh God," Janice moaned and shut her eyes tightly. Mel must have enjoyed her misery for she chucked deeply, which was also damn sexy, Janice thought as her misery grew. So Sherlock, how do you tell her to leave now!?!
Feeling the mattress depress as the Southerner joined her, Janice took a fortifying breath and moved to the edge of the bed. "You can skootch closer to me, Janice," Mel said with amusement.
"I don't think skootching is such a good idea," Janice said with her eyes still shut, tightly. It kind of hurt, but she didn't want to see what she couldn’t have. Why are you letting this continue, Covington??
"Are you afraid I'll hurt you again?" Mel guessed, her uncertain voice striking a protective chord within the archeologist.
"No. I'm afraid I'll hurt myself," Janice said, keeping her eyes shut. Mel smiled.
"Come on, I don't want to worry about you falling off the bed," Mel said. "Skootch."
Janice swallowed hard and moved closer to Mel, who slid her arm around Janice's waist in the familiar position. With the weight of the arm against her tender side, Janice sucked in a pained breath.
"I . . . I am hurting you," Mel said nervously, immediately retracting her arm. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," she said dejectedly, starting to retreat from the bed.
"Hold on, don’t go anywhere," Janice said, gently grabbing her arm. "You've got a nightshirt on?!?" She asked with surprise.
"Of course, Janice. What did you think I had on?" Mel said with mild amusement.
"I . . . Just get on this side of me," Janice said patting the mattress. Mel got up and walked around the bed and hesitated.
"Are you sure?"
"If you don’t get in the bed, I will make you," Janice offered a familiar threat, making Mel smile.
Carefully, Mel got under the covers and turned on her side. Janice skootched closer and slipped her arm around Mel's waist. Janice smiled when her hand was covered and their fingers easily entwined, as if returning to where they knew they belonged.
GOD! This was not what she was supposed to do, Janice thought with panic. She was supposed to tell Mel the brutal truth, she reminded herself as her head started to throb and stomach clench tightly. She couldn’t put it off any longer.
"Mel?" Janice said uneasily and sat up, her mind raced as she wondered how she was going to do this.
"What?" Mel also sat up, her hand instinctively seeking out Janice’s but the archeologist pulled away, denying that contact. The surprising rejection stung. "Janice?"
"I . . . ," Janice said, her heart ached at the thought of hurting Mel. But what ever she did, Mel would likely get hurt. "It’s hard . . . for two women to be together," Janice offered awkwardly, making Mel look at her in confusion. Janice gazed across the room, gathering her thoughts, which were as jumbled as her emotions were conflicted.
"Strangers judge you, even before they know you," Janice said knowingly. Her hands clenched into fists, which kept them from trembling. "And, well, they really don’t want to know you," she offered, adding softly "Friends and family can be worse. They’ll say you’ve changed, when they’re the ones who treat you differently," Janice said with some annoyance, then sighed, admitting "That can be hard."
It took every ounce of strength not to just hug Janice and tell her that it didn’t matter what her family thought. But Mel waited, not wanting to interrupt what Janice so obviously needed to say.
"And there are people in my past, like Tanje, who will likely make life even harder. And," Janice said, taking a deep breath. "And you’ll end up getting hurt because of me," Janice said bluntly. "I can’t . . . ."
"No," Mel firmly protested, not wanting to hear what she knew Janice was trying to say. "Jan . . . ."
"Please. Let me finish. . . please," Janice said with difficulty, turning to look at Mel, who frowned and reluctantly nodded.
"I just don’t think . . . ." Janice continued, knowing she owed it to Mel to look her in the eye when she spoke the difficult words. She was grateful the room was dark, certain the ocean of blue would completely overwhelm her, preventing her from saying the one thing she had struggled with, the one thing Mel had to hear. It would be best to get this over with quickly, Janice thought as her heart pounded. Taking a deep breath, Janice forged ahead, daring to look into those eyes.
"I just don’t think that . . . ," Janice said, pausing a moment as the phrase - windows to the soul - came to mind as she saw the other half of hers. " . . . anyone could love you more than I do."
Janice blinked. Maybe she should have written a dear Joan letter.
"I . . . I love you too," Mel gushed in surprise, confused but delighted.
"But that’s not enough," Janice added gravely. It never had been before.
Mel smiled, feeling an amazing sense of relief and calm as she reached out to take one of Janice’s balled up hands in hers. She tenderly massaged it open and held it in hers.
"I know love won’t stop bullets, put a roof over our heads, or feed us," she said, squeezing Janice’s hand. "And I am well aware there’s no guarantee we’ll live happily ever after, just because we love each other. But it’s a wonderful start, don’t you think?" Mel said with a smile, then continued with determination. "If we deny ourselves what happiness we could have together, just because of what might happen . . . well then, we would waste a precious gift," she said, with a caress of Janice’s hand. "And all those people you think might make life harder for us? They’ve won without lifting a cotton-pick’n finger!" Mel said angrily, looking Janice in the eye.
"And I’m not the kind of woman to just give up without a fight, Janice Covington. Are you?" Mel said confidently, though her heart pounded.
"Fighting is all I seem to do," Janice said weakly.
"Don’t fight this," Mel said boldly, caressing her hand and pressing it to her chest, over her heart.
She knew Mel understood what a life together might mean, having already survived a few unpleasant and dangerous examples. It was painfully simple, if she would just accept it, Janice considered.
With a soft chuckle and an amazed shake of her head, Mel asked uncertainly "What?"
"Never try breaking up with someone when you’re in bed with them."
"You find this amusing?!?" Mel said with annoyance.
"No. Obviously not," Janice immediately replied.
Mel sighed, then laughed wearily. "Why is everything so hard with you?"
"It’s part of my charm?" Janice offered, then hesitantly reached out for the Southerner’s cheek. It was painfully simple, Janice considered, unable to fight the precious gift being offered.
Mel intercepted her hand, slowly planting a kiss on her palm before tenderly placing it upon her cheek. "So, that’s what you call it," Mel said, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the simple touch.
"Mel?"
"Hmm?"
"You’re right," Janice offered, surprised when Mel’s eye popped open and a big smile appeared.
"Should I be concerned you are happier hearing that you’re right, than I love you?" Janice groused with amusement.
"I am not happier," she argued, then quickly gushed. "So, what do you think I was right about?!?"
"You don’t know?"
"Well there are so many things," Mel acknowledged. "But I’m interested in what made you say it now."
"I think you’re right about fighting, for this," Janice admitted, caressing Mel’s face before leaning in and giving her a soft kiss. "For us," she whispered, adding "Just thought you should know."
Mel smiled happily, tracing her fingers over Janice’s cheek before gently pulling her into another kiss, a tender brushing of lips, then another, and another as their passion grew. As they lay back, Mel pulled the smaller woman in closer, provoking a poorly muffled groan.
"Sorry." Mel said with a cringe and sighed dejectedly.
"Damn ribs." Janice muttered as she shifted and rested her bandaged head on Mel’s shoulder as long protective arms carefully wrapped around her.
"Good night, Janice," Mel said, gently kissing her gauze-covered forehead.
"Good night, Mel. I do love you," Janice said, bringing a big smile to Mel’s face.
"And I love you," Mel said.
"Mel, I’m telling you, I’m fine!" Janice argued as Mel sat on the bed and tied her shoelaces.
"Uh huh." Mel said as she got up and opened the window shades to allow the bright, morning light into the room.
"Mel, please," Janice said as Mel returned and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Get me my clothes so I can GET OUT OF HERE!!!" Janice growled unhappily as the nurse started to come into the room.
Hearing the archeologist, the nurse’s eyes widened. She quickly did an about-face and left before Mel could coax her to stay.
"Good Lord, Janice. The next time she comes back, you are going to apologize to that poor woman," Mel said with a frown, shaking her head.
"Mel . . . " Janice continued to argue.
"No."
"But . . . ."
"Not until the Dr Zafar says you are all right to leave, and not a moment sooner," Mel said firmly as the hospital door opened again. "Be nice," Mel warned.
"You two decent?" Sophia cracked the door opened and poked her head in the room.
"That depends entirely on your definition," Mel said, eyeing Janice, who sighed unhappily.
"How are you feeling?" Sophia said as she entered the room with Raj and Frank in tow.
"Fine! But no one seems to believe me!" Janice complained crossing her arms and pouting.
"She’s not happy," Mel explained unnecessarily, turning toward the visitors.
"What the hell happened to you?" Janice asked Raj, seeing his face a bit puffy. Raj looked uncomfortable, just like everyone else, she noted. "What happened, Raj," Janice asked again.
"I was hit while helping you," Raj said.
"Fuck," Janice exhaled guiltily.
"You know, it all happened so fast," Sophia said quickly. "Before I realized what was going on Frank and Raj were pulling Tanje off of you."
Janice kept looking at Raj with sadness in her eyes.
"It is all right, Janice," he said. Mel took Janice’s hand and squeezed it.
Frank smiled at that act of comfort, which came naturally to the Southern Lady, who had even spent the entire night in the hospital for her good friend. She could be an excellent nurse, he thought, knowing Mel would never be content to just be a socialite back home. Columbia General Hospital would be a perfect solution for the career-minded Lady. At least, until she started to have children and stayed home, he considered brightly.
"You two saved my life, thank you," Janice said softly, looking between Raj and Frank, who looked uncomfortable as they nodded.
Mel smiled and changed the subject "So, what are you planning for today?"
As Sophia relayed her plan to tour the temples, Frank smiled at her enthusiasm. His smile faded slightly, noticing how Mel continued to hold and caress the archeologist’s hand.
***
Sophia beamed as they drove toward the temples that appeared in the distance. She eagerly discussed the layout of the area and how they would go to the biggest and most interesting temple first. Whatever that meant, Frank considered, staring out of the taxi window at the green scenery, barely listening.
He could have sworn from the heated argument he witnessed when he had first arrived, Melinda and Dr. Covington would not be that close. But watching them at the University, then in the hospital, they seemed to be thick as thieves, Frank considered with a frown, still wondering what the archeologist had said to Mel to make her blush at the library.
"What about the Taj Mahal?" Frank asked out of the blue.
"That’s North, in Agra," Sophia said curiously, looking at Raj, who shrugged.
"Melinda had wanted to see the Taj Mahal," Frank said. "But we’re here," he said, looking out the window.
"Well, the scrolls were found here," Sophia explained. "And I honestly don’t think Melinda has really given the Taj Mahal a second thought since their ancestor’s artifacts were found," she said with a smile, then looked out the window at the temples they were approaching.
Frank sighed heavily.
"Don’t worry, Mr. Coleman. I am certain if Miss Pappas really wants to see the Taj Mahal, Dr. Covington would make sure she does," Raj added with a smile.
Sophia grinned and nodded as she absorbed the scenery with excitement.
***
"Janice, stop it," Mel said as Janice started to unwrap the bandage wrapped around her head.
"It looks like I’m wearing a GODDAMN turban!" Janice cursed as the nurse opened the door. Her eyes went wide and she started to retreat when Mel jumped up.
"Please, come in," Mel quickly said. "I’ll make sure she behaves," the Southerner promised, casting a warning glare at Janice, who sighed and continued to pull the bandage off her head.
"Janice," Mel said with irritation.
"We need to remove the bandage to look at the stitches anyway," the nurse said uneasily as she approached the bed and volatile patient. Janice smiled thinly at Mel and let the nurse take the rest of the bandage off.
Noticing the woman’s hands tremble, Mel sighed. "Janice, don’t you have something to say to the nurse?"
"Yeah. When the hell can I get out of here?" Janice growled, causing the woman to jump.
"Janice Covington that is NOT what I meant and you know it!" Mel snapped.
"Fine. I’m sorry for being an ass. But I hate hospitals. Always have. Always will," Janice said bluntly. Mel rolled her eyes.
The nurse eyed her curiously then smiled weakly and nodded. "The doctor will be by in a few minutes. Open up," she said pulling out a thermometer.
Janice refused.
"There are other ways to take temperatures, Dr. Covington," Melinda said, raising a threatening eyebrow. With disturbing eagerness, the nurse gave the thermometer to Mel with a sweet smile.
"I hate ho . . mpft." Janice declared again, finding a thermometer suddenly shoved under her tongue. "Wrry Funny."
"Quiet, while we take your temperature," Mel said with a satisfied smile. The nurse glanced at her with appreciation.
"So how are we today?" Dr. Zafar said as he entered the room with the patient’s chart and a smile.
"The patient is . . . in high spirits today," the Indian nurse said uneasily.
"I’m sorry," Mel said with embarrassment.
Janice’s brow furrowed.
"Her stitches look good, no signs of infection," the nurse reported.
"Excellent. Let us have a look, shall we?" He said and pulled out the thermometer.
"Normal. Good." He handed the chart over to the nurse. "How are we feeling?"
"Do they actually teach you to talk like that in Med school?" Janice asked.
"Janice, I have had enough of your attitude. Now answer the man!"
"Fine! The stitches itch and my ribs ache, but I feel better. I am ready to leave. But some people think I should be trapped here against my will!!" Janice said angrily, glaring at Mel, who sighed and shook her head.
***
Eric looked at the small brochure as the three men sat in a truck, across the street from where Dr. Covington’s three friends were getting out of their taxi. "Giorgio, how long have we done business in India?" He asked his brother.
"Over ten years, why?" Giorgio said absently, observing the three friends ascend the temple steps.
"I can’t believe I didn’t know about these temples! Man-oh-man!!" Eric snickered, then looked up to find his brother and Simon getting out of the truck to head towards a large temple.
"Did you know that the Kandarlya Mahadev temple is the largest one and considered the most architecturally perfect?" Eric read from the brochure as he caught up to his brother and Simon. "It has 646 figures carved on the outer walls and . . . ,"
***
". . . 226 figures inside the temple, making a total of 872 figures!" Sophia read enthusiastically from her pamphlet as they climbed the steps. "Wow," she said and looked up.
Frank abruptly stopped, recognizing what one of the many intricate carvings covering the temple was depicting. He nervously looked around to find a few other tourists, who studied at the carvings with great interest. Some made sketches, others took pictures.
"Uh, Sophia?" Frank said uneasily, as he jogged to catch up to the two inside, where the walls and ceiling were also covered in carvings. He strained his neck as he looked directly up at four figures . . . engaged. "Oh my," he said with an uneasy cringe.
"Isn’t this just amazing?" She gushed, glancing down at a small book on the temple they were visiting. "The temples of Khajuraho are over 1000 years old and built over a 100-year span."
"The detail is extraordinary," Raj agreed with a smile.
"But they’re. . . having sex," the Southern gentleman gasped nervously, tilting his head at one set of figures contorted in a surprising way. "I think."
"Look at that one!" Sophia pointed up to a threesome.
"Oh Lord."
Raj studied it and nodded. "You can even see the beads of their bracelets."
"I’m surprised anyone would notice beads," Frank said, swallowing hard as he stared at one carving of two unusually well-endowed women servicing a man.
"Oh, and the figure, over there, with the elephant head, that’s Ganesh, right?" Sophia asked Raj, who nodded.
"The god of wisdom, bringer of good luck, and remover of obstacles," Raj said.
"And you’ve never visited here before?" Sophia asked curiously.
"I have not enjoyed all the treasures of my country, I am sad to say. But I have heard about the impressive art of the temples and had always wanted to see them," Raj said with a smile. "I am glad I am here and with someone who so obviously enjoys them."
Sophia smiled at the soft-spoken man, who said much with few words.
Frank frowned at the woman, who did not have the common decency to be the least bit embarrassed. He glanced to his right to find a carving of two, well-endowed women kissing. . . with no man in sight. "Mel’s scrolls were found near here?" Frank asked uneasily and stared at the carving.
Sophia smiled and nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes, there’s a cave temple South of here, where an Indian archeologist found them, along with other Kama Sutra writings."
Frank cringed. "The scrolls they were so happy to find were . . . ancient erotica??" he chuckled weakly as he looked around the temple at the various erotic figures.
"No," Sophia said, prompting an exhale and smile of relief from the man, until she continued. "They were Sapphic sex instructions. And I think they were the precursor to the Kama Sutra which was written well after Gabrielle’s scrolls," Sophia said with enthusiasm as the tall man’s smile completely disappeared. "But Melinda said Dr. Tangore wasn’t convinced. They have a hard time getting the academic community to take their work seriously. And they are sure this discovery isn’t going to help make it any easier," Sophia shook her head in sympathy for her hard-working friends.
"Sapphic?" Frank wheezed, glancing over to the carving of the women.
"Love between women," Raj interjected helpfully and pointed to the figure of kissing women. "Like that."
"I know what that means, thank you," Frank said testily, feeling ill. "And Melinda has been exposed to all this," he said with dread, looking at Sophia, who eyed him curiously.
"Do you have a problem with sex, Frank?" Sophia asked bluntly.
"No! Not when it’s between a man and a woman," he blurted with irritation, glancing at the figure of a ménage à trois. "One man and one women," Frank quickly amended. "All this," he said, motioning to the figures. "It’s . . . it’s not right!"
Sophia looked at him with great disappointment, shaking her head. "Maybe not for you, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t right for some people."
"Don’t tell me you condone this," Frank said indignantly.
"Sex is a part of life," Sophia argued. "Who is to say what is right or wrong between consenting adults?"
"I know what the bible says," Frank said firmly.
"Love doesn’t read bibles, Frank."
"Perhaps more people should," he countered, glaring at her. Raj glanced around the temple uneasily, noting how his friends were drawing uncomfortable attention.
"And which bible do you suggest, Frank?"
"What do you mean which bible?" He asked, looking at her as if she were daft.
"You sanctimonious bastard," Sophia spat with anger. Raj cringed as Sophia gave the surprised Southerner more of her mind.
***
"You’re leaving already?" Colonel Whitcomb asked with surprise as he met up with the Americans in the hospital hallway, quickly heading towards the exit.
Janice turned and eyed the unfamiliar man suspiciously. His uniform didn’t help her trust in him.
"Colonel Whitcomb," Melinda said with surprise. "Janice, this is Colonel Whitcomb, he was investigating the attack," Mel said. "Colonel, this is Doctor Janice Covington."
"Colonel," Janice said guardedly, shaking the offered hand.
"Dr. Covington, I am glad to see you up and about. Though I have to admit my surprise with how quickly," he admitted.
"I don’t like hospitals," Janice said simply, grabbed Mel’s hand and quickly pulled the tall woman towards the door, ignoring the Colonel.
"Well, whatever the motivation, I am pleased with the result," he said sincerely as he followed them outside.
"Colonel, why are you here?" Janice asked impatiently, glancing around the front of the hospital and enjoying a breath of fresh air.
"I was hoping to get your account of the attack at the train station, from both you and Miss Pappas."
"I have nothing to . . . ," Janice said tersely, then stopped. "Fuck," she said wearily, surprising the Colonel with her language.
Mel looked at her with concern. "Janice?" She asked, then spotted the cause of her irritation. Najihma and her mother were coming up the walkway. She grimaced.
"Should I direct them elsewhere?" he offered.
"No, but thanks," Janice exhaled, and eyed the man, who nodded politely, smoothly handing her a business card and said "Perhaps later, then?"
"Perhaps," Janice said, surprising Mel she just didn’t say no. Janice glanced at the card before putting it in her shirt pocket.
The man bowed slightly, and smiled. "I look forward to it, Dr. Covington," he said and left as the Indian women approached, exchanging civilized nods as they passed.
"Janice," Mrs. Singhare said, eyeing the archeologist, though her uneasy daughter couldn’t look her in the eye.
"Mrs. Singhare, Najihma," Janice said softly. Najihma looked up, surprised she would speak to her after everything.
"Janice," the older woman said. "I am so sorry."
The archeologist curiously found that those old feelings of resentment towards this family, which had turned her life completely upside down, both then and now, did not surface. Instead, she began to wonder how much their lives must have been turned upside down too. Funny how she was too busy being angry at the injustice of it all, that she never even gave that a thought.
"I am too," Janice said honestly.
The women looked at each other uneasily before, Mrs. Singhare asked. "Are you all right?"
Janice looked at the Indian women a moment before a small smile crept on her face. "Yeah," she said, looking up to Mel, who returned a warm smile. "I am now."
***
"Are you going to see Colonel Whitcomb?" Mel asked a quiet archeologist, who stared at the business card, and sipped her tea. Her lunch companion was very quiet since the meeting with Mrs. Singhare and Najihma, she noted uneasily.
"Do you think time changes people?" Janice asked as she returned the card to her pocket.
"Of course, in many ways," Mel said, surprised at the question.
"But Tanje hated me all these years. Time didn’t change his opinion," Janice said thoughtfully, glancing uneasily out the window.
"I guess there are always exceptions. But I believe a person’s heart can change and old wounds can be healed. But Tanje? Who knows what his life has been like since you last saw him. I would have to think he was angry about much more than you."
Janice nodded at Mel’s logic. "He was always angry. At everything. And he was barely civil to me for Najihma’s sake . . . until . . . he wasn’t," she said uncomfortably.
Mel looked at Janice, not sure how to respond to the frustratingly vague discussion that teased her with glimpses of Janice’s past. She wanted to ask so many questions, but refrained, not wanting to sound like an interrogator. However, the most important question really didn’t need to be asked. She just knew the beautiful Indian had been Janice’s lover. And she still felt something for Janice. The eyes never lie, Mel thought, uneasily recalling how those brown eyes had looked at the archeologist.
"Do you think that it’s possible for two people, who loved each other but really hurt each other, to ever be close again?" Janice asked uneasily, picking at the corner of her napkin.
Mel’s heart clenched in panic, guessing at what Janice was trying to say. Before she could respond, they were interrupted by the waiter with their meals. With the plates of food in front of them and the waiter gone, Janice looked at Mel, who was no longer hungry.
"Do you?" Janice asked softly.
"I . . ." Mel said and took an uneasy sip of her water.
"You OK?" Janice asked.
"I don’t know how to answer that, Janice," she said uneasily. "You haven’t exactly explained the situation to me," Mel said with annoyance.
"Well, I don’t really know the situation," Janice admitted reluctantly. "We haven’t seen each other in over fourteen years. I haven’t done much to make it any better. Hell, I haven’t done anything. But she hasn’t either," Janice said, then sighed, shaking her head.
Mel’s heart pounded as she wondered how things could go from so wonderful to so horrible so quickly. The thought of losing Janice made her feel ill.
"You know, she had left us even before she actually walked out," Janice said, poking her food with a fork.
Mel blinked, confused. Us?
"But we hadn’t noticed," she said sadly, then shrugged. "Dad liked to go off with the guys for a "night out" and I was off . . . well, a girl in love," Janice said, mocking herself then sighed. "Maybe we were the ones who had left her," she added quietly.
Mel’s eyes widened as her spirits soared. Janice was talking about her mother not Najihma!
"When she found out about Najihma and I, she went nuts," Janice said, and looked up uncomfortably. "It didn’t help that she caught us."
Mel looked at Janice with a wince and placed her hand over the archeologist’s, offering a sympathetic squeeze.
"But after everything she said to me, I still . . . I just . . . ." Janice said softly.
" . . . miss her," Mel finished in understanding. The pain of losing her own mother, though thankfully diminished over the years, was still there.
"But she didn’t accept me before. It’s probably foolish to think she would now," Janice said dejectedly.
"Janice Covington! I can’t believe what I’m hearing," Mel scolded her. "What if she’s feeling the same!?! What if she has been wanting to make up with you all these years, but has been too afraid of rejection? Are you just going to sit on your rear, letting more time pass as you wonder what might have happened?!?"
Janice looked at the passionate Southerner a moment. "So what do you really think?" She asked flatly.
Mel smirked. "Colonel Whitcomb might be able to help you contact her."
Janice pulled out the card from her pocket and stared at it thoughtfully.
When Janice and Mel entered the hotel lobby, Frank looked up with a mix of relief and anger as he jumped up from the couch.
"Melinda, where have you been?!? You left the hospital hours ago!" Frank said with irritation, glancing accusingly at Janice.
"Dan," Janice calmly greeted the man, whose glare intensified at the amazingly annoying woman.
"Why on Earth are you so upset?" Mel asked in confusion.
"I need to talk with you," he said anxiously, adding, "alone," as he glared at the archeologist.
Janice looked at him neutrally, then glanced curiously to Mel, who nodded with a heavy sigh. As Janice turned, Mel remembered something.
"Oh, wait," Mel said, suddenly searching through her purse. Frank watched with great irritation as she handed her room key to Janice, who silently accepted it. She glanced at Frank before she left the lobby.
"She could get her own room, you know. There are plenty in this hotel," Frank growled quietly as he glared at the departing archeologist.
"What did you want to talk about, Frank," Mel asked patiently, pushing up her glasses.
"This is a bad environment for you, Melinda," he said ominously. "You need to come home right now, before something happens that you’ll regret," he added with urgency.
Mel looked at him, tired of arguing. "Good night, Frank," she said flatly and turned to leave.
"I’m serious!" Frank said with frustration, grabbing her arm. Getting an angry glare, he immediately let go. "I’m sorry."
"You should be," Mel said evenly.
"Melinda, I’ve learned some things today. Disturbing things. Things that make me very concerned about you and where you are headed with Dr. Covington," he said Janice’s name distastefully.
Mel pushed up her glasses and crossed her arms, silently waiting for Frank to explain himself.
"Where to begin?" Frank asked rhetorically, with a hint of arrogance, getting into his lawyer mode. "One has to wonder about her motivation for having you, a beautiful Southern lady, stay at her side," he said, eyeing her. She looked at him patiently, though she wondered how long this would take. She just wanted to curl up with Janice in that nice comfortable bed upstairs.
"Out of all the translators in the world, why did she want you?" Frank asked.
"She didn’t, at first," Mel answered, trying ignore the sting of the unintended insult.
"In fact, I had to convince her it was a good idea," Mel said with a small smile of satisfaction at her accomplishment, then glanced at her watch.
That was consistent with what Dr. Covington had told him, he considered with a frown of frustration and blurted. "She’s not a good influence! What about those scrolls?"
"What about them?" Mel said, struggling to remain patient with her old friend.
"They contain things a lady shouldn’t see! Obscene things!"
"How do you even know what’s in them?!?" She asked incredulously. "They were less than three feet away from you, and you never even bothered to look at them! You’ve never shown the slightest interest in my work," Mel snapped.
Frank winced at his misstep. He should have known hearsay wouldn’t be accepted by this meticulous woman. His rock-solid case wasn’t going as he had planned. "Did you know Dr. Covington’s friend is a prostitute?" He blurted.
"Where is Sophia?" Mel quickly responded with concern, looking around the lobby then eyeing Frank accusingly.
"Didn’t you hear what I just said?"
"Yes, and I asked where she is. Did you make an embarrassing scene when you found out?"
"You knew?!?"
"Did you hurt her feelings?!?" Mel accused angrily.
"She stormed off with Raj. I don’t know where she went," he said with frustration.
"What happened?" Mel asked with concern.
"Melinda . . . "
"What. Happened." Mel demanded crisply, her gaze cold.
Frank looked at her, startled at her attitude. "We went to those temples, near where your sex scrolls were found," Frank spat, surprising Mel with his caustic words. "They had hundreds of figures of people having sex! Threesomes, foursomes . . . numbers didn’t matter. Oh, and gender didn’t either," the lawyer blurted, noting her eyes drop a moment, before returning with that unnerving gaze.
"Go on."
Frank sighed with irritation and continued. "When I didn’t agree that the immorality shown was "a part of life," she called me a sanctimonious bastard. Then she said there were many religions I could learn from, like Hindu, which she said appreciates and encourages a person’s sexuality, not hides from it. Can you imagine?" He said disapprovingly. "Then she actually admitted being a prostitute! For God’s sake Melinda, what kind of archeologist brings along a prostitute for a dig?!?"
"She is a friend," Mel said tightly.
"Is that what they call it these days?" he asked sarcastically, earning an angry slap but prevented it, grabbing her forearm. "You need to pack your bags and leave with me," Frank said firmly, not letting go when Mel tried to retrieve her limb.
The sudden look of concern in her eyes gave him pause. "Melinda," he said softly. "I only want what’s best for you," he admitted honestly. Unable to resist those tempting lips, he slowly leaned towards her, hoping to convince her of his sincerity . . . and love.
"Then let me go," Mel said, moving her head slightly to avoid the unwanted advance.
He looked at her with pain in his eyes, knowing he would never have that life with her he had planned. Reluctantly letting go of her arm, he heard a faint creaking and glanced towards the empty staircase. They both knew Dr. Covington had been there.
Mel briefly shut her eyes with a warm smile, comforted and touched by the unobtrusive presence of her protector, who she suspected had to struggle against her desire to clobber Frank.
Frank shook his head sadly at that smile. "How can you do this?"
"Some day, Frank, I hope you find someone who loves you as much as Janice and I love each other," Mel said honestly, looking him in the eye. He winced at the admission, looking with great sadness at the woman he thought he knew, who he thought would make a wonderful wife and mother.
"I’ll be leaving tomorrow," he said dejectedly, unable to understand why she was throwing all that away.
As he headed up the stairs to his room, Mel released a long breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. She could feel his disappointment, which hurt more than she had expected. Why couldn’t he just be happy for her, or at least, understand? Janice had warned her it would be hard. She had not realized how hard. And he wasn’t even her family, she considered, unable to imagine how hard it must have been for Janice to be rejected by her mother.
***
Frank looked up and found the archeologist waiting at the top of the stairs.
"You’ll ruin her," he offered weakly as he joined Janice on the landing. He looked down at the small woman, whom he would never have suspected could steal Melinda’s heart. What could she possibly offer the Southern Lady who had a life of comfort just waiting for her back home?
Janice’s jaw clenched. "I will do my best to make her happy."
"If you were a man . . . ," Frank snarled, leaving his threat unspoken, wanting but unable to slug away his frustration - a feeling Janice completely understood.
"Then we’d both be out of luck," she offered softly.
He looked at her with mild surprise, nodded hesitantly, and quietly returned to his room.
She sighed sadly, watching his door shut. Except for his prejudice, irritating small talk, and his nearly suicidal behavior a moment ago with Mel, Frank was a decent enough guy, she thought. Hearing the creaking of stairs, Janice’s eyes widened.
***
Mel entered their room to find the curious sight of Janice sitting in front of the vanity mirror, busily combing the end of her pony tail. Janice turned around and smiled.
"So," Janice said innocently, waving with the comb to show her the device one used, when you weren’t busy eavesdropping. "How did everything go with Don?"
Mel chuckled tiredly, rubbing her eyes. "I can’t believe you win at poker. I know you heard."
"Damn stairs," Janice groused and tossed the comb over her shoulder. "I didn’t want to interfere but . . . ," she admitted awkwardly. "I know being confronted by someone who doesn’t approve of you is never easy," Janice added as she got up and joined the tall woman, who nodded in agreement.
Janice silently took her hand, and led Mel to the bed, motioning for her to sit. Mel sat with a long sigh and rubbed her temples.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Janice asked, sitting next to her.
Mel looked at her a moment, then down as unwanted tears filled her eyes. When Janice placed her hand on her back, massaging it with comforting circular strokes, she felt a little embarrassed for getting so worked up over the uncomfortable situation with Frank, especially considering what Janice must have gone through with her mother.
"How . . . ?" Mel said, wiping her eyes. "How did you deal with your mother’s rejection?"
"You shouldn’t look to me as an example, Mel," she said with a sad shake of her head. "Unless you want a bad example."
"Tell me what happened?" Mel asked, getting an uncomfortable look. "I’m sorry. I imagine it isn’t easy to talk about."
"I’ll tell you. But for the record? When I asked if you wanted to talk about it, the "it" was you and Frank, not me and my mother," Janice grumbled, getting a pleased smile from Mel and a squeeze of her hand.
Janice sighed and thought back to the happier times of her youth. A small smile appeared. "I was a happy kid. My parents loved me, we were traveling, seeing amazing things, meeting interesting people, searching for my family’s history. It seemed perfect. But of course, it wasn’t. I didn’t know my parents were having troubles. Well, not at first. I knew my Dad liked to drink, but lots of men in camp did. And I knew money didn’t grow on trees and we were running out of it. My mom would never yell at him in front of me. She wanted to protect me, I guess. But it’s hard not to hear when people argue at a camp site."
Mel nodded as Janice took a breath and got up from the bed. Mel silently watched the archeologist as she paced. "Mom wasn’t thrilled to come to India. But she did seem really happy when she met up with some old friends in Delhi. She started to get all dressed up when she went to tea or dinner. Sometimes, my Dad would go with her, but not without a lot of grumbling about having to wear a coat and tie. Funny, he would always go out of his way to make her happy, except he resisted that one simple thing she wanted. When he did dress up for her, she was so happy. They looked really good together. They were really good together," Janice said thoughtfully and took a long breath.
"Would you believe that at almost every one of those dinners or brunches, Mom managed to find out about a "nice young boy" that I should date," Janice said, rolling her eyes, getting a small grin from Mel. "But I knew early on that I was only interested in . . . the fairer sex," Janice said, eyeing Mel, who silently listened, fascinated. "I never did anything about it. I was young. And I didn’t know how. I mean, it just wasn’t something I could ask my parents about. But when I saw Najihma, everything seemed to fall into place," Janice said with mild amazement.
Mel nodded, fully understanding how someone could make you feel"right."
"I still didn’t know what the hell I was doing," Janice said, causing a small smile from the Southerner, who could once again empathize.
"But we figured it out together," Janice added, then glanced an apologetic moment at Mel, who provided a warm smile of encouragement for her to continue.
Janice scratched the back of her neck. "Uh . . . one night Najihma and I were . . . uh, in my tent while my parents were out at a dinner. I should have figured that my Dad would have enjoyed the open bar more than he should have. Mom ended up driving them home early, again."
"That’s IT, Harry! I am sick of this!!" Libby growled as she turned onto the long dirt road toward camp. Her pretty green dress was stained with Brandy, which splashed onto her when her drunk husband tripped over the carpet. It was not the first public embarrassment the woman had endured because of her husband, or the first ruined dress.
"Awww Sweetheart, don’t be mad," Harry mumbled with a grin, slumped in his seat. "I said I was sorry bout your dress," he said, trying to touch the spot on her skirt. "I’ll get you a new one," he said as she slapped his hand away.
"With what? All those rocks you dig up?" She spat. "We can barely afford food now, Harry."
"What kind of life is this?!?" she said, tears forming in her eye. "And what about Janice?? She already thinks living in a tent and moving every few months is normal! How many years have you promised us it would be the last one? When will she get a chance to have friends?"
"She has friends," Harry protested weakly.
Libby wiped the tears from her cheek with a shaky hand.
"Aww, don’t cry honey."
"What kind of friends?? Some Indian woman, who should be married with children by now! And that poor peasant boy I caught picking through the garbage the other day? It’s not healthy!"
"She’ll be eighteen in a few months and how many dates has she been on?" Libby snapped. "TWO. How is she going to find someone?!?"
Libby drove into a surprisingly deep puddle, causing the truck to bounce violently and come to a jarring halt.
"Harry?" She said, looking over with concern until he started laughing.
"Weeeee," he said and laughed hardily, stopping between coughs.
Libby shook with anger as she opened the door and got out, splashing herself in the process. She turned and looked at the man she loved but could no longer live with. "You have to find your own way home, Harry. I can’t help you anymore. I just can’t.," she said miserably. "Janice and I will be going back to mother’s. We can’t live like this."
Libby marched back to the camp, attempting to reign in her emotions. She couldn’t let Janice see her like this, she thought, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. She had to be strong, for both of them now. She stood at the front of Janice’s tent, taking another deep breath as she attempted to straighten her hopeless, brandy and mud-stained dress.
Janice scratched the back of her neck and paced. "Najihma and I never heard them come back to camp. But they could have come back leading a marching band. It wasn’t like we were paying attention to anything except each other," Janice admitted with an uneasy wince, glancing over to Mel, who looked at her with a weak smile.
"Janice?" Libby entered her daughter’s tent to find the Indian woman and Janice, writhing in a pile of blankets . . . naked. Two startled heads popped up to see the gaping mouth of Janice’s mother.
"Shit," Janice said as Najihma gasped and scrambled to get up, nearly tripping over her lover’s legs.
"Get UP and get dressed, NOW!!" Libby roared, kneeling down and picking up the khaki shirt and pants near her feet. She threw them at her daughter, who stood nervously as Najihma grabbed her clothes.
"Najihma," Janice said with concern, seeing the young Indian’s eyes fill with tears of fear as she got dressed.
"Get out!" Libby snapped at the Indian, who trembled as she grabbed her sandals.
"Najihma, stay!" Janice said as her anger grew.
"Get out, and don’t you dare come back!!" Libby said as the petrified Indian rushed past her and out of the tent.
"No, Najihma!" Janice said, then eyed her mother incredulously "You can’t do that!"
"You are not going to see her again," Libby said frantically, grabbing her duffle bag and starting to pack her clothes.
"You can’t tell me who to see!"
"She was older, lured you in," Libby explained to herself. She looked up uneasily and told, almost pleaded, to Janice "you are only seventeen, you didn’t know what you were doing."
"I know what I was doing. I know what I was feeling! I love her!" Janice blurted as she angrily put her shirt and pants on.
"I’m packing your bags," Libby said in a calm voice that eroded into barely controlled panic. "We’re going to mother’s. I knew traveling like this was bad for you. We’ll get you into a good school and everything will be back to normal. Just you wait and see," Libby said, haphazardly stuffing her daughter’s things in the bag.
"Mom, I am not leaving her." Janice grabbed the top of her duffle bag, stopping her mother from packing and looking into her frantic green eyes. "I love her," Janice said emotionally, wanting her mother to understand.
"No. No. No! You are not in love with her," Libby cried out, grabbing back the duffle bag. "She’s a woman! Don’t you see? It’s unnatural. It’s a sin! For God’s sake, Janice, you’ll go to hell!" Libby said vehemently, grabbed the bag back and awkwardly tried to jam a book into it.
"So which one of us will get the bigger tent in hell, Mom? The lover of a woman or the adulterer?" Janice spat defiantly.
"How DARE you!" She exploded as her hand flew.
As quickly as the angry blow came, the tent fell silent.
Libby numbly stared at her stunned daughter, whose brow bled from the deep gash. Her eyes slowly dropped to her hand that had never before struck out against her child. She took notice of the blood-smeared diamond ring. It had lost its luster a while ago. Clenching her trembling hand, Libby turned hesitantly, unsure of what to do. She glanced at Janice’s bag. Pack. She should pack too, she concluded, nodding to herself and left for her tent.
"I left and I never saw her again," Janice said, her hand absently touching the scar over her brow. Amazing how, in such a short time, life can forever change. The sound of sniffing drew her to the present. Mel wiped tears from her eyes and sniffed again.
"Sorry," Janice said, sitting down next to her sad partner, and handed her a handkerchief.
"Why are you sorry?" Mel asked with surprise, taking the offering. She removed her glasses and dabbed her eyes.
"I don’t want to make you cry," Janice said softly.
"What happened was horrible, Janice," Mel said, dabbing her eyes. "But, I want to know everything. Even if it’s sad," Mel awkwardly added.
"That could take a while," Janice laughed weakly. "I’m beat, Mel" she added apologetically.
"I’m not surprised," she said, caressing Janice’s brow before tenderly kissing it. "There’s no rush," she added, kissing her other brow. "I’m not going anywhere," Mel said softly, pulling her into a hug, missing the pleased smile from the archeologist. As much as Mel enjoyed the warm embrace, she couldn’t help but worry about her absent friend. "I hope Sophia is all right."
"Raj is with her. He’s a good listener."
***
"What the hell is going on?!?" Sophia demanded again, tugging at the ropes that bound her back-to-back with Raj in a hotel room. She glared at the dark-haired man, who sat relaxed in a chair reading a newspaper.
"Gag the bitch, Simon," Eric said not looking up from his paper as Simon came into the room. Her eyes flashed angrily at the blond man.
"Simon?!? You bastard! Janice is going to kick your sorry afmmptt!!!" She said to the nervous man, who quickly put a rag in her mouth and covered it with duct tape. She let out an annoyed growl, causing the man to jump back.
Eric laughed, folding his paper and placing it down. "A fan of yours, Simon?"
"What do you want?" Raj said calmly, though he grew concerned when the dark-haired man pulled out a large knife.
"What do you think?" Eric said with amusement, enjoying the cat and mouse game as he cleaned his nails with the tip of his blade.
"I do not know," Raj said honestly.
"You’d better hope Dr. Covington does," Eric said with a smirk and got up from his seat, sheathing his weapon. "Keep an eye on them. I’m getting some sleep."
***
The two women quietly got ready for bed, each in their own thoughts about the past and future, and the possible whereabouts of their annoyed friend and Raj. Without question or hesitation, they climbed into bed together. After a soft, lingering kiss, they laid back and carefully settled into a comfortable embrace, still mindful of the archeologist’s injuries. They each took a long, deep breath as they tried to relax from the day’s events and sink into each other’s warmth.
"Good night, Mel. I love you." Janice said softly, bringing a smile to Mel’s face.
"I love you too," Mel said and sighed.
After a few moments, they shifted again, both still wide awake. Mel blinked, staring at the ceiling. After a heavy sigh of frustration, Mel propped herself on an elbow and looked at Janice, who turned her head slightly to find mesmerizing eyes focused on her. "You know what we should do, don’t you?" Mel asked.
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