Home to Hellas (The Challenge Series) Read online

  Chapter Three

  Jenn remembered her conversations with Dorian about Greek cuisine. She liked to be able to recognize food—at least some of the ingredients. It used to make her mom crazy. Dorian indulged her quirk with the simple yet decadent dishes offered in his home. He never forgot her preferences.

  He waited at the small table with a ledger and an electronic tablet in front of him. He didn’t used to work at dinner. His old-school manners demanded mealtime be for eating and socializing. When her crutch bottoms squeaked on the marble floor, he looked up and the warm smile she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much replaced his intent frown.

  “Hello, darling. You look rested.” He stood and pulled out the chair beside him.

  She felt relaxed and more stable, even if her knee ached. She took the seat and beamed his way. “Thanks, I feel a lot better. Dinner smells great.”

  “I am glad you approve.” He set his things on an empty chair and poured her a glass of red wine. “You are not on too many medications?”

  She shook her head. “I told my doctor I was heading over here, and she agreed I needed to take whatever had the least interactions. I’ve been good about doing more ice than meds.”

  “Of course.” He pressed the buzzer near his chair and an older woman with snow-white hair appeared. “Thank you, Athena. Our Jenn has arrived injured this time.”

  She tsked and handed over a cool pack. “You must take care or you will stagger around like me before your time.”

  “If I’m half as spry as you when I’m your age, Athena, I will be very happy.” She put the ice on her knee and let Dorian serve. He liked to feed people. Caring for others eased the burden of work and stress.

  While Dorian piled grape-leaf rolls and simple, flaky spanicopita on her plate along with the delicious bread he always served with meals, she let the wonder of being back in Greece set in. She wished she could remember the names for everything, but the language refused to roll off her tongue, let alone stay in her mind for any length of time. She didn’t need to be able to pronounce what she ate to appreciate the goodness.

  “Tell me about your year.” He poured more wine. “I sent a few emails that bounced back.”

  Her appetite faltered, as she thought about the months behind her. “Yeah, I took a job with the college, so my email changed. They were supposed to do the big announcement, but it got screwed up. I’m sorry I missed your messages.”

  He waved, his gesture very European, vague, and large. “Don’t worry over it. I understand these things happen. I enjoy the quickness of technology, but sometimes I miss the days of a long letter. This new position, what do you do?”

  She babysat and did far too much paperwork. “I’m the player liaison.”

  “Sounds impressive.”

  “Not so much. I got started with it last month. I fiddle with financing and arrange the social, medical, and sports-related seminars and outings for the players.”

  “It’s a good start?”

  “Good enough,” she replied. “I’d love to be a scout at some point, or coach, but Natalie has those two positions tied up. I was hoping the school would open more positions, but nothing yet. The job I’m doing now is the closest Natalie has ever allowed to an assistant coach—and she has the respect and contacts to keep it that way. I suppose I could have her job in a few decades.”

  “Or you can stay a few years and take your experience elsewhere. What else have you been up to?”

  She spread fresh butter on the crusty bread. “Well, I spent most of it with my mother. She passed away after Christmas.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  “Thanks. She was ill with a gnarly bone cancer that hit fast and hard…horrible stuff.”

  Watching her mother die had killed part of her. The older woman had been a vibrant teacher one month and a withering mass the next. Test after test, treatment after treatment…nothing made a dent in the disease or the pain. Though she’d held onto life for months after diagnosis, she’d been gone long before the line on the monitor went flat.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss.” He patted Jenn’s hand, his comforting gestures easier to accept the more he touched her. “I remember you speaking of your mother with great pleasure.”

  “I loved her. Losing her was hard, but I am open enough to think she might be with my father, and that’s a nice picture. Tell me about the amazing things you’ve done while I was away.”

  His compassionate expression stayed another moment, but cleared when he relaxed in his chair. “It has been as good as can be expected. The government has run amok and taxes are a nightmare. Everything has been cut or raised…which is why I took over the basketball club and privatized it. Otherwise, it would have fallen.”

  “So business is tough?”

  “Business is business, and I find myself working much more than I would care to.” He stabbed a bite of lamb. “In exciting news, I am to be a grandfather.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Zoe and her fiancé made the announcement last week. They are in Barcelona where Jose works in high finance. They will do well and welcome a child near St. Valentine’s Day.”

  “Congratulations. That’s so wonderful. Zoe will be a great mom.”

  The girls’ mother had passed away when they were young, killed by a drunk driver. When Dorian spoke of his long-dead wife, he did so with respect and affection. He’d told her once that enjoying his wife until they were both gray would have been ideal, but he lived what came next, not in the past. It was another of the reasons she adored him.

  They ate in silence, the food better after such uplifting tidings. Zoe lit up the court every time she stepped onto it, much like Augusta. The new reality reminded Jenn she’d lost a year and the moments continued to tick by with her stuck in place. She sighed and popped a grape-leaf roll in her mouth. The rice and spices delighted her tongue, and despite her best efforts to dive into dismal, she brightened.

  “There is the expression I like so much.” Dorian’s eyes sparkled over his wine glass. “I spoke briefly with the sports doctor. She reviewed your medical records the team doctor sent and recommended some light exercise in the pool and a soak in the ice tub.”

  She winced. “Ice tub? You have one of those torture chambers?”

  “Augusta’s idea. I do not see the draw, but I understand they help. A swim before your soak might be nice.”

  “I think you’re right. I might do that…and stick just my leg in the ice afterward.”

  With dinner finished, he stood and offered his arm. The more time she spent with him, the more she remembered how much she enjoyed his company. She let him be her left crutch and leaned more heavily on the right.

  “I have new swimsuits in the changing rooms. I ah, I had one delivered with you in mind.”

  She snorted and hobbled through the hall. “Why do I have a feeling it might be a little skimpy?”

  He had the good grace to flush. “I haven’t the least idea where that notion would come from. I bought it because of the color. It has a sunset of colors. Um, portokali…orange.”

  His mother had sent him to England for schooling, and he’d spent several years in the States as well, so English came as fluently as Greek. Yet, he’d confessed to sometimes missing words when she was near. She loved getting to him, even in a little way, especially after her less than warm reception.

  The hallway to the pool reminded her of all the reasons she liked Dorian. The heavily textured walls spoke of classic Greek taste, though she preferred Hellas over Greece—the word encompassing the spirit of the rustic and advanced land, and of Dorian. Paintings of the sea at rest with brightly colored boats added the whimsy and playfulness she associated with him. Classic and true to culture, but fresh and inviting—Dorian.

  He held the glass door to the outdoor patio covered with a mellow yellow awning open. So much about the estate held to the past while finding a way to incorporate the present. His landscaping maintained the same theme.
/>   “It’s lovely,” she said. “So nice.”

  “Another addition by Augusta. She demanded we do it correctly. No austere indoor, generic space. We are in Hellas—we must train, swim, and compete as Hellas.”

  She nodded. “That’s insightful, but Augusta has always been one smart cookie. What is she doing now?”

  “Floundering in this horrible economy.” He scowled and shook his head. “She is much like me. It is not enough to have money; there must be purpose. With so many places closing or tightening their budgets, she is having a difficult time finding employment. I offer her positions in the company, yet she refuses. She wants to be…a journalist, not write letters and copy for any of the businesses we run. I don’t blame her, but she is choosing the harder road.”

  “Journalism is tight in the US, too, with things going digital.”

  “Again, I am wishing for aspects of the past.” He sighed. “You’ll find the suit in the bathhouse, along with towels. I will change and meet you in the water.”

  She took the other crutch back and headed to the enclave. He went all out, preparing for the athletes who stayed at the estate. Instead of art or windows, industrial gray lockers lined the inside of the hut. They took away from the Mediterranean tone, but would work better for team practices. A row of black courtesy swimming suits made her wish for the giggling fun of splashing with her team.

  A pile of yellow, red, and orange caught her attention, and she snickered as she held it up. Putting modesty aside while in Europe marked one of her favorite lessons learned. She frowned at the relatively conservative cut. She’d pictured three tiny triangles with a nice Brazilian butt cut.

  Jenn stripped away her clothes, relieved to have her jeans away from her sore leg. Her knee had swollen to gross proportion after her fall, but it had gone down some since London. She shimmied on the suit. It covered her to her collarbones. Only when she glanced in the mirror did she realize what it didn’t cover. The back cutout started at the halter neck and left her back uncovered, barely covered her ass, giving a sleek, modern line. The tag still hung from the side seam. The tall, blonde in the mirror needed some sun and an attitude adjustment.

  She wondered if it was the one he’d originally bought or if her signals earlier in the day had prompted a purchase of something more modest. He’d dropped hints on the drive from the airport, but she hadn’t shared the details of her terrible year.

  Jenn wished that girl would show a little courage and get past the last month and embrace Greece…and Dorian.

  She started toward the pool, but backtracked for her towel. When she emerged, he strode from the second changing room in the sort of tiny brief most American men would run from. He wore something similar every year, this one in crimson. He sported muscle, dark tanned skin, and…hair. He grinned, looking up her body. How his improved every year she had no clue, but she appreciated his authenticity and confidence.

  “You like the piece?” he asked with a critical eye.

  “It’s very pretty.” She spun so he could see the back. “Even covers my bum, which was unexpected but appreciated.”

  He threw his head back and laughed, the deep chuckle her favorite sound in the whole world. “Yes, I thought you might like that. If you don’t mind, I will help you in, so you don’t jar your knee.”

  Unable to argue good sense, she waited until he dove in. When he emerged, his dark hair slicked back, she hobbled to him.

  He held out his arms. “It’s deep enough to slide in.”

  She set aside her crutch and crouched, trying to keep her knee semi-straight. As she shifted toward the edge, Dorian approached and put his hands around her waist. Instant desire to snap at him rose, but she tamped it down and allowed him to steer her in. He stepped back, giving her breathing room but not much privacy. She quickly adjusted to the warmth, letting her body relax and soak in the perfection.

  “What a good idea. I can’t get over how much work you’ve done.”

  He gazed around, his expression matching her feeling of contentment. “Thank you. I tried to tell my daughter the sea is so close, but a heated pool is better for you and other athletes who may have injuries. It is Olympic size, so do a few laps if you wish. Or not. I can get a…you say…floater, so you can relax.”

  He pointed to a fancy box filled with neon-colored noodles, very out of place in the upscale environment. She floated on her back. “I think I’ll relax a while. You go ahead and swim. I bet you could use it.”

  “You have no idea,” he murmured, but before she could press for details, he pushed off the wall.

  Maybe she wasn’t the only one with a lot dogging her. Dorian discussing money, even in the abstract, didn’t happen. He kept business separate from his personal matters, and for him to share meant it had infiltrated life…a life he wanted her to know a bit more about. She dipped her head under the water enough to cover her ears. Her jaw ached from how hard she’d clenched at his touch, and she worked it to ease the ache.

  So many nurses, doctors, and technicians had examined her body in the last two months. She’d gone in for a routine Pap smear, an unpleasant enough task, and they’d found a few odd cells. So she’d had a second. And a third. At first she’d tried to use humor to defray the invasive procedures. She’d never been open with her sexual side and had allowed access to her body to a select few. Even though they were doctors, the point came when she began hating them for being near her. She began hating her cervix and vagina for causing problems.

  At one point, they’d scheduled tests for more invasive testing. She’d spent a week researching the procedures, psyching herself up to make it through the planned day, losing sleep and coming to terms with what a cancer confirmation would mean. The apologetic call from the lab technician who mixed up the files should have made all well, but hadn’t.

  She stood in the gentle waves and winced when her leg wobbled. As soon as she’d gotten around to accepting she didn’t have a horrible cancer, the ligaments in her knee gave out. More tests, more procedures, more…more.

  “I have never seen you so still.” Dorian leaned on the side of the pool. “I am accustomed to you always busy, always moving.”

  She winced, but remained as she was. The last year had taught her to sit still, something she couldn’t completely regret.

  Dorian’s heart had stuck on Jenn the first time he saw her so many years earlier. She hadn’t been the fastest, tallest, or best on the court, but the joy she wore when she played—the pure mischief in her expression—hit him deep. Madelyn had once held such a playful spirit. He’d vowed to refrain from real intimacy and new love until he found someone who shared her zest for life. Jenn did. He’d held back in respect to her youth, wanting her to live without regret.

  Seeing her in his pool, wearing the suit he’d had brought in at the last minute to replace the miniscule bikini he’d first bought, reaffirmed his desires. Yet, she was different. After each visit, he’d initiated more contact between summers. This time he’d emailed her several times and tried to call at work, finding basketball-related excuses. When his attempts went unreturned, he’d worried. Her aloof and sometimes fearful behavior now showed he’d been right to worry.

  “Tell me the rest of your events this year.”

  He maintained his distance but hated it. Her loveliness humbled him. Unlike many Americans who either lent themselves entirely to food or starved themselves thin, she curved and dipped, showing a strong beauty he respected and craved.

  He stored his secrets within, had for years. In the last few months, he’d faced them and considered himself better for it.

  She showed darkness on the surface, and he longed to reverse the pain. If she’d been hurt…his heart froze. If someone hurt her, he would find them and do as his ancestors did when someone wronged their family.

  “Well, my mother died. I lost my job because I had to take so much time off, so that sucked. I lost my apartment—”

  “You’re kidding.” He hadn’t imagined such extreme
conditions. “I wish you had called me.”

  “And said what?” She didn’t meet his gaze. “Anyway, I couldn’t do that to you, I never would. Mom had a modest life insurance policy, so I used that to get back on my feet. Natalie called me two weeks later and offered me a job at the college, so it was a stressful time but ended well.”

  The stress could have caused some issues, but he wouldn’t think so many. The way she avoided his eyes told him she’d left something out.

  “And the rest?”

  Her green gaze became sharp. A little fire led to good things. She’d been distant and foggy since her arrival. If he didn’t know her so well, he would have chalked it up to jetlag, but she waved sticks and cocktails at jetlag for the hell of it.

  “The rest is me being a wimp,” she replied and pushed off into the water. “I had some medical stuff come up. After Mom’s ordeal, I let the worst-case scenario scare me. I’m getting better about it, but please discount this quiet weirdness. I’ll get over it.”

  “Why do you not like me touching you?”

  She stopped short and her shoulders sank in something remarkably close to defeat. Yet, that didn’t fit. She might lose a game, but she always learned, always grew—experience made her a winner. She called it a win because living and trying meant she had the upper hand.

  “I think somewhere between the third Pap smear and biopsy…yeah, I’m not quite sure, but I’m trying.”

  He didn’t understand what she spoke of, but with the medical clue, he could find out. Dorian committed the words to memory. He swam near her, mindful of giving her space.

  “You look tired again.” Compassion filled his heart. The last few hours had disturbed him, and he struggled to make sense of it all. “Let me help you out. You can ice your knee and get some rest.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m getting old.”

  He held back when he wanted to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Ah, not so much, darling. Come, you can tell me what you think of the ice bath.”