Trojan Enchantment

By Kristina O'Donnelly

Rip-roaring contemporary romantic suspense/travelogue in an exotic land. Cornucopia of the sights, scents, sounds and flavors of Lands of the Morning. Olivia Hayden, 24, traveling to Turkey to fulfill her late grandfather's dream of visiting ancient Troy, falls in love with Dr. Somer Berk, 35, a professor of archaeology. Tall, blond and suave, Berk claims descent from the original Trojans, and is hot on the trail of smugglers dealing in artifacts that harkens to the famous Treasure of King Priam, of the Iliad.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rob Preece
• Release date: Feb 7, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310579295

Book preview

TROJAN

ENCHANTMENT

(Lands of the Morning™ series, Book V

Kristina O’Donnelly

Published by Kristina O’Donnelly at Smashwords

Copyright 2016 by Kristina O’Donnelly

Dedicated to the memory of Louise Halley Forshaw

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used as fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information or storage retrieval system, without the express consent of the copyright holder.

Authors’ website: ladyliterature.com

Author on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kristina.odonnelly

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KodonnellyVita

Contact: [e-mail]

Second printing, updated edition with minor changes from the original.

Dedicated to my dear grandson, Somer Berk Bekem, who indeed hearkens to Troy.

Printed in the U.S.A

"Ilium (Troy) was for a considerable time to the Heathen world, what Jerusalem is now to the Christian, a ‘sacred’ city which attracted pilgrims by the fame of its wars and woes, and the shadow of ancient sanctity reposing upon it.

Without abusing language, we may say that a voice speaking from this hill, three thousand years ago, sent its utterances over the whole ancient world, as its echoes still reverberate over the modern."

Charles Maclaren, The Plain of Troy Described (1863)

* * *

The end of Troy will never end ... The flame that consumed it, will itself never be consumed. [G. K. Chesterton]

Synopsis

Rip-roaring contemporary romantic suspense/travelogue in an exotic land. Cornucopia of the sights, scents, sounds and flavors of Lands of the Morning.

Olivia Hayden, 24, mild-mannered librarian from Indianapolis, USA, is a chrysalis eager to be a butterfly. Until now, just about the only aspect of hers fit to be called free-spirited, was her riotous, titian hair. On a tour of Turkey to fulfill her late grandfather’s dream of visiting ancient Troy, she falls in love with Dr. Somer Berk, 35, a professor of archaeology. Tall, blond, handsome and suave, Berk claims descent from the original Trojans, and is hot on the trail of smugglers dealing in artifacts that harkens to the famous Treasure of King Priam, of the Iliad.

Hayden and Berk take to each other almost immediately, and with events unfolding at the speed of Orient Express on steroids, it seems impossible to deny the destiny that demands fulfillment.

It’s the hot, tense, mid-summer of 2005, with terrorists of different agendas, bombing England and Turkey.

Olivia Hayden, American, and Somer Berk, Turk, although bound by relentless physical desire, and the love of Troy and its legacy, find themselves battling separation by culture and outlook on life….

Foreword:

Troy, ‘Mother of All’ Heroic Cities

The late Louise H Forshaw and I shared a fascination for Troy as well as Anatolia. Louise was a novelist, a librarian, an expert on Troy, possessed a gallant and generous heart, and felt blessed that she was able to fulfill her lifelong dream of visiting the Troad. Trojan Enchantment is for her. Have fun reading it in Paradise, Louise!

* * * *

The Trojan War depicted in Greek mythology, was the war between the Greeks and the people of Troy. The Trojan War probably reflected a real war (c.1200 B.C.) between the invading Greeks and the people of Troas, possibly over control of trade through the Dardanelles.

Troy is the ancient city made famous by Homer's account of the Trojan War. It is also called Ilion or, in Latin, Ilium. Its site is accepted as the mound now named Hissarlik, in the Asian part of Turkey, c.4 mi (6.4 km) from the mouth of the Dardanelles.

Based upon intuition as well as information he received from Frank Calvert, who was the American Consul at the Dardanelles, Heinrich Schliemann, a German amateur archaeologist, conducted excavations there beginning in 1871. Nine successive cities or villages have occupied the site, the earliest dating from the Neolithic period. Excavations conducted by Wilhelm Dörpfeld in the 1890s indicated that the sixth stratum, representing the sixth settlement of the city, was the Homeric Troy. Later discoveries by the Univ. of Cincinnati expedition under C. W. Blegen indicated that the seventh level was the Troy of Homer's period.

The Troy of the Trojan War-era was a Phrygian city and the center of a region known as Troas. In vase-paintings and other Greek art, the Phrygian cap serves to identify the Trojan hero Paris as non-Greek; Roman poets habitually use the epithet Phrygian to mean Trojan. The culture of the Trojans dates from the Bronze Age.

Persian king Xerxes, preparing to conquer the Greeks in 480 B.C., came to Troy to pay homage to its fallen heroes, and claimed that his reason for invading Greece was to right the wrongs inflicted upon the Trojans.

One hundred and fifty years after the Persian invasion, Alexander the Great paid homage to Troy, raising it to the status of a polis and made its cult of Athena fashionable. In time Ilium rose high enough to be considered an heir of Athens, if not superior to Athens.

Later, the Romans, believing that they themselves were descendants of Prince Aeneas and other Trojans, favored the city. Julius Caesar traced his own lineage back to Aeneas. And as far as the British were concerned, they came up with a Brutus, related to Aeneas, who fled Rome for Britain, leading the last of the Trojans to the island he called Britain after his own name. Yet another claim was made: Brutus, descendant of Ilius (founder of Troy), founded London as Troyvonant or New Troy.

Touring the area in the 4th Century, Emperor Constantine considered shifting his capital to Ilium. He tried to found his new capital at the mouth of the Hellespont on the western coast of the Sigeum (today, Yenishehir) ridge. But because it lacked a natural port, he later transferred it to Byzantium – Constantinopolis (Constantinople).

Balkan people also claimed ties with Troy; citing that at the time of the Trojan War, near 1,200 BC., Troy occupied the length of Yugoslavia’s Adriatic coast and off-shore islands, between Sibenik Bay in the north and Boka Kotorska in the south, and extended inland, along the valley of the Neretva river, perhaps as far as Sarajevo (what today are roughly, if you will, the republics of Croatia and Bosnia). Troy of the Iliad was but one of the three cities belonging to Troy, and that the names Illyria (historic name of Albania) and their hero Dardan, harkened to the Roman Dardanus and Ilium.

In the 15th Century, the Ottoman Turks took the Trojans to heart. Sultan Mehmet II, Conqueror of Constantinople, visited what he believed was the site of ancient Troy, in 1462, and paid his respects at the tombs of the heroes Achilles, Hector and Ajax. It is to me, he is quoted to have declared, that Allah has given to avenge this city and its people.

Also, according to some European scholars, the name Turk, Turkey, came from the Trojan general Turkus, who, after the end of the war fled to Asia. His descendants the Turks, returned later to avenge the fall of Troy, reconquered and then spread throughout Europe. (Source: James Harper, Rome vs. Istanbul: Competing Claims and the Moral Value of Trojan Heritage)

Flash-forward to the 20th Century, and Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, Founder of the modern Republic of Turkey, spoke of his affinity for Troy and its heroes, and believed that contemporary Turks were the descendants of Troy.

Ahhh, and let’s not forget Lord Byron! In 1810, Byron recreated Leander's swim across the Hellespont … today known as the Dardanelles. In Greek Mythology, Hero was a priestess of Aphrodite and lived in Sestos while Leander lived in Abydos on the other side of the Hellespont. Leander swam nightly to see Hero and she would hold a torch, from atop a tower, to light his way. One night, during a violent storm Leander drowned. After seeing his death, Hero threw herself from the tower into the sea. The same legend is repeated in a slightly different form, about a love-struck tragic pair and a light house called Maiden Tower, in the Sea of Marmara, overlooking the shores of Istanbul.

Oh yes the core of our universal human heart is so deeply romantic….

Until 1995, however, there was not enough evidence to ascertain or even speculate about the language of Troy. Then, the first linguistic clue about the identity of its inhabitants came to light: a seal dating anywhere from 1280-1175 B.C., a seal inscribed in the hieroglyphic script of the Hittites. This suggested that the cultural roots of the inhabitants of the citadel were Anatolian. According to linguists, this script was used for monumental stone inscriptions in the Luvian language of ancient Anatolia, harkening to the Hittite civilization.

It stands to reason that Ataturk was not wrong when he said the descendants of Troy can be found in contemporary Turkey. Especially when you consider the Cheddar Man in England. * More about that theory, in the novel!

The legend, in brief

The strife began after the Trojan prince Paris abducted Helen, wife of Menelaus of Sparta. When Menelaus demanded her return, the Trojans refused. Menelaus then persuaded his brother Agamemnon to lead an army against Troy. At Aulis, troopships gathered, led by the greatest Greek heroes — Achilles, Patroclus, Diomedes, Odysseus, Nestor, and the two warriors named Ajax. In order to win favorable winds for the journey, Agamemnon sacrificed his daughter Iphigenia to Artemis. The winds came and the fleet set sail for Troy. For nine years the Greeks ravaged Troy's surrounding cities and countryside, but the city itself, well-fortified and commanded by Hector and other sons of the royal household, persevered. Finally, the Greeks built a large hollow wooden horse in which a small group of warriors were concealed. The other Greeks appeared to sail for home, leaving behind only the horse and Simon, who deceitfully persuaded the Trojans, despite the warnings of Cassandra and Laocoön, to take the horse within the city walls. At night the Greeks returned; their companions crept out of the horse and opened the city gates, and Troy was destroyed. The gods took great interest in the war. Poseidon, Hera, and Athena aided the Greeks, while Aphrodite and Ares favored the Trojans. Zeus and Apollo, although involved in the action of the war, remained impartial.

The events of the final year of the war constitute the main part of the Iliad of Homer.

Review: "Kristina O'Donnelly is a Lady of all cultures and nations. A woman/writer of the globe. As usual she has done a remarkable job and must say I love to get lost within her wonderful imagination. With every character and story she creates and reflects, she successfully combines a soul with cultural and historical elements giving a broad sensation of 'reality' to the readers. Yes, indeed, I feel so real when I'm surfing through her stories, and I feel the 'reality' in them, which is very important and essential for a successful writing. Trojan Enchantment is a 5-star novel indeed." N. Belen, Translator, Ankara, Turkey.

Review: "It's hard to place this book in a single category, it's an Adventure/Thriller/Romantic/Mystery/Historical book of fact and fiction. I think it should appeal to all readers. This book takes you on a whirlwind adventure from the USA to Turkey with young Olivia Hayden trying to fulfill her late grandfather's wish to visit ancient Troy. Kristina O'Donnelly has the knack of putting you in the characters’ shoes. You quickly become her and feel and see everything she experiences. I feel O'Donnelly has taken this same road Olivia now takes, her historical and visual elements come from the heart not a book or map. You are there, you can see it all. Olivia finds adventure, love, mystery, artifacts that smugglers want and all about ancient Troy. I have read The Horseman, Clarion of Midnight, Defy Eternity/The Scorpion Child, all from the Lands of the Morning series, and feel Trojan Enchantment is the best so far. I can't wait for the next in the series. This is a must read, you will love it. To top it off I am a Adventure/Thriller reader and very rarely read other formats but Kristina O'Donnelly has me hooked. She is a fantastic author." – RST, Michigan, USA.

Lands of the Morning

Kaleidoscopic and highly exotic, Lands of the Morning™ Series is Michenesque in scope. The pervading theme in the Lands of the Morning™ Series is love, as well as social justice, explored on every level, controversial, all-consuming, and ultimately, redeeming. The trials, tribulations and triumphs of three respective families are traced from their roots in the mists of pre-history. They are the Berks, Trojans, the Alkibiades', Achaeans, and the Kayhans, Turks.

Briefly, the general plot of Lands of the Morning is an arabesque fabric of international politics, ambition, triumph and tribulation, set against some tapestry rich in subtle reflections of the author's experiences in the Fourth Estate in Turkey and the USA. Skeins of exotic people, places and customs rooted in Turkey and branching out to Ireland, Israel, United States of America, and in the finale, Azerbaijan and Iraq, keep the subplots interlaced with the fast-growing scheme of events, which climax in an unexpected denouement. The fruit of a lifetime of research and writing, this series is fiction based upon authentic, contemporary as well as historical backgrounds and events.

Although the stories are woven upon a timeline, each novel can be read independently.

The series’ titles: 1 – The Horseman, 2 – Clarion of Midnight/Megali Idea, 3- The Scorpion Child (Defy Eternity),

4 – Morgana - Poseidon Unbound (work in progress) 5 – Trojan Enchantment, 6 – Korinna - Daughters of– Fire, 7 – Andromache, Battle of Wolf and Falcon (in progress) and Constantinople, My Love (in progress)).

Trojan Enchantment

By

Kristina O’Donnelly

Chapter One

…. like a bird on a wire I have tried in my way to be free

@Leonard Cohen

Dateline: June 25th, London, UK

It wasn’t her imagination or overwrought senses; indeed, the man sitting across from her in the airport lounge was looking at her, his eyes darting between her face and throat. Unnerved, Olivia regretted the low, scoop neck of her blouse as she wondered whether she had seen him on the plane. But no, she hadn’t; his good looks with the smoothed-back waves of dark-blond hair and trim, light blond mustache would not have been easy to forget. Determined not to react, her gaze turned to sweep the spacious international area of Heathrow, alas not before his questing hazel eyes caught her green ones with electric impact. Hot blood rushed to her cheeks and she knew herself red of face and neck. Olivia’s pale skin was always embarrassing her at awkward times, telegraphing her emotions to friend and foe alike. But at least she was free of the freckles that usually went with such titian hair, worn clustered in short curls around her ears.

Admittedly, this man stood out among the other travelers in his tailored business suit, a brown one that showed no evidence of a long transatlantic flight. She forced herself to tune away from him, the people around her were safer to watch. A mother covered in a dark chador and her two hyper youngsters with mounds of luggage appropriated an entire section of seats nearly opposite her. She wondered how the woman managed and if she expected to put all that on the plane. The baby on her lap began to howl and the toddler grasped the opportunity to run off. Olivia was about to offer help when a young man rushed to them, yanked the toddler back to his mother and began picking up most of the luggage. After a heated discussion that sounded Arabic, the group walked away with the load.

Olivia stole another look at That Man, observing that he too had been watching the family scene that had attracted her attention. Now a green tie showed briefly, edged by the white of his shirt as he leaned aside to lift a black leather briefcase onto his knees. His attire irritated her, making her feel dowdy in her rumpled jeans and gypsy blouse. He busied himself with some papers and a tablet-pc, drawing them from his case and closing it to use as a desk. Humph! Of course, one of those corporate road-warriors.

She settled back into the depths of her chair and closed her eyes. The disturbing sense that he was continuing to study her, would not quit. She held back a sigh. It was worrisome that little more than halfway to her destination, jet lag was interfering with her common sense! Darn it, her defenses were down, sleeplessness getting to her. Terribly excited as well as anxious about this trip, she had not slept one wink during these last twenty-four hours. Thank goodness she had no pieces to look out for, her luggage was checked through to Ankara, capital of Turkey. She bent her fingers loosely over the strap of her canvas shoulder bag, a capacious purse with zippered compartments ready to accommodate memorabilia. Next to her legs stood the sturdy carry-on on wheels, housing her laptop with the text of the novel she was writing about Troy, digital movie as well as photo cameras, and the paraphernalia that went with them.

By joining a tour of Turkey on an impulse, she had thrown her well-arranged life comprised of a secure job as a librarian and a long-standing engagement with Norman Wilson, into a spin. Until now, Olivia Hayden had always done what was expected of her, to the extent of preparing to marry the son of her mother’s best friend from high school. But she began to assert herself when she decided to blow all of the money her grandfather, Christopher Hayden, had left her, on a visit to Troy. The inheritance included rare books, seven thousand dollars, and a gold medallion which had been presented to an ancestor by Dr. Heinrich Schliemann, who’d befriended her family when he lived on the same street in Indianapolis. The medallion, two inches in diameter, depicting an exquisitely carved woman in a flounced skirt and an owl, and suspended on a serpentine gold chain, was said to date back to ancient Troy; it had enchanted her ever since her childhood. So the news that Gramps had found her fit to be its guardian had affected her strongly, suffusing her with wants and needs she dared not yet articulate. On the afternoon of receiving the medallion and anchoring it around her neck, a chain of events had led her to quit her staid but secure librarian post and accept one with no future but with independence of family dictates, loving though they were.

Fatigue continued to rampage through her system in huge waves that she could not ignore, and her eyelids weighed down. Perhaps she should let go a bit, just a little doze, surely she could cat-nap with one eye open….

Are you all right? The warm male voice sounding above her made her jump. Two hands on her elbows were shoving her back up into her seat. Blinking rapidly, she inhaled the faint citrus of an aftershave and stared into a pair of large hazel eyes flecked with blue, noticing the ridged scar that led from his left eyebrow to his ear, barely noticeable except close up. Could I bring you something?

Horrified, she realized that she had fallen asleep like a log, consequently almost slid off to the floor.

A cold drink? he pressed, I’m going to the bar, could get you a soda.

Thank you, she managed, but no. I’m fine.

Sure? he stepped back, hesitated, and then said kindly, Are you alone?

His mouth, she thought, beautifully drawn. Automatically her hand lifted to smooth her hair. Did she need lipstick? I’m meeting friends, she replied, shifting in her seat, I didn’t get much sleep over the Atlantic.

Ah, then we must have been on the same plane. He smiled and moved as though to sit beside her. Jet lag bothers me going west, but not eastward.

Shrugging her shoulders, she tried to spread herself in her seat and he seemed to get the message. He ducked his head, sketched an old-world bow, and left her. She breathed a sigh of relief, and wondered if in truth, this was a sigh of regret.

The members of the group she was to join had made their own travel arrangements and would get together at their hotel in Ankara. She glanced at her watch. One more hour, and this waiting would end. Standing up, she stretched as inconspicuously as she could. She heaved the strap of her carryall over one shoulder and looked around; Heathrow was a big place and she was nervous of missing her connection. She checked the nearest monitor, found her flight posted, and then went to find her gate. The walk was a long one, as it had been on arriving, with the transfer by bus. Glancing around she was relieved and yet disappointed not to see That Man. Wheeling the carry-on bag, she scurried along with groups going her way.

Olivia was among the first on board and found her seat at a window near the middle of the plane. She watched the last minute activity going on outside.

Hi, there. It was a light feminine voice, startling her. Olivia looked up and smiled as a slim platinum-blonde in a beige safari suit dropped a purse on the seat beside her, then opened the bin above to push in a brown raincoat. I’m Caitlyn Wayford, the woman added as she settled into her seat.

Olivia Hayden. They exchanged friendly smiles. Are you going to Rome?

No, I’m joining a tour in Ankara. Rome for you?

Ankara! They broke out laughing. The seat belt sign came on. Maybe the same tour? Olivia probed, My destination is the Ankara Grand Hotel.

Caitlyn felt around for her seat belt and snapped the buckle securely. She leaned back sighing in relief and looked at Olivia with wide blue eyes between pale lashes, her Cupid-mouth curved with amusement under her button nose. It’s a small world, after all, she stated, guess what, we do belong to the same group.

The plane was racing along the runway now and Olivia leaned back, her hands clenched in her lap as she silently prayed for a successful lift off.

Your first flight? Caitlyn asked solicitously.

Am I that transparent? Olivia let out an exaggerated sigh. No, but it’s my first abroad. Frankly, I’m a little frazzled, too, seems like ages since I left Indianapolis.

I’ve only flown from New York, Caitlyn said, but stopped over for a week in London. It’s all those hours and no real sleep that gets to you.

The plane lifted off so smoothly that Olivia did not notice until they were in the air. Relieved, she gazed out the window.

Why are you taking this tour? At Olivia’s startled look, Caitlyn added, ‘I meant, usually a first trip abroad is to some place like England or the Continent where the language is at least familiar. Why, even I, who’s been to Italy and Greece, wouldn’t have thought of traveling to Turkey if it hadn’t been for the charming Turkish couple who live next door. He is a reporter for a Turkish daily, she is a translator at the U.N., and so they taught me a lot about their part of the world."

Yeah… well… I… my grandfather left me money for this special trip. Caitlyn’s expression spoke of sincere interest, yet Olivia hesitated, It’s a long story, Caitlyn….

And it’s a long trip.

Olivia had to laugh, warming up to her travel companion. You’re right. Well, you see, while I was growing up, my parents were working virtually twenty-four-seven — they are architects who prefer to be their own boss — and my grandparents took care of me most of the time. My mom’s parents were among those civic leaders who, in 1960, had been alarmed by the loss of defining historic buildings in the capital city, and rather than sitting on their hands, created the Historic Landmarks Foundation of Indiana. So, Mother subscribed to the same spirit, and was lucky that dad’s nature fit her to a T. She stopped, her thoughts lingering on her parents, Cecilia and Edward Hayden.

Their nature fit each other’s to a T? My, how lucky they are. My husband and I were so different that … after battling for five years, we threw in the towel and divorced. It was finalized a month ago. That’s another reason for my trip, the need for new terrain, new experiences.

I’m sorry—

"Don’t be! I’m glad it’s over! I’m having the time of my life. I’m free, free at last. Graham was sooo oppressive, sooo… oh, never mind, he’s history now. To be honest, I wasn’t a cake-walk, either. Temperamental, opinionated, an uninspired cook, she winked, and demanding in bed."

Good for you, Caitlyn!

So, you were talking about your parents?

Yes, my parents mean the world to each other. Almost to the exclusion of everyone else.

"You, too?"

Uh… yes. How astute of you…but I’m not complaining! I’ve always had my own world as well. Besides, I feel good that the organization launched by a handful of volunteers, is now one of the largest private, statewide preservation groups in the United States. Its Indianapolis headquarters has nine regional offices. All staffed by professionals who help us, the Hoosiers, save and restore old buildings. But getting back to the reason for my trip. While my parents worked their fingers to the bone, Gramps fed my fantasies with tales from Homer, the Iliad and the Odyssey. Gramps was a librarian by profession and when he retired at sixty-eight, true to form, opened a bookstore and ran it with my nana, I mean grandmother, until his death three weeks ago….

I bet you helped run the store, too.

Oh, yesss, Caitlyn, and with what pleasure! Not only was I the fastest cash-register operator in the world, but ordered books from catalogues and swept and dusted the place, too. She sighed. "The store is closed now, but it’s only temporary, as soon as nana finds a good manager she will reopen it. We have a reading corner in the back, with free fresh-brewed coffee always available; our customers love it; they can sit down and read for hours before buying anything — yet they bought enough to keep us in business for twenty-five years. Gramps’ grandfather, a Classics scholar, had been friends with Heinrich Schliemann, the man who actually dug up Troy in Turkey. So from when I was this little, I burned to walk upon and feel the grounds that harbored Helen, Paris, Hector, and Andromache. Olivia paused; a lump was forming in her throat. Gramps was ninety-three when he passed away, three weeks ago, yet he was still full of vim and vinegar. And visiting Troy had been a life-long dream of his. A dream that never came true. So I will fulfill it for the both of us."

Caitlyn placed an understanding hand on her arm. OK, I get it, she said warmly. "By the way, you said us, the Hoosiers, what’s a Hoosier? I recall a movie with the same name…."

Olivia broke out laughing. "I’ve a friend who says this is a stupid term because no one knows exactly what it is. To me, though, a Hoosier is someone who was born in Indiana, chooses to live there, and loves it. So, now that I’ve told you all about my roots, what about you?"

I’m a teacher in Queens, New York, and am working up a textbook for my eight graders. I’m not too clear about its details; not yet, but will formulate it day by day, step by step. She winked, In addition, I want to show how women in a so-called repressive society, made good. There is a remarkable Turkish woman who was one of the most outstanding figures in history, but one you never hear about unless you read the old newspapers and journals: Halide Edip Adivar. I want my girls and boys to know that one does not have to wait for legislation to earn success.

Olivia had heard about Halide Edip and was about to share what she knew when her eyes caught the figure of a man going toward the front of the plane. Her breath stopped as her heart gave one great lurch. The broad shoulders and strong thighs beneath his jacket were unmistakable in that impeccably cut brown suit. He paused at a forward seat and leaned down to talk to a heavy-set man.

A low chuckle from Caitlyn as she muttered, What a gorgeous hunk of a man! was not lost on Olivia.

Who cares? she snapped, deliberately looking out at the white clouds below.

Caitlyn noticed her heightening color and after a minute, nudged her, Hey, look, he’s coming back.

Without intending to, Olivia slid her eyes around, and then turned to stare straight at his face as he strode toward them with a slight limp. Their eyes met and recognition lit in his.

Olivia leaned her shoulder against the window, sure that he would address her. He ducked his head in a quick salute, but did not stop. Olivia told herself that she didn’t mind.

I should’ve tripped him for you, Caitlyn whispered in her ear and Olivia bit back a laugh.

She then closed her eyes and rested her head sideways on the pillow provided by the attendant. Try as she might, she could not fall asleep. Guilt gnawing at her conscience, her mind scurried back to her last meeting with Norman.

She’d been returning from the travel agency with her tickets when Norman appeared, stopping her going around the Circle. The Circle — center of Indianapolis where the Soldiers and Sailors monument stood — had always been her point of reference in the city. Impatience flamed in her as she faced him, pedestrians veering around them. Unaware of her turmoil, he took her elbow, his smile bright. In armless black T-shirt and jeans, he was his usual charming self. We need to talk, Olivia. He turned her firmly down one of the streets. How about iced coffee in my shop?

"With all those lenses and videos staring at us? I was about to hop a bus for home. Why not go lunch in our cool basement? Granny’s got lunch waiting in the fridge." She fished a tissue from her purse and dabbed at the perspiration threatening to blind her.

Norman was game. OK. They had reached the door of his Film Festival Shop. Just a word to Pat — couldn’t run the place without her. He ducked his head in. Hey Patty, hold the fort, I’m off to play hooky with my girl!

Olivia flapped a casual Hello-goodbye with one hand, inwardly sympathizing with the slim dark-haired girl behind the counter in the deserted shop. Patricia Moore was a true gem, sharp, savvy, unabashedly in love with the blond and boyish-faced Norman, yet harboring no grudges because he seemed unaware of her charms. A football star in college, Norman still carried the bulky body and bravado of his glory days.

Norman helped her into a trim white Porsche at the curb. In on the driver’s side, he fondled her knee for a second, started the engine and off they were in a screech of tires.

Olivia gasped with pleasure. Practicing for the Five Hundred? She loved nothing more than a fast ride with the top down — but away from the city. She almost regretted what she had to tell him.

"Nag, nag! Keeping just above the speed limit, Norman slid into stops with amazing smoothness. My secret ambition, that track. As a kid those men were my heroes; the men of speed, kings of the road — you know the drill."

She was still laughing when they drove up before her grandmother’s two-story red frame house, on West Michigan Street, close to the Heritage Preservation Center. The diminutive older woman was on the wrap-around porch watering her ferns. She straightened as they approached her and accepted Olivia’s kiss on the cheek, then turned to Norman, her blue eyes twinkling. You children are just in time for some nice, cold refreshments! It’s hot enough out here to melt a brass monkey.

"Good to see you, nana," he laughed, bending to kiss her heat-flushed cheek.

Mrs. Margaret Hayden preceded them down brick steps cut into the ivy-grown hillside to the back of the house. Down three steps to a lower porch, left into the dining room and, beside it, the kitchen, both half underground.

She decked the table with Caesar salad and chilled pieces of chicken with melon in creamy sauce, then sat down beside Olivia and poured chilled wine into crystal glasses. Did you get your ticket, Olivia?

"Yes, everything’s settled for tomorrow at noon."

Mrs. Hayden glanced at Norman. Good of you to let her go all the way to Turkey; it’s her chance of a lifetime. My husband was never at Troy, but in his active imagination, he assisted Dr. Schliemann on all those digs.

Norman laughed, but when he spoke, Olivia could feel that he was not at ease. Let me confess something, nana, what amused me most about your husband’s stories was that such a world-traveler came here, of all places, just to divorce his Russian wife. Then to buy a starch factory, along with this house….

"Well, he couldn’t help it, it was destiny. He wanted to marry the Greek girl, Sophia, he had fallen in love with, and needed to divorce his Russian wife, who, from the beginning, had never cared for him. But the woman wouldn’t leave Russia, and divorce in any country, in those days, was almost impossible. His friends in New York told him about the easy Indiana laws. But also, he liked the Greek-sounding name of our city. A smile quirking her lips, she concluded, Well, go on! I’ll clear. Later, I have something for you, Olivia." Mrs. Hayden rose to her feet and Olivia went out with Norman, strolling along the brick walk where orange daylilies bloomed beside the house. Passing the crepe myrtle, Olivia sat on the covered, unused cistern, leaning against the honeysuckle-twined pump. A cool breeze touched her bare shoulders, teasing her yellow skirt.

"I wish you weren’t going. Norman dropped down beside her. Of course I know you can’t give up this chance. But I got the feeling that it’s wrong to let you go off on your own."

Their eyes met, she saw the doubt in his heart and chose to lean her head on his T-shirted shoulder. Quickly his arm went around her waist. What was it we had to talk about?

"I told you already, I don’t like that you’re going to Turkey on your own."

Olivia tried to sound flippant, My group consists of twenty-five. So I won’t be on my own even if I’d want to!

He scowled, and then laughed. Okay. He drew her to her feet, holding her close. His kiss was demanding, yet she felt no thrill, once more wondering if they were mistaking friendship, for a love fit for marriage. For a second she regretted her upcoming trip, sensing its power to completely alter their future.

Behind them the acanthus sent out heavy fragrance from reddish-brown bud blossoms. Heat waves from the walkway intensified, and she lowered her eyes.

"I have to get back to the shop," he declared, breaking the spell of the moment. Dropping a breezy kiss on her lips he went off around the house. Entering the car, he did not turn on the ignition, hands gripping the wheel, staring back at the house and her standing in front. They held each other’s gaze for a while, then he became animated and within seconds he was gone in a roar. She noted that he did not say or wave goodbye.

Lost in thought, Olivia ambled along the brick path beside the grape arbor and iris down the center of the yard….

* * * *

The slowing of the plane woke her with the eardrum-busting feel of descending altitude. Pressing her nose to the pane she noticed they were above red tile roofs and the great dome of St. Peter’s! Thrill coursed through her at this first sight of such an ancient and famous place. Italy and its Classical heritage would be her next trip.

The flight attendant announced a two-hour wait; however, anyone wishing to stroll around the holding area must remember the time limit.

What about it? Caitlyn asked, moving restlessly.

I’m always terrified of being late, Olivia demurred.

From the corner of her eye, she observed That Man pass along the aisle with his briefcase, joining several others leaving the plane. Would he be back?

Oh come on, Caitlyn tugged at her arm, I’m going, and we’re both wearing watches.

Temptress! Olivia grinned and quickly rose to her feet. They deplaned and followed those not going through customs.

Hey, look, he is not getting off in Rome, either, Caitlyn announced, pointing to the man who was, like them, remaining in the transfer area. Caitlyn began walking rapidly and Olivia followed. Rome's Airport, sometimes known as Leonardo da Vinci Airport, was still referred to by its old name — Fiumicino. And it was a noisy beehive, heavily trafficked by cold-eyed, armed Carabinieri, churning and fermenting passengers, tongues and smells from all around the world. Olivia, who suffered from occasional bouts of claustrophobia, felt dizzy as panic threatened to set her running without knowing where. Trying to get a grip of herself, she paused at a bookstore window. It reflected people behind her, and she caught Caitlyn’s stumble, perhaps on purpose, near where That Man was glancing over a rack of newspapers. Caitlyn then dropped her purse and bent to massage her ankle. Olivia grinned into the reflected scene. Caitlyn was welcome to him! And he did seem to have noticed the damsel in distress.

Can you walk all right? Olivia asked, lifting her friend’s purse from the floor.

I fell over my own feet, Caitlyn grumbled, "yeah, I can walk, but I’d rather have fallen over him." Her eyes cut across the space, then away as the man waved and began to approach them. Expectancy lit up Caitlyn’s face like a Christmas tree.

Olivia decided to remove herself from the scene and moved further down, toward a gift shop with window-full copies of Classical-era statues and jewelry. Pausing by a display case of coin reproductions, she bent over it. Time flew by as she closely studied each item. At last her eye was caught by a coin depicting the bearded and curly haired head of Zeus — no, here he would be called Jupiter.

May I take a closer look? She pointed, the sales woman took it out from its black velvet box, and Olivia held the silver piece in the palm of her hand. It was about two inches across, ringed by thin gold with a loop for a chain. She asked its price, mentally converting the Euros to dollars. Satisfied that despite the daily fluctuations in currency, it seemed reasonable, she said, I’ll take it, but I need a silver chain as well.

The woman hesitated. You American?

Yes, and I’ll pay with dollars.

You don’t have Euro? The woman’s eyes flicked to the doorway as Caitlyn entered, followed by That Man.

No, I don’t have Euro, only dollars, Olivia said sharply. She put the coin back on the glass surface of the display case, reconsidering the impulse to purchase it.

Caitlyn took a look at the coin and turned to Olivia. I hope you’re not paying in cash here! Airport stores are notorious about shortchanging. Charge it to your credit card and you’ll get a better rate. Not the best, but at least nearest to what’s current.

"It’s time I