The Giannakis Bride(13)

She wasn't sure how to respond to that remark, and he didn't seem  inclined to elaborate. "Well, at least you have Poppy," she finally  said.

"And I thank God for that every day. But what do you have, Brianna? Is there someone special in your life?"

Not about to confess she'd practically lived like a nun since their  breakup, she said, "I wouldn't say 'special,' no. My work and the amount  of traveling it involves isn't exactly conducive to a long-term  commitment."

"So the career does takes precedence over all else."

The edge of scorn in his voice was unmistakable. "If it did," she replied hotly, "I wouldn't be here now, would I?"

He shrugged. "Possibly not."

"There's no 'possibly' about it! Maybe I couldn't save my sister from  self-destructing, but I'm not about to stand by and watch her daughter  die if I can do something to prevent it."

"So what are you saying? That you're here out of guilt or a sense of obligation?"

"Perhaps in the beginning. But certainly not now."

"Why? What's changed in the past twenty-four hours?"

"Everything," she said. "I've fallen in love with my niece."

"For how long? Until she's healthy again, at which point you'll  disappear from the canvas and that'll be the last we see of you?"                       
       
           



       

Was this love-hate pendulum what he meant by a truce? If so, she wanted  no part of it. "That is not what I said. Stop putting words in my  mouth."

"Then what, exactly, are your intentions?"

She gave an involuntary chirp of laughter. "For heaven's sake, Dimitrios, you're not interviewing a prospective suitor."

His lips twitched in an answering smile. An unfortunate response, she  decided, hastily looking away. His mouth was a seduction in itself, and  when it came to making love, he knew how to use it. And that was  definitely not something she wished to be reminded of, especially not  when she was trapped beside him in the intimate confines of his car.  "I'm going to make a hell of a father-in-law, aren't I?" he said.

"I hope so," she replied, sobering. "With all my heart, I hope we're  both going to see the day that Poppy walks down the aisle, a beautiful  bride."

"You plan on being there for that, as well, do you?"

"Count on it. I can't take her mother's place, but I can and will do the next best thing."

"I'll hold you to that," he said.

They'd reached Kifissia by then, and the streets were just coming to  life as dusk fell. The aroma of roasting meat and garlic and hot olive  oil drifted from the open doors of tavernas, displacing the lingering  scent of Penteli's pine-drenched air. Groups of people sat outside,  their laughter and conversation vying with the music of the bouzouki  players wandering among the tables.

Gradually, though, the noise diminished, muffled by the trees lining the  streets, and when Dimitrios at last turned onto the steep crescent  where the clinic stood and pulled up in the forecourt, a hush hung over  the land. Stepping out of the car, Brianna caught the faint whiff of  some sweet-smelling night flower. Palm trees swathed the parking area in  dense shadow. Overhead, the sky had turned a soft violet. Although the  hospital windows glowed softly in the encroaching dark, the raucous  noise and bustle and bright lights of Athens might have been a continent  away, instead of just a few miles.

They found Poppy almost asleep, but at the sight of Dimitrios, she  climbed up and reached for him over the high rails of her bed. "Papa!"  she whimpered.

Scooping her into his arms, he paced the room with her, all the while  crooning softly in her ear. Eventually she grew quiet. Her little fist  relaxed, its fingers spreading like pale petals against his tanned neck.  Her head drooped against his chest. Her eyes fell closed. And Brianna  had to turn away, so affected by the sight that her heart ached as if  squeezed in a vise.

Quietly she left the room. Now was not the time for a stranger bearing  gifts to intrude on such a special moment. Nothing money could buy held a  candle to the bond between this big, strong man and his tiny, fragile  daughter. Leaving the music box and mobile on a table next to her purse  in the anteroom, she walked to the window and stared unseeingly at the  gardens below.

She didn't turn when she heard him leave Poppy's room. She didn't want  him to see the tears clinging to her eyelashes. But, joining her, he  noticed anyway. Without a word he put his arms around her and drew her  to him. The last time he'd done that, handling her as tenderly as if she  were made of spun glass, had been with the murmured promise of a future  together.

This time all he said was, "I know."

"Does it ever get easier," she asked, when she was able to speak again. "Coming here and seeing her so alone and ill, I mean?"

"No. But you get used to the pain."

"I don't think I will. I'm not strong like you."

"You'd be surprised, Brianna, at how much a parent will endure to help his child."

Not very much in my sister's case, she thought sadly, shaken by a sob  she couldn't stifle. It was all very fine to lay the blame for Cecily's  behavior at someone else's feet, but the fact remained, she'd left her  baby to be brought up by a housekeeper, and shown such disregard for her  own life that it ended before her daughter had laid down any lasting  memories of the woman who'd brought her into the world. What sort of  legacy was that?                       
       
           



       

"Enough now," Dimitrios scolded. "I'm taking you home. Poppy's asleep  for the night and you're exhausted. Tomorrow's Saturday. We'll come back  in the morning when she's more alert and you can give her your gifts  then."

Still with his arm around her waist, they left the clinic.

Soon enough, they'd left Kifissia, too, and were following the twisting  mountain road back to Rafina. "Doesn't it bother you, having to drive so  far to see her?" Brianna asked, breaking a silence which had lasted  almost fifteen minutes.

"No. I like being on the coast. Sailing's one of my passions-at least,  it used to be, when I had the time and inclination to enjoy it. And it's  better for Poppy to grow up away from the city. The air pollution in  Athens grows worse every year."

"Did Cecily like Rafina?"

He let out a soft snort of laughter. "What do you think, Brianna?"

"She might have found it a little … isolated."

"She loathed it," he said, "although for the first year she pretended it  was just what she wanted. But toward the end, she spent hardly any time  there at all."

Puzzled, she said, "Where did she go?"

"I had an apartment in the city, in Kolonaki, which I've since sold. She stayed there."

"Alone? She didn't take Poppy with her?"

"She didn't take Poppy. And she wasn't alone."

Shocked speechless by the implication in his words, she stared at him.

"That's right," he said. "She had company. Of the male kind."

"Why didn't you divorce her?"

"I didn't care enough to bother. I-"

The car, until then purring smoothly along the unfolding ribbon of road  like a sleek, well-bred cat, suddenly rebelled. For no apparent reason,  the engine simply gave up the ghost. The only sound to break the silence  was the soft hiss of the tires, and Dimitrios cursing as he wrestled  with the steering wheel.

Somehow, before it lost all forward momentum, he managed to bring the  vehicle to the shoulder of the highway and set the emergency brake. "Son  of a bitch!" he remarked pleasantly.

"What happened?"

"Well, I'm not out of gas, so that eliminates one possibility." He  dimmed the headlamps but pressed a button on the dash. "And the hazard  lights work, which suggests the problem isn't electrical, so my guess is  some other computer part has failed. Not that I pretend to be any sort  of auto mechanic, you understand."

"So what do we do now?"

"I call Spiros to come and collect us." Lifting the car phone from its  cradle, he accessed the number, spoke briefly, and hung up. "Done. Ten  minutes, fifteen tops, and we'll home."

"What about this car?"

He angled his body toward her and slung a casual arm over the back of  her seat. The blinking yellow hazard lights made him appear more shadow  than substance, but the heat of his body was very, very real. "It'll be  towed in for repair."

"I see." She cleared her throat, all too aware of the solitude of their  situation. The last house they'd passed lay several kilometers behind  them. "So what do we do until Spiros gets here?"