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Setting her glass down on a nearby table, she looked at the small package. She said in Greek, “Is it...?”
“Naí.”Yes.
Unwrapping it, she pulled out a small gold locket. Clutching it tightly in her hand, she shuddered. “Thank you,” she said in a whisper, then took a deep breath. “But...”
“But?”
She looked back at the ruin. “I want to be there.”
Theo swallowed. His voice was harsher than he intended as he said, “We’re close enough.”
“I want the dirt beneath my feet.”
“No,” he said helplessly, but even as he said it, he knew he would do it. After everything he’d done—and everything hehadn’tdone—he owed her anything she wanted, and more.
Setting his jaw, Theo turned to the captain and spoke a few quiet words. After conferring into his phone, the man replied in the same language.
Theo returned to his sister. “The site’s not safe. They still need to fill in the foundation and pull any remaining materials.”
She simply lifted her eyes to his, waiting.
Theo sighed. He’d tried to talk Sofia out of coming here today. His original plan had been to film the house’s destruction, then send the video to her in Paris. He’d been delayed by his rush back to stop Emmie’s wedding in New York. Then Sofia had informed him she’d flown in from Paris to be on the island when the demolition happened.
So he’d revised the plan. He and his bride would sail past Lyra on the yacht, as if by chance, right as the house was demolished. He’d let Emmie believe he was filming the demolition of an interesting ruin, nothing more, then he’d send the video to Sofia at the tiny, unused cottage in the village that she’d inherited from her adoptive family.
But the one-day delay caused by the yacht’s needed repair had ended that plan, too. He’d known from the moment he stepped onto Lyra that he didn’t want Emmie with him when the house was razed. Having to act casual, to show no emotion, to hide his feelings from her would have been difficult. So he’d decided to leave her at the hotel and go alone on his yacht to film the event from a distance.
Then Sofia had called that afternoon to say she’d changed her mind. She was determined to come with him today and see the teardown in person, and no amount of his arguing had persuaded her otherwise.
First Sofia, now Emmie. Why did the two women he cared about the most insist on fighting his efforts to protect them from pain? Their pain—and his?
Theo looked down at his dark-haired sister. When he’d knocked on her door that afternoon, it had been the first time he’d seen her in person since she was five. He’d had to blink hard to hide the sting in his eyes as he’d hugged her. In some ways, she would always be that child to him. A child who’d deserved a better brother than Theo. And still did.
Now, Sofia set her jaw. “I don’t care aboutsafe. I need this, Theo.” Her gaze wandered back to the ruin on the hill. “Otherwise, part of me will always be trapped there.”
He glanced back at Emmie, still standing alone at the railing a few feet away, pretending she wasn’t interested in their discussion, pretending she wasn’t offended that they continued to speak Greek in front of her. Theo and Sofia could have easily spoken English; his sister spoke the language well, along with French and German and Spanish. He’d paid for her to attend good schools across Europe.
It was a miracle some enterprising journalist hadn’t discovered Theo’s whole sordid childhood. The confusion of his five different surnames as a boy had probably helped. It was only after his uncle had brought him to America at sixteen that he’d used his long-dead father’s surname of Katrakis.
The name Theo had at fifteen, when his mother and stepfather died, had been Papadopolous. His stepfather’s name. It had also been Sofia’s surname before she was adopted. The neighbor had adopted only Sofia, not Theo. Who wouldn’t want a sweet little orphan girl? Who would ever want a hardened, violent, grief-stricken teenage boy?
His heart was pounding strangely. He felt beads of sweat on his forehead in spite of the cooling breeze. He glanced sideways at Emmie. She was staring down over the slanted sunlight into the dark water below, her shoulders tight beneath the thin straps of her floral sundress.
How he wished she’d just stayed at the hotel. He would have retrieved her after this was all over and done with, and they’d have sailed off into the sunset. She wouldn’t have known about Sofia or the house, he’d have had nothing to evade, and they both would have been happier.
“Well, Theo?” Sofia asked in Greek. “Can we?”
“Fine,” he said heavily. His belly roiled at the thought of setting foot there. But as he looked at his little sister’s pale, haunted face, he knew any pain would be worth it to give her the slightest bit of peace.
As he and Sofia left, he saw the question in Emmie’s eyes and answered it with a shake of his head. He didn’t want her to accompany them. Because he couldn’t tell her the truth about their past, his and Sofia’s. And he didn’t want to lie to her.
After putting on their shoes, he led Sofia down the steep steps into the small speedboat.
Looking up, Theo had one last glance of Emmie watching from the top deck, the lowering red and orange sun shining through her hair like gold, her expression darkened by shadow. Then the boat took them swiftly—far too swiftly—to shore.
The old dock was long gone, so they had to hop out and wade through knee-deep water. He offered to carry Sofia, but she shook her head. They stumbled onto the beach he’d once paced as a desperate teenager, scared out of his mind.
Theo stopped and looked back at the sun setting over the horizon. Except for the silhouette of the yacht, the view was the same now that it had been then. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the same panic, the frantic beat of his heart.
