Amy

I WAS IN an especially good mood when the phone rang with bad news. For the first time, my recurring nightmare had surprised me with a happy ending. It had started out as usual, with me swimming against the waves, struggling to reach the lights from a passing ship. But this time, a lifeboat suddenly appeared, and kind hands reached out, hauling me to safety. That had never happened before, and I’d awakened happy and refreshed.

I put down the phone and braced myself, waiting for the distant calls for help that always followed bad news or an unexpected trauma. Even after twenty years I still heard Joanie’s voice whenever I was stressed. But today, nothing, only the sound of my own heart pounding as I picked up the receiver again and dialed my husband. “I just got a call from the ER at St. Mike’s. They think Nick has a broken leg. They’re waiting for a report from radiology. I’m heading over there right now.”

“He fell off his bike. Thank God, he was wearing a helmet or this would have been a lot worse. Apparently, he and a friend were racing down Brimley Road out by Scarborough Bluffs.”

“He wasn’t thinking. He’s seventeen, but that’s a good question. You can ask him when we get to the hospital. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

I was breathing heavily as though I’d been the one careening down that steep hill instead of my idiot son. It had only been a few months since we’d rushed him go the ER with a concussion. I shook my head, muttering, “Boys.” Cady had never caused us this kind of grief. I paused again, listening. Not a word from Joanie. No calls for help, no heart rending screams, just unending silence. The absence of her familiar voice made me strangely uneasy as I shut down the printer, grabbed my purse, and headed out the door.

TOM WAS STANDING at the information desk talking to the receptionist as I burst through the doors of the Emergency Department. “Has he been admitted? Can we see him?” I leaned into Tom, taking comfort in the heat radiating from his sweaty body. He must have run the six blocks from his office on Jarvis Street.

“Relax, he’ll be okay.” Tom handed me a visitor’s pass and guided me toward an unmarked door that clicked open to admit us to a brightly lit room full of small, curtained partitions. We made our way to a central counter where six or seven people in white uniforms were talking on phones, filling out forms, and comforting distraught relatives. Tom caught the attention of an elderly woman working at a computer. “I’m looking for Nick Savas. Can you tell me where he is?”

She pointed to a curtained stall to the left. “Number 8A, but I need you to fill out some forms.” I hurried off, leaving Tom to deal with the clerk.

Nick was sitting up on a small cot, holding an ice pack to his left arm. An ugly purple bruise ran from his chin to the corner of his eye.

“Don’t, Mom, you’ll hurt me. They think my leg’s broken. I may need surgery.”

“They already gave me Tylenol. I’m not supposed to eat or take anything else until they decide what to do with me.”

I bent down and gave him a very gentle kiss on his forehead. “You know you could have broken your fool neck. No one in their right mind races down that hill.”

Tom pulled back the curtain and stepped inside the cubicle. “Well, something happened today. They tell me you’ve shattered your left tibia in two places. They’re going to have to put in a plate to hold it together.”

Nick slumped against the pillow. “How long does that take to heal? Will I be able to play hockey in the fall?”

“It’s too soon to tell, but you’re going to have to stop being such a daredevil. This is our third trip to the ER this year.”

I was standing by his bed with a brave smile on my face, but my insides were churning. “When are they scheduling the surgery?”

“Today.” Tom shot me a commiserating glance. “Someone will be coming in to start prepping him any minute now.” He put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, they’re going to take good care of you. We’ll be here the whole time.”

Of course we’d stay, but I had a huge print order to get out by morning. It was for my biggest account, and I couldn’t afford to screw it up. I’d started a desktop publishing business when the Kleins retired, but it was still a start-up and every job mattered.

I smoothed Nick’s hair out of his face. “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to make a call.” I gave him a peck on the forehead and set out to find a payphone.

“Cady, your brother’s at St. Mike’s with a broken leg. No, this time he fell off his bike. Don’t worry, he’ll be okay if I don’t kill him, but he needs surgery. They need to put a plate in his leg to hold it together. No, please don’t come down. I need you at home to help with a print run that has to be done tonight. You know how to use the new LaserWriter, don’t you?”

IT WAS TEN o’clock by the time we returned to the cottage we’d bought the year Cady was three and Nick was still a bulge in my belly. I threw my purse onto a chair and opened the refrigerator. I hadn’t had anything but waiting room coffee and powdered creamer since lunch and I was starving.

“Come in here,” Tom called from the dining room. “You’ve got to see this.”

The dining room was set with our best company China. A warm quiche, a large salad, and a bowl of strawberries waited on the sideboard. “I love that child. Where is she?” I started up the stairs to look for Cady, but Tom stopped me.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Sorry you had such a tough day. Hope this helps. I’m staying with Jackson tonight. See you in the morning. Cady X

PS The print run’s finished and stacked in boxes in the office. XX

PPS. Aunt Nancy called, but she’s on assignment so you can’t call her back. She said she’ll call again tomorrow. XXX

I filled a plate with a large slice of quiche and a heaping mound of salad. “I wonder what Nancy wanted. She never calls when she’s on the road. Do you think she’s OK?”

“She’s fine. She’s the Bionic Woman. Remember when she was covering that conference in Baghdad and an Iranian general crashed his plane in front of her hotel? It practically landed on her head, but she walked away without a scratch. She’s indestructible.”

“I hope you’re right. I’ve had enough drama for one day.” I was suddenly so overcome with exhaustion I could barely lift my fork. Nick would need a lot of attention over the next few weeks, and I had a load of print jobs to get out. “I didn’t need this right now. How am I supposed to juggle everything?”

I dutifully took a bite of the cheese pie. It was delicious. I gobbled down the rest and took a second slice. “I guess we won’t be going to the cottage. Do you think we can get our deposit back?”

“Don’t be such a pessimist. I’m betting we still go, as long as Nick doesn’t break anything else in the meantime.”

“Maybe.” A disquieting memory suddenly came back to me. “Tom, you know how I hear my sister’s voice whenever I’m stressed or something bad happens?”

“Uh huh, I bet your sister really chimed in this afternoon when Nick broke his leg.”

I shook her head. “No, she didn’t. I was plenty upset, but I didn’t hear a thing, no cries for help, nothing.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Maybe you’re finally letting go of the past. It’s about time.”

“I know, but it feels odd, kind of lonely. I know it’s weird, but I missed hearing her voice.”

“Sweetie, it’s been over twenty years. Do you really want to relive that nightmare forever?”

“No, of course not, but I’ve gotten used to hearing her, like she’s still out there somewhere.”

“Well, you may miss her, but I’m sure your therapist will be thrilled to know that Joanie’s finally moving on.”

“I guess so, but twin bonds are really strong. Even after all this time I feel her presence, like we’re still connected.” I wondered if I should tell him about the dream, but decided to keep that to myself. “I’m sorry, I’m being silly.” I took one more bite then put down my fork. “It’s been a long day. Would you mind clearing up? I’m going to bed.”

“Sure, should I wake you if Nancy calls?” Tom finished his quiche and polished off the bite I’d left on my plate.

“I don’t think she’ll call tonight. She’s in Greece covering the elections and it’s what, five in the morning over there?”

Tom looked at his watch, “Five-thirty. You’re right. She won’t call until tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Sweetheart.”

BY MID-MORNING I’D loaded five thousand advertising circulars into my minivan and dropped them off at The Shoe Box’s corporate office and was mentally designing a new brochure for Maple Leaf Rags, a trendy dress shop catering to tourists. As I started down the steps to my basement office the flashing red light on the kitchen answering machine caught my eye. Worried that something had happened to Nick, I raced into the kitchen and pushed the button for new messages.

Hi, it’s Nancy. It looks like I missed you again. I’m in Athens at the Plaka Hotel, but don’t call because I’m never in my room. Everything’s fine, but something incredibly weird’s happened. I’ll try you again later. Love to Nick and Cady. Oh, and tell Tom that it looks like Papandreou has a lock on the election.

What could be so important that Nancy would call from Greece? I headed back to the basement and turned on my computer. Before it even had time to boot up there was another call, this time from my daughter.

“Cady, I’m glad you called. I wanted to thank you for dinner last night. It was so sweet of you to have a meal waiting for us.”

“I figured you’d be hungry. The quiche came out really well, didn’t it? Listen, I saw Nick this morning. He’s on the same ward where I volunteer. He’s OK, but his leg hurts more than he’s letting on.”

“I’ll talk to his doctor when I visit later. Does he need anything from home?”

“Yeah, he wants food. He says they aren’t feeding him enough. If there’s any quiche left, he’d like some of that.”

“No, I’m back at Jackson’s place, studying for a chem exam. I’ll probably stay here again tonight, so don’t wait dinner for me.”

“You’re not planning on moving in with him, are you? You’re way too young for that sort of commitment.”

“No, Mom, I’m not moving in with him. But honestly, you weren’t much older than I am when you met my father. Oh, that reminds me. I met an English guy at the hospital who’s a retired archaeologist. You should show him that old paperweight Dad gave you before he died. I bet he’d know what it really is.”

“Really? I’d love to know what all those symbols mean, but it seems rude to impose on someone in the hospital.”

“I don’t think he’d mind. He’s a sweetheart and he knows ancient Greek so he might be able to read it for you. Honestly, you might never get another chance like this.”

“It’s tempting, let me think about it. I’d sure like to know how old that relic is.” I opened the top drawer to my desk and removed a small white box. “When are you coming home? I owe you a big hug for running off that print job and making dinner for us.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and bring socks. He says they keep the air conditioning too low and his feet are freezing.”

I lifted the lid from the box to reveal the ceramic disc, safe on its bed of cotton. I touched it to my lips, glad that Tom wasn’t home to catch me in this small infidelity. Tom was a wonderful husband and I loved him dearly, but Arcas . . . I closed my eyes and allowed myself to travel back in time to Kosmos Bakery. I’d been a troubled girl, frightened and heartsick, exiled from family and friends until Arcas had taken me in his arms and made me believe life could be good again.

But in the end, it wasn’t Arcas who saved me, it was Tom. What had begun as a marriage of convenience, a ticket to legal status and insurance, had grown into the marriage I’d always dreamed of. We were a perfect match, better suited to each other than either of us would have been to our lost loves. A photo taken on Kavouri Beach near Athens glowed on my computer. The scene, my screen saver, was as blue and white as the Greek flag: blue sky, blue water, white sand, and my family smiling in the foreground. My life had turned out just fine despite everything. Those years with Arcas felt as distant as the time when the disc in my hand was new.

IT WAS THREE o’clock by the time I got to the hospital. I’ve never been a fan of hospitals, but I’d spent more than my share of time at this one. Both my children were born there, and my daredevil son had brought me back time and again with numerous breaks and bruises. I stepped off the elevator, grateful to be visiting Orthopedics and not the ICU. As I bustled past closed doors and navigated around a nurse’s cart I felt a pang of guilt, wondering if Nick had inherited his impulsive streak from me.

I remembered myself at twenty-one, a bottle of tequila in one hand, the throttle of a speeding motorboat in the other, laughing wildly at a boy who was standing on his seat shouting some nonsense to the wind. Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes and breathed a prayer that Nick would never have to pay as steep a price as I’d paid for youthful recklessness.

When I entered Nick’s room, Big Bird and Elmo were having a serious discussion about how to cross the street. Embarrassed, Nick switched off the television.

“A little old for Sesame Street, aren’t we?” I raised my eyebrows in mock disapproval.

“At least Big Bird isn’t pregnant by the ghost of her best friend’s husband. That’s what’s on the other channel.”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell what’s going on under all those feathers. Did you bring food? Lunch was a sandwich with like one slice of turkey and half a lettuce leaf. I’m absolutely famished.”

As Nick polished off the quiche, I arranged two pair of socks, a box of cookies, and a copy of Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson on his bedside table. “You didn’t ask for the book, but it was on your desk, so I figured you’d want it.”

“Thanks, it’s got to be better than Sesame Street.” He pushed his empty plate aside. “How long do I have to stay here? This place sucks.”

“I don’t know. The nurse doesn’t have discharge orders yet, and I haven’t been able to reach the doctor, so we just wait.” Nick tapped the cast on his broken leg. “I didn’t think it would hurt this much. The physical therapist almost killed me this morning. The whole summer’s shot.”

I patted his shoulder. “You’ll be out of here in a few more days and Dad thinks we’ll still make it to the lake in August––although you can’t go swimming. You’ll have to stay high and dry on the beach with me this year.”

“It could be worse. I met an old guy in PT today who’s going to have to live in a nursing home for the rest of his life.”

“No kidding. Can you imagine having to live in a nursing home? He taught archaeology and traveled all over the world. I bet he never expected to end up like that.”

“No one does. He sounds like the man Cady was telling me about. She wants me to show him that old piece of pottery her dad gave me.”

“No, I’m not sure I should ask him. Doesn’t it seem rude to ask a favor like that from someone who’s in the hospital?”

“Nope, he’d love talking with you. I think it would cheer him up, but you’d better hurry before they ship him out to that nursing home.”

I started toying with the little cat pendant I still wore around my neck, a sign that I was feeling anxious. All this talk about the relic was bringing back old memories of Arcas and my sister. “Really? You don’t think he’d mind?”

“He’s just down the hall. One of the nurses will give you his room number.”

“I’ve always wondered about that old curiosity. It would be nice to know what it really is and where it came from.”

“Tell the nurse you’re looking for Jacob. I don’t know his last name, but he has an English accent. They’ll know who you mean.”

After arranging Nick’s books, putting his snacks within easy reach, fluffing his pillow, and kissing him good-bye, I went off in search of the archaeologist. A clerk directed me to a room halfway down the hall. Through the open door I saw an elderly man holding a book he didn’t seem to be reading. I watched as he rubbed his eyes, looked away, put the book down on his chest, picked it up, turned a page, then put it down again. His white hair was thinning and his boney hands trembled. He seemed so frail, but archaeologists had to be tough. They spent months in remote locations excavating ruins buried under layers of dirt and hot, unforgiving rock. He must have been strong and athletic once. A potted plant sitting on the windowsill made me think he couldn’t be as lonely as Nick imagined. Someone had brought him a gift.

“If you need something, just come in, I’m awake.” He turned and looked directly at me through thick lenses that magnified his eyes making him look like a blue-eyed owl.

I blushed, embarrassed that he’d caught me staring. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to ask a favor. I could come back later if this isn’t a good time.”

“Come in. What can I do for you?” He put the book on his bedside table and gestured for me to come closer. “I’m afraid I can’t see you very well if you stand so far away.”

He removed his glasses then put them back on as though he was having trouble focusing his eyes. “Cady?”

“No, my name is Amy. Cady’s my daughter and my son is Nick. They thought that I should talk to you.”

“Yes, I know them, very nice youngsters. You should be proud of them. Too bad about Nick’s leg, but young people bounce back. He’ll be healed up in no time.” He pointed to the chair beside his bed. “Please, have a seat, my eyes aren’t what they used to be. I’m afraid you’re a bit blurry over there.”

“I know, my mother always says that if my sister were still alive we’d be triplets.”

His eyes softened behind his thick lenses. “You’ve lost a sister. I’m so sorry. She was a twin sister?”

I nodded. “It was a long time ago. Cady looks just like her, and like me, of course.”

The man rubbed his eyes and looked at me again. “It’s so odd. I don’t know what to think. When Cady first arrived I was sure I knew her. I thought she was on the ship where I had my accident, but maybe . . . No, it couldn’t have been you either.” He paused, shook his head, and looked away. “They say my mind is going and I’m afraid they may be right.” His smile took on a wistful quality.

We sat in an uncomfortable silence while I searched for something comforting to say. “I see someone’s brought you a plant. It’s quite attractive. Do you know what kind it is?”

“It’s from my son and his wife. My wife would have known what it is. She was the gardener in the family, but I don’t know one plant from another. It could be poison ivy for all I know.”

I laughed. “I’m like that too. My sister loved flowers and she’d always help my father with the garden, but I’d go deaf and run away if he asked me to weed or water anything.”

“My kids tell me that you’re an archaeologist and that you worked in Greece when you were younger.”

The old gentleman shifted in bed, trying to sit up. “That’s true. I worked in Crete under Pendlebury back in the thirties. I’m so old that I can remember meeting Sir Arthur Evans, can you imagine that?” I shook my head in feigned amazement. The name meant nothing to me, I assumed Evans was a famous archaeologist, but I’d never heard of him.

“Of course, it won’t be long before some young fellow is digging up my bones and dragging them back to his lab.”

I stared at the old man’s wasted body and was tempted to agree with him, but I just responded with a weak smile. “My kids say you speak ancient Greek and can decipher old Greek writing.”

“Well, there are a lot of languages that might be called ancient Greek. Which one did you have in mind?”

“I have no idea. That’s what I was hoping you could tell me. Cady’s father gave me an old relic. It might be a coin or some sort of decoration, we don’t really know. It has writing on it that’s definitely not modern Greek. My husband speaks Greek fluently and it’s Greek to him.”

“Old Greek coins are quite common. A lot of them were minted, so it’s probably not valuable, but they’re all fascinating. Each city-state produced its own coins with its own symbols. The image should tell us where and when it was minted. What do you see on yours?”

“There are a lot of little pictures. It’s like some sort of hieroglyphics that go around in a spiral, only it’s nothing like the Egyptian hieroglyphics you see in books.”

“I see. And how big is this coin?” I didn’t like the way he raised his eyebrows and smirked slightly as though I’d just told a bad joke.

“It’s big for a coin, five or six inches in diameter. Maybe it isn’t even a coin. We don’t know what it is. Cady’s dad used it for a paperweight.”

“Well, I think I know what it is, but bring it in anyway. I’d be happy to look at it.”

“Thank you. I’ll bring it tomorrow when I come to visit Nick. What do you think it is?”

“I can’t say for sure, but frankly it sounds like a copy of the Phaistos Disc. No one knows how to read those images. Those hieroglyphs predate Linnear A and we still haven’t broken that code. All we know is that Linear A is the alphabet of a pre-Hellenic Minoan language and that the Phaistos Disc is even older than that. I spent the larger part of my career trying to figure it out.”

“He’d have bought it from the gift shop at the Heraklion Archaeological Museum. They’re popular souvenirs. I have one on my desk at home.”

My heart struck a resounding clang, the sound of a heavy coin hitting a metal trash can. My great treasure, Arcas’s last token of love and devotion was a gift shop souvenir. The dark clouds quickly receded, but I knew Dr. Kanter could see the disappointment in my face.

“I’m so sorry to disappoint you. I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. I could be wrong. I’d have to actually see it to be sure.”

“That’s very nice of you. I’ll bring it tomorrow when I visit Nick. Thank you for your time and please don’t feel bad if it’s just a replica of something. I was just surprised.”

“Of course. Say hello to Cady and tell her I’m enjoying the book she gave me.”

He wasn’t enjoying the book, but he was a kind man. “I’ll be sure to tell her.” I paused at the door. “Are you sure you want to see me tomorrow? It seems pointless if it’s just some hunk of clay made in China for the tourist market.”

The old man did a sort of double take and leaned toward me. “Did you say clay? When you called it a coin I assumed it was made of metal. The replicas are almost always made of a cheap alloy finished to look like bronze.” His eyes took on an unexpected gleam. I’d apparently piqued his curiosity. “What color is the clay? Was it fired? Is it glazed?”

As many times as I’d looked at the old paperweight, I didn’t know the answers to his questions. “It’s just clay colored, kind of a yellowy clay. It’s not shiny so I don’t think it’s glazed. Of course, I don’t know much about clay. I’m a printer not a potter.”

“Please, promise you’ll come back tomorrow. I want to see whatever it is you’ve got there. It might be something interesting—especially to a printer.”

I brightened a bit. Maybe it would turn out to be something after all. “OK then, see you tomorrow.”

“Please close the door on your way out. I’m going to take a nap and thank you for stopping by. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

AT SUPPER THAT evening I wanted to tell Tom about my encounter with the archaeologist, but he was in a nasty mood, preoccupied with troubles at the office. His company had just released an analysis of the economic impact of new, non-traditional immigrants moving north of the city. It showed these immigrants fueling the economy by starting new businesses at a higher rate than existing residents and filling many essential bottom-rung jobs other Canadians didn’t want. The results should have been good news, but the study had enraged the Heritage Front, a white supremacist group opposed to immigration. Tattooed skinheads and swastika toting neo-Nazis had turned up with signs and banners while counter protesters had shown up with their own placards. The whole thing had erupted into a brawl outside Tom’s office. He’d run a gauntlet of catcalls and threats when he’d left the building and his nerves were on edge.

I bided my time, listening patiently to the tale of his harrowing day while he finished his dinner. He was talking fast, agitated by his encounter with the Fascists. “That group is awful. They hate immigrants, Jews, blacks, Asians, pretty much everyone. I didn’t approve the ARA ransacking one of their houses, but someone needs to stand up to them.”

“Anti-Racist Action something. They’re a fringy group that really pushes the boundaries. I think they were involved in the riot outside my building. You must have read about them. They were in the paper last month for tearing up a house in the east end.”

“It belonged to a National Front guy who was broadcasting hate speech from the basement.” Tom tore into a last bloody bite of steak as though he was sinking his teeth into one of the racists. “You should have seen their signs. They aren’t ashamed to spew actual Nazi slogans in the original German. God, I hate fascists.”

I refilled Tom’s glass with the last of the Cabernet. “You and Arcas did your bit to fight them back in the day. You have nothing to be ashamed of on that account. The colonels are gone, and Papandreou is prime minister of Greece. It’s not your fault if new fascists just keep coming.”

“I handed out leaflets. It’s guys like Arcas who were the real heroes.” He took a sip of the wine and reached for my hand. “It’s ironic that my happiness is the result of Arcas’s sacrifice. You’d have never looked at me if Arcas hadn’t died.”

I squeezed his hand. “But things worked out for us, didn’t they? We have great kids, good jobs, a nice house. Oh, and I met a retired archaeologist who’s going to tell us about that old relic Arcas left me.”

“At the hospital, just down the hall from Nick. He’s offered to look at it tomorrow.”

I stood up and began to clear the table. “I almost hate to share it with him. It’s the only thing I have from that chapter of my life. It’s always been kind of sacred to me. You don’t mind, do you?” I kissed Tom on top of his head on my way to the kitchen.

“No, of course not, we all have our memories, which reminds me, Nancy called again. She left another message that she really needs to talk with you.”