| |
Exhausted from the excitement and emotion of the night before, morning came all too soon. We had to disembark with our tour by nine o’clock, and Maddie was taking extra time in the bathroom perfecting her makeup. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it would all melt off by noon in the desert sun of Ephesus, with temperatures expected to reach a hundred by lunchtime. When Maddie and I arrived in the auditorium, Ethan was looking frantic.
“You made it!” Relief mixed with a happy grin, and he quickly led us to our assigned group. We hadn’t talked last night about the way we’d left our painful conversation, and both of us seemed fine with letting the disagreement go for the time being. Determined to make the best of the day for Maddie’s sake, we kept the mood light while we shuffled our way down the gangplank with a herd of other passengers headed for shore.
The brilliant blue waters of the Aegean Sea stretched across the coastline, and the beachfront spread the length of the broad harbor, its white sand and pristine waters like something out of a dream. West of the port gate, a small island with a Pirate’s Castle, one we were told was used against pirates and not by them, dominated the tiny islet, linked to the mainland by a long walkway. We found our guide holding up a tall sign. His name was Izzet.
Izzet, a short, good humored man with dark brown eyes, black hair, and a well-fed belly, waved us all in, already spouting facts about Turkey’s history and the people of Kusadasi, the town we were about to tour. We followed along ancient stone streets through a metropolitan area overrun with tourists, coming and going from shops along the main street. Some vendors were dressed in traditional garb and long robes, while others were outfitted in attire as modern as the tourists. Shops with beautiful jewelry, amazing leather crafts, and every pattern of silk imaginable lined the wide streets.
Our tour brought us to a carpet factory where we watched a demonstration by a pretty young Turkish woman hand weaving an amazing multicolored carpet. We sat on benches around a central room where the owner served us tea and wine, both local favorites. The tea, infused with cardamom and other spices, settled my stomach, which was a bundle of nerves with the bustling energy of the place and the crowded market buzzing around us. Several young men rolled out carpet after carpet for display, each one more beautiful and intricate than the last.
Ethan sat beside me, not touching me, not holding my hand or even looking my way. I wondered whether it was out of respect for Maddie, or if he had simply decided that staying friends for now was his only option. After all, having a “dope-fiend” for a girlfriend was probably not on his list of to-do’s in life. I cringed at the embarrassing rush of heat that crawled up my neck. For the first time, the idea of someone I cared about being ashamed of knowing me sent a worm of doubt niggling its way through my armor.
A heated haggling session between Maddie and the salesman caught my attention, so I left Ethan watching the next demonstration on his own. Maddie was completely captivated by a medium sized throw rug that would set the average person back half a year’s pay. Facing off with the man, she stood her ground on the price.
I tugged at her arm and gave her my best practical look. “Do you really need a rug?”
“I can’t take it all with me, dear.” She winked. “Are you worried I’m spending your inheritance?”
“Of course not.” I scowled, offended. “I just figured that if you don’t already have everything you need, this carpet probably isn’t going to do it for you.”
“Oh, you’re probably right.” Turning to the bewildered man, she nodded politely. “I’m no longer interested, thank you.” She crooked her elbow through mine and led me out into the bright sunlight. “I only wanted the fun of haggling with a Turk,” she whispered as Ethan caught up and fell in alongside us.
We left the carpet district and followed the tour guide through the outdoor markets where Maddie picked up some Turkish coffee and some bath salts made with Aegean Sea salt and local herbs, guaranteed to keep her “young and vibrant.” By the time we reached a local hotel for lunch, we were all starving. Ethan’s eyes widened when a dozen waiters surrounded us with trays. They laid out every kind of Turkish food imaginable and before one plate was empty, they brought something new to try. Decorative dishes stacked with stuffed grape leaves, bowls with steamed vegetables, and cups of fruit, yogurt and dipping sauces lined the table. I passed on the meat kebabs and stuck with the ample selection of fruits and vegetables, savoring the sweetness of a particularly juicy melon.
“Oh...my...God. I could live on this food,” Ethan groaned as he grabbed another meaty skewer.
Before I could comment about his barbarism, the sound of music and tambourines filled the air and a parade of a dozen dancers filed into an open square alongside the tented dining area. The men were dressed in long red and black robes while the women were covered in white from head to toe, only their exotically made-up eyes showing. The troupe moved in sync with the music, their bodies as supple and graceful as swans. My heart tapped out the percussive rhythm as the dancers flew through the air, showcasing amazing feats of athletic ability followed by fluid and intricate steps that rivaled anything you’d see on an American stage.
The show went on for some time, and I was glad to be sitting in the shade of the large tent with the warm sea breeze blowing in from behind. With the dry heat and temps soaring, I was even relieved when the dancers removed their robe-like layers.
Dark skinned, the women had a gypsy look about them, with scarves covering their faces, slipper like shoes, red puffy pants, and sequin encrusted bikini tops. With lean, strong bodies, the young men wore the same puffy pants and shoes as the women, only theirs were in white. Red vests revealed their bare chests and each wore a white turban atop his head. How they kept them on while jumping and flipping through the air as they did was nothing short of a miracle.
“I’m stuffed like one of those grape leaves,” said Maddie as we walked back to the bus after lunch.
I patted my stomach in agreement.
Ethan waved Maddie and me ahead of him as we climbed onto the bus. “The food, the show, the city...that was awesome,” he said as he settled in next to me, allowing me the window seat.
Maddie sat behind us with Mrs. Fitzgibbons, the two of them having hit it off at the bridge table back on the ship. They busied themselves with talk of the carpets each of them liked the best, Maddie expressing her regret at not buying one when she had the chance.
I grinned at Ethan and shook my head. “This whole trip has been...unreal. With visits to so many incredible places in such a short amount of time, it makes me a little dizzy thinking about it,” I said. Staring out the window at the ancient buildings passing as we climbed out of the city and traveled toward Ephesus, my mind spun with new appreciation. “I didn’t realize how lucky I was until today. I shouldn’t have been such an idiot about Maddie making me come on this trip with her.” Warmth and affection shown in Ethan’s eyes and another pang of deep appreciation washed over me as our gazes met.
“I’m glad you did. I kind of can’t imagine my life without you now.” He slipped his fingers through mine, and his dimples deepened as his lips curved into the sweet smile I’d come to love.
I bit the inside of my cheek, hopelessly relieved. “Me too,” was all I could think to say. Regardless of what the future held for us, being on this trip with Maddie and meeting Ethan had been an unexpected gift I would cherish forever. “Have you talked to your dad?” I asked, anxious to escape the uncomfortable silence growing between us.
Ethan rubbed my knuckles with his thumb and stared past me out the window, checking out the herd of sheep a local shepherd corralled alongside the road. “I spoke to him last night. He said he’s wrapping things up in Paris, and he’ll meet me in Athens tomorrow.” He shrugged. “We’ll see if he shows, right?”
An ache seeped into my chest as a world of emotion settled behind Ethan’s eyes, ending with resignation. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.” I squeezed his hand and grinned, determined to look on the bright side—a new and terrifying prospect for me.
After a long and bumpy twenty mile ride up into the mountains and away from civilization, we reached a level parking area with all the modern conveniences, including rest rooms and a snack vendor selling ice cold drinks and memorobilia. Maddie picked up bottles of water for the short hike up to the Basilica of St. John, home and tomb of the beloved apostle, who Jesus named to care for Mary after the crucifixion. Maddie was excited to see the place, but I was more interested in checking out the next stop, which would be the ruins of the temple of Diana, one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world.
We followed the silent crowd up the dirt road in the heat of the afternoon sun. My feet ached, and I wished I’d worn my sneakers instead of my stupid flip-flops like Maddie had suggested. I hated it when she was right. Ethan teased Maddie about she and I teaming up for tonight’s karaoke competition, which lightened my mood and distracted me from complaining.
Between breathless pants and wiping the trickling sweat off her brow beneath her floppy hat, Maddie insisted we stop and take in the view. Ethan snapped pictures of me and the grandmother I’d hardly remembered before a few weeks ago, and who now meant so much to me. She gave my shoulders a quick squeeze and kissed my cheek, her papery skin brushing mine before she pulled back, her eyes glistening.
“We must savor this pilgrimage. Seeing the home where Mary lived out her final days is a privilege we may never have again. It’s not likely either of us will return here, so take it all in, Alexis.”
Gazing out over the vast openness of Turkey, with its cities far below and mountainous terrain stretched across green scrubby hills and arid desert passes, I soaked in the magic of the moment and realized Maddie was right. I might never have another chance to travel to such an exotic place again and I wanted to hold the moment close to my heart.
“If only Amanda were here to share it with us.”
Maddie patted my hand. “She’s here in spirit.”
Shedding the sadness that threatened to intrude, I held onto the thought.
When we finally reached the top, Maddie took a deep breath and released a long sigh. “I’m going to have to hit the treadmill when I get home. Either that, or curb my appetite.” She laughed, patting her stomach. “I should know better than to hike after all that food I ate.”
Ethan and I, only slightly winded by the walk, led Maddie to where the tour guide was already speaking beside the tomb of St. John, whose remains had been buried there in the fourth century A.D. We passed a fountain with several ancient spigots sticking out in a row. Tourists lined up to drink from the sacred waters or fill small glass jars to take home and bury with a loved one—a local tradition that had spread far and wide.
The actual House of Mary turned out to be a slightly underwhelming and simple stone structure, having been reconstructed several times since the original was built high in the mountains as a hiding place centuries before. Made of stone blocks with a domed roof and few windows, the small two room building housed not much more than an altar and a table, tourists being shuttled through five or ten at a time. We entered through an arched wooden doorway, and would have made our way out the other side in only a few seconds, but Maddie stopped at the altar and crossed herself—something I’d only seen her do once many years before. It had been at Grandpa Henry’s funeral, and I had a sudden image of my grandmother, kneeling at an open casket, sobbing and crossing herself over and over and begging God not to take her Henry away.
An eerie sense of doom washed over me. As I was about to fall into line with the other tourists to leave the dank, shadowy interior, Maddie clutched her shoulder and turned wide eyes on me. Her mouth opened but no words came out. The sound of my shriek echoed off the stone walls as I watched her collapse to the hard cold floor.