them, with tears flowing from his eyes too. The two girls clung to each other for an endless moment, and it seemed as though Vanessa was never going to let go.
“Oh, baby …” she kept saying over and over. “Oh, Charlie.”
“You came back.” Charlotte looked up at her rapturously, with the face of her mother and the eyes of a child. “You came back.”
“Yes, love.” Vanessa looked down at her, a woman at last. A smile lit her eyes behind the tears. “I did.”
56
For the next two weeks the threesome was inseparable. Vanessa went everywhere with Charlie, except when she was in school, and then Vanessa spent her time with Andreas. They were alone again at night, after Charlie went to bed, and then their life continued as it had before Charlie had got back to Athens. It was an idyllic time for them all, and Vanessa had never been happier. She had everything she wanted, a man she loved, a sister she adored, and now all the good memories returned as she put away the others. She remembered times she had had with her mother, and seeing Charlie brought it all back to her. She dared now to touch the past, like a magic blanket she had brought with her over the years and always hidden.
It was during the second week that Charlie had come back that Vanessa got up one morning and Andreas didn't come to breakfast. She was worried when he didn't come down as he always did, trim in his English suits, and his perfectly starched white shirts, his hair impeccably in place, and smelling of lavender and spices.
“Is he all right, do you suppose?” Vanessa looked at her sister with a worried frown. He had seemed all right the night before, but she didn't mention that to Charlie. They were keeping their love affair a secret.
Charlie looked troubled too as she buttered a piece of toast. “I think it may be one of his bad days. If it is, we can call the doctor after breakfast,” The ravishing child swung her hair over her shoulder and began to munch on her toast.
“One of his bad days?” Vanessa looked confused.
“Sometimes he has them.” She looked at Vanessa strangely, a question in her eyes, but Vanessa seemed not to understand her. “Was he all right while I was gone?”
“He was fine.” Vanessa felt worry begin to tighten her chest. “Is he ill?”
For a long moment Charlotte said nothing. She sat in all her silky black splendor, her enormous green eyes piercing into Vanessa's. They were bright with tears when she spoke again, but her voice was calm. “He hasn't told you?” Vanessa shook her head.
“He has cancer.” For an instant Vanessa felt as though she could feel the room twirl, and then clutching the breakfast table, she stared at her sister.
“Are you serious?”
Charlotte nodded quietly, with all the dignity of her mother. “He's had it for two years. He told me almost right away. He said I had to know, because there was no one else to take care of me afterward. He said I would have to grow up quickly because of that.” The tears began to slide down her face and it was difficult to continue. “I could live with any of his children, but”—she gulped —”it wouldn't be the same. And he's right.” She was crying openly now, looking at Vanessa. “It wouldn't.”
“Oh, my God.” Vanessa went around the table to where she sat, and sat down with her arm around her. “Oh, poor baby.” But her thoughts were in a jumble as she cradled her sister on her shoulder. “Can't they do anything for him?”
Charlie sniffed loudly. “They have. They've done wonders. We almost lost him last year.” Her English was precise and Vanessa loved her accent. She loved everything about her. “But then he got better again. He wasn't too well just before I left, but then he seemed to be all right, and he promised me that if he got sick he'd call me on the boat and I'd come back. It's in his liver and his stomach.” Vanessa thought over the meals they had shared, and remembered noticing that he ate very little. She thought at the time that it was vanity and that was why he ate so little, to keep his figure. Now she felt heartsick at what she had heard. The man that she loved was dying. For an instant she felt sorry for herself, remembering that