down the hall to a small room designated for families that one of the nurses had said she could use.
Pieter sank into the lounge chair without speaking and rested his head against the back of the chair.
Removing a Thermos and two mugs from her tote bag, Janan poured lemon-chicken rice soup into the mugs, and handed one to Pieter with a spoon before removing the wrapper from a plate of thinly sliced Leiden cheese, releasing the spicy cumin scent of the golden, piquant cheese into the room as she set it on the low table in front of Pieter.
Pieter lifted his head and slanted a quizzical glance in her direction.
“It’s Leiden cheese. Carl likes it. He says that it’s slightly tart and not as rich as some of the others.” She lifted her mug of soup and Pieter followed her action automatically. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking. You are from Amsterdam not Leiden. Perhaps you would have preferred Edam or Gouda?”
He closed his eyes as he lifted a fragrant slice of cheese from the plate. “I know this cheese well.” The tension in his face lessened as he met her eyes. “I was a student at Leiden University. I went to medical school there, too.”
“Leiden University. I’ve read about it.” Her long ebony eyelashes swept down hiding her eyes. “One of the oldest and still one of the best universities in the world they say.”
“Yes, or at least I think so.” He studied her face as though considering how much he wanted to share with her. “They were happy years.” He paused and directed the conversation to a more neutral topic. “What is your favorite cheese?”
She stood up and put her cup and the Thermos back in her bag. “That would be Tulum Peyniri.” Her voice was husky. “It’s only made in Erzincan. It’s a sharp, salty cheese made from goats’ milk and used to fill borek.” She smiled dreamily. “When you take that first bite of a warm, golden, buttery crisp borek and you taste the slightly salty, velvety, white cheese filling”—her voice trembled slightly—“It’s heaven.”
He pushed himself out of the chair and carried his cup to the table. “You want to go back, don’t you?” His voice was filled with compassion as he moved to stand closer to her.
She closed her eyes for a moment and allowed herself to savor the scent she associated with him—the mixture of lime, bergamot that reminded her of Earl Grey Tea, and the calming hint of lemony vetiver. “I think everyone wants to go home.” Drawing strength from the sense of his body sheltering hers, she continued in a steady voice, “But you don’t go home empty-handed.” She lifted her chin and with a determined edge to her voice said, “I have enrolled in an online Disaster Preparedness Program. The next time there is an earthquake in Erzincan, I will be there to help.”
“You think there will be another one?”
“Well, Erzincan sits on two fault lines—the East Anatolian Fault and the North Anatolian Fault.” She gave him a teasing smile. “Yes, I’d say the odds are high.”
With an approving grunt, Pieter put his arm around her to lift her wrist so that he could see his watch. “We’d better head back.” He moved reluctantly toward the door, with his arm resting lightly around her shoulders as he mentally clicked off the procedures scheduled for the afternoon—the tests that would disclose his fate.
Chapter 4
Eager to be away from the Cancer Institute, Pieter had insisted on walking to the car with Janan, and, as soon as she had maneuvered out of the parking lot, he surprised her by returning to the subject of their earlier drive to the hospital. “What’s keeping Carl from going home?”
“He didn’t talk about it very much as long as his aunt, his mother’s sister, was alive and living there, but after he learned that she had died a few months ago, I think it’s been more on his mind.”
“Who is living in his home now?”
“If I understood it correctly, it would be his aunt’s husband, his son, and his son’s wife.”
Pieter gave a disgusted snort. “Arnold’s parents?” He shifted uneasily in his seat.
Janan glanced at him quickly. “Bone marrow biopsies hurt like the devil. I’ll put an ice pack on your hip as soon as we get home.”
He looked down his long nose and said haughtily, “I thought a patient’s treatment was confidential.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” she snapped. “No one said a word to me about your treatment.” With a