No Greater Love - Eris Field Page 0,17

called Jacks in English, I think.”

“Ah, Bikkelspel in Dutch. I’ve seen children play it with a ball, but in the refugee camps, the children play it with pebbles.”

She stilled. “You work with children in refugee camps?”

He answered hesitantly, “A few hours a week.” He settled against the pillow and, still holding her hand, closed his eyes. “Tell me about Erzincan.”

“It is one of the oldest places in Anatolia. It dates back to the Hittites. At one time it had caravansaries, hans or inns, that welcomed the caravans that travelled the Silk Road from China to the Mediterranean.”

“Go on.”

“Think of a beautiful plateau that is enclosed on all sides by snowcapped mountains.” She closed her eyes and said dreamily, “There are trees of all kinds. When a boy is born, the father plants a poplar or pine tree so that he can use the wood when he is grown. When a girl is born, the father plants an apple tree or a mulberry tree.” She opened her eyes and smiled sadly. “Tomas’ was a tall straight poplar and mine was a Persian mulberry.” She sighed. “It had dark-green heart-shaped leaves and the most delicious berries.” She added after a moment of silence, “The berries stained our fingers and lips a bright red that my mother did not appreciate.”

“Mulberry trees,” he murmured as he imagined kissing those perfectly curved lips stained red with berry juice. “Shakespeare wrote about them. They live for years, you know.”

Janan paused studying the face of the man lying beside her—the broad forehead, sharply defined cheekbones, and the square chin with its slight cleft. His eyes were closed but he seemed tense, and as she felt the pressure of his fingers, she continued, “The winters are harsh but, oh, the summers. Warm sun, crisp air, and the aromas of different spices floating on the breeze. There are the most delicious smells. There is the smoky scent of eggplant and peppers grilling and the spicy whiff of skewered kebobs dripping their juice onto the charcoal.” She closed her eyes. “Best of all is the smell of buttery borek and the faintest smell of salty, melting cheese.”

“And you want to go back more than anything in the world,” he said without opening his eyes.

“It was my home.” She placed her other hand over their clasped hands and after a long pause said, “Now it’s not so much that I want to go back, to go home, as it is that I want to be home.” She tightened her grasp and hurried on before he could say anything, “And you? What do you want more than anything?”

He answered in a low voice, “My own house. Not my mother’s house. Not my brother’s. Mine.” His voice was faint barely above a whisper. “A house with children.” He opened his eyes, no longer drowsy but now a gleaming black, as he took her hand and pressed a burning kiss to her palm. “I dream the impossible dream. Yes?”

Chapter 5

Janan prowled around the small living room. “It’s getting dark out,” she said for the second time.

“It always gets dark early during these last weeks of March, but it’s only 3:30,” Carl said soothingly from his chair by the fireplace.”

“I should have driven him.” She drew back the curtains so that she could see further down the street.

“He said that he was meeting with his friend at 1 p.m. and these things take time.” Carl thought of the many times he had been faced with delivering bad news to a patient. At least for Pieter it would be a friend telling him what his future held. “He and Alan are very close, like brothers.”

“I didn’t realize,” Janan said in a faltering voice. “He said that they had trained together but I did not realize that they were close friends.”

“I think he is closer to Alan than to his own brothers. They went through medical school and much of their training together.” Carl added a small log to the smoldering ones and stirred them with the poker. “About four years ago, Alan’s wife and baby were killed in a car accident. A drunk driver sped through a stop sign and killed them instantly.”

“How awful!” Janan stared at Carl who had resumed his seat. “To find love, to have a child, and then lose it all. How could anyone bear the pain?”

“It was a terribly difficult time for Alan. He had been called in to see a patient. By the time the police reached him, his wife