“He’s got a house here. Didn’t you hear Jane telling us in the car?” Obviously I hadn’t. I was too busy hoping not to die in a fiery wreck after a thousand-foot drop off the side of a mountain.
“I must have missed that,” I said. I’m very proud of myself. I didn’t make a scene, or attract any attention to myself at all. I just sat there, ordered another sangria, and basked in the glow of sitting ten feet away from a major movie star. He finally left, maybe five minutes before we did. And when he was gone, it hit me. I felt so disappointed. I should have gone up to him and at least asked for an autograph or something.
I’m still annoyed at myself now. It was just like in high school. You remember how upset I got when Billy Jackson showed up at the prom alone, because he’d broken up with Marlene Kirkwood two days before, except I didn’t know it. You remember her, she had the lazy eye and her mother always cut her hair. And you remember how upset I was afterwards, knowing that I’d missed my chance to go with him? That’s how I feel right now.
***
It’s a beautiful morning! Everything is right with the world, and I could not possibly be happier. I was feeling bad last night, but Howard came back from the bathroom and saw my mood immediately. He sat down next to me on our bed (as the only married couple, we get our own room. Everyone else has to share, dormitory-style). He asked me, “Betty, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Just feeling sorry for myself. Or mad at myself. I’m not sure which. Maybe both.”
“That’s an awful way to start our time here,” he said. I was all ready to make a smart remark back to him, but he turned his back to me and started looking for something, and if I was going to yell at him, I wanted to do it to his face. And, also, after three sangrias and then a couple more glasses of wine at dinner, I wasn’t the most quick-witted woman in the world at that moment. By the time he turned around, I had just about come up with what I was going to say, but he had something in his hands. I thought it was a piece of paper at first, but it was a menu from the hotel bar. Drunk as I was, I knew what it had to be and I grabbed it out of his hands.
“When did you…?”
Obviously it was an autograph from Mr. Douglas (I’m not sure why I’m calling him that. It just seems proper somehow, you know?). “When you went to the bathroom, right before he left. I saw he was getting ready to go, and I figured you’d kick yourself the whole rest of the trip if you didn’t at least have his autograph. So I got it.”
“You spoke to him?” Howard nodded, and I looked at the autograph more closely. It wasn’t just his name. He’d written, “For Betty. Next time we meet, you can buy me a drink.” And, he signed it with “Love!” When we get home, I’m having it framed and hanging it in the living room where everyone can see it. Maybe I should have it insured, too, just in case.
“Do I need to be jealous?” Howard was smiling, that same self-satisfied smile he had in the taxi yesterday. And – I forgot to tell you this – he’s been standing really straight, his shoulders up, and taking bigger strides when he walks, ever since then.
I gave him an even more smug (“smugger?” Is that a word?) smile right back. “Maybe I could have you guys fight over me. You would, right? You’d fight a movie star for me, wouldn’t you?” I’ll skip the details of what happened next. You can probably guess.
That catches you up. Now it’s time for breakfast and then we’ll go out and do some archaeology!
***
It’s tomorrow morning again (you know what I mean!). I really enjoyed digging, not that I found anything exciting. But it was only the first day, and nobody found anything spectacular. I’m not sure what I was expecting to find – Bill isn’t exactly looking for ancient treasures here. And anyway, we’ve still got twelve more days to go. But I did plenty of digging in my square.
That was the very first thing Bill told us. We all dig in one-meter by one-meter squares. They’re all marked off, so that if we do find something important, he can identify exactly where it was. But we had to call them by their proper name. We could say “square” or “unit” or “trench” or even “pit.” Anything except “hole.” That word was forbidden, and Bill said that he would fine anyone who used it a dollar (he’s American; I mentioned that, didn’t I? Well, he is).
When we broke for a snack at noon, Jane told us, “He’s serious about the ‘h-word.’ He bought the new Land Rover with dollars he collected that way.” But she was grinning the whole time, even when she messed up a half-hour later and had to pay him a dollar herself.
We chatted with her in the afternoon, and she told us a couple more stories about Sara that I’d never heard before. Did you know that she spent her first two weeks of college mooning over some boy named Mark? I don’t recall her ever mooning over any boys, except Brian, of course. That’s something else we’ll have to ask her about when we get home.
When we were done, around two o’clock, we headed back for lunch. This is why they eat dinner at eight – they start the working day at ten in the morning, and have lunch at two in the afternoon. Then, we went up to “the lab,” which is next door to Bill’s house (as is the Deia Archaeological Museum and Research Centre where Bill displays the results of thirty years of work here). We had an hour of Bill lecturing us about the history of the island, and what he’s trying to accomplish. It was very interesting, but I’ll tell you all about that when I get home and I can show you the pictures and maps and everything he gave us. It’ll make much more sense that way. I think it’ll be helpful for us, because now we know why we’re digging where we are, and what it would mean if we find what Bill is looking for (a very specific and rare kind of pottery).
After our lecture, we had time to ourselves until dinner. We walked down a long, rocky path to a tiny beach, along with Claudia and Megan. I just wanted to see the beach, and Howard was humoring me, but once we got down there, Megan took off her jeans and sweatshirt to reveal a bathing suit underneath, and she went straight in the water.
I’m shivering in sympathy as I write this. It was a beautiful day, and the sun was out, but it was still only sixty degrees or so. So the water couldn’t have been any warmer than that. The girl just went right in, as though swimming in frigid water with God knows what sort of sea creatures lurking under the surface was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
And then Claudia took off her jeans and her sweatshirt. I honestly wasn’t angry at Howard, not even in the moment, not even for a second, when his eyes almost popped out of his head. Because mine did, too.
I just hope the Devil gave her a good deal when she sold her soul for her looks. Not that I’m jealous. Not one tiny bit. If I were her age, though? And single? I think I’d have to kill her. And that would be a shame, because she’s so sweet, and polite, too. There’s literally nothing wrong with her. No flaws at all, physical or mental or emotional.
If I had to compete with her, I’d definitely have to kill her!
***
Today is December 22nd. So I’ve missed writing for three days, I think. I should have been dating this as I went along, but it’s too late now. Anyway, it’s almost bedtime and I wanted to tell you what’s been going on before Howard comes back to the room.
Three nights ago, after our walk down to the beach, and a wonderful dinner and a drunken game of charades (don’t ask), we went up to bed. Howard shut the door and came over to me. I was already on the bed, and he sat next to me. “Betty,” he said, “you want to know something? That girl,” Claudia, obviously, “is really something. But she’s got nothing on you.” He was staring into my eyes, losing himself in them the way he always has, right from the very first time we met.
I believed him, even though the objective truth is that if you gave me a team of plastic surgeons, every product in the beauty department at Nordstrom’s, a time machine and three wishes from a genie, I still could never compare to that girl. But
in Howard’s world, I’m the only woman there is. And he’s the only man for me.
Still, you know me, Kat. I looked up at him, batted my eyes, and used “the voice” on him. You know exactly what I mean. Remember how we used to sit up all night in your bedroom practicing until we got it perfect, so that no man would be able to resist us? I can still do it! “You’re just trying to get me into bed, Mister,” I said.
He gave it right back to me. “I’ve already got you in bed, lady.”
He certainly did! And then - well, we made it three days in a row. The last time we did that was - I don’t even remember. Maybe ten years ago, after we got back from taking Sara and Bob to college, when he was a freshman and we had a truly empty house for the first time in twenty years?
Afterwards, I said to Howard, “You know something? Even if Michael Douglas came and knocked on the door right now – and I mean the younger him, from ‘The Streets of San Francisco’ or even ‘Romancing the Stone,’ - I’d tell him ‘No, thanks, I’m taken,’ and put the bar on the door.”
I should have saved that to tell him that the next day. We might have gotten up to four days in a row! I think that would have been a new record for us. But what we actually did that night was almost as nice. Maybe even better, to tell the truth.
We took a walk outside, after everyone else had gone to bed. We didn’t go far, and we didn’t go anywhere in particular. We just looked up at the stars. There were so many of them, Kat! I’ve never seen anything like that night sky. The moon was just past new and casting almost no light at all. And we couldn’t see any lights from the town. It was simply breathtaking. We just walked and stared and at some point we realized we were holding hands and both barely breathing. It was so silent, too – the only sound we could hear was our own footsteps, and our hearts beating. We didn’t say a word, either of us, the whole time. I know we were both thinking the same thing: how peaceful this was, and how incredibly lucky we were to be able to see it, and to share it with each other.
You’re almost caught up. We went to bed, and both of us were asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillow. Then, yesterday, Howard found some very nice pottery while we were digging. It wasn’t exactly what Bill was looking for, but it was a very big piece and it was from the right time period, so Bill was still happy about it. He passed it all around, and it was very exciting to hold in my hand something that’s almost 4,000 years old. That was the big excitement - oh, and emailing Sara. Bill let me use his computer, and I spent an hour typing out a heavily edited version of everything I’ve told you.
I would have emailed you, too, but I know you only check your email once every six months or so, and only then if someone harasses you into it. You really do need to join the 21st century, Kat. If I’ve done it, you have no excuse not to. Although, technically, we’re still not in the 21st century yet – as Bill has reminded us several times, the new century doesn’t begin until January 1st, 2001.
Anyway, that gets you all caught up. Now back to digging.
***
I’m in the hospital as I write to you now. Don’t worry – it’s not me or Howard who’s injured. It’s one of our fellow volunteers – Vanessa, whom we now know is actually ninety-one years old. By the way, it’s Sunday afternoon, Christmas Eve.
It happened this morning. We were just coming back upstairs after breakfast, and we heard a shout, a thump and another shout. It came from the room that Vanessa, Lynn and Claire were sharing. I opened the door, and poor Vanessa was lying on the floor. I held my breath for a moment, fearing the worst, but as soon as I got a good look at her I could see that she was breathing, and I relaxed slightly. I went over to her just as her daughter came in from the bathroom.
“I slipped,” Vanessa said. “I was taking off my shoes, and I lost my balance.” I’ve been working in Sara’s office for more than two years, and I’ve learned more than I ever wanted to know about injuries of all kinds. I looked at her feet, and her left ankle was already swelling up. She looked as though she was going to try and get up, and Lynn was moving to help her.
“Don’t,” I said. “I can see from here. Your ankle’s broken.” If it were just a sprain, it wouldn’t swell up that quickly.
Vanessa didn’t want to hear it. “I appreciate your concern, young lady, but I know my own body.”
She actually called me “young lady!” I had to fight to suppress laughter. Her daughter wasn’t laughing at all. “Mother, maybe we should listen to her. She does work in a doctor’s office.”
By this time, Claudia and Megan had poked their heads in. I recalled something Megan had said a couple of days before – she’d sprained her ankle a few months ago, and she always carried around an ace bandage just in case. I asked her, “Megan, can we borrow your ace bandage?” and five minutes later I was wrapping Vanessa’s ankle. I was as gentle as I could be, but her reaction to my touch confirmed that I was right.
When I was done, we discussed what to do. Bill and his wife were both gone until the afternoon, and Jane was nowhere to be found. But Bill’s old Land Rover was parked in the garage downstairs, and the keys were hanging by the front door. “She needs to go to the hospital,” I said.
“I’ll drive,” Howard volunteered. He didn’t have to think about it, he just decided. Exactly the way he always does, when something important needs to be done. He picked Vanessa up and carried her down the stairs, outside and into the back seat of the Land Rover. I found a map in Bill’s bookshelf on the main floor of the house, and got into the car. It was very odd sitting in what ought to be the driver’s seat, as a passenger.
The drive was slightly less tense than the trip from the airport to Deia, because we were on the opposite side of the road. There was much less chance of going over the edge and plummeting to our deaths. Thinking about it rationally, we would have been just as dead if we were rammed into the side of the mountain, but somehow that prospect didn’t bother me nearly as much.
Between the map and the sometimes-confusing road signs, we somehow managed to get to the hospital in Palma. Visiting the emergency room in Spain is the same as visiting one back home – plenty of waiting. Luckily, the doctor who examined Vanessa spoke English, and he rendered the verdict: I was right, a broken ankle.
“I have not broken a bone in ninety-one years,” Vanessa said when she heard the news. “I had hoped to live out my life that way. To do it tripping over my own feet like this, it’s undignified.” The way she said “undignified,” she made it sound like one of the seven deadly sins.
Bill and Jane showed up a little while ago, and they’re in with Vanessa right now. I expected him to be angry that we commandeered his car, but he wasn’t. “Good man,” he told Howard after we explained everything. “Calm under fire. You’re welcome to drive back, if you want. I’m sure Jane won’t mind.” No, but I might!
***
Merry Christmas, Kat! It’s very strange not being with Sara and the kids on Christmas Day, and it’s also strange because December 25th isn’t a big deal here. In Deia, they have their big celebration on the 12th day of Christmas – what my grandmother used to call “little Christmas,” and what everyone else calls the Feast of the Epiphany. But Bill and Jackie had small gifts for all of us to open, and in a little while we’re going to go back to the hospital and bring Christmas dinner to poor Vanessa.
I just got off the phone with Sara and the kids. It was so wonderful to hear their voices! I’m glad I remembered to include the phone number here in my email to her so she could call us. I wish I could call you, but I don’t want to presume on Bill’s hospitality and run up his phone bill. Can you forgive me?
Of course you can. You forgave me for accidentally letting it slip that you were the one who broke the driver’s side mirror right off of your father’s car back in tenth grade, right?
Right?
Anyway, we’re off to the hospital, so I’ll talk to you
later. Merry Christmas again!
***
This is the last night of the trip. We’re going downstairs for dinner in a few minutes, but I wanted to write while I had the chance. We’ll have our full complement of volunteers tonight. Vanessa returned from the hospital about an hour ago, with a walking boot on her ankle. Joe, our young man fresh out of college, has been assigned as her transportation. He’ll carry her up and down the stairs tonight and tomorrow morning. Howard offered to do it, but I vetoed the idea. His back was very sore after we got back from the hospital. There’s no point in making it worse, especially when we have a young, strong and healthy man to do the job instead.
We had a great morning. It was our final day of digging, and at about eleven o’clock, I made the biggest and best find of anyone on the whole trip. We’d all been finding pottery, and tiny bits of glass dating back to Roman times, and all kinds of animal bones and Megan found a Roman coin. But I finally found a good-sized piece of the pottery Bill was looking for. I saw the tiniest hint of something, and I very carefully dug it out with my fingers. It took half an hour to get it free, but I wasn’t going to take a chance on using any tools and ruining it.
I knew as soon as I saw it – the piece is about three inches square, with an intricate design etched into it, exactly like Bill showed us when we got here. I stood up and shouted, “Take that, Stewart Granger! Look what I found!”
Howard smiled, and Bill couldn’t control himself; he dropped to his knees in laughter. Everyone else looked at me blankly. “’King Solomon’s Mines?’ None of you ever saw it? Seriously?” I started to explain, but then Bill recovered his composure and saw what I was holding up.