PART FIVE
Naxos Town was a port on the northwest shore of the island. One of Kathryn's first visits was to the town with its many restaurants as well as a few hotels. Its main attraction was the ancient ruins of the Temple of Apollo situated on a tiny islet just north of the harbour. Once land between the two shores had been reclaimed, visitors could walk along a narrow strip to reach the Palatia where the ruins were situated. Now, a causeway joined the two shores. The temple was, in actual fact, an unfinished building project after the tyrant Lygdamus abdicated; the majestic marble gate of the temple remained the only structure visible. It was at sunset that the gate glowed red, causing many a visitor to gasp at the beauty of this gateway to the horizon.
Kathryn had made Palatia her first visit the day of her arrival and now, ten days later, she knew the town well.
She had found quaint shops that sold crafts, but it was the Saturday craft market where old and young Greek designers displayed their crafts, that drew everyone's attention. On Saturdays, visitors from all over the world, and other worlds, visited just to purchase crafts, leaving again by the end of the weekend or on the same day.
It suited most visitors that way. She smiled inwardly. She was already thinking of herself as an islander. The weather was perfect with temperatures around 28°C every day, so she had taken to wearing only tank tops and matching sarongs with espadrilles. She had purchased the espadrilles the previous Saturday on her first visit to the Naxos Craft Market.
It was therapeutic, browsing the market. She remembered the many times during their Delta Quadrant years they had homed in on the markets of the homeworlds they visited just to browse around. From time to time, she would touch an urn, study a painting or finger the glorious fabrics they used to make sarongs, long skirts, day dresses. She had also bought herself a wide-brimmed straw hat to shield her eyes from the sun.
"You look like summer. Anything I can do for you today, Mrs Janeway?" asked one artist, who was displaying handcrafted jewellery. She had met him the previous week when she purchased a necklace from him and, like an oracle proclaiming the birth of something great, he had declared that the necklace had been waiting two years for the right person to claim it. Stavros was friendly and easy going, and she found him uncomplicated.
"I'll be here for a while, Stavros," she replied, smiling. "It wouldn't be good buying all your stocks and leaving nothing for the off-world visitors, would it now?"
"That may be so," Stavros replied with a wide grin. "But this dainty tortoise shell necklace would only look pretty if it hangs round your neck..."
"You told me that last week when I bought this one," she replied, touching the one she was already wearing.
"But it's true! Just look at it! Beautiful, isn't she?"
Stavros designated all his necklaces and bracelets as "she".
"Not today, okay? There will be other times," she said, laughing at his comical expression. She lifted another necklace and held it so that the sunlight glinted off it, examining its intricate design.
"Don't look now, Mrs Janeway, but there's a man looking at you. He's been looking for a while, too. I'm surprised you haven't seen him. He was here last weekend as well. Then I didn't think much about his looking at you because you're a very beautiful woman and any man cannot help but be drawn to your peerless beauty..."
"Stavros!"
"And you were fitting on that hat you're wearing now and you hair glinted like diamonds in the sun. You didn't notice him?"
"How could I?" she said with a smile. "You just told me not to look."
"Okay, Mrs Janeway. He's looking the other way. You can peep now. I think he likes you. He can't seem to keep his eyes off you... He's wearing a blue shirt..."
Kathryn turned, looking in the direction Stavros indicated with just a nod of his head. The man stood at the other end of the first row of stalls. He had dark hair. She frowned, thinking he looked familiar and when he turned, it was too late to feign disinterest. He had seen her looking at him. Smiling, he raised his hand in a small salute. She acknowledged his greeting and he moved out of sight. Turning to Stavros she put down the necklace she had been holding.
"Well, he's just one of many visitors here. He'll probably leave today..."
"He's been following you, you know."
She felt her cheeks flaming, not only because Stavros was openly appraising her with his youthful brashness which she thought was non-threatening, but the way he seemed convinced that she’d attracted another person on the island.
"Stavros, don't put a construction on something that isn't there."
"Fine, if you don't want to believe me," Stavros said, a little aggrieved that his matchmaking had come to naught.
The stranger was gone. She hoped he didn't bump into her somewhere else. Kathryn sauntered among the stalls. She bought a sarong, two ankle-length dresses and another pair of sandals.
I shouldn't have brought along so much luggage, she thought absently, as she strolled to the flitter that would take her home. It would be a good idea to store some of the clothes she’d brought with her, since the weather was perfect every day, and she could walk around the house in a bikini if she chose. At the terminal, just before she boarded her transport, she frowned when she saw the same man again, staring intently at her. Shrugging, she sat back and enjoyed the short ride to her house, the handsome face of the stranger forgotten.
*********
The sunsets were impossibly beautiful. Every evening she'd walk on the small, secluded beach or sit on the patio with an ice-cold drink and stare with almost dumbfounded amazement at the setting sun. It hovered in the sky, though she knew that the simmering heat waves created the impression that the sun was hovering. It tumbled slowly to the horizon; a gentle goodbye to all who looked at the blood red disc that slowly changed to orange as it blended with the azure sky and brilliance of the inky blue horizon. Then it settled in preparation for its final farewell, staying away until it was morning again and Kathryn could look towards the mountains when it rose once more.
The first evening she watched the sunset, it brought tears to her eyes. It had never looked so beautiful, so unblemished, so 'missed' as she had experienced it on the first day. More than anything else, it was Earth's natural geographic wonders, its sunrises and sunsets that made her most aware that she was home. No matter where they’d reposed for shore leave, it was never quite the same. The knowledge that it was just a reminder of home was one the one of the reasons that kept them from settling somewhere in the Delta Quadrant.
Now, as she looked at the horizon and welcomed the growing darkness, she was struck again by how at home she felt here on Naxos. She had slept the first few days fitfully, with Chakotay sometimes intruding in her dreams. Then it was the thought of a Chakotay who could make her melt with passion, sending her body into a maelstrom of heat. When she woke, it was with the pleasant feeling that he was, after all, with her.
Her days had taken on a tableau that was without any routine. She followed her impulses, rose from bed whenever she wanted to, went for long walks along the other sandy beaches and returned home exhausted. She didn't even have to eat at regular times and only prepared something when she felt really hungry. It was the first major difference from the ritualistic habits she had fallen into her life in San Francisco.
Kathryn gave a tense little smile remembering how she used to slice her boiled egg through with great precision, how her fruit would be sliced in exactly even slices, the toast looking perfect and positioned perfectly on the plate; how knife and fork lay equidistant from the edge of her plate, and from the edge of the table.
Chakotay had never said a word, but she knew he was disturbed by her behaviour.
Now, there was no routine. She sat with a book on her lap, and when she stopped, she'd leave it lying open at the last page she was reading.
It had gone dark now, and the lights were on in the lounge. Sighing with pleasure, she rose to fix herself a light meal. A sudden image of the man who had been watching her at the craft market and the transport terminal came to her. He looked dashing, she conceded. Stavros was right. She hadn’t been able to see the man's eyes from a distance, but guessed they had to be dark. It suited his overall looks. He wasn't young like Stavros. More around her own age.
He must have a family then, surely.
On an impulse, she decided to have some pancakes. They were filled with banana and cinnamon, with toffee syrup over them. She ate slowly, with great relish, closing her eyes as the sticky sweetness laced her taste buds. She thought how strange it was that she hadn't drunk any coffee since her arrival and instantly ordered black coffee without sugar to balance the sweetness of the pancakes. She realised with a pang that she had not had any other solid food, yet after the dessert she felt replete.
She went to bed, lying propped up against her pillows to read until her eyes drooped. She turned to look at the framed photograph of Chakotay on the bedstand. He had been smiling into the imager. It had been taken on the Risa vacation three years ago, and he’d looked relaxed for the first time since Seven of Nine had done him such a terrible injustice. His dimples were deep and achingly familiar.
Last Wednesday when he’d called, she had been in good spirits, telling him how much she was enjoying the island.
"The island boasts an ancient ruin, the Temple of Apollo."
"Apollo..." Chakotay’s eyes had a yearning look in them.
"Yes. It's situated on a tiny islet just north of Naxos port. In the old days, a narrow strip of land joined the Palatia - that's what they call the islet - to thee harbour."
"Causeways, I guess."
"Today, yes. The marble doorway is a landmark and Chakotay, I do wish you could see the sunsets from the harbour, with the doorway framed against the red sky... It's so beautiful..."
"I shall have to read everything. Maybe one day - "
"What?"
"Who knows, Kathryn?"
She had sighed, not daring to guess at what he desired. He still looked worried and she assured him gently that it was what they had agreed upon. Then he had given her news from home. Her mother and stepfather had moved into their new home in northern California. Phoebe had gone off-world with her partner Rodea, a Bajoran she’d met at an exhibition of Bajoran Art depicting their years of Struggle. The dogs, Molly IV and Missy II, missed her.
"They always expect to see us together, Kathryn," his eyes creasing as he smiled.
"When you go down again, tell them I haven't forgotten them."
"I miss you, Kathryn..."
She had sighed, not giving him an answer when she signed off.
His face stared at her from the photo. It seemed to tell her, "I'm always more comfortable when you lie in my arms..."
She settled in, lying on her side facing the photo, her book forgotten as she reached to caress Chakotay's cheek.
When she drifted into slumber, it was the stranger's face that loomed large in her mind.
*******
Lexos had once been a small village on the north-eastern side of the island. Now there were a few houses and a white-washed temple with stained glass windows. It was a twenty first century Greek Orthodox church, which was now a chapel used by anyone who wished to find some spiritual repose. Last week, she’d found it after she had paged through the brochure for all the attractions of Naxos.
Then she had taken a quick visit to the chapel and instantly fell in love with its simple architecture and its interior design which, while not adhering to any specific form of worship or religion, did give her that grounding feeling of being in a place of worship and intercession.
Glad to be out of the sun, she entered the foyer, wearing an orange-yellow patterned sarong, a black tank top and her straw hat. On an impulse she removed her espadrilles, the stone floor cool as she walked up the aisle. Along the walls were large paintings of idyllic scenes from all over the Aegean Sea and Athens. The stained glass windows portrayed scenes from Earth's Renaissance period, depicting details of famous paintings of that period.
Stavros had told her that the stained glass art was created by an artist called Bekimsa Roussos living on Patmos, one of the other islands. She thought how fitting it was that Naxos's Craft Market attracted so many people from all over the Federation, that even the chapel displayed the uniqueness of the region.
This evening, she was alone in the chapel. The old verger had escaped quietly into one of the side rooms at the back. The atmosphere was serene and as she sat down in the second pew from the front, she could feel herself centring again. Her bitterness, thinking about the nights in their apartment, how more and more they were drifting apart, not finding things to talk about anymore, slowly left her. They had been such great friends and, she thought, perfect friends. Then things had gone wrong. They were both to blame. Sighing, she closed her eyes for a few moments, allowing the quietude to wash over her. Her hands were folded on her lap and she sat back against the hard backrest of the pew. She loved Chakotay, and it hurt so much that he didn't love her back in full measure, trading on their friendship to carry them along. Hadn’t she done the same to him on Voyager, when she thought their friendship was enough to carry them until they got home?
A sound coming from the back of the chapel made her sit up. Realising she was no longer alone, if she didn't count the old verger, she took her espadrilles, got up and walked slowly to the exit. The verger was still in his rooms, of that she was sure. The red sunset only briefly diverted her as she paused to admire its beauty. Kathryn heard the sound again, like someone had stepped on a twig. Frowning, she turned to look sideways and saw a figure emerge from a clump of olive trees.
"I'm sorry," the man said. "I didn't mean to startle you..."
"Why are you following me?" she asked, a little irritated and also intrigued. He stepped closer to her and she could swear he looked relieved that he’d found her. Stavros had told her that the man had been at the market the previous weekend observing her from a distance.
"Forgive me," he said as he stood in front of her. "I mean no harm. You are a new arrival on the island and last week I - "
"I've been here ten days, yes. Stavros told me about you yesterday. But why are you following me?"
Up close, she could see his eyes. As she had surmised, they were almost black. He had the tanned appearance of the islanders, probably from living every day in the bright Aegean sunshine. Strange how she didn't feel threatened by the stranger. Was it because, despite his smile, his mouth drooped a little from a secret sadness?
"You are alone here on vacation. And no, I'm not pouncing on women travelling alone," he started to explain. "Stavros - "
"Ah, Stavros. The one who talks."
"Told me you're from San Francisco and you're spending your vacation here. I couldn't help but notice you're alone."
"And that gave you dispensation to follow me. Who are you? A stalker or protector?"
He laughed out loud. It sounded bright and free, in contrast to the sadness around the edges of his mouth and his eyes.
She experienced a sudden thrill of excitement.
"I'm sorry. My name is Ché," he said, holding his hand to her in greeting. She took his hand in a firm, comfortable grip.
"I'm Kathryn Janeway," she said. "You have a last name, I presume? Just in case I have to report you to the authorities?"
Another smile that transformed his features.
"Ché Banderas."
"Well, Ché Banderas, I'm pleased to meet you."
"Likewise, Kathryn Janeway," he said. The smile of earlier faded the minute he released her hand then lifted her left hand, looking at the ring on her wedding finger.
"Yes, I'm married. My husband is teaching summer school at James T. Kirk University in California. You?"
There was the droop again as he suddenly became sober and his eyes darkened a little.
"I was married. My wife died three years ago. I...loved her very much... I come to this chapel often for reflection."
"I'm sorry to hear that she died," Kathryn replied, sympathy welling in her for this stranger who was no longer a stranger. She gestured to the entrance of the chapel. "I found this charming place last week and it just drew me here again."
"It does leave one with a sense of inner peace," he agreed.
"Are you at one of the hotels?" she asked.
He nodded, becoming thoughtful for a moment.
"Look," Ché said, "I have to leave for my hotel and collect my luggage. I am here again next weekend, from Friday afternoon. I live in Louisiana but spend every weekend here. I've grown to love the islands and can never get enough of them." He paused, looking uncertainly at her.
"Is anything the matter?" she asked. She bent to slip on her sandals and when she stood up, she glanced at him. He had the advantage over her, having had time to observe her the previous weekend. Of all the visitors on the island - she knew there were many other women who travelled alone - he‘d sought out her. Last week and yesterday, he’d followed her around the craft market. Now he’d almost invaded her privacy in the chapel.
"Ché?"
"I'd like to see you again, Kathryn Janeway, if it's okay..."
"You've only just met me... That is, if you don't count your peeping tom times."
"I think we could be good company for one another. Besides, I know these islands well..."
"For someone I've just met, you're assuming an awful lot, Ché Banderas."
Ché looked eager. She thought it was very sweet of him to ask permission, and that the company wouldn't hurt her or him. He reminded her of Chakotay with his dark hair and eyes, his height and built. While she didn't feel particularly lonely here on Naxos, it didn't mean she was disinclined to make friends. Besides, it was time she sought the company of other regular visitors to the islands. Ché was handsome, intriguing; she felt a sudden, inexplicable attraction to this man, her heart fluttering with unaccustomed intensity. Something was happening, something that thrilled her. Her mind told her to reject his request and send him packing, literally. Her heart... Her bruised heart wanted to know this man.
"Friends?"
"Sure," he replied.
"You know the islands better than I do, Ché Banderas. I could use a tour guide."
Ché took a breath and let it out slowly. Then he smiled and took her hand again.
"Thank you, Kathryn Janeway. I'm not normally so impulsive - "
"Ah, and you don't normally make a habit of following women around."
He laughed.
"No," he admitted. "I don't."
"Well, I'll see you around next weekend, Ché Banderas."
They shook hands and he remained behind, watching as she walked towards her waiting transport.
********
End Part 5