Chapter 1

SIPPING AN ICE-COLD COKE straight from the bottle, the glass damp with condensation, and slouching in the chair with my bare feet up on the balcony wall, I studied the sweeping vista before me. In all the years I'd lived here I'd never tired of it.

Heat beat down in an unceasing wave from an azure sky with small cotton-ball clouds almost immobile, as if they were playing a trick on me, refusing to move until I looked away then inching across the sky just to freeze again at my glance. Perspiration formed at my temples, tickling slightly as each drop slowly found a meandering path down the side of my face, gaining speed as it hit the clear runway of my neck. The back of my white cotton shirt was stuck to the wooden chair, not the most comfortable feeling, I decided. And I was too lazy to unwind the blue and white striped sun awning to give me some respite. I didn't care. Eight hundred plus feet below me the Aegean Sea moved like slow liquid sapphire, ripples crossing the caldera - the crater formed by a sunken extinct volcano. I watched ripples catch the sun sending winking diamond-like pulses of intense light lancing into my eyes and making me squint. I knew from experience those ripples were, in fact, foot-high swells. But from this distance and height, they had the appearance of ripples on a pond, lines of nature's aqua army marching across the sapphirine expanse with regimental precision and perfect geometric beauty.

The air, normally crystal clear, was slightly opaque, almost smoggy, a haze of distorting heat hanging over the island. We hadn't had a decent wind in several days and the meltemia - a summer wind that normally swept across the island - was not in the forecast. In the distance across from me I could see Therasia, a long seemingly barren brown-gray rocky island and home to two hundred and fifty hardy souls. Shielding my brow I casually watched seagulls circling over the distant marina below, tiny white dots moving, some clockwise some counter clockwise, creating an avian wind-devil. They must have found a school of fish, or discarded chum, or floating garbage.

Sharp car horns honked, bleated, and echoed. Mopeds sped by sounding desperate, tinny and frail like angry wasps, drawing my attention to the noise of a bustling town around and behind me, a miasma of sounds blending together. One had to concentrate to discriminate them; a bicycle bell ringing out a warning, two males arguing vociferously, unidentifiable clunking and clattering, cars revving high as they climbed the steep street; all sounds I had grown used to, the background music of my life.

Condensation on the Coca-Cola bottle dripped and dampened my shirt front as I took another swig.

Glancing at the old wind-up Timex on my wrist, I realised I'd need to head out soon. I also noticed the leather wristband fraying. I'd have to replace it soon before it broke and I lost my most precious possession. Eleven-twenty. Should I eat before leaving? No. I could stop and get something fresh on the way back.

Nerves fluttered in my stomach. It was an unusual feeling for me. And, to be honest, I didn't really like it. But the fact was I was very nervous. What would she look like?

I hadn't heard from my sister in going on fifteen years. Her call had come as a huge surprise as I sat watching satellite news in the living room, a late sun dropping towards the horizon casting a yellow-gold parting display of glory through the glass and wood double doors. Sunlight on the wall was distorted, small imperfections in the handmade window panes magnified by light passing through them, adding decorative swirls and splotches on the wall.

Lost in the developing situation in Syria as reported by al Jazeera, the sudden startling ring of the telephone had made me jump as if electrocuted.

I'd reached for the cordless phone on a side table without thinking, without looking and, typically me, knocked it to the floor. Scrabbling around on hands and knees I finally found it. It had made its way under the side table somehow as if the damn thing had a mind of its own, deliberately trying to hide from me, maybe protecting me, a warning, 'Don't answer, you'll regret it.'

"Hello?" I said into the recalcitrant handset, still on my hands and knees.

"Aidan?"

"Yes?" I articulately responded, rising and flopping back on the couch, bare feet finding the coffee table for support.

"It's Alexis."

I sat with the phone to my ear, stunned into immobility. I hadn't heard my younger sister's voice in at least a decade and a half. It immediately brought images to mind; her fine-boned slenderness, long ruler-straight dark chestnut hair, pretty face, intense dark and serious eyes, a smile that warmed me inside.

"Aidan?"

"Yeah?"

"It's me, Alexis! Don't you recognise your sister's voice?"

Her voice sounded the same; soft, clear, intelligent, and articulate. I knew she was an accomplished scientist, a marine biologist, and highly respected. I'd read her articles even though I couldn't understand them, followed her exploits, and kept track of her speaking engagements. But that voice; I hadn't heard it in so long.

"AIDAN!"

"Sorry, Sis. I ... You shocked me." Absentmindedly I bent forward and reached for the remote, looking for the unfamiliar mute button. Aiming it at the TV, I stabbed the button several times, the sound flickering off, on, off, on, off, on. Shit! Finally silence descended.

I seemed to have become mute and dumb all-of-a-sudden, listening to the hissing silence of several thousand miles of telephone line. I guess I could have talked had my mind decided to show up. But it hadn't.

"Aidan? Are you all right?" Alexis asked. "Is this a bad time?"

"Yeah. No. Sorry. You caught me off guard." What did she want? Maybe I should ask? "Uh, what's up?"

"How are you?" she asked.

"Good." Man I sounded stupid.

Silence filled the void again. I'd had thousands of things to say to my sister over the years, thoughts and feelings I'd wanted to tell her about. I'd had successes and failures in work and in love that I'd wished I'd been able to share with her. And, with almost fifteen years of accumulated news, I couldn't find my voice. I couldn't start.

It was an awkward, stilted conversation that followed, Alexis actually asking me for a favour after all these years. I'd agreed instantly, unhesitatingly, and unthinkingly before hearing what the favour was. Had she asked for the world, I'd have stolen it for her. It had always been that way with Alexis. Since she was born I had been driven to protect her. Adolescence, rather than driving a wedge between us, kept us close. Much of it had to do with the family constantly moving as we followed Dad's job, friends increasingly hard to make, isolation a lonesome burden we'd shared.

Now I was nervous, stomach flittering. Now I was regretting my largesse. Sitting sweating on the balcony, in the harsh light of day, I wasn't quite sure I'd made the right decision.

With a final sip of Coke, draining the bottle, I burped to release built-up gas and swung bare feet off the balcony wall. Rising, I stared at the town to my left and right as it clung to the edge of the cliff, whitewashed walls blindingly bright, sapphirine blue domes and minarets sharply standing out, the jumbled mishmash of square homes seemingly piled one on top of the other in an unplanned, haphazard spread. From my viewpoint I could see sparkling crystal clear swimming pools in enclosed back yards glittering blue in the sun. Oia was quintessentially Greek. It was quaint and charming. It was home.

Turning, I stepped through open wood and multi-paned double doors into the cool dimness of my living room. The hardwood floor, ebony-dark with age, felt beautifully cool on my bare feet. I wended my way to the kitchen, dropping the empty Coke bottle into a half-full recycle bin, glass clinking against glass, Coke and green Mythos beer bottles. Glancing at my watch again I decided to head out, even if it was a bit early. I was too antsy. I could mosey along and enjoy the scenery; try to relax. Santorini National Airport was only half an hour away.

Peeling the sweaty shirt off my back, I headed upstairs to change, maybe put on some socks and shoes, too.

WEATHER WAITED PATIENTLY FOR the cramped aisle line-up to move. She felt sticky heat flow through the aircraft cabin when the door opened. It made her shiver involuntarily. Standing, backpack over one shoulder, she leaned against the airplane seat headrest with one arm, waiting. Her mind was mulling over the sight of Thira as they'd approached. It seemed like a large, elongated brown rock from the air, rather dull and uninteresting. As they'd descended she'd seen blindingly white towns hanging onto steep cliffs at water's edge, hills rising behind, towns scattered haphazardly across the island and finally, the ugliness of an airport, long runways like scars marring the landscape. The island was a singularly unappealing sight from the air. She just couldn't imagine how she was going to cope over the next six months.

She was still ticked off. It wasn't fair. Mom's work always came first, Weather knew that. But Mom taking a six month scientific oceanographic expedition was just too much! Why did Mom make her come half way around the world? Why did she have to leave her friends behind? Why did she have to take correspondence courses to stay caught up in school?

It wasn't fair!

Her stomach churned with nervousness and mild anger, anger that had followed her all the way from Illinois.

The passenger line-up started moving like an accordion or caterpillar, front first, gaps growing between passengers, pauses, gaps collapsing as people paused to let another passenger in. She followed, picking up the strange scent of unfamiliar surroundings mixed with aircraft fuel and exhaust fumes. Weather was surprised when she had to climb down stairs to deplane, and even more surprised to see a double articulated bus waiting to take passengers to the terminal. She'd never seen an airport like it before. It seemed to take forever before the bus moved and it was too hot inside, its open doors and windows counteracting any air-conditioning effect, if it had air-conditioning.

As the bus jerked side to side, Weather holding onto a strap, her body swaying as lateral forces tugged at her, she wondered why Mom rarely talk about Uncle Aidan? She'd never explained their estrangement. Weather wondered what he'd look like now. Would he still be like the single sun-faded photo on Mom's dresser; the one with the two of them when they were young, Mom about Weather's age, fourteen?

Her stomach churned as she contemplated spending six months with someone she knew next to nothing about. A flash of anger hit when she remembered Mom taking her cell phone away from her. "We can't afford long distance calls, Weather." It just wasn't fair! How was she supposed to stay in touch with her friends?

Weather followed the other passengers into the terminal, spotting a couple of luggage carousels in the large arrivals hall. She looked around wondering if she'd be able to recognise Uncle Aidan. All she saw was a crowd of people, almost all of them Greek, loud, shouting and waving in groups. Some strange garbled announcement came over the public address system, unintelligible even if she could speak Greek. A rumble followed. She saw one of the luggage carousels start to turn. Like a bunch of lemmings passengers surged towards it.

What would Uncle Aidan be like? Would he be like Mom, calm, smart, and seemingly proficient in everything he did? Nervously she looked around, the carousel squeaking and rumbling with no sign of suitcases. She waited.

Weather caught sight of him as he entered the arrivals hall from a blindingly intense brightness outside. Her breath caught. There was no doubt at all it was Uncle Aidan, his face carrying familiar traces of Mom. Her heart tripped. She felt an immediate, immediate attraction. It was completely uncontrollable, totally surprising her. Why?!

Heat flushed through her. She felt her cheeks get warm. Damn! But, jeez, Uncle Aidan was...

Frowning, she turned away before he spotted her, swearing under her breath. Anger rose. What the hell was wrong with her?

Turning slightly, she glanced at him again out of the corner of her eye. It hit her again, a flush of heat, heart palpitating. She didn't understand. It wasn't as though she'd never seen more handsome guys, but there was an unidentifiable quality about him that hit her hard. She liked how his sandy brown hair with darker roots seemed to fall into his eyes. She liked how it seemed un-brushed, unkempt. She liked how his angular face was lightly stubbled and unshaved. And he appeared tall, almost six feet. He stood relaxed and at ease scanning the crowd. He had broad shoulders but was lanky, slender, a trim waist, both of his hands tucked into the back pockets of well-worn jeans. He looked fit, healthy, and intensely male and she couldn't take her eyes off him.

Weather preferred dark haired guys, muscular with clean-shaven faces. So why did she feel such a strong attraction to him? Then he spotted her. She saw his eyes and shivered. Steel-gray eyes bored into her. She stopped breathing when he smiled, his smile radiating pleasure and making her feel even warmer, her knees weak. What was wrong with her?

Weather frowned and turned away, staring at the luggage carousel as bags started arriving. She pleaded with God, please, please let my blush go away! Gawd! She'd never reacted this way before.

SWEAT HAD RETURNED, MY shirt sticking uncomfortably to my back. Why didn't they air condition the arrivals hall? It would surely reduce the swearing and frustrations of tired travellers. I'd clearly taken too much time to drive to the airport, or the flight had landed early; very un-Greek-like. Passengers were crowding around a luggage carousel, waiting impatiently for their bags, jostling each other for prime positions at the front. I heard the tinny P.A. System announce the arrival of Aegean Airlines flight A3365 from Athens with typical Greek efficiency; half an hour after it had landed and disgorged its passengers.

My eyes flicked from one female to the next, searching. I recognised Weather immediately when I caught sight of her. It was impossible not to. She stood in simple blue jeans and white T-shirt, a black backpack over one shoulder, her gaze taking in the surrounding arrivals hall. Weather was the spitting image of Alexis, just younger, smaller, petite. She had the same slender, willowy body. Despite being only fourteen it was clear she was going to grow up tall, slim and fine-boned like her mother. She had the same dark chestnut hair, just cut short, feathered in layers, sort of spiky, framing an intensely attractive face, her features so familiar. I saw Alexis in that face; slim nose, darker eyebrows, high cheekbones, a mouth ready to smile, and an angular jaw. I smiled at the familiarity of her face, at a memory of Alexis at fourteen.

Briefly I wondered why a slight rosy flush grew on her cheeks and why she suddenly frowned before I was distracted. I saw her eyes as she turned away. It was like a punch to my gut. A wave of dizziness overcame me. Breathe, breathe! My heart constricted, chest tight. When she turned away from me to face the luggage carousel I bent at the waist to breathe, hands on my knees, inhaling deeply, tamping down the sudden fear that had almost overwhelmed me.