CHAPTER 26
"Can you type, Princess?" Hack asked over dinner a few nights later.
"Of course. Why?" Farah was surprised.
"I could sure use you at the dig as a sort of Girl Friday, and you could use a change of scene."
"You're so good to me, Hack, but you don't need to worry. I'm going to be okay." She wished she believed it herself.
"But I really need someone to fill out reports, register our finds, keep our accounts in order, type letters, run errands, even render a little first aid now and then. Our office is in a mess, and if you do nothing but file everything where we could find it you'd be worth your weight in gold."
"You wouldn't just be making a job for me?"
"Absolutely not. It might not be much fun for you. Our office is a quonset hut and there's no air conditioning. You can say no if you're not interested."
"I think it's just what the doctor ordered." She knew she couldn't turn it down even if he was exaggerating his need.
"Good. You can start Monday morning getting your shots and dusting off your passport."
Suddenly the eagerness went out of her. "Oh, Hack, I can't do it. I'd just bring bad luck to you, too."
"Aw, come on, Farah, that's sheer superstition."
"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't. Anyway, you've been warned."
"Okay, I've been warned. Now, how about some dessert?"
It was hot in the quonset hut that served as office at the excavation site in Zhad. A generator provided electricity, and someone had scrounged up a couple of fans, but Farah couldn't turn them on while she was sorting the paperwork that had accumulated. As soon as everything was filed the work would flow easily.
The view from her window was sensational. Postcard mountains ringed the valley and rose to impressive heights. In the distance the waters of the lake sparkled in the sun. The tranquility and serenity of her surroundings brought Farah a measure of comfort. Her grief was still deep, and when she was alone her despair crawled around in her brain, it poisoned her food, it was a lump in her stomach. She fell asleep with it, she woke with it. Only when she was with others or engrossed in her work was she free of it.
Hack had met her at the airport when she flew in on a shuttle line from Paris, greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You look thinner," he said. "Are you okay?"
"It's hardly been a week since you've seen me. Don't tell me you're the mother hen type."
He grinned. "How was your flight?"
"Great. Oh, Hack, I'm so glad to see you." As they walked to his car she said, "Tell me about Zhad. I understand it's sort of like Luxemburg or Lichtenstein, but I don't know much about them either."
"It's a small principality, roughly about the size of Luxemburg, squeezed in between France and Germany. Most of the population speak both German and French or a mixture thereof."
"What do they do for entertainment?"
"Oh, this is a modern city. Good hotels and restaurants, movie houses, a theater, modern shops, a resident opera company and symphony orchestra. Not world class, but not bad. In the winter there's skiing."
"I understand the present ruler is Prince Boris and there is a younger son."
"Yes. Their mother is Russian, Princess Alexandra. Her father was a Grand Duke who died during the Revolution, but not before he got his family safely out of Russia."
Hack had been able to find a large room for Farah with a three-quarter bath in a pension where the proprietors spoke passable English. Breakfast was included in the price of the room, and for an additional fee a box lunch to take to work with her.
Two other women in the group had similar arrangements, and the three of them rode to the jobsite with Hack, who, needing a base in town, also had a room in the city. Most of the male students lived in tents at the excavation site.
Farah had been on the job only a few days when one of the girls, Melanie Drew, came in for first-aid treatment. She was a post-graduate paleontology student. Hack said he was lucky to have her on his team.
She was wiping her face as she came in, a tall, long-waisted, slim-hipped girl with light brown hair and a deep tan. "It's hot out there," she said. "I skinned my knee just for an excuse to come in out of the noonday sun."
Farah laughed. "Then I prescribe a twenty-minute break and a cold drink."
When the knee had been treated and bandaged Farah got cokes from a small refrigerator, removed the caps, and handed one to Melanie. They sank down together on the only comfortable piece of furniture in the hut, a twin-size bed which, fitted out with a corduroy cover and bolsters, did double duty as a sofa. Farah had turned the fans full on them, and they kicked off their shoes and put their feet up on the orange crate which served as a coffee table.
"I didn't think I was going to like you," Melanie said, lighting a cigarette. "I used to see you on the campus, but you never looked at anybody or spoke. I thought you were awfully snooty."
"I didn't mean to be," Farah said. "I can't remember seeing you."
"You didn't see anybody." Melanie took a sip of her soda. "I couldn't understand why a looker like you would want to keep to herself until I heard about all the terrible things that had happened to you."
"Sometimes I think I'm Typhoid Mary."
"I've been wanting to tell you how sorry I am about your boyfriend -- Kevin, wasn't it?"
"Thank you." Farah ducked her head to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes. "How did you know?"
"Tarzan ( that's Johnny Peterson, he does Tarzan yells) heard it from his folks. He knew Kevin in high school."
"Does everyone know?"
"I hope you don't mind. We all like you, Farah. We really want to be friends."
"I want to be friends, too, but I've been sort of numb ever since the accident. I'm so grateful to Hack for giving me this job."
"Isn't he something? I was in one of his classes. All the girls were in love with him. It's a fact of life that every student at some time is in love with his or her teacher." She looked at Farah drolly. "Why doesn't someone come up with a unisex pronoun to eliminate all this his/her stuff?"
"That's one of the disadvantages of an education. It was a lot easier when in our ignorance we could just say 'their' and to hell with the syntax." They grinned at each other in instant camaraderie.
At the end of twenty minutes Melanie rose. "Time's up," she said. "It's back to the salt mines for me. Thanks for the coke."
"Don't mention it. I enjoyed our chat," Farah said, smiling.
As she went back to her sorting and filing, Farah felt dismay that the news of her past had reached this far. However, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise, for it clothed her in an aura of tragedy and served to keep the young men at a distance. They kidded her, they showered her with compliments, they hovered, but for the present they adopted a hands-off policy, for which she was grateful.
Farah had worked through her regular lunch hour getting things ready for Hack to take into town for further laboratory analysis. She had just sat down to eat her lunch and take a breather when she heard a motorcycle pull up outside and stop. In a moment a young man entered and leaned gracefully against the counter, his body lean and trim and muscular in blue jeans and t-shirt. Below his thick blond hair his face wore that beautiful golden tan that blondes sometimes achieve. Farah thought he looked faintly Russian.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"Is Dr. Hackaby around?"
"You just missed him, he went into town. Is it something I can help you with?"
"I came by to ask him to be my guest for lunch." He smiled at her, revealing very white, even teeth. "I'm Michael Corday."
"Welcome to the executive suite, Mike. I'm Farah Fuller." She liked his accent and the formal way he spoke.
"Miss Fuller," he said, bowing. (She thought his face betrayed a fleeting expression of surprise; perhaps he thought her manner too informal.) "I was told there was a young new young lady out here. Nobody mentioned how beautiful you are."
She grinned at him. "If you're running for office, I'm not eligible to vote in this country."
He laughed in delight. "A sense of humor, too. May I sit down?"
"Be my guest." She indicated a chair. "Since it appears you haven't had any lunch, perhaps you'd like to share mine. My landlady always puts enough food in these boxes to feed a family." She handed him a huge sandwich on a napkin.
"Thank you," he said, accepting it.
"Would you like a soft drink? Or some coffee?"
She got a soft drink from the refrigerator, poured it over ice in a glass, and brought it to him. "It's too hot in here for coffee," she said, resuming her seat. "I haven't learned to drink wine with my meals as most Europeans do. I understand you make some very fine wines here."
He took a bite of his sandwich. "And your ... landlady, I think you said ... makes very good sandwiches."
"Doesn't she?"
"Are you enjoying your stay here?"
"Oh, yes. Everyone is friendly and helpful, and the scenery is out of this world."
"I love the way you Americans talk," he said. "I should have a notebook to jot down some of your expressions. I'd like to try them on those stuffed shirts I deal with."
"What kind of work do you do?"
He hesitated. "I work at the palace during the summer. The rest of the time I attend the University."
"Where did you learn to speak English so well?"
"I attended a school in England for awhile."
"You're a native of Zhad?"
"Yes, indeed, and proud of it." He finished his coke and rose. "It was generous of you to share your lunch with me. Perhaps you'll allow me to take you to lunch soon."
She found herself answering in the same formal manner. "I would consider it an honor."
"I will be in touch." He bowed again and moved toward the door. At the threshold he turned. "Are you planning to attend out festival this weekend? I think you'd find it interesting."
"Then I'll try to be there."
"I'll look for you," he said. "And one more thing. I would appreciate it if you'd forget to mention my visit to anyone. I'm planning a surprise." His eyes twinkled as he said this.
"Mums the word," she told him.
He gave her a salute and left. She heard his motorcycle start up and go roaring off down the hill.
"What do you know about a festival this weekend?" Farah asked Hack when he returned from his errand.
"Gosh, Farah, I'm glad you brought it up. I was told to invite everybody." He sat down and fanned himself with a file folder. "You got anything cold to drink?"
The question triggered Farah's memory, and she saw with startling clarity Kevin sitting on her doorstep at their second encounter, saying, "Hi, Farah, you got anything to eat?"
She got up quickly so Hack wouldn't notice her emotion, saying "Would you like a beer?"
"It would save my life." He accepted the bottle she brought him and went back to the subject of the festival. "It's a very important occasion here, a celebration of their Independence Day. We'll close down Friday. Everything else will be closed and it would be rude of us not to attend."
"What's it like?"
"I gather it's sort of a fair. It's held at the fair grounds, with speeches and band concerts, livestock judging and stuff like that. And a carnival, with rides and sideshows and booths selling everything from food to junk jewelry. Would you like to go?"
"Sure. It sounds like fun."
"Okay, we'll talk more about it later. Right now I've got to get back to the job. Thanks for reminding me. I'll tell the crew so they can put in an appearance."
She went with Hack that evening to dinner at Pouget's, a place the other students had discovered long before Farah arrived. It was a family place, half restaurant, half tavern, where the food was good and the prices reasonable. Those of the crew who were otherwise unoccupied could be found there almost every evening, usually staying long after the dinner hour. The regular customers had welcomed them into their midst, and they danced to a juke box and sang and had lively discissions.
Melanie was already there when they arrived, along with the Wilsons, Jane and Larry, both students. As Farah and Hack joined them, two other young men came in, the one called Tarzan and another whose name was Dick Edwards.
"Well, look who's here," Melanie said. "Are you guys taking a night off from chasing the village girls, or did you get stood up?"
"Not a chance." Tarzan sat down next to Melanie. "The girls have to work tonight, all the stores are open. They're staying open late every night until Friday because of the festival."
"Are you going to the festival, Farah?" Melanie asked.
"Of course. Why don't we all go together?"
"What are you going to wear? Jane and I bought those fancy native costumes all the stores are showing. Why don't you get one, too?"
"Okay. How about going shopping with me after dinner?"
Farah surveyed herself in the mirror as she dressed in her new costume. I Am thinner, she thought, noticing how small her waist looked in the tight bodice, which was the same blue as the full skirt and was worn over a white blouse, everything decorated with white embroidery. She had had a bad night, and grief and self-reproach lay heavy on her heart. She wished she didn't have to go, but staying alone with her thoughts seemed even less attractive, and it would spoil Hack's day if she didn't appear.
The festival turned out to be rather fun. The speeches were over when she got there and the band was playing. Hack and Melanie had been watching for her, and together they visited exhibits, sampled exotic foods at the booths, and the girls went on some of the rides. Saying he was too old for such kid stuff, Hack went off on his own while they were doing this.
In the afternoon they joined a crowd in an enclosure where food and drink were being served at tables set up around a dance floor. A combo played a modern dance number as they arrived. Presently the beat of the music changed. Several couples drifted onto the floor and began a sort of bunny hop line where each dancer put his left hand on the waist and his right hand on the shoulder of the preceding dancer. Again the music changed, and they turned and put their arms across the shoulders of adjacent dancers and started a different stop, reminiscent of a Greek folk dance. Soon a number of dancers crowded the floor. At one point one of the men broke away and went into a solo performance of speed and intricate steps. Cheers went up from the audience, which kept time by clapping hands.
Suddenly there was a commotion in the back of the room, then everyone rose, shouting, "Michael, Michael!" Melanie, sitting beside Farah, whispered, "Prince Michael." Down the aisle bounded a young man in costume, his blond hair topped by a Tyrolean hat with a feather. Sprinting to the center of the floor he began a fast and intricate dance, with almost professional grace and agility. The band segued into an accompaniment, while the others stopped dancing and withdrew to the edge of the dance floor.
Farah gasped as she recognized the young man who had shared her lunch a few day earlier. Of course, this was Michael de la Corday; he had said merely Corday. Now she understood the look of surprise she had seen on his face ... he had expected to be recognized.
What must he have thought of her, treating him so casually and calling him Mike. How unassuming he had been and how friendly. She recalled the twinkle in his eye when he said he was planning a surprise. She hadn't guessed the surprise was to be for her.
The music stopped with a flourish and Michael made a sweeping bow. The audience applauded thunderously, with shouts and whistles, leaving no doubts as to his popularity.
As the combo started another tune and the dancers paired off for another unfamiliar dance, Michael left the floor and came down the aisle. Stopping before Farah, he held out his hand. "May I have this dance?" he said with a grin.
Farah rose without a word and took his hand. As they headed for the dance floor she stole a quick look at her companions' faces. It was theur turn to be surprised.
The dance turned out to be similar to the one she had rehearsed at the dancing school. After a few steps, when she was following Michael without effort, she looked up at him and smiled. "I was told there was a young prince of Zhad. Nobody mentioned how handsome he is."
"If you're running for office, I must warn you I'm ineligible to vote in this country," he quoted.
"You must have thought me dreadfully cheeky."
"I found you refreshing. Sometimes people I meet don't look beyond the title, so we never get to know each other. I want to know you."
"Is royalty allowed to hobnob with the hoi polloi?"
"The hoi polloi are not always anxious to hobnob with Two0Bit royalty. We're not in a class with the House of Windsor, you know."
"I've never set eyes on a more princely prince," she said with a twinkle. "For that matter, you're the only real prince I've ever set eyes on."
"I've got to introduce you to my family. They'll love you."
"I feel like Cinderella," she said. "Only in this case at the stroke of midnight it will be the prince who disappears."
"Will you come looking for me?"
"Of course not. I'll realize you're being kept in the dungeon until you come to your senses."
"You've read too many fairy tales. We rarely use our dungeon any more."
The intensity of his gaze embarrassed her. She felt excitement at having this kind of conversation with a Prince, but he mustn't think she was encouraging him. She didn't know if she could ever be seriously interested in a man again, and certainly a prince was out of her league.
To cover her confusion, she changed the subject. "Do you live in the palace?"
"When I'm home. I have one more year at the University. There are only my brother and his wife and my mother and I, and the palace is a big place. I have my own quarters there and can come and go as I wish."
The cessation of the music saved her from further comment. As Michael walked her back to her table, she noticed a man enter and beckon to him. After Michael had greeted Hack and introductions had been made, he asked to be excused as he was needed to help judge the livestock.
"Don't forget I owe you lunch," he said to Farah as he left.
"Wow, have you hit the jackpot," said Melanie as Farah sat down at the table. "Had you met him before?"
"He came in the office to see Hack the other day after Hack had gone into town. He told me his name, but it didn't mean anything to me. I gave him part of my lunch and called him Mike without knowing who he was."
"How come you didn't mention it to anyone?" Was there an edge to Hack's voice? Was he jealous, she wondered?
"He asked me not to. He said he was planning a surprise. It looks like the surprise was on me."
"Are you going to see him again?" asked Melanie.
"I doubt it. Even if he should ask me, I don't think I'm up to dating a prince."
"I think he's cute. I wish he'd ask Me for a date." Melanie was only half joking.
"If I see him again I'll give him the message."
"You wouldn't dare!"
Hack got to his feet. "If you feel that way," he said to Melanie, "maybe you'd like to go with me to watch him judge the livestock."
"You're on. Melanie rose also.
"Anybody else?" Hack was looking at Farah.
"Not me," she said. "I think I'll go home now. Anything else would be an anticlimax."