Chapter 2

"Amazons were long thought to be creatures of myth," said Mel, as she began closing comments to her last Archeology and Antiquities class of the day. "Recent discoveries, however, have lent an air of credence to previous claims of their existence."

"Are you referring to the Penrose Dig, professor?"

Mel knew the identity of the speaker without looking up. "That information has only recently become public knowledge." Pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose, she turned her eyes on the handsome young Phi Kappa seated on the third row tier of seats. "I envy you your information pipeline, Mr. Todd." She rose from her chair, briefly tugging the hem of her short wool jacket. Navigating the narrow carpeted steps with ease, she explained, "What Mr. Todd is referring to, for the uninitiated, is Dr. Miles Penrose's recent discovery of 9 burial mounds near Macedonia; beneath those mounds were the skeletons of women buried with weapons sug-suggestin'--" She held up a finger and sneezed daintily into her handkerchief, eliciting a chorus of ‘God Bless You's' and ‘gesundheits'.. "Pardon me...suggestin' that the Greek tales may have had some basis in fact." At the top of the steps, she stole a glance at the wall clock. "More than half of those graves excavated contained iron swords, daggers, bronze arrowheads, and whetstones to sharpen those weapons."

Colleen Harrison, an attractive 20 year old, turned at the waist in her seat and raised a hand politely as she spoke. "Couldn't those have simply been ritualistic, or ornamental, professor?"

"An arrowhead found in the chest cavity of one woman suggests otherwise, Miss Harrison. Although I do not claim to be an authority on the subject, my personal experiences have definitely made me a believer in the possibility of the existence of Amazons." Again, her eyes sought the clock; she turned her back on the swiftly-moving second hand and began a leisurely stroll back to the lectern. "But the subject is open for debate in the form of one thousand words..." She waited for the collective groan of dismay and was not disappointed. "Gentleman versus ladies. The skeptical Miss Harrison will argue the pro side, and the very vocal Mr. Todd will take the opposition."

Eric Todd's right hand waggled at shoulder height. "But I believe, Professor Pappas."

"Then you are in the minority, Mr. Todd." At the lectern, Mel blew her nose quietly into her handkerchief and sniffing, turned back to the gallery, where her students regarded her with the rapt attention and respect she had earned since her arrival at Georgetown. "All significant discoveries begin under the umbrella of skepticism. Christopher Columbus may have fought tooth and nail for fundin' to prove that the earth was round, but I have to believe that somewhere inside him, he was prepared for that sudden drop." An appreciative chuckle emanated from the gallery. Smiling, Mel said, "The object of the search is as much to disprove as to prove, even if we who dig in the earth deny that." Without taking her eyes from the faces of her students, she began stuffing papers into her briefcase. "I'm asking you to put your personal beliefs aside...and present an intelligent, informed argument...by Tuesday next. That's all. Good afternoon." Though she knew it was coming, the shrill scream of the 3:00PM bell made her jump in her skin. She finished packing her briefcase as the students milled above her, gathered into little cliques as they donned heavy coats and galoshes. Her own knee-length wool coat, forty dollars from the Montgomery Ward catalogue, hung drying beside the radiator; she anticipated its clammy chill next to her skin with a shiver.

Eric Todd wound a plaid scarf loosely around his neck as he descended the gallery steps towards her. "May we pick your brain for information, professor?"

"Just leave somethin' for me, Mr. Todd," quipped Mel as she fought with the buckles on her overstuffed briefcase. Her eyes sought Colleen Harrison, standing in a knot of murmuring, serious females at the door, a stack of books clutched with white knuckled intensity against her chest. Behind a pair of tastefully jeweled glasses, her hazel eyes followed the retreating form of her classmate-opponent...with lust. Lust, Mel thought with a vague smile. Right here in my classroom. "I will be in my office for lunch between 12:30 and 1:15 PM tomorrow. My free time is precious, so I will expect you both at one o'clock."

Colleen Harrison smiled meekly in response, barely taking notice of the excited whispers of her friends. "Thank you, professor."

"One o'clock. Don't be late." Dr. Joffrey Fisher, sleek and appallingly tanned in his blue worsted suit caught Mel's eye from the door. "Well, Dr. Fisher, as I live and breathe..." She met his gaze with a reserved smile that broadened once they were alone in the room. "I didn't realize you were back."

"Just last night," he replied, joining her at the radiator. He kissed her dryly on the cheek. "You're warm."

Mel raised an eyebrow. "My 24 hour cold is in it's third day. You --" She stepped back, admiring his appearance. In his tailored suit and silk tie, he was more fashion plate than physician. "Miami obviously agrees with you. That tan -- I'm envious."

The Associate Professor of Pediatric Medicine tugged absently at one ear lobe. "It didn't come without effort, my dear...10 grueling days spent lounging in the warm Florida sun."

"Well, you look splendid..." She turned aside to cough into her hand. "The mustache is new."

"Do you like it? It was Marcella's idea." He stroked the fringe of soft, dark hair shot through with silver. "She says it makes me look like Vincent Price."

Reaching for her coat, Mel replied, "Yes...very distinguished. How is Marcella, by the way?"

Joffrey's smile, always dazzling, approached critical wattage at the mention of his wife. "Turned her ankle on the tennis courts the first day we were there," he replied as he held her coat open for her.

Mel frowned as she slid into the damp wool coat. "Oh! The poor thing."

"Oh, she's fine now...she was up and around the next day, but it did keep her off the clay courts. Between you and me, it was the best thing that could've happened to us. We lay on that beach with the devotion of sun worshipers, sipping champagne and eating cracked crab that I am going to be working off for months to come. You know, a few days away from all this cold gray gloom would do much to put the roses back in your cheeks, Melinda."

"That sounds lovely, of course, Jeff," she replied, using the diminutive that only his closest friends employed. She stepped out of her black pumps. "But every penny I've got goes into the apartment these days."

"You got it then? The flat on Darabont?" He extended a hand to steady her as she slipped into her galoshes.

"Better," she replied, her eyes coming alive as she spoke. "I found this marvelous 2 bedroom brownstone on Prospect...hardwood floors, a fireplace, private entrance, even a little area out back with room enough for a couple of lawn chairs and a hibachi."

"Prospect." He whistled lowly and, folding his arms across his chest, leaned against the lectern. "I didn't think there was anything available that close to campus."

"I'm tellin' you, the Fates were smilin' on me." She patted her coat pockets, locating her gloves and muffler. "We'll have to have you and Marcella over for drinks one day soon."

"Sounds marvelous. You finished for the day?"

"Not a minute too soon...Poulton Hall, collect my mail, and then it's home. I have plans for the evenin'." She slipped her clutch purse under one arm. "Maybe we can have lunch together this week. I want to hear all about your vacation."

"I shot a 73 the last day on the course," he said as they joined the river of bodies in the hallway. "Do you golf?"

Mel laughed. "I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Mark Twain. Golf is a good walk spoiled." She paused at the door, winding a smoky gray scarf around her throat, tucking the dangling ends into her coat. "Oh, good... more snow," she said, scowling through the window.

"They're forecasting at least two more inches by midnight...most snow this town has seen in 10 years."

Mel secured a cranberry-colored hat to her head with a hatpin. Matching suede gloves, a gift from Janice, completed her winter battle dress. "Miami is lookin' better n' better." She hefted her briefcase and closed her fingers over the door knob.

"If you give me 15 minutes to check in with my office and collect my things, I'll drive you home."

She smiled politely. "Thank you, Jeff, but it's not far...just across the common. I've gotta run. Say hello to Marcella for me." Joffrey stood in the open doorway for a moment, gathering wind-blown flakes in his dark hair and watching Mel make her way through the ankle-deep snow until she turned a corner and disappeared from view.

END CHAPTER 2