The screen door opened with a protesting screech as Mel preceded Janice into the house, flicking a wall switch as she entered. A fan mounted on one of the exposed beams in the ceiling began stirring the warm air around. "Won't take long for it to cool down in here," Mel said as she pulled the scarf from her head and shook out her long raven tresses.

Janice made a noise of assent deep in her throat and gave the spacious room a glance. It oozed masculinity, she thought to herself; lined with bookcases bursting with dusty volumes and trophy heads mounted on the dark paneled walls. Dead center of the room, facing a rather imposing stone fireplace, was a worn leather sofa, hand-made brocade pillows at each end, the only perceptible evidence of a feminine presence in the house. "Nice room," she said at last, fanning herself with her fedora.

"It's a tomb," replied Mel with a shrug. "I feel right at home. Speakin' of tombs, how's the dig progressing? Finding anything of interest?"

"Oh, the usual...cave paintings, pottery, burial sites...Kakadu boasts some of the earliest tropical settlements, but there's nothing as noteworthy as the Scrolls there, trust me. The whole site has a vague ‘picked over' feeling...like someone's been there before me and removed all the really fascinating bits."

Mel quipped, "I swear I haven't left this station in a month." She playfully crossed her heart for emphasis.

"Don't you miss it? The work?"

"What?" Mel countered, plumping one of the brocade pillows. "Miss grubbin' about in the dirt? Hardly." She used her scarf to pat her glistening face. "I put that life behind me for good."

Janice thought Mel's last claim lacked sincerity which both saddened and pleased her. "Well, if everything goes according to schedule, we should be wrapping things up by the end of the month, before the monsoon season."

"And then where will you go?" Mel asked, feigning nonchalance.

Janice shrugged. "Don't know really...have several interesting offers."

"Interesting meaning risky."

"Some more than others," Janice replied succinctly. Any further discussion on the matter was lost in the demanding whistle of a tea kettle. Janice followed Mel into the kitchen, which was easily the largest residential kitchen Janice had ever seen. It was dominated by an enormous oven and fireplace. Spacious cupboards with screen doors displayed shelves of canned goods and the room held the tantalizing odor of seasoned meat. "Something smells good."

Mel turned down the fire under the kettle and cracked the oven door to study its contents. "Braised veal paprika."

"She cooks, too," Janice said with a wink.

"My mother insisted." Mel turned to the tea service Alice had prepared. "How do you take your tea?" she asked filling a china cup from the kettle.

"Black, two sugars. Speaking of which, she wants you to call her."

"You saw my mother? Is she all right?"

"She's fine, worried about you." Janice rested her hands on the table top and leaned forward. "We both were. I cut a swath through Europe looking for you...Athens, Singapore, Beijing, Sydney...that's the path of a woman trying hard not to be found."

"Exactly," Mel quipped, propelling the cup and saucer across the table with her fingertips. "Why are you here, Janice?"

"Two reasons." Janice grabbed Mel's wrist as it neared her, spilling tea into the saucer. "You left me high and dry in Athens," she began with infinite patience. "I think I deserve an explanation."

Mel locked eyes with Janice; momentarily, her hand was her own again. "I thought I made things perfectly clear in my note," she said, absently rubbing the tender skin of her wrist.

Janice checked a molar with her tongue. "Oh, yeah...the infamous note."

Mel watched in silence as Janice retrieved a slip of paper, folded and re-folded many times over, from the inside breast pocket of her jacket. You kept it.

"‘Dear Janice...I'm sorry. Mel'." Janice clucked her tongue as she re-folded the note. "Five words scribbled on the back of a grocery receipt...even as ‘Dear John' letters go, it's harsh." She folded her jacket deliberately and lay it over the back of a chair. When she looked up at Mel again, her eyes were level and serious. "Why, Mel?"

Mel's mouth twitched as she brought the cup to her lips. "Why?" she repeated pensively, looking out over the gently undulating brown liquid.

Janice folded her arms and settled her weight on one hip. "Why did you just walk out on me? Wasn't it good between us?"

"You know it was," Mel retorted, laying the cup down without sipping from it. "But... we don't...fit, Janice."

"We fit, Mel...we fit like spoons!"

Mel waved her hand dismissively. "I'm not talkin' about that. That was always fine."

Janice couldn't keep the smile from her face as her partner blushed the most endearing shade of crimson. "That has a name, Mel."

"I know."

Janice leaned forward slightly and bounced on the balls of her feet. "It's called sex. It's a word. Look it up."

"Shhh," admonished Mel, looking around for Alice. At last, her mesmerizing blue eyes fell on Janice who returned the gaze with unspoken urgency. "I never meant to hurt you, Janice."

Janice softened at the confession. "Okay."

"I don't know...maybe it was fear," Mel admitted in a whisper.

Stunned, Janice murmured, "You were afraid of me?"

Mel was quick to soothe her. "Not in the classic sense, no. You have to understand, Janice. Everything I ever had that was good in my life eventually turned on me...my father... my career in archeology..."

"Hey, now, that's unfair. The book-"

Mel silenced her with a look. "It's not about the book. You were never anything but generous and ethical when it came to our professional partnership. To use your phrase, I submarined myself in that arena."

"It's not too late, Mel," Janice said. "I hear professionals over 25 make brilliant comebacks all the time."

Mel laughed in spite of herself. "Stop being so accommodatin', will you?"

Janice approached Mel and captured her trembling hands in her own; she didn't fail to notice that Mel's manicure had succumbed to the elements. "Right now...the truth... tell me."

Mel inhaled sharply. "We burned white hot...for 35 days." She smiled sadly at the memory. "We burned so hot so fast...anything that burns that brightly has a short life. I just knew it wouldn't last...that one morning I would wake up, and you'd be gone."

"So leaving me was a pre-emptive strike," Janice concluded as she released Mel's hands. She was silent as she walked the length of the room. At the sink, she turned, "You must think I fall in love every day."

Mel's resolve faltered at the sight of Janice's wounded countenance. "I only know that I don't."

"Who do you think you are? Some damned oracle?" Janice charged across the room until she was standing toe to toe with the other woman. "You want to know what's on my mind, what my plans are - you ask me. It's that simple. All I can tell you is that I will be there. As long as my life is in my own hands, I will be there. Trust me." Softening, she cupped Mel's face in her hands. "Can you...trust me, Mel?"

"Ahem..." Alice cleared her throat and wriggled her fingers, her polite smile withering under the gaze of two pairs of accusing eyes. "I'm sorry to interrupt." She shuffled. "Should I pretend I didn't hear any of that?"

Mel replied with an unequivocal, "Yes, please," and moved to the sink to busy herself with the dishes stacked there while Janice feigned interest in her tea. "Did you tend to the horse?"

Alice crossed in front of Janice and reached for the icebox door. "Cooled down, rubbed down, watered and fed. Can I have some lemon squeeze?" she asked, even as her fingers closed over the fluted handle on the pitcher.

"Have water," Mel replied as she filled a freshly-washed glass from the tap. "It's better for you."

Alice chose not to argue the point; there was enough tension in the room. She took the glass offered her and between gulps asked, "When's supper?"

"Not for another hour at least," Mel replied, turning to face them while drying her hands on a dish towel. "It'll be worth the wait, I promise."

"Are you staying to supper, Janice?" Alice asked hopefully.

Janice hesitated, took a pull of the tepid tea and frowned at Mel. "I haven't been asked."

Mel recognized the thinly-veiled dare. When Alice's gaze swung to her, she was quick to respond. "Apparently I've committed just the worst social faux pas by not inviting you to supper in the first ten minutes of conversation."

Janice gave a small nod. "Forgiven."

"Would you like to stay for supper? There's really too much for just two people..." Anticipating Janice's response, Mel folded the dish towel in a square, disguising her emotions behind a veneer of polite indifference.

"I thought you'd never ask," replied Janice, grateful that the emotional tide seemed to be going out at last. "It'll be a nice change...not to have to catch my dinner."

"Guest does the supper dishes, right, Mel?" Alice interjected looking sideways at Mel.

Mel nodded. "Right. House rules," she explained to Janice. "The guest shows his or her appreciation by helping with the dishes."

"Oh. No problem," replied Janice, displaying her hands. "These hands could stand some soap and water. As a matter of fact," she took a delicate whiff and wrinkled her nose. "The whole body's in need of a bath."

Mel leaned into Janice. "I'm so glad you said it first."