Page 51 of Pomegranates and Olive

"It's a knarred old lady and she's just enormous."

"If it's in the area I think it is, then it's one of our original olive trees. My grandmother says the grove was planted over 500 years ago."

"Wow! Has your family farmed this land for all those years?"

"I'm not entirely sure but the land has been in the family, my mother's and Aydin's mother's, a number of generations." He shrugs. "When they all moved to Istanbul this place was left to ruin. We would come camping here over summer break when we were teenagers. It was a chance to escape our parents and just run wild, especially for me coming over from England. My father wanted to develop it, but this place is special. Aydin and I talked him out of it and made a pact to bring it back to life someday. That someday has come. I think we're doing a pretty good job of it if I do say so myself."

We continue walking in surprisingly comfortable silence. I need to concentrate as the trail becomes quite steep and rocky in places. Deniz puts his hand out to help me clamber up one particularly high ledge. That zing of electricity races up my arm again as my fingers touch his, but I mentally push it aside.

I can't let there be any zing between Deniz and me.

No Zing!

Tell that to your desperate vagina, Olive.

"Thanks."

As we reach the ridge I point out the way and we walk the last few minutes to my tree. I hug the tree when we arrive. "Günaydin."

"Günaydin?"

I sit down beneath the shade of its branches, my back against its trunk as Betty disappears into the grove chasing imaginary (or perhaps not so imaginary) animals. "That's right, isn't it?"

"Evet."

"See, I know that means 'yes' but that's the extent of my Turkish vocabulary. Well, that and 'venti macchiato alabilir miyim?’. "

"At least you're purchasing your own coffee now."

I grin up at him. "I can't be sure that I'll find some queue-jumper to steal one from on my way home."

"Are you leaving?"

"Eventually." I find myself pouting and fluttering my eyelashes at him, but then force myself to stop. I'm not Maeve. "Will you miss me?"

He doesn't answer right away, so I answer myself with an impish grin. "Sure you will because we're friends, aren't we?"

"We're not friends."

Changing the subject, I indicate up to the tree. "Do you think my tree's beautiful?"

"A very grand old lady." Deniz pats the trunk as he sits down beside me. "What do you do here at your tree?"

"I want to say I meditate, but you'd probably fall down laughing if I suggested anything that alternative to you."

"You'd be right."

"Let's just say I recharge then. I realised that I need this time away from Luca and from our life together back in Sydney to think about what I want. When I'm here, under my tree, gazing out at all this beauty, it's helped me slow down my mind. I feel genuinely content. It's like I'm connected to this place. Does that make any sense?"

Deniz picks up a leaf and examines it intently. "I've always loved it here."

"Would you live here?"

He points at an area near the cliff's edge. "I plan to. I'm working on an approval to build a small resort on the hill back there."

"I haven't walked up that far."

"You should. It's got a 360-degree view of the whole coastline, right down to Bodrum as well."

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