CHAPTER 4
________
NICK
Having the place to myself these last few days certainly helped recharge my batteries. I was keen to continue my writing so as not to fall out of the routine that had taken me years to perfect, even though I did manage to cut down on the number of hours I’d spent in front of the laptop.
There were one hundred and three steps down to the private beach. I’d counted them several times, going down and then running back up again. Every lunchtime, after a few hours of writing, I grabbed my towel and headed down to the sandy beach, usually with something good to read in hand.
As much as I immersed myself in the gritty world of Fabian Ackroyd’s adventure-filled life, reading crime fiction was not my favorite pastime. I liked a complete break from reality. Give me a hefty tome filled with exotic worlds populated by equally exotic and diverse creatures, and I’m in my element. There was just something about having to stretch my imagination enough to accept the existence of dragons, knights, otherworldly villains and, of course, magic, that took me back to the bookstore time and time again.
Even so, there wasn’t much that could compare to the feeling of swimming in the salty waters of the ocean. All the books, all the money, all the other pleasures to be had, faded into insignificance compared to the joy of diving into the cool waters of the blue Aegean.
July was still considered early summer in Greece, so the water wasn’t warm by any means, but to me it was perfect. And thanks to having a house with its own private beach, it meant that I was completely alone.
Once I finished swimming, I returned to the shore, settled down on a towel and opened my book to start reading; leaving my body to dry in the warmth of the sun. The sand on which I lay was a dark, charcoal gray; not the usual white sandy beaches one would imagine. Thanks to the volcanic nature of the island, Santorini was dotted with thousands of black beaches. Many people turn their noses up at them, but I have always found the color unique and fascinating, just like the fantasy worlds I so loved reading about.
Towards the end of the week, though, the large house felt a little too empty for my liking, the beach a bit too quiet. I couldn’t wait for the rest of the family to arrive, and on Thursday morning, I woke up excited to see Maria again.
My aunt had been sorely missed in the months since we’d last been at the house. And, in a few days’ time, my daughter would be here too. With Sofia’s wedding on its way, there were plenty of family activities lined up to keep us all busy throughout the summer.
A little after lunch, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a familiar face smiling back at me. Christos smiled broadly, as he vigorously shook my hand.
“Welcome home!” he said to me in Greek. He didn’t know a word of English.
“Ef charisto,” I replied. “Thank you.”
He and his colleague, who followed behind, had brought me the car I’d rented. It was a large silver Audi with four-wheel drive, built like a tank and fresh off the lot, perfect for the windy roads of the island. Christos handed me the keys, and I peered into the car. It smelled of new leather and was cool from the garage owner’s drive over with the air conditioning dialed up to full power.
I signed the necessary papers and made small talk for a few moments as Christos asked me how I was, and how long I was staying. It was the first full Greek conversation I’d had since my arrival on the island, and it took me a couple of minutes to get back into the swing of the difficult language. I wrapped my tongue around the words and soon fell into a light conversation about family, work, and how things were going for the both of us. In recent years, the Greek economy had taken a real hit, and I was pleased to see that things were finally getting a little better. Christos’s Garage, which served to lease cars to visitors in the summer, had thankfully maintained steady business over the years of austerity. But neither of us could hang around for too long as I needed to get to the airport.
The island of Santorini is shaped like the letter C, but in reverse, a crescent moon. My house was on the lower western tip, and now I drove across the winding road to the east side where the airport was located. There are no highways on the island; part of its quaint charm was how rugged and generally untouched the island was. In recent years, tourists flocked to see the stunning views from the iconic white stone houses topped with blue roofs, but for locals like myself, the island held so much more hidden beauty.
The car coped with the meandering roads with ease, and while it was only ten miles from the airport, the drive took me forty minutes. I didn’t mind at all, though, and at one point I even turned off the air conditioning and put down the windows to feel the wind on my face. I looked down at my arms. They were already developing a nice golden tan. Damn, it was good to be back in Greece!
I knew that Maria would be tired, and since she’d just gone through a procedure on her knee, I was mindful that she would need as much room as possible. Pulling up outside the airport, I pushed the front seat back so she’d have plenty of room. The spacious trunk would comfortably hold the many suitcases I knew she liked to travel with. I wondered how poor Anna was coping. My aunt’s faithful housekeeper certainly put up with a lot. As much as I adored Maria, there was no doubt that she wasn’t an easy woman to live with, much less work for.
But, she had a heart of gold, and I couldn’t wait for one of her hugs. I stood looking up at the arrivals board above my head in the tiny airport. The plane from Athens had landed fifteen minutes earlier, and I knew that very soon, Maria and Anna would be coming through the doors.
I was aware of a man hovering near me, and as I looked at him, his mouth dropped open. “Are you Nick Stavrou?” he asked in surprise.
I grinned. “The very same,” I said, reaching out my hand. He shook it, looking delighted.
“You’re my very favorite author!” he declared. He had a clipped British accent, and he dug into his backpack to bring out a copy of the fifth book in the Fabian Ackroyd series. In the Heat of the Morning was one of the racier books I’d written, in which I’d allowed Fabian a little romance where he was usually very uptight, married only to his work.
“I’m really pleased to hear it,” I told the man. For a long time nothing about my day to day life had changed, even after my first few books were published, but since Fabian’s adventures had been picked up by a massive movie studio several years ago, more and more people had been tuning in to my published works. Now, barely a day had gone by when I hadn’t met a fan. It seemed to make the guy’s day, and he produced a pen and held it out to me.
“Would you mind?”
“Of course not,” I said, and I scribbled my signature in the front of the book, along with best wishes for time to be spent on the beautiful island of Santorini.
“Thank you,” he said. “I don’t usually harass famous people, but I just couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by. Have a great day.”
“You too,” I said. And off he went.
I don’t usually harass famous people. It still seemed strange to be considered one of those, but I guess that’s what I was these days. And he was polite and friendly. It was always a buzz to meet someone who appreciated something you’d created, and I didn’t mind at all.
The doors ahead of me opened a few moments later, and I heard my name called out with a familiar shriek. “Nikos!” Maria cried out from her wheelchair, her right leg straight out in front of her. I ducked under the barrier and went to her, bending down as she flung her arms around my neck and kissed my face in that affectionate way that only a mother could. Even an adopted one.
“It’s so good to see you,” I said, kissing her cheek. “How was your flight?”
“The second leg to Santorini was hell on earth, my dear,” she said. “But the flight to Athens was a dream. How are you? Tell me everything.”
“Let’s get you into the car first,” I said. I hugged Anna. She blushed as she always did when I greeted her in Greek and asked whether she was happy to be back in her home country. Anna was from the island of Naxos, a little north of here, and she often took a few days off to spend time with her family there when she made the long trip from the States.
Another woman was holding onto the handles of Maria’s wheelchair, and I assumed she was a flight attendant who’d helped my aunt from the plane, not paying her much attention at first as I was too busy greeting Maria and Anna. But Maria surprised me by introducing the woman as her new assistant.
“This is Miss Kent,” she said. “She is from Texas. She’s the therapist I told you about who’s joining us for the summer while I recover from my ordeal.”
“Your ordeal?” I asked, shaking my head. “I see the operation hasn’t dulled your sense for drama.”
I looked up and smiled at Maria’s latest employee, but instantly did a double take. Even though her beauty was unmistakable, that was not what made me look twice. I knew her.
Eva.
The woman standing in front of me was just as beautiful as I’d remembered. Her raven-colored hair was now swept up in a messy bun, but in my mind, I recalled what it looked like years ago; long and fluid, lying gently across her shoulders, caressing her soft skin. Her eyes were large and liquid blue, framed by long gorgeous lashes, the memory of them burned into my mind. And her mouth…. Well, it was still full and rosy, made for kissing.
I could see her eyes narrow for just a second before she lowered her lashes and diverted her gaze to look down at her hands. I couldn’t tell whether or not she recognized me, but I was almost certain I caught something in her eyes just before she looked away.
However, now was not the time to ask her about it. Maria was getting impatient, sharply tapping me on the hand. “Yes, yes, she’s beautiful,” she said. “But focus. I want to see the water, Nikos. Take me to see my beloved sea!”
I knew better than to refuse my aunt, and as soon as the luggage arrived, our party of four made our way over to the car. I dared several glances at Eva, but she kept averting her gaze. There was no doubt in my mind that it was her.
But for now, I had to busy myself with getting Maria into the car. My reunion with Eva would have to wait. It was not the time or place to begin bringing up the past. Still, my mind was racing with a thousand questions, and I made my way back to the house a little bit faster than I’d have usually liked.
One thing was for sure, though. It was going to be a very interesting Greek summer.