Tales from an Unknown Corner

CHAPTER – 56: The Summer Town

I took the exit from the highway that was at the northern entrance to the town. Since she hadn’t been here before, I gave her a running account of the lay of the town, pointing out various spots we passed while I drove to the town center.

There wasn’t much to see in the northern section; it was, for the most part, an industrial area consisting of small workshops—auto repair, machine shops, and similar—and small factories that produced olive oil. I reminded her that this was considered the land of olives, because olive trees covered most of the land, followed by tobacco and cotton.

“Remember the movie? The young rich guy whose family owns several olive plantations? I’m not sure but I think they made use of one of the small factories here in this section of town. Most of these factories are family owned and operated. There’s also a big factory next to the highway about ten miles to the south.” When I mentioned the name she recognized it since it was a household name; after all, olive oil was one of the main staples in most parts of the country. “There are a couple more olive oil production plants further past the town center, in the side streets, but they are very small. Almost all of the plants are located here,” I added while she took in the sights.

“I think you’re right. This looks familiar from what I remember of the movie,” she said.

“Mom usually visited them at the end of our vacation. We prefer homemade to the name brands. The quality is definitely better than what is sold at the factory outlet. Of course, it’s less refined, but it has a richer flavor and smells better than the factory stuff. I think it’s because these small production facilities haven’t changed much; they still use centuries-old methods of pressing, filtering, and maturing. It’s not that the modern mass production processing is bad or their quality is low; it’s just... too refined!” With a grin, I continued, “And people here, they wouldn’t touch that industrial stuff. No respectable olive oil producer would!”

She laughed at my quip and nodded her understanding.

The road continued almost in a straight line; we passed the bus depot where various coach services had their offices and terminals, and a small fleet of cabs awaiting fares to drive them to the town. Since the tourist season was over, there were only a few cabbies and buses. “Before we had a car, we used to take the coach service,” I said.

Remembering old times, I continued. “It’s quite a long trip. We hardly used the terminal. Our flat was next to the road, about hundred meters away, so we would ask the driver, and he would pull over by the side of the road. They would also pick up the passengers along the way, as long as the drivers were notified where to pick them up. Most of the buses would visit several hotels along the beach to pick up passengers before they hit the highway, and then stop at various places along the way. You just had to make sure that proper instructions were left at their office while booking your trip. Later, when we had a car, it was much more comfortable to travel. In the summer heat, it was stifling on the buses; the air conditioning units rarely worked properly, and the only recourse was to open the windows. Sometimes we took the night bus, but Mom was always scared that the drivers would fall asleep; she didn’t trust them to be properly rested. Well, you know the statistics on traffic accidents.”

“So, who drove?” Dana asked.

“Kathy and I drove, since Dad and Mom never had a driving license. We never had the need for a car. We grew up using public transport and occasionally a cab. When we were attending middle school, our schools had their own bus service, and in the later years, Kathy and I used public transport. When we were very young and visiting my grandparents, we took either the train or the bus. Later, when we started taking vacations at our summer flat, it was solely the coach service, because there was no train station close by. Then, when Kathy and I got our driving licenses, Mom bought a car. I think she was tired of the uncomfortable long distance travel. Shopping was a major hassle, too, because our flat is located some 10-12 miles out of town. Unless you have a car, you have to rely on the municipal bus system to get to the town, or get a lift from one of the neighbors. Anyway, I know I was sick of the long coach trips in the summer heat. At the time, most of the coach services were really bad; even today they are mediocre in terms of comfort and safety. Of the few companies offering luxury travel, only one has regular service to this town and others around these parts, but that’s a pretty recent development.”

The sky was slightly overcast, and a weak sun was making brief appearances through the occasional patches of blue. The road was a wide four-lane strip with cars parked in front of the shops on both sides. We were almost at the town center, the main square. There were only a few cars and vans parked along both sides of the road, and the traffic was almost non-existent. The tourist season had been over for more than a month now, the crowds of tourists having left for home or destinations much warmer, so the town looked empty with only the original inhabitants and a few visitors like us.

On a whim, I pulled over in front of an apothecary, and turned to her. “Do you mind if we take a short walk, and catch some sun? Unless, of course, you want us to find a room in a hotel, first?”

She considered my suggestion for a few seconds. “What’s the plan?”

“Well... The sun is out, although it looks windy and cold. I thought a little bit of fresh air and a quick bite would do us some good. I’m kinda hungry. I can show you around a bit, and then we can find a hotel. Afterwards... it depends. Whatever you want. Otherwise, I can catch a bite in the hotel.”

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Five past three.”

“OK! Let’s do it.”

I turned off the engine, and we got out. I took my windbreaker and she put on her coat. To the left of us, across the boulevard, there was a narrow street lined with small shops: grocery, bakery, patisserie, and such. We walked the street while I pointed out the various shops, before I steered us into a small café-patisserie, mentioning their excellent selection of pastries and sweets. She shook her head amusedly, and told me that I had a ‘sweet tooth.’ I told her that most of their products were very low on sugar, and rich in fruits.

While I made quick work of a slice of cake—she took a few bites from my plate as she wasn’t feeling hungry—she had a cup of cappuccino. We left the place shortly, and I directed us to the market square which was 50 meters further away, to the left. Lined with grocery stores and other shops on all sides, it was mostly an open area with areas marked for setting up fresh produce stands.

“In summer, this place gets really busy; the stores with their displays, and the farmers setting up their stands in the middle with their fresh produce. Until early evening, it’s a lively place with people milling around, shopping, and haggling over prices, the smell of vegetables and fruits filling the air... it’s an explosion of colors, sounds, smells, and activity. I love it. The vendors put up tents between those trees,” I said, pointing at the now bare limbed trees, “for shade, and the whole place feels like something from the middle ages. And it goes on and on. Even late at night, you can find a few of the shops open.” Then, I pointed at a small store that sold hunting and fishing gear. “That’s a favorite among a few of our neighbors who enjoy hunting. There’s a small lake nearby our place with a forest surrounding it. There are wild geese, ducks, and rabbits, but not much of bigger game animals. I suspect they are more into the camping and the chance to get away from the city for a short while. So, this store is where you’d come for supplies and gear. In summer, it usually caters to amateur fishermen.”

Pointing at the exit in the far corner, I continued. “There are jewelry and clothing stores, tailors, small bakeries, and others in that street. To the right, there’s a winding cobblestone street that leads to an old church up a short slope; I think an orthodox church, now a museum. There isn’t much to see. I think they just labeled it a museum to attract people and make some money. But this market, it is really the heart of the town.”

We left the market square, and walked further along the street, away from the main boulevard. The shops and eateries slowly gave way to old style stone houses that changed very little since they were built, and the street got narrower, intersecting other narrow cobblestone streets.

“It’s really a mosaic of cultures... this town,” I said while pointing out things of interest: the kitchen windows with lace and half-closed curtains, flower pots and olive oil bottles sitting on the window sills, decorative doorknockers with strange designs on big doors, figures engraved on the walls, the colorful stone houses of every shape and size—a few dilapidated, but most in very good condition, built to last. “In summer, it’s so crowded you can hardly move in these streets, and traffic is... well it’s a pain in the neck. Pickup trucks and delivery vans fill up all the streets around the market square and at times they double park and block the traffic. Then there are the shoppers. Even with one-way routing it’s a real mess. The only thing good about these narrow streets is that, you are protected from the sun except during the noon hours.”

Dana gave an emphatic nod and said, “Yes, it’s the same all over the Aegean or the Mediterranean. Most of the small towns and villages have narrow streets, and traffic is usually a mess, regardless of the country. I’ve seen some places where they are constantly busy dismantling and rebuilding to deal with the overcrowding, but it doesn’t help. Besides, it destroys part of the charm of such places.”

I nodded. “I agree. I would hate to see the charm and beauty of this town destroyed. It’s been an idyllic little town for a long time, but sometimes, I wonder how long it will stay like that.”

After looking around and taking in the sights, we walked back the way we came, and returned to the boulevard. We turned left and headed to the town square. To our left were offices, a few old coffee houses, and electronics shops advertising satellite TV dishes. A bit further away, there were several buses lined up next to the bus stops. “That’s the municipal public transport that serves both this town and the towns nearby,” I said, pointing at them. “In summer, they have a regular hourly schedule until late at night. In winter, I think it is every two hours or so.”

To our right, across the boulevard was the harbor. We crossed the square and the boulevard to get to the other side, and walked along the shore. Numerous boats of all sizes and types stood swaying gently to the rhythm of the small waves. They were tied to iron cleats bolted in the cement. The water was a dirty-green color because of pollution, but also because the harbor was pretty much closed-in by natural barriers which allowed for very limited water circulation. Despite its color it didn’t smell bad like it did in other places.

We took in the scenery. A few miles away, a large landmass stretched from left to right, seemingly bracketing the harbor on both ends as if it was a rectangular lake. It was a series of rolling cliffs and gently sloping hills; mostly bare rock with the occasional green patch. The shoreline was broken into sequestered flat areas by jutting bluffs or cliffs. Most of the inhabited areas occupied those flat stretches, but also extended up along the slopes of cliffs or hills overlooking the water. There were also a handful of small communities consisting of motley houses which were confined to the depression in between some of the cliffs further inland.

Pointing at the landmass, Dana asked, “Is that part of the mainland?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s an island.”

Dana let out a surprised, “Oh!” before she quickly scanned the scenery. “I thought it was part of the mainland, and this harbor was in a bay. It looks closed in on all sides...”

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? But it’s misleading. Without the island, the harbor would be open to the sea.” I swept one hand from left to right covering the extent of the island, and said, “It extends from south to north and forms a natural barrier.” I turned half-way to the right and pointed at a spot hidden from our view. “To the north—behind those buildings—about a mile or two away from here, the harbor is bracketed by natural and manmade barriers. First, there’s a landfill that extends out to the sea which ends at a tiny island. Across from it stands a wedge shaped corner of the bigger island. The two are connected by a bridge over a narrow gap of shallow water.”

Dana nodded as she tried to visualize my description. “What about the south?” she asked.

I gave her a wicked grin, and remarked, “There, things get very interesting.”

She arched an eyebrow in question and smiled amusedly. “Interesting... or complicated?”

Putting on a serious expression, I rubbed my chin as if mulling it over carefully.

“Tease!” she retorted.

“I don’t want to scare you,” I said, dropping my act.

“I’m not scared. So, tell me how interesting does it get.”

“To tell the truth, it’s the most beautiful part of this town,” I replied. Because it’s been a while, I took a short pause, and closed my eyes to recall the exact lay of the land. Opening my eyes, I turned us to face the southern end of the harbor. I pointed at a slight rise that jutted out to the sea. Behind that rise, the land seemed to curl out to the sea and join with the island as if the island itself was an extension of the mainland. “From here our view is blocked by that rise. Behind it, the mainland coastline continues due south in a straight line for a mile or two, and comes to an end with two adjacent coves. Both coves are somewhat elongated rather than circular, and they are positioned in a rather interesting manner. They are adjacent to each other, but their mouths almost face each other at a slight angle. Together they sort of resemble a much distorted ‘W’. Can you visualize it?” I asked.

“I think so,” she replied a bit hesitantly.

To help her, I curled a thumb and forefinger on each hand in the shape of a cove and then touched my thumbs at the tips to indicate how the two coves were joined together and positioned relative to each other. “Like this,” I said.

She nodded and waited with an expectant look in her eyes.

“Those two coves form a bracket similar to the northern section of the harbor, generally extending to the west, out to the sea, but remain hidden from our view here. The outermost tip of the land extends further north as if trying to meet with the southern edge of the island. That’s where the harbor opens up to the sea. Because the island extends behind the tip of the mainland, from here, you can’t see that opening, because of overlap. It’s somewhere due southwest.”

She looked to the south end, and began a careful scan, looking for the inlet. She must have visualized my description better than I thought, or perhaps she had managed to read the contours of the mainland and the island very well, because she pointed out the exact location of the inlet. It was where the mainland gently sloped down and joined to the range of cliffs on the island, almost in a seamless manner. Well, almost seamlessly, unless you paid attention to perspective and the subtle hints of geography. “Somewhere there, right?” she said.

I grinned at her and shook my head, surprised at her success but also wondering how she accomplished it.

“Did I get it wrong?” she asked.

“Nope, sorry! You just surprised me. It’s exactly there.”

She answered with a complacent smile, very pleased with herself. She looked adorable, and I pulled her in my arms. She let out a surprised squeak that quickly gave way to a laugh, and then she settled against my chest. We held each other enjoying the closeness.

She looked up and said, “Sarah mentioned a hill. Where is it?”

I released her from my embrace, and turned her around. Then I stepped beside her and pointed at the southern end of the harbor. “To the south. You can’t see it from here. It’s some distance behind that rise which blocks our view of the two coves. The hill is located between the two coves, close to where they seemingly intersect each other, so it overlooks both coves. Actually, there’s another hill right before it, skirting part of the first cove’s shoreline, but it’s a relatively small hill.”

I closed my eyes briefly remembering the beautiful view from the top of the first hill. “That first hill is a real tourist spot. There’s a big restaurant and a large parking lot. During summer busloads of people visit it, especially late in the afternoon. It’s the highest point around here, and offers an incredible view. The sunsets there... they are just...” I trailed off searching for a good word to describe it in vain. There just weren’t words good enough to describe the magical quality of the scenery and the feelings it would evoke in a person when they had seen it for the first time... or a second, or a third time, for that matter. It just was... is!

“So, that’s what Sarah was talking about?”

“Yes, my love. Beautiful doesn’t even come close to describing it. As I said, it has a very commanding position. From west to east, you’ll see the two coves. Further away, from west to the northwest is the big island, and to the north is the rest of the harbor. It’s all pretty to see, but there’s one other thing which is breathtaking! You’ll see many small islands. It’s as if someone has broken the string of a pearl necklace and all the pearls have spread on a turquoise floor, except these pearls are all different sizes. It’s an amazing sight!”

“Ohh, mmyyyy!!! That does sound beautiful!”

“It does, doesn’t it? Even though this town isn’t as well traveled or known, it is beautiful. This town is very different than the big name vacation spots which draw large crowds with their noisy entertainment and a plethora of other excesses. It has a quiet, dignified beauty, a tranquil quality. A friend of my dad—a columnist in one of the major papers—who is a long time vacationer here, had once written: ‘The summer nights are long and everlasting here, filled with an unpretentious yet ethereal beauty!’ in one of his commentaries about vacation spots. I think that says it all.”

As I was telling her about the view, I looked at the harbor with unseeing eyes until my gaze fell on her face. “I wish... I wish it were summer. I could show you so much...” My voice faded as the gates of my memory started to open. Almost reflexively I shouldered them shut, and changed the subject swiftly, not wanting to visit the roads that I had once traveled not so long ago, but what felt like a lifetime and a half ago. Right that moment, my visit to this town almost felt like a—

Like a pilgrimage?

I didn’t know how to describe my feelings right then, and I didn’t want to assign any labels to how it felt. In fact, that particular word made me feel very uncomfortable! Was it because of what it implied? Not wanting to dwell on that question, I took a deep breath of the harbor air, and then turned my attention back to Dana.

“Here, on this pavement, it gets pretty crowded,” I said, pointing at a few empty stands that stood in front of a few of the fishing boats. “In the afternoon, the fishermen set up stands with the days catch. Although most of the boats usually deliver their main load to the shops at the market square and to the restaurants with which they have agreements, this is where an impromptu fish market is set up. Some shop and restaurant owners prefer to look around and make their choices daily, so they come here. Then there’s the normal folk and tourists, of course. Some of the more enterprising souls among the fishermen even set up a small grill and do brisk business.”

“You’ve enjoyed yourself a lot here,” she said.

I arched an eyebrow.

“Am I wrong?” she asked.

“No, you’re not. Did I sound too enthusiastic?”

She laughed. “Yes, that too, but it was the way your face lit up that gave you away.”

“What can I say? I enjoy simple things, like fresh fish hot off the grill in a bun with an ice cold beer,” I said and pointed at one of the benches that stood a few meters away facing the sea, “and sitting there, watching the harbor at sunset. Listening to the hum of humanity and nature around me... the summer heat surrendering to late afternoon breeze...”

“Mmmm... very poetic,” she said.

“That which I am not!” I replied with a strained smile, because I felt very self-conscious. “Haven’t you been listening to me? I just described one of the most beautiful pieces of land on earth as though I were reading a map; and you call me poetic?”

She returned a reproachful look as if she was admonishing me. Then, her eyes softened and a tiny smile graced her lips. “Oh, yes, you are,” she came back, her tone indicating it would be wise for me to keep my mouth shut. “I can see the view from the top of the hill; I can smell, taste, and feel the harbor in your words.” She turned to face the sea, threw her head back slightly, and closed her eyes, as if trying to demonstrate her words. I saw her nostrils flare briefly. Then, she opened her eyes.

“Yes, I can see it all,” she said softly.

We stood facing the sea, and I inhaled the smell of the sea mixed with other smells. The wind was coming in from the sea in infrequent gusts, cold but refreshing, carrying the scents from further away, and then dispersing them. The seagulls circled in the sky, now and then diving into the calm waters, before rising again with something caught in their beaks, but most of the time they came up empty. They must have been somewhat used to human presence, because a few of them didn’t hesitate to land on the pavement, taking their pick from the leftovers set aside by the fishermen.

To our right, some 100 meters away, there were several restaurants and cafes on a cement platform that jutted out to the sea. Their waterfront terraces were empty, save for a few patrons; fishermen drinking tea, probably talking about the weather and the fishing grounds. Some fishermen were busy on the decks doing some clean up. We saw a big fishing net being repaired by two young guys—one of them hardly 15-years old, the other a few years older.

We walked towards the restaurants, and I continued to tell her what I knew about the place.

I pointed at a tall old building at the end of the platform. “That restaurant is well-known. It’s historic. It used to be the Customs Office, but later, it was restored and converted to a restaurant. Most of the restaurants and cafes around here are quite expensive, especially during the summer, when it’s filled with tourists. The open terraces have a good view of the harbor, thus you really pay for the view rather than the food or the service.”

“The food isn’t good?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s all right. I mean it’s good, but it’s nothing special. But then, I’m biased. That old restaurant is the most expensive among them. On the other hand, there are other places, somewhat less sophisticated looking, but with very tasty food, and a good atmosphere despite lacking a view of the harbor. And you don’t have to wonder if you’ll end up washing the dishes,” I quipped.

“Do I have to worry about it?” she teased back.

“Nope. If you really want to have good sea food, I know some great places.” I pointed at the old restaurant. “Behind that building, there’s a small pier where the new Customs Office was relocated, mostly for ferries and private boats that make a stop here. There are several small eateries and bistros in the side streets around that pier.”

“Speaking of restaurants... I remember Sarah mentioned an island...”

“Oh, yes! I’ve been meaning to tell you, but then I got into describing the harbor and the hill... Shame on me!” I slapped my forehead with my palm. “No one and I mean no one forgets the island, if they’ve ever been to it once! There it is.” I pointed to the landmass a few miles away, filling our view. “There’s a village with a small harbor. Part of that harbor has a wide promenade where several restaurants have their terraces set up, one after another, on both sides of the promenade, but the waterside terraces are where you’d want to dine. If you feel like—” I stopped, turned to her with a grin on my face, and rephrased what I was going to say. “What am I saying? If you’re visiting this town, then a trip to the island, to one of those restaurants, is a must!”

She smiled at my sally and said, “I’d like that.”

“Perfect! I think you’ll enjoy it. We’re lucky. September till November is the best season for fish. I doubt the shore-side terraces would be active. We’ll probably be inside. And as Sarah mentioned, some of them are also motels.”

“Why don’t we stay at one of those?” she asked.

“Uhh... I like my creature comforts. Most of those buildings are old and not many have the modern amenities. I really don’t want to freeze my bu— uhh... backside! They might have an electric heater or something, but I would rather have a good room with proper shower and a comfortable bed.”

“Come on, Mitch. You’ve never stayed in a rustic place before?”

I laughed. “Oh, I have. Look, I have nothing against rustic places and those motels on the island are probably very rustic. I’ve also stayed in some very crappy places you wouldn’t ever dream of, too. But when I’m on vacation, I want a warm room, hot water, and a good bed. Call me spoiled. Besides, you’re a guest! What would Mother think of me if she heard how I treated you?”

At my quip, she playfully slapped my arm. “Who’s going to tell her?” she came back.

“Forget that! Important thing is I want you to be comfortable. I don’t want you to catch cold or something. It could spoil the rest of the vacation. Besides, as I said, I’m spoilt.” I gave her an appraising look, and asked, “Why do you want to stay at a place like that? Is it because of the money?”

“No, it’s not,” she answered quickly—maybe too quickly. “I thought it would be fun to stay at a really rustic place; to experience the local flavor...” she trailed off.

Thinking we wouldn’t find something suitable, I decided to consider her request. “Well, if you really want to?” When she nodded enthusiastically, I said, “Then we’d better get back to the car, but promise me! If we can’t find something that’s comfortable and nice, we’ll look for a good hotel, OK? Trust me. Here, a good room in a hotel doesn’t cost much. This town isn’t like most other vacation spots, and besides, it’s off-season.”

“Deal,” she replied with a fond smile.

We hastened back to the car.

* * * * *

I drove back the way we came in, heading north and looking for the dirt road on the left. When we passed the bus terminal I knew we had gone too far and missed the junction, so I had to double back. I almost missed it again, because it had changed. That dirt road was now a gravel-over-tar paved road, and wider, too. A new building had been built at the corner where there used to be an empty yard fenced off with bits and pieces of wood, wire, and corrugated aluminum sheets nailed to rusted posts.

“Oh, it’s changed. This used to be a dirt road a few years ago. I guess they finally got around to paving it,” I said to Dana.

We drove on, first to the shore, and then skirted along the shore until we came to the landfill. After that we came to the small island, and a few minutes later we were on the bridge connecting this little island to the big one. As we were crossing the bridge we saw two young boys trying to fish with homemade fishing rods that looked more like roughly stripped tree limbs with a nylon string tied on the end.

“The water is very shallow here,” I said. “I think part of the landmass is subsided. This whole region is very active. I remember a few tremors over the years, but they were minor. The little islands you’ll get to see from the top of the hill are also another example. From what little I recall of the geology classes,” I shot her a grin and assumed a didactic pose, “this is part of the younger Alpine belt that extends from the Atlantic Ocean to the Himalaya Mountains.”

“Thank you, Professor Tanner,” she jibed.

“You’re welcome. It’s Associate Professor,” I teased her back. “Because that’s all I remember and that’s the total sum of my knowledge of the area!”

We passed an old windmill without its vanes that marked the entrance to the town. Then we passed a few houses with big gardens fenced by white, stone walls. Further behind the gardens, there were olive trees stretching as far as the eye could see, fenced in by barbed wire and wooden posts, delineating the borders between neighbors. The road was once again paved with cobblestones.

Just before the town square I turned left, and followed the hand-drawn signs for the harbor area. After a couple of winding streets we came to an empty yard that served as a parking lot adjoining the harbor. Across the yard, to the left was a narrow access way that led to the promenade.

Seeing the entrance unblocked, (in summer it was closed to traffic) I turned into the promenade and slowly made my way. The promenade was a wide strip of cement pavement that ran in a straight line paralleling the shoreline. The left side was occupied by small shops and various restaurants (some were also motels, but only a few carried signs to that effect) with modest terraces. The opposite side, a slightly raised wide embankment, was filled completely with the main terraces of the same establishments on the right side. They were several tables deep and extended all the way to the edge of the water. During the summer months, it was difficult to get a table by the side of the water, unless you came early or were willing to wait for a good table.

As I expected, most of the terraces were devoid of dining tables and chairs. Some of the terraces had even their wicker or reed tops (which served as a simple roof) removed, too, leaving only a skeleton of steel I-beams and pipes, reddish brown in color, and in need of a good paint job. Only a handful, those few with wooden structures, had their roofs intact. Here and there, we saw small coffee tables, old wooden chairs, or overturned crates arranged as a makeshift table or seat. I suspect the owners or staff had hastily placed them there to enjoy the fresh air when the weather permitted, but most of them were unoccupied. There were perhaps less than 20 people sitting around, having a glass of tea, playing cards, or conversing.

Before I moved not more than a hundred meters, a middle-aged man at a nearby terrace stood up and waved us down. As he made his way to our car I pulled to a stop. I rolled down my window, wondering...

“Good afternoon. I see from your plates that you’re from out of town. The harbor is closed to traffic,” he said. “Are you lost or looking for something?”

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. The entrance is usually blocked in the summer, so when I saw it was open I thought...” I offered, and he responded with a quick nod, accepting my apology. “We are looking for a place to stay. Some of these restaurants are also motels, but I’m not sure which ones. I’m also wondering where I can find a safe parking place for my car.”

“There’s another street behind the restaurants,” he said. Pointing at the way we came in he gave us directions on how to access that street. “The street is wide enough to park, or you can use the parking lot before the harbor entrance,” he suggested.

I hoped that I could park on the curb, if we found a suitable motel. I really didn’t like the idea of leaving my car at an empty yard with no attendants all night long. After thanking him, I backed the car up the short distance we came in.

Following his instructions, I drove through meandering narrow streets, and found the street. As he said, it took us to the back door of the restaurants. I slowed down, looking at the signs, and taking in the conditions of the buildings. After making a complete tour of the street, I doubled back, and stopped next to a relatively new looking motel-restaurant—‘new looking’ meaning that its paint wasn’t peeling and the place looked like it was kept up better than the most. Dana seemed to agree with my observation.

We went in, and to our left was what looked like a simple reception area, and right in front of us was a door that led to the restaurant. There were stairs leading to the upper-floor rooms next to the reception. Seeing no one around, I walked to the restaurant section, and someone must have seen me, because the next thing I saw was a man probably in his late-50s. His hair was gray, and thinned, and he sauntered slowly heading to the reception with a slightly hunched posture, as if he was suffering from rheumatism or some other ailment.

I inquired about available rooms, facilities, prices, and Dana asked to see the rooms. He called out for one of the young guys from the restaurant, and a tall, dark haired man of mid-20s with angular face and slender build came in running. He took us to the first floor, and showed us a room. To tell the truth, I was pleasantly surprised. Although the mattress was too soft, of the old style, it was quite comfortable, and there was a small electric-oil heater on wheels that looked like it would keep the room warm. The windows were single pane glass, and we were told that in the dead of winter, they sometimes put plastic covers to retain more heat, but they rarely had any complaints from their clients. I bit off a question about how many clients they had during winter, and Dana looked like she had the same question on her mind. However, it wasn’t that cold yet, so we didn’t worry about it. Satisfied with what we had seen, we went downstairs to the reception to register, and that’s when things went wrong. In hindsight, maybe I should have thought about it or expected, but...

After I stated our interest in renting a room for possibly two days, the old man asked for our identification. He checked my driving license, and then Dana’s, and looked up. “Two rooms?” he asked.

I wasn’t expecting the question, so I said, “No, just one room, with two beds or a double bed,” and then I felt Dana’s hand on my arm.

I turned to her, only to hear the old man drop a bombshell. “Do you have a marriage license?”

Say WHAT!!!

Oh, for Christ’s sake...

SHIT!

As I was thinking about my answer, I looked around to see if anybody else were around to witness what I thought might turn into an ugly scene—

More like interrogation by the self-appointed morality police is what it is! The fucking—

“Honey, let’s have a look around. I’m not sure how warm the room would keep at night. We might find something better,” Dana said softly while she collected our driving licenses from the counter and then quickly steered us towards the door, before I even could form a word to respond.

When I glanced at the man I saw the dark scowl on his face, and an accusatory expression, as if we were... I felt the muscles on my face tighten. Perhaps Dana must have seen something in my eyes, or sensed my anger, because before I could open up on the asshole, I heard a sudden intake of breath, and then felt her forcefully pull me by my arm to the door and out.

“You, all right?” she asked softly as she reached with her hand to touch me, trying to make me face her.

I was seething with anger and trying to keep it under control, so I didn’t want to face her. Instead, I nodded, and took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down. To tell the truth, I was surprised with my reaction to him. When I managed to compose myself, I said, “I’m all right. It... it was unexpected... I-I...”

“Shhusshh. It’s all right. He was very offensive.”

“What the fu— I mean what the hell was he thinking? The son of a...” I took another deep breath. “I’ve never been insulted like... GOD! I want to wring his chicken neck!”

She put her finger to my lips to shush me, and said, “It wouldn’t help, Mitch. Come on. Calm down. He’s not worth it.” Then, she cupped my face with both hands, and gave me a soft, almost pleading look. “He’s not worth the trouble. Mitch. Just an old fool. Probably very old-fashioned.”

“That’s bull, and you know it,” I flared. “I saw all the little flags at the corner of the counter. Tourists stop by here and stay. Because they are foreigners he doesn’t care whether they are married or not, but just because we are... the sanctimonious bastard!” I spat the words.

“Mitch, come on! Ease up,” she urged. “Why are you getting so worked up?”

“Because he was very insulting. It’s not that stupid question. It’s the tone, the attitude, but more than that it’s what he implied. No one—”

“He probably thought I was a loose woman or something,” she interjected with a nonchalant shrug.

“You’re not! And I won’t stand for—”

“What are you going to do, honey? Beat him up?” she asked and arched an eyebrow.

“Of course not!” I replied. “I don’t need to touch him to put the fear of God—”

“I know you’re angry and I understand, but is he really worth the trouble?”

I knew she was right and she just managed to calm me down considerably, but I was still pissed off enough to strike back at him in some manner. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths to get rid of the anger and the tension I felt. “What he needs is someone to teach him some manners. A good tongue lashing would—”

“Forget it, honey. Come on. Take a deep breath, and think calming thoughts,” she said in a slow cadence, while she kept my face cupped in her hands, and slowly massaged my cheeks with her fingertips. “You wouldn’t want him to sour our vacation, would you?”

That last question really helped me to pull myself together. What’s more she had insisted to stay at a rustic place, and I didn’t want her to feel guilty. I took her advice and took a deep cleansing breath and let it out slowly. “You’re right,” I said as I let out a tired sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I guess I wasn’t expecting it, and he hit one of the wrong buttons.” I took another pause. With a shake of my head, I added, “It’s a small place with small town moralities. I should have thought of that.” I took a hold of her hand and kissed her palm. “I apologize.”

“It’s all right, sweety.”

“Let’s look around.”

“Do you still want to try one of the other motels?” she asked with a slightly concerned expression on her face.

“Yeah, why not? The worst case is we’ll be turned down, but now, I know what to expect. But I doubt all will be like this guy. And we can always get a room in one of the hotels in town.”

I unlocked the car, and opened the door for her, and after she got in, I moved to the driver’s side and got in. I started the engine and was driving away, when I saw the guy who showed us the room come out from the side of the building and wave us down. Dana stopped me from driving away, even though I didn’t fell like chatting with anybody from that motel. Reluctantly, I stopped the car and rolled my window down.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” he said immediately. Before I registered his words and his meaning completely, he continued, “I’ve seen the same happen with other visitors before. He’s old fashioned, and he tries to keep the motel as a ‘family establishment.’”

OH! One of those, eh? Damn! Talk about bad luck!

“I see...” I tried to compose myself after what I heard. “I hate to ask this, but... can you suggest a good place around here? I don’t really want to try each one. I know several hotels in the town where I can get a room without any... uhh... hassles, but... well, what I mean is I want to treat my girlfriend to the rustic experience, you know. So, any suggestions?” I asked while I wondered if I could trust him.

He nodded in understanding, and said, “If you’re looking for similar kind of rooms, you should be able to find one at the fourth restaurant down that way. There’s another motel a couple of streets away, but without the sea view. I personally think their rooms are better. Go down this road, and take the first right then the second left. You’ll find it past the intersection,” he said amiably.

“Why?” I blurted out. Collecting myself, I rephrased my question. “I mean, why are you helping us?”

“I don’t like the old man,” he said, his tone speaking volumes. “Besides I have a girlfriend, too,” he stated as if that explained all; it certainly did.

“And the food?” I asked, feeling relaxed, now that we’ve established some kind of rapport.

“It’s all the same around here. It’s always great, and the prices vary very little.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Most who work in these restaurants are either family or people related to each other. So the cooking doesn’t vary much.” Leaning in, he gave me a conspiratorial look, and said, “Actually, I’m his nephew.” Then he straightened up and with a conspiratorial grin he added, “And we never had this conversation.”

When I started to grin, he laughed, and waved us away, before he turned back, and made his way back to the restaurant. I put the car into gear and drove away, chuckling at the turn of events. Dana was grinning, too.

“Was this an example of ‘enemy of my enemy is my friend’ or just a case of ‘paybacks are a bitch’?”

“You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?”

“I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t. I wonder how many times that old bastard pissed off his nephew.” I turned to her and added, “And, thank you. If you haven’t stopped me, I was going to drive away. I was still... anyway... let’s see what those places are like.”

The fourth motel along the row turned out to be the best deal. The room was similar with the exception of the bathroom. It had an old style bathtub with iron claw legs, and at first look, I was ready to write that place off. But then, I noticed that they had a big water heater in the corner, and a detachable showerhead next to the bathtub. The water heater was electric, and the man who was showing us the room turned it on and told us we would have hot water shortly. Seeing my dubious look, he insisted that he would refund us if we weren’t satisfied with the hot water or the room. I told him that I would take him up on his offer and if there was no hot water in an hour, I would just collect our stuff and get a room in the town in one of the hotels, and he wouldn’t see a penny. I haven’t forgotten some of the places I have stayed where ‘hot water’ was just a claim and not a fact. He was quite a jovial person. He told me I could pay whenever I wanted to and jokingly added the earliest would be right after we tested the water. So, we decided to take a chance, at least for the night, and settled in the room in a matter of minutes, after I took care of the registration details at the reception desk; this time without any eyebrows lifting or other hassles.

* * * * *

Back in the room, Dana had her suitcase open, and was taking out some of her clothes, placing them in the small wardrobe. My suitcase was also open, on the floor, next to the bed, but I hadn’t taken out anything yet. I checked my watch.

“It’s just past five. What do you want to do?”

She put the sweater she had in her hands on the bed, and sat down. “I don’t know. What can we do?”

“It gets dark early, and even though it’s overcast, I can take you to the hill to look at the scenery, for one thing. The sunset may not be great, but the view is really great. It will be windy and cold. I’ll check if I could arrange to have some hot chocolate or coffee, downstairs, and fill our thermos. I can also show you the summer flat, but we can leave that for tomorrow. What do you think?”

“Sounds good. I don’t have anything except a few sweaters. Do you think I’ll be fine there with my coat?”

I didn’t think she’d be warm enough, not with the top of the hill flat and open on all sides. “Ahhh... I think I might have something for you.” I searched for the flannel wool shirt I had in my suitcase, and pulled it out. “This should help you.”

“Ohh... a flannel shirt. I didn’t know you wore such things.”

“Yeah, I do. Handy to have on the rig site in wintertime. The lining inside has some insulation in it. Keeps me cozy warm, and sometimes I just wear it instead of a jacket. It’s comfortable, easy to wash, and practical; perfect choice for me.”

She grinned and shook her head. Then, she quipped. “I didn’t know you were a redneck.”

“Oh, God! Don’t!” I rolled my eyes. “For your information, I’m most comfortable in jeans, cowboy boots, and a vest, but I also wear a pinstripe suit when the occasion warrants it. So what do they make me, if the clothes maketh the man?” I retorted.

“Hmmm...” she said with a finger under her chin, as if in deep thought, carefully considering her answer. “I think they maketh you a redneck cowboy in ‘Tanner and Associates’, a private law firm,” she offered with a twinkle in her eyes.

I burst out laughing at the description, before I scrunched my face at the lawyer part. It was the farthest thing from my mind, right after a corporate suit, or an executive. Still, I couldn’t hold that expression for long, and let out another laugh as she continued to look at me with that amused twinkle in her eyes.

“You know, I really love your sense of humor. It’s very... unpredictable,” I said, in between bouts of laughter. “God, the way you make me laugh sometimes...”

“I like seeing you laugh, Mitch. Especially when it reaches your eyes,” she replied. Standing up she crossed the short distance between us, and kissed me. Pulling back, she looked me in the eyes. “I suspect Kathy and your family miss seeing that as well.” Without letting me acknowledge or respond, she locked her lips to mine again, and did a very thorough examination of my mouth with her tongue, before she released me, leaving me stunned and immobile with her words, kisses... She snapped her fingers in front of my nose, as if trying to pull me out of my daze, but very pleased with the effect she had on me.

Suddenly, I came alive, and pulled her to me, wrapping my arms around her, and held her in a fierce hug. Slowly relaxing my hold, I began to kiss her neck, following a line to her ear lobe, and nipped it playfully. “You,” I whispered softly, “are a devil-woman, weaving a spell at the most unexpected times.” I leaned back and took a look at her. “And I love you for that,” I said, and concluded it with a gentle kiss, putting everything I felt about her into the kiss.

We stood there for what seemed like minutes, but in reality, was only a few seconds; we were reluctant to part from the warm embrace and the comfort of feeling each other. Eventually though, she extricated herself and knelt down to take the flannel shirt I had dropped on the floor. After she traced a fingertip along my jawline and a neck, she moved to the bed and continued with her unpacking.

After collecting myself, I said, “Let me see about that hot chocolate,” and left the room.

* * * * *

By half past five, I drove us to the town, the thermos containing coffee, instead of hot chocolate. Dana was quiet. When I asked if she felt tired, she told me she wasn’t. I stopped on the main road before the square; I bought a pocket flask of brandy at a liqueur store, and a box of cigarettes to replenish my dwindling stock. If it got too cold on the hill, the coffee and the brandy would help warm us up. We also had the chocolate bars I had bought earlier.

“A little bit of brandy for the coffee to keep warm, in case...” I said. “Mostly for you, not for me.”

I drove past the square. The road narrowed down to two lanes, and intersected another road.

“That’s the southern entry to the town. It leads back to the highway, the one that connects the towns along the coast. It runs almost parallel to the shoreline. That same road passes by our flat. Tomorrow, we’ll visit it for a short time, if you want to.”

“That would be nice,” she replied.

As I drove on, the road curved left and right, following a zigzag pattern but moving southward, taking us to the residential part of the town consisting of modern three or four floor apartment buildings, and in between them, the traditional houses with gardens. Further away, they gave way to single or duplex houses and old villas. We passed a few pensions, small hotels, and a few restaurants strewn among the houses. Some of the houses, those that were also pensions during the tourist season, had signs still taped to the windows or pinned to the gates with the words ‘Zimmer Frei’ (‘room for rent’) on them.

“Mostly German tourists around here, and the rest are Scandinavians and French,” I said to fill in the silence, feeling a bit uneasy with Dana’s quiet.

The houses began to thin out as we left the residential section behind us, and the road swung by the shore again. I slowed down to let Dana take in the sights; to our right was a view of the harbor. Finally, I saw what I was looking for, a pocket on our right with a few trees which served as a car park. It was also a favorite spot for the tourists to stop and take scenic pictures, and spend some time to enjoy the view of the harbor.

“This is a favorite among tourists and also for lovers,” I said to Dana, as I pulled over and parked the car facing the sea. “In the evening hours, couples would park here, and make out. Well... not in the real sense of make out. The road is too busy, so usually they kiss and neck a bit, and as you might have realized, some of the locals are a bit conservative. It’s usually the out-of-towners and tourists who use it. When I was 16 or 17, I heard that the police busted a few couples for indecency. They must have been too stupid not to notice how busy this road is.”

“Or too carried away,” Dana offered, making me grin.

We stayed there a few minutes, before I maneuvered the car around to get back on the road, but when I didn’t drive off, she gave me a quizzical look. I put the gear in reverse and parked again, this time facing away from the shore.

I waited patiently, and when she looked puzzled, I had to prompt her. “Does that look familiar?” I asked, pointing at the three-story building across the road. The ground floor had large windows with a narrow strip of stained glass adorning the top portion. There was a post with a sign swinging in the wind that proclaimed the place as a hotel-restaurant.

“Yes... it does...” she trailed off trying to remember. Then she turned to me, her eyes lit in recognition. “This is from the dinner scene in the movie... where the young couple spent the night?”

“Yep,” I said, enormously pleased. “You want to have a look?”

“Do we have time? I don’t want to miss the sunset,” she replied.

The sun was low, and the sky was still overcast with few clear patches, but we had time. “I doubt we’ll catch a real sunset, but we have time. If we don’t dawdle too long.”

After we stepped out, I locked the car, and we crossed the road. I opened the ornate iron gate that led to a small garden with patches of brown grass or what was left of grass, and now bare flowerbeds. In front of us, before the door, was a short flight of stone stairs: mostly cream-colored granite and travertine with occasional pink, red, and orange tints and striations. The building was painted an off-white creamy color, the window frames in dark chestnut brown. The roof had dark-reddish clay tiles, as most of the houses had. The floors above the restaurant had narrow balconies.

I opened the door for Dana, and followed her inside. A large reception area greeted us. Behind a half-circular richly textured mahogany counter sat a young woman with dark-brown, long hair held neatly in a ponytail with a clip, making her hazel eyes the most prominent feature of her face. She immediately stood up as soon as she saw us come in. To the left of the reception area was stairs leading to the upper floors, and to the right, behind a large door decorated with stained glass, stood the dining room.

“How can I help you?” she asked, displaying perfect white teeth behind a small but pleasant smile.

“We were passing by and stopped to have a look,” I said. “To tell the truth, I just wanted to see if there were any changes since I had visited it some years ago.” As an afterthought, I added, “It must have been five or six years.”

“I saw a movie a few days ago on TV. Mitch mentioned that it was shot on location here some ten years ago. I understand this restaurant was in one of the scenes,” Dana said.

The girl’s smile widened. “Yes, it was. Was it that long ago? I wasn’t here at the time, but I’ve heard it told many times. I wish I were here then. Gabriel is my favorite actor.”

At that last, I almost chuckled. Gabriel was... well, he was Gabriel! Tall, dark, and...

Yeah! The heartache of all women, but especially the young ones. Dark hair, olive skin, a ruggedly-handsome face with a strong chin, intense dark brown eyes hiding a slight melancholy, but a welcoming, warm laughter, and a powerful machismo that most women find both attractive and repulsive at the same time... and yet, they are still captivated by his quiet and at times, explosive, strength.

I swallowed a chuckle at that last thought. For most women, he was the sexiest guy in the movies. The rogue detective that fought the good fight against all odds, the small time criminal with the heart of gold, political activist in exile, small fish fighting the big fish... and of course, the romantic action hero in the style of Jean Paul Belmondo, Alain Delon, Franco Nero...

“Could we have a look?” asked Dana, cutting my reverie short.

“Yes, of course,” the girl answered. “My name is Serine, by the way.” She moved to the door. “This way, please. May I interest you in dinner? I think you would enjoy it. We have a very good kitchen.”

We moved into the dining room—the restaurant section.

“Oh, I know! I’ve enjoyed it before. I... umm... actually, we’ve already made plans for dinner,” I replied apologetically. “We’re staying at a small motel-restaurant on the island... you know, the local rustic experience...”

“Ah! Of course.” She smiled politely. “But if you change your mind... we’re open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” she suggested, but didn’t insist.

To our right and left were white cloth covered tables; candle holders, plates, wine glasses and cutlery were already set up, and a few bottles of local red and white wine, and a bottle of Ouzo were stocked on small service tables next to the dining tables. Curtains with sea motifs were neatly tied in their middle, forming an upside down “V” to frame the view from the large windows. The traditional bottles of olive oil adorned the windowsills together with small pots with plants. Across the entrance, at the other end, there was a large fireplace, already with a small fire going, warming up the setting, and cut-wood neatly stacked on both sides of the fireplace. To the left of the fireplace, in the corner, was a small table, with an electronic keyboard and other equipment (what looked like sound-mix unit and a small stereo system). I looked around and immediately saw the speakers in all the four corners, placed unobtrusively.

“During the weekends and holiday times, we usually have live music,” Serine said following my gaze. “In summer it’s usually live music.” Then she steered us towards a small board that was attached to the wall, between the bar and the musician’s corner. “I think you’ll find this interesting.”

I noticed there were pictures pinned on the board, and was expecting photos of their clientele and some important occasions. It turned out that I was right on both counts. They were pictures from the shooting of the dinner scene, and a few photos signed by the actors and actresses with personal messages to the owners of the hotel and the personnel. Dana and I spent some time looking over them and comparing the setup to the current setup of the room. We didn’t see many changes.

“We can drop by for lunch tomorrow,” Dana whispered, leaning to me.

I was thinking of the same. “We can also take a room here for tomorrow night,” I whispered back with a wink.

She grinned and with a smirk, she asked if I had plans to play-act some scenes, namely the bedroom scenes. I tried to return a very innocent “Who? Me!?” look but she wasn’t having any of it, so I had to bait her. “Well, OK. If you’re not interested...”

“I didn’t say that,” she retorted.

“You didn’t say you were, either,” I returned.

Just then, Serine moved a bit away when she saw what seemed to be a private discussion taking place as soon as Dana and I started talking in hushed tones.

I waited, raising an eyebrow, and finally Dana relented. “I’m interested.” Leaning closer, she brushed her fingers against my cheek, and whispered, “but it better be good and you better live up to my expectations.”

“Don’t I always?” I teased her.

“No. Not always,” she replied pointedly with a serious expression, and my face fell. After a pregnant silence she whispered, “You exceed them,” flashing me a smug grin.

“You...” I was almost apoplectic once I realized she had been teasing me. Collecting myself, I said, “You’re impossible. I think I will revoke your privileges.”

She laughed. “What privileges?” she asked pointedly, already knowing my answer. Moving closer, she whispered, “I will have my way with you, and you better have your way with me.” She gave me a soft smile. “And, this is the end of this discussion, darling,” she concluded with finality that I couldn’t even argue with, not that I wanted to, but...

Without giving me an opportunity to say anything else, she turned to Serine, and asked, “Is it possible to see one of the rooms?”

Although surprised, Serine was quick to recover, her face lighting up at the opportunity to get us to stay. “Of course. Do you want to stay in the... room?” she asked with a neutral expression on her face, but I could see a faint coloring under her olive skin.

“No, that’s quite all right,” Dana answered quickly. “Something with a view of the sea would do fine. We are considering getting a room for tomorrow.”

I inquired if she really didn’t want the room from the movie, silently communicating my question, and Dana shook her head imperceptibly. We followed Serine out of the dining room to the stairs.

“Are you sure?” I whispered. I suspected she might think I would feel anxious staying in that particular room, worrying about whether Dana had a fantasy of herself in bed with Gabriel, but I didn’t feel insecure about her and my feelings for her. “Look, I don’t really mind if you—”

“I’m sure, Mitch... unless you want to?” she asked.

“Well... if you want to act out the movie, that’s quite all right with me,” I answered.

“Do you?” she replied.

“No, I don’t, but as I said—”

“I don’t either,” she cut me off rather abruptly.

By then we were lagging behind Serine, several steps behind her, and she had turned the corner onto the floor. I stopped us, and after a pregnant silence I asked, “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. You were the one who suggested renting a room, implying...”

“I was just joking, Dana. Look, I just wanted you to know that I don’t feel insecure about fantasies and such, if you had any. That’s all. And if you’re wondering whether I have a fantasy regarding the actress, she’s not my type,” I said.

“I just wanted to enjoy the place.” Softening her expression, she said, “I really don’t have that kind of fantasy. I just want to have a romantic time with you, Mitch.”

“O-K!” I said, not knowing what else I could say, and we continued to climb the stairs. “What I was trying to say is that the movie was romantic... the dinner scene, too and... I’m sorry if I jumped to conclusions,” I added a bit later.

“Don’t be,” she said, hooking her arm to mine.

Serine was waiting for us a few steps away as we turned the corner. She passed a few rooms, and opened one of the doors, showing us a small room with a queen sized bed, a small vanity table, and a small shower-toilet. She opened the curtains to show us the view from the window, and then opened the door to what turned out be a very narrow balcony. I turned to Dana, and she gave a small nod, satisfied with the room and the scenery.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” I said, and added a firm “definitely!”

“We’ll be looking forward to seeing you,” Serine answered with a very satisfied expression on her face.

* * * * *

When we were back on the road again, the sun was very low, and I realized we had spent more time than we planned to, but I knew we could make it in time to catch the sunset.

Initially the road curved away from the shore and then turned inland, heading towards the first cove. The residential area changed from small houses and apartment blocks to older and bigger villas. I mentioned to Dana that this was considered the richest part of the town. After a straight stretch of the road we arrived at a big tea garden located on a wooded rise with several step-like terraces among pine trees; another favorite spot for tourists and locals for an outing in the afternoons. I pointed out the small playgrounds with slides and swings for the kids, and mentioned that this was a favorite place to have a picnic with the family.

The road turned left following the contour of the small rise, and straightened out taking us to another small residential area with tall apartment buildings and some small houses in between them. Parts of it were relatively new and we could see several places where construction was ongoing. It was a continuation of the richer section of the town.

Before we reached the end of the residential area, we caught sight of the sea.

“That’s the first cove,” I said to Dana, and pointed at the two hills that rose in front of us, on the opposite shore of the cove. “That hill to the right and partially blocked by the first hill is the one I was telling you about. From here, we can’t see the second cove, but a bit further ahead along this road, we’ll see a portion of it.”

I drove on and the road curved left, following the eastern shore of the cove. Although here, the road was wide, it was constrained by water to the right, and a small cliff to left. I slowed down and pointed out the mouth of the cove. A little bit further down the road, we briefly caught a partial view of the mouth of the second cove. Most of the second cove was hidden behind the hill that we were going to visit.

“This is a lovely view,” Dana commented.

“It is. I love driving around this cove, but this road is dangerous. Until couple of years ago, it was narrow, and there were no barriers. After many accidents, they decided to widen it. They built an embankment and put up some barriers. But, there’s a very sharp right turn coming up next, and it’s very dangerous, because the road doesn’t bank at all. Nowadays, it’s the only troublesome spot. Luckily, if you’re speeding and can’t take the curve you’ll only end up plowing into a farm field.”

“You call that lucky?” she asked with an incredulous tone.

“Hey, it’s better than ending up in the water, like that corner we just passed,” I retorted. “Better than what they deserve.”

“That’s very—” she stopped suddenly. “Why do you say that?”

“Because most of them are either driving drunk or speeding. During the summer this road gets very busy. There are several discos further on along this road, and you can guess how many drivers are under the influence. The point is they don’t just hurt themselves, but innocents as well. They should consider themselves lucky when they end up in a farm field.”

By then we were coming to the curve, and I slowed down. After I took the curve carefully, we found ourselves on a straight stretch, the road still skirting the shoreline.

“You don’t believe they learn a lesson?” Dana asked with a quiet tone.

“Some might,” I answered, and decided to change the subject. “This is the bottom portion of the cove,” I said. “This road goes past this cove down to the beach area where most of the hotels are located. There are some private camps that belong to various public and private companies, and a big residential area consisting of apartments, condos, and shops by the beach.”

We drove past a sign for the hill and the restaurant, and I pointed out the service road coming up. About hundred meters further on, I took the turn off. As usual, the road was cheaply paved with gravel on a thin layer of asphalt, and with large potholes everywhere, it badly needed repair. It was constrained by a hill to our left and water to our right (which was the western shoreline of the cove), and was very narrow.

In front of us, a large landmass filled our view, rising up and then dropping down to meet the water. At its foot, close by the water, stood a four-star hotel. Unlike most hotels, which were open during the tourist season, this one was open all-year-round.

“That’s the hotel Sarah was talking about. It’s a getaway spot for many people,’ I said and began telling her about the people. Some of them were public figures, either rich or famous, who wanted to escape the public eye. The others were usually young couples or people having secret affairs. Almost all of them came from the nearby city some 150 kilometers due south. There were of course other weekend getaway places near the city, but they were too well known for their night life, too crowded, and too close to the city. If you wanted privacy or were looking for a quiet and peaceful spot away from prying eyes, then this was the place.

The road circled around the hotel, and we caught sight of some of the facilities. There was an empty pool partially hidden from the view by the building itself, a couple of tennis courts and a parking lot. After leaving the hotel behind us, the road climbed a winding steep slope to the hilltop, surrounded on both sides by pine trees. There were signs warning against fire hazard, and we passed areas cleared for fire response teams, and a small forest ranger station along the way.

“In the summer, there would be bee hives set up not too far away from this road, and you could see stands of honey-sellers. Although I like pine-honey, the flavor is bland. It might be because there aren’t too many flowers for the bees. I don’t know.”

Dana was quiet, acknowledging my comments with a small nod. To tell the truth, I was starting to get concerned, as she had been quiet since we left the island, and then we had that strange conversation at the motel... I just couldn’t figure out what was wrong, except that something didn’t seem or feel right. All I had was a small blip of warning. However, I couldn’t dwell on it, as the road was narrow, the slope was steep, and some of the curves were very tight, requiring my full attention. During the tourist season, busloads of people would be on this road, and I always wondered how the buses managed to make their way up this road, especially when two of them had to use this same road moving in opposite directions. And interestingly the few accidents that happened involved cars instead of bigger vehicles, all of them late at night and due to alcohol, or speeding, or a combination of both.

Finally, we arrived at the top. There was only one structure, a restaurant that occupied the eastern section, now closed. To its right was the parking lot. I drove to the parking lot, the gravel crunching under the tires, and parked the car. As I expected, it was very windy. After a slight hesitation, Dana decided to put on my flannel shirt, and over it, wore her coat. I had my windbreaker, its fleece lining keeping me warm. We went exploring.

The whole place looked abandoned, not a soul to be seen. The restaurant windows had its shutters closed, although a few of them looked like they would break and fly away if a sudden gust of wind hit them. The wide terrace that occupied the front side, and ran from one end to the other, was also devoid of tables and chairs that used to attract most of the visitors. We crossed the gravel-covered yard, and Dana directed us to the other side of the building. Past the building, there was a small cage covering a recess on the ground, not too deep, but right on the edge of the hill with a sharp drop beyond it.

“So, this is the wishing well,” Dana commented.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“Sarah told me,” she replied.

“What else did she tell you?”

She gave me a teasing look, before she quipped, “That’s for me to know, and for you to discover.”

Thinking quickly, I asked, “Was that why you insisted on staying on the island?”

She continued her game. “Might be... could be... who knows?”

I decided to ignore her quips. I was already confused by her behavior, and I didn’t know what to make of her mood swings—if they were mood swings. She was quiet, then teasing and loving, and the next second, a bit argumentative or defensive, and then loving and joking again.

I looked down the recess and I could see coins left over from the summer season. I dug into the pockets of my jeans looking for some coins. I took my time making a wish, ensuring that I had Dana’s full attention, and then, I flipped the coin into the recess.

I hope this works!

I offered a coin to her without a word. She had an amused but puzzled expression on her face. She closed her eyes making her wish, looking like she was concentrating real hard. After what felt like ages, she opened her eyes, and flipped the coin into the recess as well.

“So what did you wish?” I asked very casually.

“What if it doesn’t work because I talked about it?” she replied.

“If it’s going to work, it’s going to work. You’re not blowing out birthday candles, you know?”

The silence was almost overpowering, and as it stretched, I wondered who would attempt to break it first.

“OK! You go first!” she said.

Talk about a boomerang! Hoist on my petard!

“I was... I was wondering what was going on. You seem quiet, preoccupied... almost moody...” I trailed off.

If I hadn’t been watching her I would have missed it. Something crossed her eyes, almost a flinch—an internal flinch! Her nostrils flared for a split second. That worried me. I was racking my brain to find a way to comfort her, and let her talk about it, but... I took a step toward her, and then pulled her into my arms. Again, there was a minute hesitation, before she let herself be hugged. Then she wrapped her arms around me. I kissed the top of her head, smelling her hair, and began a rocking her gently, my senses questing, listening, scanning for any changes in her body, trying to ascertain if I was able to comfort her in any way.

“What is it, Dana?” I asked with a whisper-like tone.

She clutched me for a brief moment, still tense. Then I felt her shiver; I wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold wind. I kept rocking her for a while before I said, “You’re scaring me, love. Please, talk to me.”

“I-I...” She pulled back slightly and looked up. Her eyes were glittering, moist, and my heart ached to see her like that. I just couldn’t figure out what would cause such distress. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. I pulled her head to my chest, and rocked her again, running my hands on her back.

“It’s all right, love. Whatever it is, everything will be all right,” I whispered, and kissed the top of her head.

Then I heard her say the words... the words that most men would come to hate to hear... and perhaps, avoid at all costs!

“We need to talk.”

* * * * *