Desperado Dale (Scenic Route to Paradise) (5 page)

They came around a bend and the sinking sun was
a spectacular show where sea meant sky.

   
“Wow! It’s difficult to deny the existence of the Great Artist, God when you
see such a picture painted across the horizon,” exclaimed Dale.

There was a pause but then Sam said, “We have a
saying here on the island where the sunrise and sunset are unique and
magnificent seven days a week:
Sunrise
is God’s greeting and sunset His signature.

Dale nodded and pulled his eyes away from the
colorful blend to look in the distance where miles of creamy beaches sprawled
north and south. The orange afternoon glow, looking the color of peach sherbet,
lingered about the landscape. It was easily understood, Sam’s reference to the
island being paradise. The BMW swung to the right climbing a lonely weed pocked
highway up a small mountainside. After about thirty minutes of winding side
road with meager glimpses of the beaches and waning sunset, they emerged on the
other side of the hill.

Night had officially arrived. There were dozens
of lights, near and far before them but the area seemed very rural to Dale. The
Ionian Sea
was a black expanse
with no moon and the few stars not glimmering against its rough surface.

After driving through a black little town with
few yellow flickers piercing from behind drawn curtains, Sam turned into a well
groomed gravel drive, inadequately lit on either side of the entrance by large
brass lamps.

A very long driveway wrapping wire-like around a
bluff brought them to the front steps of “the villa” as Sam had labeled the
house. The front porch framed a large bubble-like chandelier type light hanging
before and above the double doors. The light was on but the long windows
upstairs and down revealed a dark interior.

“I’m the caretaker slash butler slash chauffeur
for this place. I just dropped the owner’s niece off at the airport so it’s
just me and the old lady here.” Sam told Dale as he pulled on the emergency
brake and gave a nod toward the mansion. He hopped out before Dale could
comment.

“Cozy place,” murmured Dale. He plucked his
phone from his pocket to check the reception strength only to find the thing
lifeless. The battery was dead.

Sam was pulling groceries from the trunk when
Dale joined him. “I need to charge my phone but in the meantime, can I help?”
he asked. Sam handed him a basket loaded with city goods.

“Come on,” Sam directed as he closed the rear
hatch and turned toward the steps.

Something moved at the front left window but
when Dale focused, he saw nothing. Once Sam had the front door opened, the
something Dale had
not
seen came bounding toward them... a dog. Two
dogs; one tall and grey and pony-like while the other was very small, imitating
Dorothy's Toto traveling the yellow brick road. With the lights now on, Dale
saw the Villa’s front hall was a polished elongated hallway with archways and
rooms leading off left and right. A stairway which divided at the midpoint
landing was the central focus.

The miniature Toto was yipping and yapping as he
danced in circles around the men while pony-dog inspected first Dale and then
the basket of food Dale carried, before the gentle giant turned to Sam.

Dale was an unabashed dog lover and so he
couldn’t but notice how thin the animals were and yet he said, “Beautiful dogs.
Are they yours?”

The dogs alternately followed and led them
through the hallway and to the left as Sam replied, telling Dale about the dogs
and their master who owned the estate.

“This place was quite a zoo when I was hired
over three years ago but since then... Well, the owner has only been here once
in that time although his family members continue to visit quite a bit. I’m
sure you read about our country’s economic woes. Austerity and all that? Of
course, you did!” Sam said fiercely as he tossed two long loaves of bread up on
the kitchen counter. “The food lines, the riots and the notorious New Dawn
thugs helping the common person get back what was rightfully theirs... It was
all over the news. Anyway, that was the reason I took this job...
Athens
was stagnating and then
violent, and then things just got worse. Everyone was moving out of the cities
and going back to the towns and villages where they were born or where their
parents were born. I was born in
Athens
but we moved to the
U.S.
when I was an infant.
Most of my family had already immigrated. I came back on a lark and stayed.

This island is connected to mainland
Greece
by a ferry. When I
first arrived, there were three ferries a week in each direction. Now there is
one every other week.” Sam’s cheeks puffed as he slowly exhaled and Dale
wondered about this tell-tale sigh. “I had no idea how severe life in
Greece
would become and I put
off going back to the states... Now? I can’t go back. Not that I want to.” He
shrugged, turning away from Dale.

The lights from the hallway lit the kitchen with
a shadowy gloom. Sam drew the curtain closed above the sink before crossing to
a bay window and pulling the blinds closed. Although Dale hadn’t responded, Sam
continued, “I haven’t heard from any of my family in months... I mean those in
the states.” He put a match to a gas lantern and then another; hanging them on
decorative hooks that hung from a high ceiling which disappeared into the
shadows after Sam turned off the electric light at the switch.

Dale still held the basket, as he peered about
for an electric outlet to charge his cell phone. He heaved the groceries up
onto the counter that bisected a dining area from the cooking part of the
kitchen. Sam pulled the basket to his side. Although the room remained dark,
above the steel top counter and behind Sam, the area was surprisingly bright.
Dale’s stomach was rumbling as he watched Sam empty the pantry supplies from
the basket. He noted only the flour was store bought. The other items were a
menagerie of jarred fruits, vegetables and a few dairy products.

Sam was talking and sorting and organizing when
he stopped suddenly to ask, “And you... uh, Dale? What about your family? I’ve
been rambling on about my struggles, fears and false bravado for how long? Ten
minutes or more... Sorry. And I never answered your question about the dogs. It
has been hard on them and all but two chickens and the milking goat are gone...
either eaten or stolen and
then
eaten or perhaps, sold. I don’t know.”

There was a pot of water warming on the gas
stove and Sam was chopping away at leeks. After plugging in his phone, Dale
peeled the first of several potatoes before he finally spoke. “I have two
sisters but I have no idea where they are. Kate was in
South Africa
on vacation and the
youngest, Merry was supposed to fly out to meet up with me... Well, she was to
meet me and my wife, our little girl and my grandparents on the very day of the
attacks.” Dale shook his head. “Strange but I have a real peace that my sisters
are okay... You ever get that feeling? I do but then again I have an ache in
the pit of my being every time I think of the rest of our family living in the
Philadelphia
area. We haven’t been
able to get through to them.”

The dogs were pulling on a strand of rope; one
set of teeth on either end. Growls and paws scrapping the tile floor were the
only other sound as the men contemplated the new world dynamic.

Dale said, “I am extremely grateful that my wife
and child were with me. I think the odds of surviving the civil unrest and the
scarcity of food, water, medical supplies - all of it - would have been more
than I could have handled. I suppose I would have made it work with God’s help
but we flew out a few days before it hit the fan... My elderly grandparents
came with us... so I wasn’t put in that position. It’s been tough but I’m not
complaining!” It was Dale’s turn to exhale dramatically. He lifted his
shoulders and dropped them with a shrug, saying, “My grandparents are extremely
resourceful and honestly, I am glad they are with us. They are slow but in
great health. For the most part, their attitude has kept me hopeful.” Dale
excluded Mr Adam’s derision toward the French.

“Sure. I know what you mean. The elderly have
been through so much! They conclude that since they’ve made it this far, they
will continue to make it. I know exactly what you mean! I suppose they either
become wise or cynical,” Sam said. His conclusions were based on experience
interacting with a Jewess named Bethania Kalamaki. “The old lady that lives
here - she is a phenomenon. She survived the Nazis and the post World War II
hardships, including the Greek civil war. She knows just what to do to stay
alive. You’ll meet her when we eat dinner.”

Dale explained their short-term goal had been
and still was reaching D’Almata where his mother resided. Sam smiled and nodded
at this bit of information.

Whenever D’Almata was mentioned, Dale noticed
people lit-up; smiling, grinning and sometimes chuckling. The responses were
never mocking or disrespectful. To Dale it seemed as if the topic at hand was a
favorite uncle or childhood friend rather than the small Adriatic island
nation. He wondered about this typical reaction.

Finally, he described to Sam his airport
misfortune, questioning out loud the reasoning behind the aggressive behavior
of the port authorities.

Sam replied, “They think you’ve done something
that is beyond the normal illegal stuff. The bag... Maybe someone exchanged
your grandmother’s bag in
Marseilles
, hoping to retrieve it from her once she landed in
Greece
. It’s been done before.
That sort of scheme is not uncommon, I assure you!”

“Possibly, but I searched her bag... There is
only personal stuff, some money and lots of trinkets,” Dale told him. Common
sense made plain that if he had the right bag, then Grandma Bean might have the
phony one. “I wish my phone hadn’t died. I really want to know how Anna and
Gwennie are doing and my grandparents, of course,” Dale said flatly.

Chapter 7  House on the Hill

When the sun sank beyond the horizon, dark
immediately arrived. Anna had forgotten how quickly night descended on the island.
They had bumped along at a slow pace for some time without anything looking
familiar. The road north had split several times and now, she was positive that
she had made a wrong decision. When exiting the last tiny town, grassy flowers
sprung up in the middle of the lane. In silence, Anna admitted she was lost.

As Anna drew her conclusion but before the sun
had set with the road before them noticeably overgrown, Mr Adams commented from
the backseat. “It must have been a long time since this highway has seen an
automobile.”

Anna thought him generous in labeling the dirt
road a highway. She said, “We need to go back to the village and ask for
directions. I hate being lost. I miss the days of GPS!” They had used GPS in
traveling through
France
but Anna was referring to the ease and accuracy of which seemed
forever gone since March.

As night settled, Anna was stopped in front of a
rusty sign that read “grocery” in Greek. It hung before a clean but squat
building, typical of traditional village architecture on the island. The place
doubled as house and convenience store. A gas lantern swung from the porch
ceiling revealing, two old men sitting in straight back chairs at the left of
the doorway.

Anna got out while her passengers watched from
the car. Bean laboriously rolled down her window. Sitting in the front seat,
she was closest to the men and she hoped to see or hear something interesting.

When Anna greeted the men, they both smiled and
returned her greeting. After some talk and Anna pointing first to the rental
car and then back toward the city and then toward the road-turned-goat tract
that lead north from the tiny town, one of the men sprung up from his seat and
led Anna inside.

“Well, now what?” remarked Bean.

“Hungry! Let’s have lunch!” chirped Gwyneth.

Bernie became rummaging about in the backseat.
“Good idea. I could eat lunch all over again,” he said.  He handed a
wrinkled apple off to the child.

A boy that looked to be nine or ten years old,
darted from the storefront and then, a moment later, Anna emerged from the dark
doorway and returned to the car.

“We’re staying the night here. I’m exhausted...
We all are!” She nodded toward the fleeing figure. “He’s gone ahead to tell the
innkeeper that we need both of his rooms.”

The Nymfes Inn was a large house built behind
the town on the south side of a looming hill. At one time the richest family in
town had lived in the house built almost a hundred years before. During the
sixties the home had fallen into disrepair with the younger family members
moving to mainland
Greece
or immigrating. But then the golden age of tourism arrived and
the home was sold and bought and sold and bought, until it had become the local
bed ‘n breakfast. For twenty years, the house on the hill was booked out months
and years in advance. And then the economic collapse began, starting with
Greece
, then
Ireland
;
Spain
and all the rest
overturned like dominoes tipped by a hidden hand. As of late, only lost
foreigners ended up staying the night and that, infrequently. The rooms remained
tidy for such occasions.