Snatching up the crumpled pack, Zeff pointed to the health warning printed on the counterfeit package of American cigarettes. Merry threw her head back and laughed. “Yes, of course! But if you go to hell because you die of cancer or get hit by a speeding taxi or you live to the ripe old age of 105 but still end up separated from God paying for your own sins in the Lake of Fire... Your short life here - even at 105 will be for nothing. Eternity is forever! God tells us that we are all inclined to sin eventually... My mom says ‘Sinners sin.’ God truly loves us and yet, it’s our sin that repulses Him. God is holy and He is unwilling to allow the filth of sin in His Presence.”
Zeff always got stuck here. “Si, but God is love, as you say. Everyone says so and even in that Spanish Bible you gave me... I read that God is love. Love forgives. Love does not punish by sending everyone... even the good people to hell!” His face was red and Merry could see the frustration building and he plowed his hair with his fingers again.
Now, Merry quit smiling. “Zeff, God sends no one to hell. It’s our rejection of His payment for our sin that will send us there. I heard Mac explaining it to you the other night when you two were discussing this. Your sin can be forgiven when you make the choice to accept God’s payment plan. Jesus was sent by God the Father to die for our sins. Mary, a Jewish virgin gave birth to the Son of God. When the religious people and the Romans too, had him crucified, Jesus died and then rose three days later. Death is for sinners - that’s us! The second death, eternal death is for God-rejecters. You can chose to believe what the Bible says or you can chose to reject it... When you hear the good news that Jesus died and rose the third day and you chose to believe it, your dead spirit is made alive and you become born into God’s family. It’s your choice.”
He had heard this before but today something rung true. Remembering the words he had read that morning from his Bible, ‘escogeos hoy a quién sirváis,’ Zeff said, “If it seems evil to serve the Lord, then choose for yourself who it is you will serve...”
Merry finished the scripture from Joshua 24. “‘As for me and my house we choose to serve the Lord.’ Once you’ve heard the great news that God is offering forgiveness of sin, it becomes a matter of choice,” she said with quiet confidence.
“I’m quite tired of my sin, to tell you the truth,” Zeff confided. “But I don’t see how I can live up to God’s expectations.”
At this momentous juncture, a shout came from the crows nest.
“Merry, get Mac!” yelled Junior Tapia from above. She failed to notice the terror in his voice.
As Merry frowned skyward at the intrusion, Mac was already barreling up from below. He began yelling orders at the men and then, he pushed Merry roughly aside. “Get a life vest on and then get one to each of us,” he barked just inches from her face.
Merry ran for the vests. The sloop seemed to be listing to the starboard. It had been so calm, even humdrum so what was causing this panic? She began to tighten her own vest while she scanned the water. There was nothing to be seen. Tino was yelling. The engine was sputtering to life. Zeff was cursing. Junior, dropping the final 10 feet as he came down the mast, hit the deck with a thud.
Fumbling with the life jackets, Merry looked again to the west. An ominous mist roiled above the horizon. A line of water hung in the air below the churning grey vapor. A tsunami? They had seen and even ridden, several tsunami waves but this was horrific. Could the Serendipity ride this speeding, growing mound of water?
Merry ran with the life vests while Zeff cursed and the boat swung around to meet the foe.
Chapter 9 Counterfeit
Mr Adams was up early. His room overlooked the mature gardens that circumvented the inn. In the distance, the Ionian Sea peeped at the horizon. The sky was blue, pale blue and cloudless. The water, turbulent.
Yes, Greece was better all around compared to France, he decided again as though his thought novel.
Bernie was downstairs sitting in the shade when Bean came down dressed for the day in a lavender colored velour jogging suit. She joined him at the poolside table.
A middle aged woman came out and introduced herself to Mrs Adams.
As if an explanation was needed, she told them she had been a schoolteacher on mainland Greece for almost 20 years before she retired early to move to Kerkyra with her aging spouse.
“Call me Sylvia,” she said in very clear English. “It was my husband, Gus that you met last night. What a pleasant surprise for us to have you arrive, as you did.”
“Oh, no. The pleasant surprise was on our part. That soup was delicious... What a beautiful home you have here. So spacious and modern too,” said Bean courteously although her thoughts were elsewhere as she began sipping from Mr Adam’s coffee cup.
Sylvia promised to give them a map - hand drawn of the best route to the northern town of Avliotes. “From there your daughter-in-law’s family village is very close and doable even on our roads, if you leave this morning.” After more small talk with Mr Adams, she went inside to make breakfast for the guests.
“I understand how people at one time thought Greece to be the cradle of civilization... the Garden of the Gods. Why Bean this is a wonderful place... Look at that pool! Perhaps, we should stay another night or two. It couldn’t hurt and who knows but maybe Dale can meet us here... Although, I have no idea where here is!” Bernie let out a laugh at his own statement. It felt somehow freeing not knowing where he was and the place being so peaceful and comfortable.
Bean looked at the calm restive demeanor of her alienated first love and thought nothing of popping Bernie’s bubble of peace.
After all, hadn’t he popped my idyllic bubble almost 50 years before?
The fact was she needed his advice. Mr Adams was the smartest man she knew and if there was going to be trouble and it certainly seemed that there was trouble coming and going, she wanted Bernie to have his brains working to fix the problem.
“Mr Adams, I think we need to get on the road this morning - just as Sylvia suggested,” Bean began. “You see I came across something very odd, if not worrisome last night while I was readying for bed.”
Bernie opened his eyes wide. “You did? So did I. Yes! I was about to brush my teeth and also, my dentures when I glanced into the bathroom mirror... I was shocked. My appearance has become very odd and also, worrisome as you say. In fact, I don’t feel a day over 72 but when I looked in that mirror last night, why an old man looked back! Odd! Very worrisome indeed!” he muttered with a bushy wink.
In spite of her somber thoughts, Jellybean let out a chortle. “No, I’m serious Mr Adams.” She went on to explain what she had discovered the night before only taking a break when a breakfast ensemble was rolled out on a dining cart.
When Sylvia left them, Bean continued, “I thought there was something different about my bag... It looked less worn but it wasn’t until I opened it that even that insignificant detail registered.” She took an empty coffee cup from the cart and Bernie poured her a cup of coffee. He refilled his own, adding hot milk. He turned to examine the rolls and eggs and simple fare that had been left for their morning meal.
Scooping up a pastry, he recounted, “There is money... and you say it’s not the old drachma or the Euro but the new currency. Also, there is jewelry - mostly gold and finally a manila enveloped with a notebook; a handwritten travel journal inside.”
Nodding, Bean confirmed. “Yes, it was sealed but I opened it.” She paused and when she got no rebuke from Mr Adams she continued, “And, the diary is in English. I was thankful for that because it was easily read. Anna and the baby were sleeping through my entire discovery... exhausted little lambs. Anyway, I stayed up late trying to figure out everything. Its old but there are no dates... Strange!”
“You know what I think, Mr Adams?” She remarked. Bernie poked his breakfast as he shrugged… He had his own thoughts about what the discovery meant. “I think someone intentionally switched my bag and that is why Dale has been detained,” she confided using
a stage whisper.
“Really, dear?” He wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and then he added, “No, we don’t know what has happened to Dale. The last twenty-four hours is chocked full of unanswered questions... What has happened to our grandson? How come Anna is told not to contact him? Where are we? And what in the world are you doing carrying someone else’s pink bag?” He took a swig of coffee. “Yes... yes, the bags are somehow related and most probably, a fellow traveler intentionally switched them. I’ll bet my last thousand liras, he’s a Frenchman for sure and he did not want to be identified by the strange contents of this carry-on. It seems whoever that traveler is, he or she went to great lengths to copy your bag.”
Lira?
Also, Bean doubted that the person in question was French. The handwritten journal was in English and from what little she had read, the author was a Brit. “I know, but I originally bought that bag... a mauve colored bag - not pink, in an airport terminal. Actually, I bought it at Heathrow before the disaster hit back home. Sir, in spite of the absolute horrible financial problems, some of the kiosks at the airports are still open for business. My bag is a fairly common one and easily identifiable and so, it seems someone chose one like it in Marseilles before we flew out. Besides, I probably look like an easy target.” She explained with a sad smile.
“Well, we both do look like easy prey, I suppose but if people only knew what kind of... erh, huh, business we did following the Great War, I’m sure they would have picked another courier to do their dirty work!” Mr Adams said quietly but with such resolution that Bean cheered-up, convinced he was correct in his assumption.
He continued, “We have money, their money and their gold and a possible important bargaining item - their journal. We may need these things to find and deliver Dale. I wonder where that boy has gotten off too. I sure hope the authorities don’t have him in a cell underneath the airport... That would be a difficult safe to crack.” Mr Adams looked at his watch while Mrs Adams arranged her breakfast plate.
He reiterated mentally, Not impossible but definitely a difficult safe to crack.
For a half hour, the elderly couple discussed the probable scenarios and finally concluded that without Dale’s input there would be little to do but take precautions and stay alert. The two had worked with the underground and in espionage post World War II. It was as if they had taken up where they had left off but neither one considered that the last time they were called up for “service” was over 30 years ago.
Bean returned to the room she shared with Anna and Gwyneth while Mr Adams conferred with Sylvia on the best route to the northwest tip of the island. In the end, as the travelers left the inn behind, he had a map with three different routes marked on it. The fastest way and then the most scenic route but also, the slowest route which would take them all day and half the night to obtain their destination - Anna’s cousin’s house located in the tiny village of Evangelos east of Avliotes.
Chapter 10 Surprise, Surprise, Surprise
Remarkably, Dale had slept sound. The evening before, he made an effort to shift his worries from his own shoulders to Another’s before resting his head on the pillow, as was his custom. The villa was quiet and cool. In the night the sounds of the dogs snuffling about his closed bedroom door and leaves whispering in the constant breeze at the open windows acted as therapy.
For several moments Dale lay in bed wondering about the adventure God had drawn him and his family into. He needed to call Anna, reassuring her that he was okay. The calm he sensed making the rounds in his mind and heart, told him that his wife, child and grandparents were safe, as well.
When Dale didn’t have a Bible handy, he would dredge up from memory the scriptures he had learned as a youngster. This morning he meditated on the Shepherd’s Psalm. In his mind’s eye, Dale read the six verses and dissected the words and phrases and the intent of the shepherd king, David the Jew who penned the poem. Ending with, I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever, Dale began to pray. He sensed God. Inspired, he climbed from the comfort of the bed to kneel on the throw rug.
Quietly speaking and then waiting to hear reverent inspiration, Dale’s mind eventually wandered to the events of the last few months. There was a bitter residue in his spirit as he thought of his home and the chaos that had overtaken his country; the government, the infrastructure and the people. He knew that he knew, God had taken him and his wife, daughter and grandparents out of the impending catastrophe and yet, Dale wondered about so many left to fend for survival besides all the immediate fatalities from both the humongous earthquake and the coordinated enemy attacks. There were friends and family members who were probably dead... who were dead. Although, he hadn’t heard specifically. And then, he mulled the demise of so many innocents, including animals, his pets but especially children.
The bitter taste traveled to his innermost extremities. Dale had gone this route in his mind many times already. With each introspection, an inner ache and doubts of God’s character surfaced. A guilty cloud of oppression formed and hovered, mentally suggesting: Innocent people died but I am alive... I am not worthy.
This time the condemnation was followed with accusations and streaming mental snapshots of his wife and daughter being thrown into a dank Greek prison because of his cowardice. You ran and hid like a scared little weasel but your wife she was stopped and now she and Gwyneth are being punished... tortured. Your prayers are useless! The old people - your grandparents are dead and in hell because of you... You’re worthless!
The lies had gone beyond believability… over the top. Dale let out a drawn out screech, “No-o-o!” Praying quietly, he sought God’s help. He invoked the name of his Savior Jesus to drive off the enemy’s accusations. The calm he sensed when he awoke pressed against the spiritual gloom before penetrating to settle again upon his soul.
After some minutes, Dale stood up and resolved to “gird up the loins” of his mind. He couldn’t let his imagination wander unchecked... not now. Not in this environment. Not ever. If he had questions that needed answers... he would pray and keep his thoughts harnessed and ready to hear and obey God’s Spirit.
The night before had brought several surprises. First, the old woman arrived as dinner was being laid on the table. She nodded at the younger men and then took her seat, not seeming perturbed by a stranger - Dale.
Sam introduced her. In the dim lantern light, Dale smiled a greeting and sat.
The first surprise occurred when both Sam and the woman, Bethania Kalamaki bent their heads to pray for their meal. Caught off guard by this unexpected gesture of reverence and gratitude, Dale could only watch as the elderly woman moved her lips silently while Sam gave the blessing in Greek.
Sam replied to Dale’s obvious amazement. “Life is lean but we are very grateful for divine provision. I had everything before but yet nothing! Now? I have nothing but honestly I have all I need.” Speechless, Dale looked from Sam to Bethania. The woman gave a confirming nod as she handed the bread to Dale.
Taking the loaf, Dale tore a piece and passed it on to Sam. The thought that God was orchestrating the events that transpired since they landed on the island, flitted through his mind.
“We are trusting in the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob for our well-being,” Bethania said softly. Her English was thickly accented. “Perhaps, our God has sent you to us.” Then she added with a gentle laugh, “Always praying! Surely, our God hears - so why not pray?”
Her words perplexed Dale but he was hungry. Pickled fish and the potatoes with the local herbs blended and steaming before him were diverting.
Sam and Dale ate silently as Bethania spoke. She explained about the food and fuel shortages. It had been increasingly difficult and the discontentment brought on by hardship allowed a group of organized thugs to step forward as savior-types. “Ne, but they are far from saviors. In reality, they are corrupt and mean... Evil! People here are in constant fear of their random violence.” Dale noted that Sam looked increasingly uncomfortable
as Bethania talked. The woman seemed oblivious to his worry.
“I don’t have to be a prophetess to see what is coming. I’ve seen it before. There were over 2000 of us here in the isles before they took us away to Auschwitz... but now there is only a handful,” she said.
Sam said in Greek, “But Yiayia, that was a long time ago. It will not happen again.” Although Bethania was not really Sam’s relative, out of respect and affection he called her by the Greek name for grandmother.
Dale thought there was little conviction in Sam’s words of comfort. He asked, “You’re Jews?”
Nodding, Sam went on to relate the long standing relationship of the Jews to the island. Eighteen hundred years of history included a prominent Jewish presence. The most recent Jewish population had settled the Ionian Islands, including Kerkyra in the 1500’s. Although spread throughout the islands, the families and businesses had strong ties to one another. Much of the time, the gentiles lived peacefully with their Jewish minority and looked upon newcomers with sympathy when they arrived after being persecuted in other lands. When Mussolini and then soon after, Hitler’s troops took Kerkyra, island life unraveled once again for the Judaic brethren.
On Kerkyra, the rest of the islanders watched helplessly as their fellow citizens were herded into a type of ghetto with a morning and evening roll call. The Jewish household goods and businesses were plundered by the invaders and soon after, all the Jews on the island were transported to mainland Greece where they were then transported to Auschwitz.
Bethania finished Sam’s account. “Upon arrival 1800 Jews were taken immediately to the showers. They were gassed... murdered! Such evil!” She thumped a weathered fist on the table top.
Desperado Dale (Scenic Route to Paradise) Page 5
