Page 37 of Footprints in the Sand
Harry laughed and sat down, crossing and uncrossing his legs.
Something is really wrong, Dimitra thought now. She steeled herself for whatever came next.
“I wanted to tell you something,” he said gently, rubbing his scratchy beard.
Here it comes. All the ways he’s already lied to me, Dimitra thought. Thank goodness she hadn’t given her heart to him yet. They hardly know each other. They don’t owe each other anything.
“Okay,” Dimitra said, waiting. “Shoot.”
“I have a daughter.” Immediately, Harry’s neck wilted, as though it couldn’t fully support his head.
Dimitra wet her lips and tried to guess what he meant by this. That he couldn’t commit to her because he had other obligations? She couldn’t commit either!
“That’s wonderful,” Dimitra said. “How old is she?”
“She’s fifteen. She’s, um. Well, she’s had many problems over the years. We weren’t sure what it was for a long time. It’s a form of autism that basically didn’t allow her to make friends or build a life, until now,” Harry said.
Dimitra’s heart cracked open.It’s impossible to ever know anyone, she thought. First impressions were usually wrong.
“Until now? That sounds promising?” Dimitra said.
Harry nodded. “She’s away at a camp for kids with autism, kids who are interested in art and writing and music and performing. Surprisingly, she’s most interested in acting. I mean, she hardly wanted to speak to anyone for her first eight years of life, and now she wants to get on a stage and memorize lines and pretend to be somebody else? It boggles my mind.”
Dimitra’s eyes filled with tears. This was a man who genuinely loved his daughter, a man who would do anything for her, who was pulling for her in every stage of life, no matter the complications. Dimitra reached out and touched his hand.
“It’s just that I see you as this really wild and free individual,” Harry went on, his eyes to the window. “You can go wherever the wind takes you. You can move from Greece to Martha’s Vineyardto Timbuktu, if you want. But my ‘free lifestyle’ really only lasts during the summertime, when I come here to unwind after months of hard parenting. I’ll have to go back to South Carolina at the end of August to get Ginny ready to go back to school.”
“Ginny,” Dimitra said, loving the sound of the girl’s name.
“Her mom and I have fifty-fifty custody,” he said. “We split up about ten years ago, and our system has really worked for Ginny, I think. Well, she’s the type of person to tell us if it wasn’t working. That’s the truth.” He laughed gently. “In any case, I wanted to tell you, you know, that I wasn’t this wild, free-spirited, vagabond guy. I’m really just pretending to be that.”
Dimitra raised her shoulders. “Aren’t we all just pretending? You don’t seem like you’ve pretended to be anything but yourself all your life,” she said.
Dimitra’s heart pounded. She was still touching his hand, so he adjusted so that he was holding hers instead.
“I’m sort of a sensitive guy,” Harry said finally. “I don’t like that about myself. But after my wife left me, I fell into a depressive pit and really struggled to get my way out. I threw myself into parenting and work and have had very, very few connections with women over the years. And then one day, a beautiful Greek woman leaped into the water to save my dog. Was it fate?”
Dimitra laughed. “Greek mythology works in mysterious ways.”
Harry squeezed her hand and let it go. “Anyway. I needed to, um. Yeah. Clear the air. I needed to…”
But Harry didn’t have time to finish his thought. There was another knock downstairs.
Dimitra was initially stricken. William Cottrill had said he would be on the island soon and that he wanted to see what she’d been working on. (Ironically, Dimitra had only been able to start painting again because of her wild and glittering feelingsfor Harry—not because of her feelings for that wealthy man back in Manhattan. But William never had to know that.)
“Are you expecting someone?” Harry asked.
“No? Maybe?” Dimitra wrung her hands and hurried over to the front door. Harry got up and stood behind her with his arms crossed. Did he want to frighten whoever it was away?
But when Dimitra opened the door, she was surprised to find a meek-looking, skinny kid of about twenty-eight, standing hunched on the stoop. He looked underfed and as though he hadn’t slept in a while, but he was dressed in a way that might have gotten him into the country club, which was confusing.
“Hello?” Dimitra tried.
The man raised a shaking hand. “Hi. My name is Finn. I need to talk to you.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I think my girlfriend is in trouble, and I don’t know what to do.”
Chapter Eighteen
Naxos Island - July 2025
