Page 13 of Footprints in the Sand
Dimitra laughed and said that almost all of the island beaches on Paros were nudist. “But I know it’s not like that in America,” she said with a wink.
Meghan’s face filled with shock, but she burst into giggles after that. “I’m glad we’re not like that,” she admitted. “Maybe I’m too much of a prude.”
“When it’s what you’re used to, you never think about it,” Dimitra said. “But don’t worry. I brought a suit to America. I know how it goes.”
Meghan breathed a sigh of relief.
As Dimitra put on her black one-piece and pulled her curly black-and-gray hair into a big bun, she pondered why she’d invited Meghan out for a swim. She wondered if it was becauseshe’d seen a sense of urgency and fear in Meghan’s eyes that matched her own.
Meghan needed to know that she’d sent her daughter, Eva, to a safe place. Dimitra wanted to show her that she’d come from good people and that Eva would have someone to lean on if something went wrong.
Ten minutes later, Dimitra and Meghan stood in front of the frothing ocean, barefoot and in their swimsuits. Meghan looked hesitant, but Dimitra was in the mood to feel reckless, so she sprinted into the water, screaming until her head was under.
It was an entirely different ocean, with a different temperature and a different sky. As she floated on her back, watching the clouds sweep to the opposite horizon, she tried to fathom the great distance between Martha’s Vineyard and Paros Island and felt tears spring to her eyes.
Kostos, she thought of the man she loved and had lost.Kostos, give me a sign that I’m right where I’m meant to be.
But there was no sign beyond the warmth of the sunshine and Meghan’s big belly laugh when she finally swept into the ocean and cried out, “It’s freezing! I haven’t done this in years!”
And then Meghan said, “Maybe it’s good to have a little bit of your Greek energy around here. Maybe it will shake things up.”
Dimitra laughed. She didn’t want the pressure on her shoulders to change the people around her. But she knew that in coming here, everything was about to shift. She’d thought the shifts would belong only to her and to Eva, but of course change was hungry. It swallowed up whoever was around. Nothing would ever be the same, and probably that was a good thing.
Chapter Eight
Paros Island - June 2025
It took Eva a good hour to force herself out of bed and down to the beach. Once there, she spread out her towel and gazed across the impossible turquoise waters, watching as a woman in a swim cap swam from one side of the cove to the other and back again. Eva had stopped at a little bakery for spanakopita, a pylo-based spinach pie, and it was greasy and nourishing, filling her up and allowing her brain to open. When she finished her pie, she got into the water and floated on her back. She wondered if Finn had heard she’d left the country. She wondered if he thought she’d left because she wanted to get away from him.
She didn’t want to give him that kind of power. But he had it, didn’t he? Ugh.
After her swim, Eva explored the little village of Aliki, pausing briefly at a little beachside restaurant for a glass of wine. There, she texted Rachelle that she’d arrived.
RACHELLE: Welcome to Europe!! How is everything so far?
EVA: I’m nervous and excited and so jet-lagged!
RACHELLE: Everything will go great. Dimitra’s family sounds like a trip. She told me she has like forty cousins on the island. Maybe one of them is cute?
EVA: Ugh, I don’t know if I’m ready for that.
Eva’s heartbeat intensified. She hadn’t thought about tonight’s “family party” as anything beyond something she wanted to show her face at before falling into bed. But then again, now that it was late-morning time back home, she felt wide awake and okay about pushing herself, if only a little bit. She had no interest in pushing herself in the “romantic fling” direction, though.
She needed to check in with work, anyway.
For the past year and change, Eva had worked as a social media manager for an East Coast fashion brand. The head designer was a wealthy woman based in Manhattan named Gretchen Collinsworth, who, perhaps not surprisingly, had been raised by the extremely wealthy in London. Eva herself had never read such a posh name.
Here at the beachside restaurant, Eva pulled out her laptop and checked on the socials she’d posted from the airport that morning and responded to several messages and responses from either past buyers or future clients. As she did it, she felt her soul drain out of her body. Engaging with people on social media was not one of her favorite things to do. But a job was a job, and she knew she needed to be grateful for having one. Moreover,she was glad to work for a small company that took care of its employees.
Eva wondered if she could work for the rest of her life at a job she hated so much. Maybe people did that all the time.
Back at Dimitra’s place, Eva showered and changed into a long black dress with straps at the shoulders and a high neck. She didn’t want to give anyone the impression she was looking for romance, but she didn’t want to look like a mourner, either. A few minutes after the start time for the party, she followed her phone map to Athena’s place, where she found just Athena, her husband, Angelos, and Athena and Dimitra’s mother, Anna. It looked as though nobody else had arrived yet. They looked at her with surprise, as though she’d done something wrong.
“I’m sorry?” Eva said. “I thought it started at nine?”
It took Athena a second to respond. “Yes. Of course, I told you nine. Come in. Please. Can we get you a plate? Something to drink?”
Anna smiled and gestured for Eva to sit beside her. As Athena disappeared to find Eva something to drink, Anna explained that the start time was nine, but people probably wouldn’t start to arrive till nine thirty or even ten.
