Page 33 of Footprints in the Sand
Her output was horrible. But she reminded herself that back on Paros, it hadn’t been much better. She’d been entrenched in the misery of losing Kostos; she’d been grieving for more than a year. She’d hoped that coming here would knock out the cobwebs. Maybe it had, a little. She’d sat down to paint, after all. That was a good sign.
As Dimitra got ready for the party, she received a text message from Eva with a photograph of the painting she’d madein Dimitra’s studio. It was strange and abstract and, well, not very good.
EVA: I tried! Ha ha. I don’t think painting is my medium. Aphrodite says I have to keep looking! Thanks for the chance to experiment.
DIMITRA: It’s your first painting!! Why stop when you’ve only just begun?
EVA: I have to stop before I destroy the art world forever.
Laughing to herself, Dimitra left for the day, driving her rental over to the ferry, where she was able to get right on board. It was mostly empty, presumably because most people had already begun celebrating the Fourth of July wherever they were. When she parked, she got out and walked to the top, marveling at how beautiful the island was when you were hovering just above and away from it.
That was when she spotted the sailboat.
It was coming alongside the ferry, its sails whipping. The man who sailed had sandy hair, broad shoulders, and a smile that told her he saw her and hadn’t forgotten. Directly beside him was his trusty dog, Cash. Cash barked a friendly bark at her, and Dimitra laughed with happiness. She couldn’t believe it was him.
“Where have you been?” she called out to him.
“I’ve been asking myself the same thing about you!” Harry answered, his hands around his mouth to project. “Where are you going?”
“Nantucket!” she called back. And then, because she couldn’t resist the magic of this moment, she added, “Meet me at the harbor!”
With that, the ferry growled away and into the Sound that bisected the two islands. But Harry and Cash were hot on the heels, sailing across the open water, looking lithe and free alongside the big and frumpy ferry. Dimitra couldn’t stop laughing, especially when Cash got overexcited and Harry put him on a leash to keep him from leaping overboard to get to her. She was pretty sure she heard Harry calling out, “I don’t know what to do with you, buddy!”
The ferry between the two islands took no more than sixty minutes. When the ferry was tied up and ready, Dimitra drove her rental down the ramp and parked in the nearby lot. Harry tied up his boat and headed over, Cash bouncing along behind him. Dimitra hadn’t seen him since the reading, but he looked tanner and happier and lighter on his feet. She had the strangest sensation that she wanted to run over to him and throw her arms around him.
I’m not a woman in a romance novel, she reminded herself.
But when he reached her, he kissed her cheek. She shivered and smiled at him.
“This is fortuitous,” he said. “Cash and I didn’t know what to make of today.”
“We’ll make of the day together then,” Dimitra said.
“My Greek myth!” Harry said.
Together, they got into Dimitra’s car and drove the short distance to the Coleman House. Dimitra asked Harry what he’d been up to, and he said, “I had to head back where I grew up for a little while. It’s why I haven’t had a chance to call you. I’m sorry about that.”
Dimitra wondered again if Harry had a wife somewhere. She decided to ask him point-blank, just to see what would happen. “Are you married, Harry?”
Harry laughed gently. “I used to be.”
“Where’s home? I mean, where were you?” Dimitra asked.
“I was down in South Carolina,” he explained. “My mother’s been sick, and Cash and I went down to take care of her. She’s doing a little bit better now.”
Dimitra’s heart pounded. Was he really a kind-hearted American cowboy?
“And you?” Harry asked. “Have you been married before?”
Dimitra cleared her throat. “Yes. I mean, I was. He died.”
Harry’s sizzling attitude stalled. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
Dimitra shrugged and cursed herself for killing the mood. She wanted to celebrate the Fourth of July with this handsome stranger and her transplant family on a beautiful island in the Atlantic Ocean. She didn’t want to think about Kostos, for once.
She didn’t want to think about how Kostos hadn’t believed in her art career.
Kostos, why didn’t you believe in me?
