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He had been clever enough, Athena thought. Despite analysis indicating that the fire had been arson, no concrete evidence tied Whit to it. His claim that the watch in his possession had been given to him by Peg’s mother before the fire was impossible to disprove. The insurance company could pursue charges against him for fraud, but they’d have a hard time collecting the money, as his assets were all gone. There was also insufficient evidence to prove that he’d murdered Peg. The other politicians, as well as the GSA insiders who awarded the contractor bids in states that had been complicit in the scam, all went down. The only one who escaped unscathed was Madelyn, who was now free to enjoy her husband’s money without the encumbrance of his presence.
Naturally, Athena had moved back to her own apartment, but she’d continued to see Sloane over the next ten months, and a strong bond was forged between them. It was wonderful to watch Sloane become healthier each week. A house that had been so dark just a short time before was nowadays filled with an incredible lightness. Athena loved observing Emmy and Sloane’s interactions, remembering her own mother and all that they’d shared.
Athena’s FBI cover story had for the most part been a fabrication. The daughter of Greek immigrants, she was indeed a widow, but that was the end of any similarity to her real past. Born Athena Pamfilis, she’d grown up as an only child in Chicago. Her mother had been a great believer in natural health remedies, and Athena remembered neighborhood women coming to the door at all hours for her mother’s advice and therapies. She never turned anyone away. At times she was irritated that her mother’s afternoon or evening was taken up when Athena wanted her attention, but as she matured, she recognized how selflessly and indelibly her mother had touched so many lives. It was the reason Athena had chosen to pursue medicine at Southwest College of Naturopathic Medicine in Arizona.
Athena stood and crossed the sand until her feet were touching the clear water. How she loved this glorious island, with itsdazzling white buildings and miles of perfect beaches. The first time she’d brought her husband here, he’d fallen in love with it too, and that had made her love him even more.
Leaning over, she plunged her hands into the water and splashed her bare shoulders with the refreshing coolness. She’d never planned to have a career in the FBI. She was going to build her practice, and her husband, Dimitri, a social worker, would continue his work with families in need. The day of the fire, he’d been on a case visit and had gone back into the building to try to rescue a toddler who’d wandered off. He never made it out alive. He wasn’t even supposed to be working that day. The two of them had planned a long weekend, but the doctor on call at her practice came down with the flu and asked Athena to fill in for him that morning. So Dimitri went to work too. If we only knew how those seemingly mundane decisions can have monumental consequences.
Afterward, only the twin devils of hatred and vengeance kept Athena going. She couldn’t punish the contractor, but she could make retribution to other criminals her life’s work. And so she’d left medicine and found her way to the FBI. The universe had delivered poetic justice when she’d been assigned to the case that would ultimately bring down the conspirators whose greed was inadvertently responsible for the fire that killed her husband.
The Montgomery case had turned out to be different in many ways. As layer after layer of Whit’s vileness had been peeled away, Athena realized that bringing a man like him to justice could finally fulfill and end her need for revenge. And then there was Sloane, who reminded her so much of her own mother, with an iron will and a passionate need to help those who couldn’t help themselves. Sloane understood loss. The losses Sloane had suffered made her softer, and that softness had begun to thaw the icy hatred that had encased Athena’s heart for so many years.
Athena had finally allowed herself to grieve. She had cried more in the last few months than she had since the tragedy. It was as if a thick curtain had been opened, and she could see outside ofherself. She’d been given an incredible freedom to break down the walls she’d built up around herself; to open herself and say to the world,I’m ready to embrace life again.
She raised her eyes to the sky, shielding them with her hand to see a dazzling golden aurora pulse around the sun. When she looked away, the dancing sunspots shimmered on the water, electrifying her vision. It felt like a message from the heavens.
Athena strolled back up the beach to the cottage. Wiping the sand from her feet, she slipped on the sandals she’d left on the porch. She wound through the twisting alleyways and side streets of the old town, enjoying the aroma of jasmine and bougainvillea. She caught sight of her reflection in shop windows. Her white sundress contrasted with her tanned arms and legs, and her wide-brimmed hat made her appear young and carefree.
Finally approaching the beautiful Venetian harbor of Chania, she sat at one of the waterfront restaurants and ordered a frappé. The sounds of Greek being spoken all around her made her heart glad, and she inhaled deeply, savoring the moment. Even after being here for just two weeks, she felt more relaxed than she had in years. Her mother had always said the Greek islands were a balm to the soul, and she was right.
- 69 -
SLOANE
Sloane breathed in deeply, feeling stronger than she had in months. She had slowly regained her health after Whit’s arrest and imprisonment. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to forgive herself for being blinded to Whit’s true character or to the abuse Peg had suffered. The healing had been a long and gradual process, and as she became stronger, one of the first things she’d done was to visit the cemetery. It was a warm day in April when she stood next to Peg’s grave, the sun shining on the white headstone. She placed the vase of daffodils in front of it. “I’m sorry, Peg. Sorry that I didn’t believe you, and sorry you suffered. I pray you’re finally happy and at peace. Forgive me.” She’d uttered the words out loud and swept her hand across the top of the marker before turning away. Next, she’d walked the short distance to Robert’s grave and knelt. “My darling Robert, I will hold you in my heart forever. I love you. Until we meet again,” she said, and recited a verse from William Butler Yeats: “ ‘For I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!’ ”
The visit had been a catharsis, and over the following months, Athena became her own Florence Nightingale, ministering to Sloane, encouraging her, challenging her to continue fighting her way back to wholeness. And Doris, wonderful Doris who was like a mother to Sloane, devoted herself to caring for her. When Sloane gazed in the mirror these days, the woman she saw reflected there looked healthy and radiant.
Now Sloane sat on the ferry’s hard bench as sunlight splashed across the blue water in iridescent dots. She leaned back against the wood and closed her eyes, the bracing smell of salt air fillingher nostrils. The gentle rocking of the boat was hypnotizing, bringing forth memories of long ago. The last thing she’d put in her suitcase was the light turquoise shawl that she’d brought on her honeymoon with Robert all those years ago. She remembered that sometimes the nights were cool in June.
She heard the grinding of gears as the large ferry slowed and circled to turn. She rose and went to the railing, watching as the vessel inched closer to the dock, and then Emmy appeared next to her, taking her hand. Excitement bubbled up inside her, and she turned to Camille and Rosemary. “Come see how beautiful it is,” she said, pointing toward land. The four of them stood together as the boat docked at the harbor and the wide gangplank was lowered, meeting the ground with a deafening clang. Soon they were in the midst of droves of people disembarking, suitcases and bags bumping into one another.
Sloane took in the sheer beauty as she walked along Chania’s waterfront. Emmy and Camille were on either side of her. Rosemary walked with one hand holding her daughter’s, and the other clutching her cane. A wide smile broke out on Sloane’s face when she saw Athena.
In an instant Athena was running to them, embracing each woman, her eyes filled with tears. “Welcome, welcome! I’m so happy you’re here!”
“This is going to be the best girls’ trip yet,” Sloane said, hugging Athena to her. “Thank you for inviting us.” When Athena had asked them to come, she had insisted the four of them stay with her in the simple cottage she’d inherited from her parents.
“Come, I have a table for us,” Athena said, leading them to one overlooking the water. A bottle of champagne sat in an ice-filled bucket. “Sit, my dear friends. I’m so thrilled to see you.”
“Petros,” she called to the waiter. “Will you bring glasses for my friends? And a dish of mezedes?”
“You look wonderful, Sloane. Positively radiant.” Athena smiled at her. “And so do you, Rosemary. All of you.”
Rosemary’s blue eyes crinkled. “Mind over matter!” She pointed her cane at Athena. “By the end of the summer, I’ll be walking without this contraption.”
Athena nodded. “I believe it. You’re one amazing woman.”
The waiter arrived bearing a large tray and placed tall-stemmed glasses in front of them one by one, followed by a platter of aromatic appetizers. “You must have ouzo with mezedes. It is custom,” he said in a jovial voice, placing five shot glasses of the clear liquid on the table. “On the house.”
“How perfect,” Sloane said, lifting her face to the sun and then raising her glass. “Let’s each make a toast,” she announced.
“To friendship,” she said.
“Justice,” Athena said.
“Loyalty,” Camille spoke.
“Women,” Emmy said.
“And to forgiveness, of ourselves and others,” Rosemary said in closing.
As they drank, Sloane looked at each of them, these strong and courageous women who had helped bring healing to her body and to her soul. She was glad to be alive. It was a start. Forgiveness would take longer, but she would give herself time. For now, at least, she could start by forgiving herself for surviving, when the man she loved hadn’t. Maybe this golden place, this country where she and Robert had loved each other so well, would once more fill her heart with joy.
Sloane raised her glass again. “To hope.”