Athena's Secrets

by Donna Del Oro

  No, no, no!

  Would he have another chance with her? Then, all of a sudden, his mind flashed back to their D.C. hotel room. In bed together, their naked, warm bodies pressed against each other, holding on for dear life as if this magical time would be their last…. He loved her and wanted to tell her. The words stuck in his throat.

  Why? Why couldn’t he tell her how he really felt? He had to get his act together, do something great with his life. He’d go to her when he was ready, when he had something to offer. Not just money. Something else…if only he knew what. Athena was special…. His chest constricted, as if a band were squeezing his heart and lungs.

  Somebody was gently slapping his face, then carrying him. Eyes closed, he felt a car move. It was cold outside, but Alex always kept his car warm inside…funny guy, his older brother…the women loved him…even Athena had thought Alex was charming…but she’d called him to come to D.C., not Alex. She’d wanted him, not Alex.

  He laughed aloud. “’Thena read my dog’s mind!”

  Then the car jerked, swayed violently. He opened his eyes and looked at Alex at the wheel, fighting for control, swearing and screaming, “No-o-o! Dammit, no-o-o!”

  The car was flying now, airborne. Reflexively, Kas brought his arms up to shield himself. Something exploded into his face, smothering him, pinning him down, as the front of the car hit something hard. He felt the back of the car lurch up and then come crashing down. The rear end bounced a few times before the car came to a halt and settled down.

  The air bag deflated and cleared his head and chest. He gingerly moved his neck. His whole body ached, his neck felt on fire. He slowly moved each of his limbs. Nothing broken—hell! A scorching pain shot up his right leg, He gagged, then bent over and vomited. What the hell had happened? Was he still dreaming?

  Gradually, his head cleared, and the nausea subsided. He cautiously turned his head. Alex wasn’t moving, his body angled toward the driver’s window, bloody smears already visible among the cracks in it. So much blood. Where did it come from? Alex’s airbag, where was it? Why didn’t it deploy? Kas reached over and placed his hand on Alex’s shoulder.

  “Alex! What the hell just happened?”

  Alex sat there, still, frozen. One short moan before a whoosh of air escaped his mouth. Then silence.

  Kas screamed, “Alex! Alex!”

  Over and over, until his own voice died away.

  Athena awoke and lurched to a sitting position. She covered her face with her hands, her breath coming and going in jagged sobs.

  No-o-o-o-o-o, please no…

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Athena tore her gaze away as the two eldest Skoros brothers closed Alex’s casket. People began to leave before it was lowered into the rectangular pit. The Skoros men and all the other male relatives and friends wore black armbands over their jacket sleeves, the women, including Lorena and Anna, were in black dresses and pant suits. Although she hated the tradition, Athena too, wore black trousers and a black sweater on which she’d pinned a bright yellow daisy. For that was how she remembered Alex—a brightly colored flower in the midst of drab winter-grays and browns.

  The older, white-haired Greek Orthodox priest had read from the Divine Liturgy, the Orthodox Holy Book. Everyone who spoke Greek had bowed their heads and repeated the prayers in the traditional Greek, while the majority followed the younger priest in English. While the casket was open, mourners approached to kiss the cross lying on Alex’s chest and to murmur the words, “Memory eternal.” She’d watched Kas hobble over on his crutches, his right leg in a thigh-to-ankle cast, his head held stiff by the neck brace he wore. With his two elder brothers supporting him, he bent over and kissed Alex’s cross, his face crumpling, accompanied by his brothers’ own naked expressions of grief. Athena had to turn away to avoid gasping aloud. Lorena and Phillip Skoros followed, each helping the other in their darkest moment, to say goodbye to their next-to-the-youngest son.

  Athena felt numb and dry, all cried out. Her brother, Chris, having held it in for days, now wept by her side. She hugged him tightly, his skinny frame almost reaching her height as he buried his face in her shoulder. Her mother hugged the two of them as the three Butlers formed a little island of sorrow amidst the sea of grief at the gravesite.

  Stoical Lorena looked over at them, nodded and smiled. Since the moment they’d arrived, she seemed to perk up, as though having her cousin Anna there, and Athena, fellow clairvoyants, made all the difference. They were all slaves to Fate, and their presence appeared to reinforce Lorena’s own belief. She’d done all she could to prevent this family tragedy, and in the final analysis, she knew it would never be enough. Fate would be served, she had told them, as all humans would recognize eventually at the moment of their deaths. Now, Lorena comforted the grandchildren at her side, smoothing the dark hair of George’s eldest, also named Alex, already grooming him to fill the void in their hearts for their much-loved son.

  Sitting with another group of mourners was the Theopoulis family, including Alex’s fiancée, Nikki, who handled her own grief by dabbing at her eyes with a black lace handkerchief, the diamond on her ring finger sending out flashes of light every time she moved her hand. She clutched the sable mink collar of her black coat to her body, showing an occasional black-tinted leg, uncovered to well above her knee. A fashion plate, she wore her auburn hair upswept in an elaborate hairdo, a fascinator made of feathers and rhinestones perched along one temple, askew as was the latest look. Kas had thought she was shallow and self-centered, his very words—but also very pretty. And she was. The Greek American Princess. Narcissistic Nikki Theopoulis. Alex had deserved better.

  Self-consciously, Athena straightened her black beret and tidied her sprawling blonde hair. In comparison to fashion plate Nikki, she would be considered lacking in chic and sophistication, to be sure. Maybe even a bohemian slob. Oh well, she was what she was.

  She started as she realized that Kas was on his way toward her, as the mourners turned to leave the gravesite. In the two weeks since the car crash, he’d had neck surgery to fuse the vertebrae of two herniated disks and leg surgery to fix his broken femur. She hadn’t spoken to him on the phone, but he’d texted her often while he was in the hospital. He’d wanted her to come to Alex’s funeral if at all possible. Of course, she, her mother and Chris, wanted to pay their respects although her and Chris’s father was unavoidably detained in London for some top-secret meetings with the Foreign Office ministers.

  As much as Athena was over-the-moon mad about him, Kas Skoros was impossible. She never knew where she stood with him. Were they long-distance lovers? Was he trying to be a friend with benefits? When she’d read his thoughts that awful night of the crash, he’d been drunk as a skunk. Or half-drunk and half-sick with a stomach bug. Did anything he thought about her have any real, lasting meaning? He was an enigma. What she wanted was an uncomplicated boyfriend, someone to do things with. Go to galleries with, movies with, go clubbing with, walk along the river with. Was that too friggin’ much to ask?

  What she had with Kas was so-o-o-o-o complicated.

  Why had she fallen for him now? Their timing was lousy, even she realized that. Was his mother correct? Was their relationship impossible?

  He was maneuvering his crutches over the uneven grass with difficulty, his face a study in sorrow so deeply etched, she was certain he’d never lose the premature lines. His eyes were swollen and red, but he appeared composed enough to speak. Her face wet with tears, she greeted him with an awkward hug, her casted arm moving aside so that she could press herself against his body. So strong and solid, his physique seemed to engulf her. He embraced her for a long moment, then disengaged enough to pull Chris into their hug. Her mother patted their shoulders and went off to join the main Skoros contingent, extricating Chris in the process, and holding onto his arm for support.

  Athena found herself alone with Kas for the first time since they’d arrived the evening before. Only then did she gaze up into hi
s eyes, continuing to touch him but turning off her third eye. There was no need to read his mind, nor did she want to. She couldn’t absorb any more grief or sorrow that day, so filled to the brim was she.

  “Looks like we’re both the walking wounded, only you earned yours. I was just stupidly drunk and sick. Guess I won’t be doing any more Search and Rescue for awhile.” He smiled that boyish grin of his. “You’re looking great.”

  Basking in his praise, she nevertheless felt foolish. Compared to Nikki, anyway. “Thanks but there’s no need for false flattery.”

  “Oh, c’mon, no need for false modesty, either.” He lifted her chin with his forefinger. “Athena, I’ve missed you. You have no idea.”

  The hurt of his absence and neglect surfaced. “Really? I wrote you two long letters and all I got were a few texted messages. In one month.”

  His dark brown eyes canted to the ground, but he kept his arms around her while he balanced against her body on one leg. His crutches lay on the grass.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not much of a writer.” He attempted a grin. “A day hasn’t gone by when I didn’t think of you. At the oddest moments, day or night. You were always there, in the back of my head.”

  “Kas, I-I was in your head that night—I swear I don’t know how it happened. I dreamed about you that night, the night of the crash. I was in your head, thinking your thoughts, feeling your emotions, experiencing the whole thing. You were sick, I could feel that. Food poisoning.”

  He flinched visibly. “God, did you see me puke my guts out?” He shook his head. “You’re right about the food poisoning. The bar had put out rancid peanuts. I was the only one in our group who ate them that night. The doctors said that’s probably what saved me—I was so limp and wiped out. Jeez, how it happened—I don’t even know exactly what happened. One moment we were in the car and driving down the road. We both forgot Mom’s warning—we just weren’t thinking. All of a sudden, we were flying through the air and hitting a tree. We were about a mile from home—the family compound. On that winding country road off the highway. They think a deer caused Alex to swerve off the road, he lost control of the car and—“ His voice caught. “His airbag was defective, they said.”

  “I know. I was there…or at least, some part of me was there.” She paused, recalling the dream that she later confirmed took place at the exact moment it happened. A shudder of horror passed through her. Still, the wonder of it made her try to explain. “Kas, that’s never happened to me before. Jumping into somebody’s head like that, miles away, thousands of miles away. I didn’t have to touch you to jump into your head.”

  He stroked her face and ran his hand down one long lock of her hair. “We have a special connection, you and I, ’Thena. Special and damned strange. I can’t explain it, but I felt it from the moment I first saw you.” He lowered his voice. “I felt your presence that night. You were all I could think about. Strange as hell—“

  “Strange that you thought about me?”

  He shot her a wry grin. “No, strange that I felt you inside my head at the same time that you were. You know, you can jump into my head anytime, only next time choose a more pleasant moment.”

  She stiffened away from him as she pictured him at the same local bar, this time with a woman. Jealousy overwhelmed her as she bent over and helped him pick up his crutches. She thrust them at him, scowling all the while.

  “Oh, yeah, when would that be? When you’re in the arms of another woman? Would that be a more pleasant moment?”

  He silently tucked the tops of the crutches under his arms, stood there shaking his head.

  “Okay, I was expecting this. The physical distance between us is too much of an obstacle to overcome, isn’t it? My mother keeps telling me it’s too soon for us. So she’s psychic, sees the future. We don’t have to let Fate or Lady Luck or God—whatever you want to call it—control us. We control our own destiny.”

  “Do you really believe that? After what happened to Alex?”

  “Yes, I do,” he said, although she heard the wavering in his voice. “What do you want from me? Tell me, and I’ll do it, make it happen. If it’s humanly possible.”

  She walked alongside of him, mute in the face of such a pointedly blunt question. Indeed, what did she want from Kas Skoros? A bi-coastal friendship with sexual benefits? Romance leading to marriage? Oh, sure, how was that going to work? They led such different lives, and she had at least one more year of art school ahead of her.

  “That’s the problem,” she finally admitted, feeling stupid, “I don’t know.”

  “What if I flew out there once a month, would you meet me at a hotel for a weekend fling? Like we did over New Year’s?” He’d stopped on the gravel path under a giant oak tree and was now studying her face. People were getting into their cars, the Skoros family waiting for them to join them in their long, black limousines. “Would you like that, Athena? A once-a-month rendezvous for sex and champagne, flowers? Are you up for that? I can do it, no sweat. Is that all you want from me? A Victoria Secrets fantasy?”

  The heavy irony of his voice told her that was all he thought she wanted: A girl’s hot fantasy. No more reality-based than an erotic romance novel.

  “I don’t know.” Her lame reply served only to harden his expression.

  “Yeah, well, when you figure it out, let me know.” He hobbled with his crutches a few more feet, then stopped beside his family’s limo. “Look, the Aftermeal is a Greek tradition, lots of food and ouzo, wine and song, a celebration of Alex. Literally, Greek singing and dancing, everyone joins in. Then there’s a meeting of the Skoroses and Theopoulises, some kind of summit meeting. I don’t really know what that’s about, but I think it has to do with Nikki being pregnant with Alex’s child. Talk about bad timing. What a mess that is.” He bent over and brushed her forehead with his lips. “Five o’clock tonight, at dusk, meet me in the boathouse. We’ll talk some more. Meanwhile, think about what it is you want from me. If it’s possible, I’ll make it happen.”

  Two limo doors opened. Kas, with help, climbed through one and Athena, another. Her mother, Chris, George, his wife and their three children, all gave her speculative looks. Then, like shutters, down came the blank looks of grief.

  ****

  Tables throughout the dining room and kitchen seemed to groan under the weight of platters of food. The bar in the family room was visited by an unending parade of people, drowning their sorrow in booze. A disconsolate Philip Skoros, paler than usual, his face a haggard wreck, sat ensconced in his favorite easy chair. Abe Theopoulis was at his side, both patriarchs of their families, and Chairmen of the Board of their respective companies. Athena had learned from her mother that the Theopoulis empire reigned over the port of Stockton and thereabouts and had partnered with Skoros Enterprises on several shopping centers between Sacramento and downtown Stockton. In the works at present: two commercial buildings in Emeryville, the headquarters of a digital animation movie company. A “triple net lease”, whatever that was, for the next fifty years. The two family empires, apparently, only took breaks from business at funerals, weddings, and christenings. However, according to Kas, something big was up for discussion at their afternoon meeting.

  Outside on the terrace, where Athena wandered with Chris, male and female dancers in Greek costumes were spinning and weaving, the music of a small band of musicians accompanying them. One of George’s daughters passed around bracelets of blue beads, the concentric blue and white circles representing the “eye” of each bead, meant to ward off evil spirits, or the mati, the Evil Eye. Another child wandered around, holding a tray of red-dyed Easter eggs and a cake called tsoureki, symbolizing the rebirth of spring and the continuation and renaissance of the soul.

  It was a lovely idea, but one that Athena couldn’t believe in. If her mother was correct, all the souls of past living humans merged into The Flow, the river of humanity for all time. Whether those spirits were ever recalled to join the humans on Earth for another chance at mor
tal life, even her mother wasn’t sure. She’d never met one who claimed to come back from The Flow. Neither had Athena.

  She felt Kas ease up behind her, his mouth at her ear.

  “What do you think? The way Greeks celebrate life and spit in the face of death? The whole rebirth of the soul thing?”

  “Hmm, so different from the English. I rather like it.”

  His face was clean-shaven, and she could smell his aftershave lotion. Her heart tripped a beat or two, and she realized how much she’d longed for his physical presence. In many ways, he looked different than he had during Thanksgiving week over two months before, more haggard and tired, younger and more vulnerable than he’d looked over New Year’s, too.

  It was a shock to her that she wanted Kas Skoros to be more than a once-a-month lover, much more than just a long-distance friend. Although why the sudden revelation shocked her, she didn’t know. Was she so repressed or so busy with school and work—not to mention, crime solving for the Metropolitan Police and intelligence-gathering for the Embassy’s security force—that she hadn’t allowed herself to consider any relationship seriously? Or had Tony’s betrayal so damaged her?

  Kas was standing against the house, supporting himself in part by leaning against the wall. She slowly backed up until her rump nestled against his upper thighs and found the dip of his crotch. Immediately, his arms surrounded her waist, his hands laced together in front to lock her in. Together, they watched the next dance and half-listened to the music, their own voices concealed somewhat by the haunting music of the ancient Greek instruments. The air rang with the twang of a string instrument, the trill of a flute.

  “You don’t mind generating some gossip?” he murmured against the side of her head.

  “Do you?”

  He chuckled, a deep-throated, light chuckle that thrilled her, made her glad she could draw him out of his grief, even if only temporarily.

  “According to Mom, Alex and I have been the only source of family gossip for years now. I think Alex would approve my carrying on in his—” He broke off, the heaving of his chest pressing into her back. “He’d approve of this, you and me. Funny, Athena, that first time you came here, I thought you were going to fall for Alex.”