by Holly Rayner
“No, it’s not that. I’m just a little worried about transportation. You see, I can only make a trip like that a few times a year, and none of the windows in my schedule would give us enough time to sail to Greece.”
“Sail? Why would we sail when we could just…” The breath left her lips before she could form the last word. That was exactly the way Stelios’ parents had perished: flying home to visit family.
“I can’t fly, Zoey. Believe me, I’ve tried. I miss my aunts and uncles a great deal. I wanted to see them after the accident happened, so we could grieve together. I actually scheduled the flight, but when I got near the plane, my chest became tight and I couldn’t breathe. They had to take me to the hospital. Eventually, I got over the panic attacks, but I’ve never been able to board a plane since.”
Zoey said nothing, but she took his hand in hers and squeezed it sympathetically. She wanted to say something comforting, something that would encourage him and lift his spirits. She would have given a great deal right then for one of those television writers who always seemed to know what to say. But after a few minutes, she could only think of one thing. It didn’t sound that good to her, but she went with it anyway.
“Someday, when you’re ready, you’ll face up to your fear of flying, and you won’t have to do it alone. I’ll be right beside you the whole way over. I want to say ‘I know how you feel’ but I don’t, and all I can do is help you the best way I can. What I’m trying to say is I love you, Stelios. And I don’t think there’s anything we can’t get through together.”
At the end of this speech, Stelios was silent for a minute. Then he drew Zoey in and gave her a long, deep kiss.
“The best thing that ever happened to me was meeting you in your mother’s agency. I almost want to pay to put those ads back up,” he joked.
“Let’s not bring that topic up again,” Zoey laughed.
The car slowed down and pulled up to a tollbooth. Zoey thought she saw Fulton smiling in the rear view mirror, but when she looked again, his face was as unreadable as ever. The driver handed over the required amount of money for the toll and drove on, exactly as if there were no one behind him.
The tall concrete buildings began to grow shorter and eventually to disappear altogether. They were replaced by smaller buildings, then with houses, and finally, trees. The air began to be filled with the chatter of birds and insects.
“I thought we’d get away from the city,” Stelios explained. “I have some private land hidden away that I think you’ll enjoy immensely.”
Fifteen minutes later, when Fulton finally brought the car to a stop, Zoey’s jaw fell open. The area around them looked as if it had been pulled right out of a storybook.
They were parked on a neat gravel road that cut through a forest of trees that seemed to reach the sky. Zoey could see a vast clearing ahead, which was almost completely surrounded by a wall of trees. An old-fashioned red-brick cabin stood in the center, surrounded by shrubs and flowers that shone like jewels. Beyond the clearing, a small sailboat sat on what must have been a manmade lake. A dirt trail cut through the grass. Fruit trees were everywhere, as well as benches, swings, and little gardens. In the center of the lake, on a tiny island, was a stone temple. It was surrounded by several small olive trees, and stone benches hugged the exterior.
“Stelios, this place is amazing! I don’t think I’ve seen anything so beautiful.”
Without waiting for a response, Zoey started walking down the trail like a screw drawn by an electromagnet.
“I hoped you’d like it,” Stelios replied, joining her. “I built it to be sort of a haven from New York City. I come here whenever I start thinking about my parents and it all gets to be a bit too much. This place is my refuge, and I want to share it with you,” he added, casually plucking an apple from a tree and handing it to her.
Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion herself, Zoey accepted the gift.
They spent the rest of the day in Stelios’ little paradise, hidden away from the rest of the world. Zoey had no idea how Fulton got along, whether he waited somewhere in the clearing or drove away and came back later. All she remembered was the feel of her lover’s strong arms, the intoxicating fragrance of the flowers, and the taste of fresh olives.
***
Four days after her trip to paradise, Zoey saw something almost as beautiful. She had come in to work on the subway that morning, and it had worked wonders to sour her mood. There had been nowhere to sit, and two slimy guys had tried to hit on her the entire way to the transfer point. There, somebody had tried to steal her purse, and only a sharp-eyed girl with a loud voice had prevented him from succeeding. When Zoey finally arrived at her office, it was to discover that two exceptionally difficult clients were waiting for her. By lunchtime, she was in one hell of a mood, but then something nearly as beautiful as Stelios’ lakeside paradise: a middle-aged man lugging a picnic basket.
It was Branden Kingston, the client they were still ostensibly trying to find a match for. Melinda had quietly stopped looking long ago, and taking her cue from her mother, Zoey had followed suit. The man moved to say hello to Zoey, but Annie quickly whispered something in his ear. At first, he seemed to scoff at the whispered advice, but Annie’s earnestness eventually made him relent.
He moved past the office and into the elevator that would take him to the second floor. Once there, he found Melinda’s office and knocked three times, as was his custom.
“Come right in,” Melinda’s voice rang out. It was businesslike, but one heard tinges of expectation in it as well.
With his free hand, Branden opened the door and beheld Maria, Melinda’s personal assistant, perched at her desk like a stone.
“Good afternoon,” she greeted him with affected brightness. “Ms. Forde will see you in the rear office.”
“Thank you, miss,” Branden replied, lugging his basket toward the back.
Behind him, the secretary released a barely audible sigh.
“Mr. Kingston,” Melinda said grandly when she saw him approaching. “Have you come to inquire about your case again?”
Regardless of what she admitted to herself, Melinda was determined to keep up appearances.
Branden let the door close behind him before he answered. “I had something a little different in mind, if you will allow it. You see, I’ve been thinking that our conversations go right through lunchtime. Neither of us have the time to eat afterward, so I thought I’d bring something for us to share. What do you think?”
“I think that’s an excellent idea, Mr. Kingston, and such a thoughtful one as well.”
“If we’re going to eat lunch together, you can call me Branden.”
“All right then, Branden,” she replied. “I’ll clear some space for the food.”
The first thing to come out of the picnic basket was a cold, plastic-wrapped ceramic plate. On it was wedges of pineapple, watermelon, and strawberry, and in the center sat a small bowl that held a ginger-flavored dip. This was followed by an orzo salad with grilled salmon, and Caprese sandwiches. For dessert, Branden had brought four decadent brownies made with rich dark chocolate and refreshing mint.
“That was an excellent lunch,” Melinda remarked when they’d finished eating. “Whoever we find for you is going to be very lucky.”
“Yes, about that,” Branden replied, arranging his features into a serious expression. He hoped he’d gotten all of the crumbs out of his beard. “In the time I’ve been here, I’ve grown to like you a lot, and it occurred to me that… Well, no one would really count this as a first date… I was wondering if we could go somewhere together, after hours. Maybe a cup of coffee or something?”
Melinda’s expression wavered at the question. If she was honest with herself, she cared for Branden a great deal. He was attractive, they had excellent conversations, and he knew the pain that comes with losing someone you love. He was perfect, and that was the very thing that kept her from accepting his offer as each of her cells was begging her to.
William had been perfect as well. Before they were married, he had been absolutely unrivaled. Every morning, she would wake up to find breakfast waiting for her, or her feet being massaged, or a morning bath drawn. Throughout the day, well-hidden notes would turn up in her purse, her portfolio, her glove compartment, and nearly anywhere else she cared to look. Sometimes the message was a simple “I love you”. Other times, it was a sonnet, or something inspirational. She would return, in the evening, to an immaculate house. Her dinner had always been ready and waiting for her. William was far from the best cook in the world, but by then, it barely mattered. If a man like that could tear out her heart…
Melinda slowly shook her head, hoping there weren’t tears in her eyes. She couldn’t live through it a second time. She was certain of that. If she let it happen again, it was going to kill her.
Sadness moved through Branden like a rolling wave. He had no doubt that he could tell exactly what she was thinking. Her divorce had come up often enough in their conversations, and it was evident that Melinda still bore the scars. He tried not to hate the man that had done this to her, but it was difficult. He could feel the eagerness in Melinda’s spirit to banish the loneliness they were both suffering. Fear was the only thing holding her back, and William was the beast that had put it there.
I have to be patient with her, he thought, if I truly care for her.
“I want to say yes,” Melinda interrupted his thoughts, “but the last one still hurts too damn much. I’m worried that if I jump in again…” Her voice broke into a slight hiccup.
“I know, Melinda. There’s no rush. People tried to push me out there not long after Claire passed. Told me it was for my own good, but every one of those things ended in disaster because I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t grieved enough. No matter what people tell you, you can really only do things when you’re ready. I’m not going to rush you, but I want you to know I care deeply about you. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
“I want you to be here until then,” Melinda replied. “Please don’t stop coming. Your visits have made me happier than you realize.”
“Now there’s a coincidence,” Branden answered her, “because visiting you has made me happier than you might realize. I doubt I could stop coming here if I wanted to.”
Melinda seemed genuinely happy to hear that, and the pair of them began to clear up the remnants of their lunch together.
***
It took nearly three hours for word to trickle down to Zoey about what had happened in her mother’s office, and she wished for once that the staff Melinda Forde employed was more given to snooping and spreading gossip.
She couldn’t say she was overjoyed with what she eventually heard, but Zoey had to admit it was a positive start. Slowly, her mother was building a new relationship, and Zoey was determined to help her along in any way she could because she wanted Melinda to be as happy as Stelios was making her.
“They obviously love each other,” she said to herself. “But for some reason, they aren’t doing anything about it.”
Right then and there, she made a vow to herself: if they weren’t going to, she would.
When she got home, Zoey put in a call to Stelios, and they discussed her new role as a meddling kid.
“You can’t lead people to love,” Stelios remarked. “You can bring them together, but they must take themselves to love. Your mother will get there in her own time.”
“I suppose you’re right, but ‘her own time’ seems to be one tenth of a snail’s pace.”
“You have to be patient, Zo’. These things take time. I tried to rush on a plane…”
“Yeah, and I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I thought maybe a simulator…”
“It’s still hard for me to even look at a plane, never mind get in one.”
“I know, but I’ve been looking into it, and there are some things we can do together to lessen your anxiety. For instance, if you know how a plane works and what to expect, that’s one step closer to making getting off the ground easier. I learned that a plane goes through eleven hours of maintenance for every hour it’s in the air.”
“But people still die, Zoey.”
“Yes, that’s true, but they also die falling out of bed. You have a better chance of going that way. Fulton drives us around all the time, and the chances of us dying that way are one in thirty thousand. The chances of what you’re worried about happening are one in thirty million. Statistically speaking, you have nothing to worry about.”
“I don’t think talking about this is helping,” Stelios interjected, the anxiety in his voice evident. His parents had been that one case in thirty million, the winners of the worst lottery Stelios could imagine. He could see their plane in his mind’s eye, sailing across the heavens without a care in the world. He could hear them pointing out the clouds to each other, giving shape to the clumps of condensed water vapor. A stewardess was walking down the aisle with her cart, handing meals and snacks out to the passengers as she passed. A ginger-haired girl was making a joke, and her parents were tangled in fits of laughter.
Then the plane shook. First, a little rumble, then a loud, teeth-rattling quake. Through the window, he could see smoke billowing from one of the engines. People were screaming, and the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, struggling to remain calm.
Stelios felt his chest tighten horribly. He thought he could actually smell the smoke. A sheen of sweat cascaded down his forehead. His eyes were alight with cabin fires, and he held his smartphone in a death grip.
Zoey heard his ragged, wheezing breath, and every part of her leaped to attention at once.
“Stelios? Are you all right? Tell me what you’re feeling right now,” Zoey said, her voice full of concern.
“My palms are sweaty and, my fingers are tingling,” he answered in a weak, gasping voice.
“Remember your refuge in the forest, Stelios? I want you to close your eyes and visualize it now. Close your eyes, and listen to my voice. Try to remember the clearing.”
Fighting to regain his composure, Stelios did as he was told. At first, his imagination kept trying to show him the plane crashes he had seen in movies and news reports. But soon, Zoey’s calmer, quieter voice filled his ears, offering him hope. He began to feel his breathing slowing down with each word.
“See the lake,” she was saying. “See the crisp blue lake. Watch the surface ripple as the wind blows across it. See the sailboat perched on the calm water, its sail billowing like a robin’s breast.”
The more she talked, the more meditative Stelios became, and the clearer the picture in his mind appeared. Very soon, his palms were cool, and the tingling that had plagued his fingers was gone. In time, his chest began to loosen, and he began to feel like a human being again.
“Picture the lush green grass of the island, which grows ankle-high and feels like a carpet. See the olive trees with their twisting branches, sun-drenched leaves, and hanging fruit.”
“What is this called, Zoey?” Stelios asked.
“Guided imagery. Is it helping at all?”
“Actually, yes. I feel much calmer now than before.”
“Great. Why don’t we try something else?”
“That’s a good idea, Zoey. Just not today. Right now, I’d really like to talk about something else.” He felt as though he’d barely survived one of the trials of Hercules, and unlike the ancient hero, he needed a rest.
“Well, all right,” she replied. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re afraid of?” he asked.
The question caught Zoey off guard, but she recovered quickly and started on a story about a wasp’s nest in the bushes of her childhood home and the all-consuming terror it had inspired in her. They ended up talking for another two hours before Zoey had to give in to sheer exhaustion.
“I want to thank you for what you did today,” Stelios told Zoey just before he hung up. “I really appreciate how much you’re doi
ng to help me.”
“As long as we’re together,” Zoey told him, “your problems are my problems. Always remember that.”
***
Nearly six months had passed since the debacle surrounding Melinda’s billboard campaign. Zoey was working with Stelios on stress management techniques almost every day now. A slim window of opportunity had opened, and Stelios was keen to take advantage of it.
The following week, he would have a block of free time where no meetings had been arranged, and he wanted to use it to take Zoey to Greece and introduce her to his family—the people who had helped him from afar in his darkest hours. He was focused on his goal in a way that Zoey had to admit was highly impressive. He had yet to step foot on an actual plane, but had gotten through several simulations with flying colors.