Second Chances (7 page)

“Thanks, so are you. I forgot Pashmina said you’re a fisherman now.”

His ears perked up at the familiar name. “You’ve spoken to her?”

“Now and then,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “Not as much as we’d like but we’re all busy you know?” She stared at him unabashed. Pashmina was right, he had aged well but he was still trouble. Pursing her lips she shook her head slightly. “She also said you ruined her life and she hopes she never sees you again.”

He winced. Sofie hadn’t mellowed at all over the years. Her tongue was as bold and blunt as ever. “Mm hmm, I believe that,” he agreed, “typical Pashmina, never taking any responsibility for her own actions.”

“Excuse me?” Sofie sputtered. “Pashmina’s one of the most responsible people I know. She had to be to clean up the mess you left her in.”

George’s blood began to boil. It took two to tango didn’t it? All he’d done was fight for the woman he loved. “So I’m the bad guy for telling her husband about us? I’m so sick and tired of hearing that shit Sofie. Pashmina needs to grow up. She was the married one don’t you think it was her responsibility to tell him?”

“Oh George, you always did think things were simple.” But not for Pashmina. Even Sofie had wondered if they were doing the right thing sending her away from everything she knew and loved. She’d been so young and scared but through it all she’d been incredibly brave too, enough to give up her baby and build a new life all alone. Only a special person could overcome so much like Pashmina had. Sofie’s eyes welled with pride.

“It was a mistake not to tell him herself,” she agreed, somewhat soothing George’s ruffled feathers, “but you were wrong too, sneaking off, leaving her and the baby alone like that.”

George started to speak, he’d heard enough about Pashmina and her troubles. It was time to say good-bye and go to work.
Baby, what baby
? He grabbed Sofie’s arm. “Pashmina had a baby?”

Sofie stared at him like she’d seen a ghost, shocked and pale and he felt her arm pull away from his grasp. “Oh shit, what have I done?” He watched her mumbling to no one in particular. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Sofie?” he spoke gently trying to calm them both. “What are you saying, did Pashmina have a baby? Did she have my baby?”

Panicked, Sofie tried to recall what Pashmina had said about her run-in with George. She hadn’t left anything out, describing how good he looked and what he’d been up to since she’d last seen him. She talked about the manuscript he left in her care, how good it was and how dangerous it would be if it ever became public, and then she’d told Sofie about Harry, and why he left. Because of George. They’d talked for a long time about that until Sofie’s grandchildren came in from school. “I’m sorry Pash, the kids just got home and I’ve got to run,” she blew a kiss into the phone and hung up before Pashmina could reply. Dammit! She’d just assumed Pashmina had told him about the baby.

Now he was waiting for her to answer him. No way, she’d said too much already. “Look George, I have to go, but it was great seeing you.” She turned on her heels, giving him a brilliant smile and disappeared into the busy street leaving George alone and gaping like a hooked fish.

*   *   *

George staggered backwards nearly knocking into the Fish Stand. His mind was whirling as he tried to remember. Pashmina, Sofie, Harry…they all swirled together.

“Baby?” he thought. “What baby, whose baby?” The past rolled over him like a tsunami. Pashmina had never mentioned a baby.

After he left Greece, she’d gone to the States to pursue her dream of becoming a writer, but that was all he knew. Had she remarried and had a family? She never said. And if that was the case, then why was she so upset with him? It didn’t make sense.

Refocusing on the present, he headed back towards the CERILIA and Vasily who was standing impatiently by his boat, eager to get going. “George!” “We’re waiting for you. Come on let’s go!”

He handed Vasily a pouch of chewing tobacco and grabbed the tether ropes. “I’ve got it, Vasily. Get on board.”

Despite his girth, Vasily moved lightly onto the boat, yelling instructions to the crew for final preparations and grabbing the ropes George threw his way. “Ok George, climb aboard,” he directed.

“I’m sorry Vasily I can’t,” the words escaped before he could stop them as the boat began to pull away. This was crazy. He was crazy. But he had to know, was he a father?

“George, what are you doing?” The sound of Vasily’s voice snapped him back to attention. “Get on the boat!”

“There’s something I have to do,” he called hating himself for letting Vasily down. “I’m sorry but it’s important and it can’t wait.”

Vasily looked disgusted but didn’t argue. They’d been friends a long time. George was as dependable as the sun rising and setting every day. If he needed to attend to something, then Vasily wasn’t going to stop him. He turned toward the bow of the boat. “Let’s go,” he said to the crew, “we’ve got work to do.”

George left the docks and walked the short distance to his flat, a modest apartment, even by Greek standards with a small living space and an even smaller bedroom, but after years of constant moving, it was home. He loved that his couch was comfortably worn from long-time use watching the flat screen t.v. across the room, reading, and napping. On the rare occasion he had friends over, a couple of mismatched chairs by the window paired with a reading table and lamp, provided additional seating. Even the kitchen, equipped with the basic necessities and a two-person dining table was cozy in his eyes.

Letting himself in, he walked purposefully to the bedroom throwing himself upon a full-sized bed covered by a lightweight, colorful quilt. A chest of drawers, the only other furniture in the room, stood nearby. He lay prone on the bed, one arm covering his eyes as if the pressure would help him to see.

“Pashmina,” he whispered out loud, “what did you do?”

She’d been so full of anger in the café, so fierce and dark. He’d never seen her like that before. Definitely not how he’d pictured their reunion. Unlike him, she seemed to have forgotten the sweetness of their past and couldn’t be any less interested in a future together. But she really had cared about him once upon a time. She’d tell him if there was a child wouldn’t she?

Pushing off the bed, he walked to the kitchen and grabbed a phone book from the counter. No doubt he could find what he needed at the Fish Stand but at what price? It hadn’t been easy keeping a low profile all these years, keeping even the most inquiring minds at bay, he couldn’t risk calling attention to himself now. As long as he still had enemies, he wasn’t taking any chances. Settling on a page, he ran a finger along the list of names finally stopping at one.

“Dimitri Dicopolous. Private Investigator.”

With shaky fingers, he dialed the number and waited for someone to answer.

“Hello. Dimitri Dicopolous’ office, how may I help you?”

“I would like to speak to Mr. Dicopolous please. I have a missing person I need to locate.”

*   *   *

A sharp knock on the door broke the quiet of a lazy weekend morning. Several days had passed since George had contacted Dimitri Dicopolous’ office and arranged to meet. Today was the day. Opening the door, he found a tall, thin man with white-tipped gray hair that stood on end reminding him of Don King. So much for a private investigator that blended in with the crowd.

“Mr. Levendakis?”  Dimitri asked extending a long arm clothed in a white dress shirt.

“Yes. That’s me.” Extending his own calloused hand in greeting George invited him in, “Come in. Come in.”

Dimitri entered the apartment and looked around taking in every detail of his surroundings. It was a compact space, clean, neatly arranged, and efficient. Much like its resident he suspected.

“Please, have a seat,” said George motioning to the chairs and table by the window. “Can I get you something to drink?” He placed a pitcher of ice water and two glasses in front of Dimitri and began to pour, his hand shaking slightly. These past few days had seemed endless waiting for this meeting. Now that it was finally happening he was excited and scared at the same time.

“Thank you,” said Dimitri accepting the offered glass from George. He sipped slowly and watched as George fidgeted in the seat across from him. He smiled, understanding. “So you’re probably thinking ‘what happens now’?” George flushed and Dimitri’s smile grew broader. “Nothing to be embarrassed about Mr. Levandakis, may I call you George? Absolutely nothing. People hire private investigators all the time for all manners of business. It’s a specialty field, a skill, just like fishing or accounting. Now, how can I help you?”

“Well.” George stuttered. Where to begin? Despite his assurances, Dimitri was bound to think he was out of his freaking mind when he told him of his quest. “I’m trying to locate a missing person, but I’m not sure if it’s a male or a female. I don’t have a name or a birth date, and I’m not entirely sure this person actually exists.”

Dimitri looked closely at George. Was this a joke? “George, you know I’m a private investigator, not a magician right?”

George kneaded his forehead and contemplated whether this was all a big mistake. Mistake or no, he needed to know if there had been a baby and if the baby was his. If there was any truth to the theory, he’d worry about it after that.

“It’s a long and complicated story but I’ll tell you all I know.” A while later Dimitri stood up from his chair. George had told him everything he could and provided him with the most valuable piece of information; the name of Pashmina Papadakis.

“You understand this search must be conducted in the strictest confidence?” George underscored when they were finished. “I need to know if there was a child but I’m not willing to destroy Pashmina’s reputation to find out. It’s so important that she never know that I’m looking.”

“I’m a professional,” he assured him. “No one will know that I even exist. I’ll be in touch when I have something to share, in the meantime, call me if you think of anything else that might help my efforts.”

*   *   *

Cleaning up after work one day, George heard the phone ring and stepped from the shower to answer it wrapping a towel around his dripping body as he went. As he crossed the room, his stomach began to churn nervously. Was it the call he’d been waiting for?

“Hello?”

“George? It’s Dimitri. I’ve got some information for you but I don’t think we should discuss it over the phone. Will you be home for a while?”

George’s stomach knotted like a soft pretzel trying to imagine what Dimitri had discovered. “Yes, of course,” he answered. “I’m in for the night. What time do you think you’ll be here?”

“Give me 30 minutes,” Dimitri answered. “I just have to finish up a few things here and I’ll be right over.”

Replacing the phone in its cradle George sat roughly in a chair. He was numb. Dimitri sounded so urgent. Was it good news or bad and what did that even mean? Shocked at first to think he might be a father, he’d recently started warming up to the idea and now he had no idea how he’d feel if there was no baby after all.

He picked up an old newspaper from the couch and quickly straightened the few pieces of furniture in the room before moving to the kitchen to clean up the unwashed dishes from breakfast. The fussing kept his mind busy and he relaxed a little scrubbing and rinsing the dishes clean before placing them on the rack to dry.

A short time later he heard a knock on the door and went to open it for Dimitri waiting patiently on the other side, a manila folder in one hand. “Come in. Come in,” he urged ushering the investigator inside. “I’ve been going a little crazy since you called,” he admitted looking like a kid full of Christmas day anticipation.

Placing the folder on the table in front of him, Dimitri took a seat and smiled reassuringly at him. “I can’t say this wasn’t a challenging assignment but that’s what makes the job interesting, for me at least.” Opening the folder he began to sift through the papers inside until he found the one he was looking for. “Shall we get started?”

“Ok, George.” Dimitri started in a professional tone, “First I ran a check on Pashmina and tried to track down what she’s been doing the last 25 years. The big picture you already know. She left Greece, emigrated to America and eventually became an internationally known author. That part was easy. I have a file on her accomplishments and how her public life has been conducted. She’s written a dozen books. The literary world loves her and the public can’t get enough of her.”

“I knew she would make a great writer.” George said softly. “She had the gift to write even as a young woman.”

“And now everyone knows her talent.” Dimitri passed George a piece of paper. “Here are all her published books and awards. She’s lived most of her American life in Boston. Never married or remarried I should say. Ok, now to the real story. I checked further back, before her career took off to see what I could find. I used Sophie’s name and your name and Pashmina’s family name to see if I could find any information.”

“Which one of those names tipped you off?” he asked curious to hear which angle opened the door to Dimitri’s story.

“None of them.” he answered.

George looked at him confused. Someone’s name had unlocked the door to the information in Dimitri’s file.

“I found some information about Pashmina’s early years. She moved to Boston in 1979 and lived in several city apartments over the next few years. She held two jobs prior to her writing career. She worked as an office clerk for the first few years and then at a small publishing company. She did various jobs for them. If I had to guess, it was probably how she got her feet wet in the industry. By 1985, she had published her first novel. It was her third book “The Secret of the Volcano” that really got her noticed.”