Scenic Route To Paradise: Desperado Dale Part 3

A middle aged woman came out and introduced herself to Mrs Adams.

As if an explanation was needed, she told them she had been a schoolteacher on mainland Greece for almost 20 years before she retired early to move to Kerkyra with her aging spouse.

"Call me Sylvia," she said in very clear English. "It was my husband, Gus that you met last night. What a pleasant surprise for us to have you arrive, as you did."

"Oh, no. The pleasant surprise was on our part. That soup was delicious... What a beautiful home you have here. So s.p.a.cious and modern too," said Bean courteously although her thoughts were elsewhere as she began sipping from Mr Adam's coffee cup.

Sylvia promised to give them a map - hand drawn of the best route to the northern town of Avliotes. "From there your daughter-in-law's family village is very close and doable even on our roads, if you leave this morning." After more small talk with Mr Adams, she went inside to make breakfast for the guests.

"I understand how people at one time thought Greece to be the cradle of civilization... the Garden of the G.o.ds. Why Bean this is a wonderful place... Look at that pool! Perhaps, we should stay another night or two. It couldn't hurt and who knows but maybe Dale can meet us here... Although, I have no idea where here is!" Bernie let out a laugh at his own statement. It felt somehow freeing not knowing where he was and the place being so peaceful and comfortable.

Bean looked at the calm restive demeanor of her alienated first love and thought nothing of popping Bernie's bubble of peace.

After all, hadn't he popped my idyllic bubble almost 50 years before?

The fact was she needed his advice. Mr Adams was the smartest man she knew and if there was going to be trouble and it certainly seemed that there was trouble coming and going, she wanted Bernie to have his brains working to fix the problem.

"Mr Adams, I think we need to get on the road this morning - just as Sylvia suggested," Bean began. "You see I came across something very odd, if not worrisome last night while I was readying for bed."

Bernie opened his eyes wide. "You did? So did I. Yes! I was about to brush my teeth and also, my dentures when I glanced into the bathroom mirror... I was shocked. My appearance has become very odd and also, worrisome as you say. In fact, I don't feel a day over 72 but when I looked in that mirror last night, why an old man looked back! Odd! Very worrisome indeed!" he muttered with a bushy wink.

In spite of her somber thoughts, Jellybean let out a chortle. "No, I'm serious Mr Adams." She went on to explain what she had discovered the night before only taking a break when a breakfast ensemble was rolled out on a dining cart.

When Sylvia left them, Bean continued, "I thought there was something different about my bag... It looked less worn but it wasn't until I opened it that even that insignificant detail registered." She took an empty coffee cup from the cart and Bernie poured her a cup of coffee. He refilled his own, adding hot milk. He turned to examine the rolls and eggs and simple fare that had been left for their morning meal.

Scooping up a pastry, he recounted, "There is money... and you say it's not the old drachma or the Euro but the new currency. Also, there is jewelry - mostly gold and finally a manila enveloped with a notebook; a handwritten travel journal inside."

Nodding, Bean confirmed. "Yes, it was sealed but I opened it." She paused and when she got no rebuke from Mr Adams she continued, "And, the diary is in English. I was thankful for that because it was easily read. Anna and the baby were sleeping through my entire discovery... exhausted little lambs. Anyway, I stayed up late trying to figure out everything. Its old but there are no dates... Strange!"

"You know what I think, Mr Adams?" She remarked. Bernie poked his breakfast as he shrugged... He had his own thoughts about what the discovery meant. "I think someone intentionally switched my bag and that is why Dale has been detained," she confided using a stage whisper.

"Really, dear?" He wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and then he added, "No, we don't know what has happened to Dale. The last twenty-four hours is chocked full of unanswered questions... What has happened to our grandson? How come Anna is told not to contact him? Where are we? And what in the world are you doing carrying someone else's pink bag?" He took a swig of coffee. "Yes... yes, the bags are somehow related and most probably, a fellow traveler intentionally switched them. I'll bet my last thousand liras, he's a Frenchman for sure and he did not want to be identified by the strange contents of this carry-on. It seems whoever that traveler is, he or she went to great lengths to copy your bag."

Lira?

Also, Bean doubted that the person in question was French. The handwritten journal was in English and from what little she had read, the author was a Brit. "I know, but I originally bought that bag... a mauve colored bag - not pink, in an airport terminal. Actually, I bought it at Heathrow before the disaster hit back home. Sir, in spite of the absolute horrible financial problems, some of the kiosks at the airports are still open for business. My bag is a fairly common one and easily identifiable and so, it seems someone chose one like it in Ma.r.s.eilles before we flew out. Besides, I probably look like an easy target." She explained with a sad smile.

"Well, we both do look like easy prey, I suppose but if people only knew what kind of... erh, huh, business we did following the Great War, I'm sure they would have picked another courier to do their dirty work!" Mr Adams said quietly but with such resolution that Bean cheered-up, convinced he was correct in his a.s.sumption.

He continued, "We have money, their money and their gold and a possible important bargaining item - their journal. We may need these things to find and deliver Dale. I wonder where that boy has gotten off too. I sure hope the authorities don't have him in a cell underneath the airport... That would be a difficult safe to crack." Mr Adams looked at his watch while Mrs Adams arranged her breakfast plate.

He reiterated mentally, Not impossible but definitely a difficult safe to crack.

For a half hour, the elderly couple discussed the probable scenarios and finally concluded that without Dale's input there would be little to do but take precautions and stay alert. The two had worked with the underground and in espionage post World War II. It was as if they had taken up where they had left off but neither one considered that the last time they were called up for "service" was over 30 years ago.

Bean returned to the room she shared with Anna and Gwyneth while Mr Adams conferred with Sylvia on the best route to the northwest tip of the island. In the end, as the travelers left the inn behind, he had a map with three different routes marked on it. The fastest way and then the most scenic route but also, the slowest route which would take them all day and half the night to obtain their destination - Anna's cousin's house located in the tiny village of Evangelos east of Avliotes.

Chapter 10 Surprise, Surprise, Surprise.

Remarkably, Dale had slept sound. The evening before, he made an effort to s.h.i.+ft his worries from his own shoulders to Another's before resting his head on the pillow, as was his custom. The villa was quiet and cool. In the night the sounds of the dogs snuffling about his closed bedroom door and leaves whispering in the constant breeze at the open windows acted as therapy.

For several moments Dale lay in bed wondering about the adventure G.o.d had drawn him and his family into. He needed to call Anna, rea.s.suring her that he was okay. The calm he sensed making the rounds in his mind and heart, told him that his wife, child and grandparents were safe, as well.

When Dale didn't have a Bible handy, he would dredge up from memory the scriptures he had learned as a youngster. This morning he meditated on the Shepherd's Psalm. In his mind's eye, Dale read the six verses and dissected the words and phrases and the intent of the shepherd king, David the Jew who penned the poem. Ending with, I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever, Dale began to pray. He sensed G.o.d. Inspired, he climbed from the comfort of the bed to kneel on the throw rug.

Quietly speaking and then waiting to hear reverent inspiration, Dale's mind eventually wandered to the events of the last few months. There was a bitter residue in his spirit as he thought of his home and the chaos that had overtaken his country; the government, the infrastructure and the people. He knew that he knew, G.o.d had taken him and his wife, daughter and grandparents out of the impending catastrophe and yet, Dale wondered about so many left to fend for survival besides all the immediate fatalities from both the humongous earthquake and the coordinated enemy attacks. There were friends and family members who were probably dead... who were dead. Although, he hadn't heard specifically. And then, he mulled the demise of so many innocents, including animals, his pets but especially children.

The bitter taste traveled to his innermost extremities. Dale had gone this route in his mind many times already. With each introspection, an inner ache and doubts of G.o.d's character surfaced. A guilty cloud of oppression formed and hovered, mentally suggesting: Innocent people died but I am alive... I am not worthy.

This time the condemnation was followed with accusations and streaming mental snapshots of his wife and daughter being thrown into a dank Greek prison because of his cowardice. You ran and hid like a scared little weasel but your wife she was stopped and now she and Gwyneth are being punished... tortured. Your prayers are useless! The old people - your grandparents are dead and in h.e.l.l because of you... You're worthless!

The lies had gone beyond believability... over the top. Dale let out a drawn out screech, "No-o-o!" Praying quietly, he sought G.o.d's help. He invoked the name of his Savior Jesus to drive off the enemy's accusations. The calm he sensed when he awoke pressed against the spiritual gloom before penetrating to settle again upon his soul.

After some minutes, Dale stood up and resolved to "gird up the loins" of his mind. He couldn't let his imagination wander unchecked... not now. Not in this environment. Not ever. If he had questions that needed answers... he would pray and keep his thoughts harnessed and ready to hear and obey G.o.d's Spirit.

The night before had brought several surprises. First, the old woman arrived as dinner was being laid on the table. She nodded at the younger men and then took her seat, not seeming perturbed by a stranger - Dale.

Sam introduced her. In the dim lantern light, Dale smiled a greeting and sat.

The first surprise occurred when both Sam and the woman, Bethania Kalamaki bent their heads to pray for their meal. Caught off guard by this unexpected gesture of reverence and grat.i.tude, Dale could only watch as the elderly woman moved her lips silently while Sam gave the blessing in Greek.

Sam replied to Dale's obvious amazement. "Life is lean but we are very grateful for divine provision. I had everything before but yet nothing! Now? I have nothing but honestly I have all I need." Speechless, Dale looked from Sam to Bethania. The woman gave a confirming nod as she handed the bread to Dale.

Taking the loaf, Dale tore a piece and pa.s.sed it on to Sam. The thought that G.o.d was orchestrating the events that transpired since they landed on the island, flitted through his mind.

"We are trusting in the G.o.d of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob for our well-being," Bethania said softly. Her English was thickly accented. "Perhaps, our G.o.d has sent you to us." Then she added with a gentle laugh, "Always praying! Surely, our G.o.d hears - so why not pray?"

Her words perplexed Dale but he was hungry. Pickled fish and the potatoes with the local herbs blended and steaming before him were diverting.

Sam and Dale ate silently as Bethania spoke. She explained about the food and fuel shortages. It had been increasingly difficult and the discontentment brought on by hards.h.i.+p allowed a group of organized thugs to step forward as savior-types. "Ne, but they are far from saviors. In reality, they are corrupt and mean... Evil! People here are in constant fear of their random violence." Dale noted that Sam looked increasingly uncomfortable as Bethania talked. The woman seemed oblivious to his worry.

"I don't have to be a prophetess to see what is coming. I've seen it before. There were over 2000 of us here in the isles before they took us away to Auschwitz... but now there is only a handful," she said.

Sam said in Greek, "But Yiayia, that was a long time ago. It will not happen again." Although Bethania was not really Sam's relative, out of respect and affection he called her by the Greek name for grandmother.

Dale thought there was little conviction in Sam's words of comfort. He asked, "You're Jews?"

Nodding, Sam went on to relate the long standing relations.h.i.+p of the Jews to the island. Eighteen hundred years of history included a prominent Jewish presence. The most recent Jewish population had settled the Ionian Islands, including Kerkyra in the 1500's. Although spread throughout the islands, the families and businesses had strong ties to one another. Much of the time, the gentiles lived peacefully with their Jewish minority and looked upon newcomers with sympathy when they arrived after being persecuted in other lands. When Mussolini and then soon after, Hitler's troops took Kerkyra, island life unraveled once again for the Judaic brethren.

On Kerkyra, the rest of the islanders watched helplessly as their fellow citizens were herded into a type of ghetto with a morning and evening roll call. The Jewish household goods and businesses were plundered by the invaders and soon after, all the Jews on the island were transported to mainland Greece where they were then transported to Auschwitz.

Bethania finished Sam's account. "Upon arrival 1800 Jews were taken immediately to the showers. They were ga.s.sed... murdered! Such evil!" She thumped a weathered fist on the table top.

Dale was mesmerized by their graphic historic sketch. As a child, he had seen the prison camp numerical tattoos on several elderly Jews while living in Cape Town, South Africa. Many Jews settled there after World War II. He had visited the excellent holocaust museum there many times.

Sam was up making tea. At the table, looking at the woman in awe, Dale asked in a reverent whisper, "And you? You must have been very young. What happened afterward?"

Bethania reach across the table top to place her empty bowl on top of Dale's dish. She said, "I was young but I remember. Don't misunderstand. Many Jews escaped. There was a deliberate scheme arranged to funnel the Jews from mainland Europe through these islands and then on to safety... Many went on to Israel. I did not live on Kerkyra then... No, I came back to these islands some years later. I lived south of here. The Jews there all survived. We had a very shrewd governor. He and his good friend finagled with the Germans until we all escaped." She laughed her soft laugh once more.

Sam said, "It's true. No one mentions what happened but the Jews of Zakynthos were saved by the compa.s.sion and wits of just two men." He set down hot tea in front of Dale and Bethania before picking up the dinner dishes.

Nodding, Bethania said, "We were close to our brethren who lived here. I had many family members in this community. Some left but many stayed on hoping that we would be overlooked. We humans rarely learn from history, eh?"

With eyes downcast as if examining his tea, Dale asked, "What happened? How did two men save all of you who were still here on the islands when the n.a.z.is showed up?"

As she continued to rock her head up and down rea.s.suringly, Bethania said, "The Germans arrived in 1943 and they appointed Lucas Karrer as mayor. It wasn't long before they demanded a list of all the Jews living on Zakynthos... Ah, the Germans enjoy their lists; so methodical. Anyway, the church sent a wire imploring Hitler to leave us... the Jews alone. I suppose a sort of house arrest was being put forward. I'm not sure but nothing came of it. In the meantime, the local bishop, Dimitrious bribed the German commander. He ignored us for awhile but the inevitable time arrived when he demanded again the list with our names on it." Listening intently but with eyes averted, Dale blew on his tea. Sam had sat again with his own cup of tea and some papers before him. The dogs were stretching as if preparing for a long walk. Bethania sipped her brew loudly.

She said, "Ne, we were so grateful for the support given us by the gentiles of Zakynthos. The delay they caused was enough for all of us to escape. There was hiding and tunnels and a boat. Yes! I remember. It was cold and I felt so important carrying my little portmanteau." The small dog Dale called Toto, began to whine at the kitchen door. Dale thought Sam was going to let the little fellow out, as he pushed from the table and headed toward the back of the kitchen.

Dale's third surprise occurred as Bethania finished her rendition and pony-dog hurried after Sam. "You might wonder whether or not those orderly n.a.z.is received their demanded list. Well, they did all right." She chuckled quietly, triumphantly as the door was opened and three men and a young woman piled in before Sam shut it quickly behind them. Bethania said, "Ne, the mayor gave the commander the list of names and there were just two on it; Mayor Karrer's name and the bishop's."

Chapter 11 Potato Soup.

"Bean dear, Grandpa Bernie got the map but what was that note the woman from the Inn gave you?" asked Anna. The rental car wound down the hill and stopped for a gaggle of geese being escorted along the dirt drive by two barefoot boys. After a moment, Anna eased the vehicle forward. There was some shouting as she continued down the hill but she saw in the rearview mirror only the tiny figure of a child waving wildly. Window down, Anna waved a farewell to one small boy and his geese.

In the meantime, Grandpa Adams was replying to Bean's answer which Anna had missed as she concentrated on skirting without injury, the geese and the children.

"Sylvia gave you a recipe?" They had all had a bowl of warmed soup and bread with soft cheese the evening before.

"Yes. I was so hungry last night when we arrived and her husband... What's-his-name served us that potato soup. I'm going to include it in my heirloom cookbook," Bean responded with a sniff. "Besides, Anna is Greek and I think we should have a few Greek dishes in my book to honor her."

Anna, her mind at ease with no one in sight on the narrow dirt road before them, replied. "Grandma Bean, you are so thoughtful. I love the Greek potato soups! My cousin will make us a pot no doubt when we arrive."

She relished potato soup although her parents never made the popular dish. Her father remembered months on end after World War II when Greece was experiencing deprivations due to crop failures and their civil war. As a boy, many times his mother and older sisters would put stones smooth rocks that resembled potatoes into the boiling gruel and then, serving it as a meal for the family. The memory of the counterfeit soup of his youth kept Anna's family in America from ever making Greek potato soup. Compared to the watery rock stew served during the Greek Civil War, the tasty and hearty soups of modern Greece were a savory feast even with the difficulties that had overtaken the nationals as of late. It appeared to Anna that most Europeans were hungry but no one was starving... Not yet.

Bean read the handwritten recipe out loud.

Kerkyra Potato Soup

6 medium potatoes - grated (red potatoes are nice) 2 medium onions or leeks, chopped 6 cups stock (chicken or vegetable) 2 or 3 cups mushrooms, cleaned & sliced 1 - 2 tbsp olive oil dried parsley salt and pepper First, chop the onions. Next, heat the oil with the dried parsley and some pepper. When you smell the parsley add in the onions stirring to coat - let them cook for about two minutes then add the potatoes a little at time while you continue to stir. Let the potatoes cook (keep an eye on them and stir regularly) when the potatoes and onions are soft but not browned add the stock (this is usually after five to ten minutes). Let the soup simmer until the stock is more substantial and bit thick on the back of a spoon.

Finally, about 15 to 20 minutes before serving add the mushrooms. Sprinkle parsley on top and serve.

As Bean concluded her instructions for the making of potato soup, she tilted her head back against the pa.s.senger seat headrest and began to snore.

Chapter 12 Life Saviors.