wasn't why she was there. On the fifth morning of her stay in Rome she lay in bed and remembered her conversations with Linda, and suddenly her promise to John rang in her ears. She knew as she lay in her bed at the hotel that morning that she had no choice. She had embarked on a journey on which her life rested, and now she had to take the next step. She picked up the phone, asked for the concierge, and booked a seat on the next flight to Athens. The flight was scheduled to leave at two o'clock that afternoon.
She reached the airport in good time, checked her bag, and boarded the aircraft, and an hour later she arrived at Hellinikon Airport in Athens, looking wide-eyed and feeling desperately afraid. She could no longer remember why she had thought this part of the trip so important. She was terrified of what she would find there, of how she would feel, and she didn't really understand why she had come. When she reached the hotel in Athens, she felt weak from her anxieties, and she went to her room with trembling knees and set down her bags. And then, as though she couldn't wait a moment longer, she went to the telephone book, and holding it close to her, she sat on the bed. But she couldn't read the Greek letters in it, so, as though she were trapped in a dream, she went downstairs to the front desk and asked them to look it up for her. She wasn't going to call them. She just wanted the phone number and the address—”in case.” The man at the desk looked it up for her quickly. Andreas Arbus lived on a street in a quiet residential section, the man at the desk explained. He gave her the address and the phone number and told her it wasn't very far away. Somehow that made it all worse when Vanessa went back to her room, and ten minutes later she had to escape. It was almost unbearable knowing that perhaps now she was very close. She hailed a cab and explained to him in English that she wanted to see a little bit of Athens. She paid him handsomely in drachma, and after an hour's tour they stopped at a café and shared a carafe of wine.
The weather was absolutely gorgeous, the skies were blue, and the buildings looked brilliantly white, and Vanessa sat staring into her glass of wine, wishing that she hadn't come. It was as though she were trying to delay the inevitable every moment, and as she walked back into her hotel room, she knew with a feeling of panic that it was time. Like a woman condemned to a death sentence she walked to the phone with dragging feet, picked up the receiver, and dialed the number she'd been given by the man at the desk.
A woman answered and Vanessa felt her heart go into triphammer action. The woman on the other end spoke no English at all, and all Vanessa could do was ask for Andreas. A moment later there was a man's voice on the phone.
“Andreas Arbus?” Vanessa sounded desperately nervous and he answered her in Greek. “No … I'm sorry, I don't understand.… Do you speak English?”
“Yes.” Even with the one word, he had a charming accent, but she still couldn't imagine what he looked like. “Who is this?”
“I—” She was terrified now and she didn't want to tell him. What if he hung up on her? What if her sister was dead? She forced the crazy thoughts from her mind. “I've come from the States and I'd like to see you.”
He sounded intrigued. “Who are you?” There was laughter in his voice, perhaps he thought it was a joke, and she realized then how absurd it was to expect him to meet her if she wouldn't tell him her name. She took a deep breath and almost choked on a sob.
“My name is … Vanessa Fullerton.” It came out in a rush. “You may not know who I am, but my mother was married to your brother and—” She couldn't go on, as tears clogged her throat.
“Vanessa?” The voice was gentle. “Are you here? In Athens?” He sounded stunned, and she wondered if he would be angry. Perhaps he didn't want her around. God only knew what they had told Charlotte. “Where are you?”