Chapter 1 #2
“You mean by force?” Anger churned in Raph’s stomach at the thought that Cleon, his distant and estranged cousin, had coerced his grandfather into abdicating his forty-year position as CEO of Giannport Vineyard & Wineries.
Andris had helplessly watched as his company was sold off, vineyard-by-vineyard, until it all but ceased to exist. All that remained was one dilapidated vineyard in Aetós, the launching pad for the Giannopoulos wine-producing empire that was once the most successful in all of Europe.
“If your father had lived, he would run Giannport. Pass it to you, Neo, and Tele.”
Raph could not argue with that fact. His father, Xander, who’d loved the wine making business, would have taken over Giannport years ago, and Raph’s mother, who was one of the few female sommeliers in the world, would have helped him run it.
But as fate would have it, Xander and Kerena, Raph’s father and grandmother, died in a car crash not too far from the family estate in Santorini when Raph and his brothers were six-years old.
If things were different, yes, he would have been coached and prepped to take over Giannport, but there was no going back.
“If Cleon stole the company from you, I will make him pay, Pappoús. I swear!”
“óchi! Leave it alone. Doesn’t matter now. Waste of time.” Andris tried to clear the phlegm from his throat. “Promise me you’ll leave it alone.”
Raph frowned. Why would he say that his cousin had taken the company away from him by force in one breath, and then in the next, say that it didn’t matter anymore?
Of course, it mattered. What was he afraid of?
What was he hiding? “I promise, Pappoús,” he said, even as he knew in his heart that he could not just forget it.
His grandfather let out a deep breath and relaxed into the mattress again as Raph continued to soothe his brow with long, gentle strokes of his thumb.
“You are head of the family now, Raph.”
The implication of that responsibility weighed heavy on his heart. “I know, Pappoús.”
“Take care of your brothers and your mother and little Petra. Find the right woman and fall in love.”
“You know me, Pappoús, I wouldn’t know the right woman if she punched me in the nose.” Raph laughed to lighten the grim aura in the room, and to keep himself from saying exactly how he felt about women and love.
“You’ll know her when you feel her. When you dream about her.”
“You mean when I see her?” Raph asked with a questioning frown.
“óchi. You don’t see love. You feel love.
Experience love,” he whispered on a smile.
“She might not be the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, but you will know she’s right when you feel her in your heart, and when you dream of her, mikró mou gio.
You must carry on the Giannopoulos bloodline,” he said, before closing his eyes and lapsing into silence.
Raph was only older than Neo by five minutes, and Tele by seven, yet his brothers had always looked up to him.
They had allowed him to lead the pack even when they were children, and it was understood by all that once their grandfather made his earthly exit, Raph would become the de facto patriarch of the Giannopoulos family.
As for carrying on the family bloodline, Tele had already grown his little branch, and he was sure that soon Neo would settle down and plant a few seeds of his own. Marriage and a family were not in his life’s plan.
“Neró,” Andris whispered in a voice, much weaker than it had been a few minutes ago.
Raph took the glass of water from the nightstand and helped him take a few sips through the straw.
When he’d had enough, Raph replaced the glass then held his waning gaze.
“I love you, Pappoús,” he said in a choked voice, needing him to hear it one last time.
“I wish we’d spent more time together during the years before your stroke. ”
Andris’ eyes flashed gently. “We had our moments, mikró mou gio. More moments than many people get with their loved ones. You and I solved so many puzzles together.” His thin lips cracked on a crooked smile. “You brought me so much joy.”
Raph pressed his lips together as wrenching knots formed in his belly. “You brought me joy, too, more than you would ever know, Pappoús.” He wiped his sleeve across his eyes and nose.
Andris squeezed Raph’s hand. “You were always my favorite.”
Raph grinned through his mounting pain. He knew his grandfather told Neo and Tele the same thing, but he also knew the old man held a tad more fondness in his heart for him. He tightened his fingers around his grandfather’s. “I know, Pappoús. And you’ve always been my favorite grandpa.”
“I know your heart, mikró agóri. I know what you gave up.”
Raph’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What do you know, Pappoús?”
Andris simply smiled, then said, “I want you to do something... something for me.”
“Of course. Anything for you, Pappoús.” He fought to suppress the grief spreading through his gut with each passing second.
Andris’ brow knitted, and he beckoned Raph closer. “Take us to Aki… Aki—li—na, Rapheus.”
Raph stared wordlessly at his grandfather for a second. “Where? What—”
“Will you take us, me and Yaya?”
“Yes. I will take you and Yaya to Akilina, but—”
“No one else is to know. Not your brothers. Not your mother. Only you must go. Promise.”
“Yes, Pappoús. I won’t say a word. But what is Akilina? Where is it?” he asked, curiosity and surprise warring in his mind.
Andris’ eyes darted around the room with a burning faraway look. “I… Island. Carib… bean. My Ra.”
“Your Ra? What is a Ra?”
“My birthplace.”
Raph drew back in confusion as he tried to absorb the information his grandfather just dumped on him.
He took a deep breath and hoped his voice would not portray his alarm.
“You’re saying you were born on this island in the Caribbean?
I’ve seen your birth certificate, Pappoús.
You were born in Aetós. You were born here in Greece.
” He paused, again wondering at his grandfather’s state of mind.
“Are you getting your facts mixed up, Pappoús?”
“óchi.“ He shook his head and tightened his lips in frustration. “óchi,” he said again.
“I’m sorry, Pappoús. I don’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to understand what you mean––what you want me to do.”
His grandfather’s eyes darted around the room again, causing an eerie feeling to skitter up and down Raph’s spine. What, or who was he looking for?
“My baba. He was promised. To another. He fell–– They fell…in love. They eloped. To Akilina,” Andris said, pausing after each sentence while his chest rose and fell and the crackling in his breath grew louder.
Nausea rose to Raph’s throat as he realized that his grandfather was struggling to take his last breaths. “Pappoús,” he whispered. Tears raced down his face and landed on his hands, both clasped around his grandfather’s. “Pappoús…”
“I’m sorry, Rapheus. I’m so sorry. I didn’t tell you. I— I wanted to… I— I—meant to. But then I…” Andris closed his eyes tightly and pressed his lips together as a lone tear slid from the corner of his eye, rolled down his temple, and into his ear.
Raph’s stomach cramped at the sadness and regret he’d heard in his grandfather’s voice and the turmoil on his face. “What, Pappoús?” He shifted on the chair as his body tightened with urgency. He wiped a hand across his nose. “What did you want to tell me?” He needed to know.
Andris’ eyes brightened and moved around the room as though he were following something, his gaze tense and alert.
When his focus zeroed in on a spot above Raph’s head, a chill enveloped Raph, and he had the feeling that a ghost had passed through him.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on edge and goosebumps covered his skin.
But he did not feel panic, only a quiet acknowledgement of the existence of things beyond this world.
He knew in that moment that his father’s and his grandmother’s spirits were in the room. Raph pressed his lips together to bite back his sob. “Pappoús...”
Andris’ gaze drifted to Raph, and he managed a faint smile. “Akilina. Raph, take us to my Ra.”
“I will, Pappoús. I will take you to your Ra.” Tears blinded him. Knowing it was the last time he would gaze into his grandfather’s eyes, he hurriedly dried his tears on the sleeve of his shirt.
“Thank you... Rapheus.” Andris’ gaze shifted to the portraits of his son and wife on a table at the foot of his bed. They had been placed there after his stroke so he could see them without having to strain his eyes. He took deep shallow breaths—breaths Raph knew were his very last.
“Pappoús…” His chest felt heavy as lead and his breath solidified in his throat.
Andris squeezed Raph’s hand. “Xander. Kerena, agápi mou,” he whispered, and with those final words, his lips sealed together on a smile. His grip relaxed around Raph’s fingers, and his brown eyes shimmered in the bedside light one last time before his lids closed around them.
And there, in the quiet of the home where he’d lived all his life, Andris Sebastian Giannopoulos peacefully died.
For twenty-seven years, he had grieved in silence for his wife and son, hardly speaking of them, even to his grandchildren, because his pain was too deep, the wound of loss, still too raw.
But now, he was with them and finally at peace.
The grandfather clock chimed seven times, tolling out the evening hour.
“Antío, Pappoús. Se agapó.” Raph leaned over the bed and pressed his lips to his grandfather’s cool forehead. Still holding his frail hand, he dropped his head on his chest and wept, regret for not spending more time with him stabbing at his broken heart.
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