No Forgiveness

by Helen Nickolson

  Family and friends returned to the house after the bodies were buried. A “Meal of Mercy,” also called a “Makaria” was served. Everyone chatted and ate and said good things about all three who had died. For the most part, everyone was happy that the father, mother, and son had changed their way of life and would now be with God. On everyone’s lips was the customary “May their memory be eternal.”

  Since the first piece of the mourning period for Eastern Orthodox Christians lasts for forty days, Katerina knew that they would be going through this again in a little over one month. They might have another service again in six months, but would definitely have one in one year. The relatives might have another service in three years and could have a service annually if they chose to do so. After all, they honored the memory as eternal and listed names of long-dead ancestors for the priest to include in his prayers for mercy.

  She hadn’t enjoyed going to the funeral service, but then, who does? She suspected there might be a few who went to know what was going on or to get a nice meal, but, for the most part, everyone went out of obligation and to pay their last respects. She had seen the many sidelong glances people had focused on her and she didn’t blame them. Everyone was fully aware of her history with Giorgo and probably wondered if she was thanking God for releasing her from any contact with him and his parents or was truly there to honor the family. She wasn’t sure herself.

  Actually, she had to admit that she was there to thank God for her freedom from Giorgo and his parents. She felt a distinct relief at the thought of not exiting her house and having to face any of the three. So many times, she had opened her door and seen one of them outside and immediately retreated back into her house. She had learned their schedules well and did her best to avoid them. After a while, she developed the habit of leaving the house before daybreak and sneaking in after dark.

  Katerina also knew that the villagers wondered about the properties that had been in Giorgo’s family. They really shouldn’t have wondered about that since legally everything would belong to her. She and Giorgo had stayed married until the end and no one would be able to contest her claim to the houses or any land that belonged to Giorgo or his parents. He had been the only child, and she was now the only one who could collect what had been his.

  “Well,” she thought to herself. “Perhaps my mother’s idea of developing a spinning and crocheting workshop is a very good idea after all. I could hire any number of women, install additional looms and make a thriving business. It would be good for me and for the families around here to gain additional income.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Katerina no longer bothered going to the little hut that Michael had reinforced in the field. There was really no need to go there since Michael could sneak in and out of her house during the night. Usually, he went to her house about an hour earlier than he needed to be in the fields, and, for the most part, stayed more than the hour he had granted himself. They had joy in their lovemaking and spontaneity and only wished that they could stay together in bed for a full day and night.

  This continued until spring had warmed up the air and she wanted to be with him again in the shady little grove they had in the north field. This spring was beyond lush with sumptuous little flowers dotting the fields and mountain sides. She smelled the aroma of the flowers and knew she would always associate that smell with him. So, she wanted to be with him in their private hide-away where all of her senses could drink in nature and him at the same time. For her, the little grove was still the magical place where they had united both physically and with their hearts. This was the place where she could all but feel his soul go through her and surround her and become one with hers.

  “Let me bring a little lunch for us today,” she often cajoled him. “I know what. I’ll fry some chicken and we’ll have a salad and some bread. I’ll bring just enough wine so that we’ll each have a glass. We can then take a nap and I can rest my head on your shoulder. Of course, I think a little more than food and a nap would be even better. Let me give a sampler of what I can offer you and only to you.” Typically, she would then stroke him or caress him or kiss him with both soft and hard grazes. He loved it and could never say no although he was beginning to wonder how this love affair with Katerina was going to end. Did it have to end? He prayed that they could be here on earth together until one of them died. He had no interest in anyone but her and she felt the same way toward him.

  But he had to ask, “Katerina, now that you’re free of Giorgo and can remarry if you choose to, will you do that?”

  “How can you even think of such things,” she exclaimed with a sense of panic attacking her stomach. “Do you think I could ever want anyone but you? I have waited for you for so long and now you think I might be interested in another man? I am secured to you beyond any moral matrimonial vows or legalistic nonsense. I am only yours and, until I see something other than this same attachment from you, I will always be by your side.”

  He felt relieved and cursed himself for even bringing up such a stupid topic. Where had that come from? Perhaps it came from the pressure he was feeling from Ophelia to have another child. She had often wondered about Ophelia and decided right then to ask him directly about their marital relationship. She had to know if they still had any sexual intercourse. She dreaded asking, felt stupid, but she had to know.

  “I know that you and Ophelia still share the same bed. I know that you see her nude and that she probably sees you nude also. Do you ever have any desire for her? Do you ever have sex with her?”

  She had caught him off guard. Never would he have expected those questions from her. She knew she had his heart, so why would she ask him anything so irrelevant and probing. There was something so different between men and women when it came to sexual intercourse. He could be with numerous women—not that he was—and they would mean nothing to him compared to her.

  He felt a little on the defensive and carefully thought how to respond so as not to upset her. The fact was that he had been with Ophelia several times in the last few months. He hadn’t wanted to, but she had lured him during the middle of the night with her big breasts rubbing against him and her hands stroking his penis. He had been mostly asleep and given in weakly. Damn that woman and damn him for being so weak!

  “You know that I don’t want to be with Ophelia anymore. I am stuck in the marriage and can’t change that. She wants to have more children and regularly tries to seduce me, but I’ve resisted thus far. She is a good wife and a good mother, but I’m not the man for her. I know it makes her sad, but I can’t do anything about that. Sometimes she cries and says that she doesn’t understand what has happened to us. Ii don’t know what to say to her.”

  “Does she ask you why you leave so early in the morning or why you don’t go home for lunch as you used to? Does she ever mention me?”

  “Yes, she does. My response to her is that I have many things on my mind. I doubt she believes me, but I don’t care much anymore. She was the instigator in getting you together with Giorgo and getting me to marry her. Yea, she also mentions you but I tell her that I know nothing and to talk with your mother.”

  “All right Michael, I believe you. I only wanted to be clear where we stood. If you change your mind and want to be with her, I won’t understand, I won’t forgive, but I will accept it. I want to be clear with you. As long as we under-stand each other’s terms, we’ll be fine. The main thing is that you yourself tell me and that I don’t hear rumors from other sources.”

  Throughout the summer, feeling very content, Katerina, with her mother’s help designed the workshop for weaving and crocheting. She placed the equipment that she had found, and paid very little for, in Giorgo’s parents’ house. She had thought that she would have a hard time acquiring looms, but it turned out to be a relatively easy task. By the time she finished, the room was comfortably crowded with five looms. She hired five women and sailed into her first entrepreneurial venture.

  She hadn’t realized
how much she liked to plan and design. She was good with numbers but had never had the chance to prove it; now that she had the opportunity, she made sure to keep track of everything related to money spent and money taken in. She was probably best with marketing and enjoyed visiting villages nearby to show off her samples. She dutifully wrote down what shopkeepers ordered and what they paid. She had even gone as far as Halkida, a good three hours away by donkey, and had been lucky enough to be invited overnight at a cousin’s house.

  Her Greek was not that of educated Greeks, but she could read and write and made up small fliers that she had checked for grammatical errors by the local schoolteacher before she actually distributed the fliers in shops. She added a few artistic touches to the fliers and thought how much better they looked. She hadn’t realized that she had an artistic side to her but thought that the fliers looked so much nicer with dried flowers attached to the paper. How exciting it all was, and she felt quite young and more energized than she had been for some time.

  Katerina felt at peace with life. Could she really be any luckier? All right, she knew she couldn’t have Michael on a daily and permanent basis, but she had adjusted to that and made the best of what she had. She also could never have children. That disappointed her, but she rationalized that she wouldn’t really want to have children if they weren’t Michael’s. She didn’t like everything in her life but no one liked everything. When she looked at the positives and negatives, she thanked God for giving her fulfillment. If she could just keep everything stable, she would need nothing else. After the hell she had gone through the previous year because of Ophelia and Giorgo, she was ready to prostrate herself in front of God and thankfully let him know that she needed nothing else.

  She had slowly rethought her relationship with God and had gone to Father Kosta to partake in confession the evening prior to the Sunday liturgy and planned on taking communion the following morning during the service. She had thoughtfully made a list of all her sins and gone before the priest with a contrite heart. She had been as specific as she could and made every effort not to blame anyone else for something that might have been her fault. She took as much responsibility as possible for everything she had done against God’s commandments for she knew that if she denounced others that would be an additional sin. She went to confess with faith in Jesus Christ and hope in His mercy. She had great hope in His mercy because she couldn’t bring herself to confess her relationship with Michael. She knew that her lack of total honesty was a great sin in itself but she couldn’t talk about Michael.

  She prepared herself carefully for communion by reading the Bible. She went to Church before the liturgy began with an empty stomach; she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since midnight, which was the proper thing to do according to the religious teachings. Her head was covered by a scarf and her face was free of any artifice. When the time came to partake in communion, she walked with crossed arms toward the Altar where Father Kosta stood with the chalice but suddenly, on second thought, turned swiftly around before she reached him. She knew that she hadn’t been totally truthful and would be condemning herself. Better to not take communion, she thought, than to show contempt for a religious sacrament she had believed in all her life.

  Father Kosta and others observed her reversal and couldn’t help but wonder what that was all about. Father Kosta had a good idea but decided to let her come to him eventually whenever she was ready and search out answers. He would be there to support and guide her, but he knew that he couldn’t force her to say words she was not yet ready to admit to.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Katerina didn’t go to confession again but attended Church regularly. The ever-present incense aroma of the Church put her into a serene trance; the icons of Jesus Christ, the Virgin Mary, and the Saints graciously welcoming her took her back to happy childhood religious holidays like Easter and Christmas when there would be a feast and celebration following the liturgical service. She enjoyed the few minutes reflecting and praying for loved ones before and after she lit her candle. During the service, she delighted in hearing the priest chant centuries-old hymns and hearing the cantor’s responses. She felt so at peace in the little Church where she had been baptized and had gone to almost every Sunday of her life.

  The summer had found its way toward the middle of August and it was Sunday, August 14, 1921. The previous year the August fifteenth holiday had fallen on a Sunday, and, remembering the rape, she hadn’t been able to attend Church. This year, however, not only was she in Church but she had also planned a special celebration for her mother’s name day on the fifteenth. Her mother, named Maria, celebrated her special day on the same day as the Virgin Mary. Typically, friends and neighbors stopped by the house to wish her mother “Happy Name Day,” and “May you live to one hundred.” Anyone who wanted to drop in was welcome. Since the Church was also putting on a small celebration and the village of Ano Kourouni was holding its annual festival to honor the Virgin Mary in the Feast of the Dormition, Katerina had invited friends and neighbors to stop by the house after 9:00 PM. The hour was still early by Greek standards, and she knew that they would have a house and yard full of well-wishers well into the night.

  She had checked with her mother about the invitation list. She hadn’t included Ophelia and Michael on the list and wasn’t sure how her mother would react. She hoped that her mother would not notice the omission. Ah, but her mother took note of the omission immediately and cried out, “No, this is wrong. We cannot exclude my other child from my celebration. You know better than that Katerina. I started with three daughters and have only two now. I can’t stand to lose another! Please don’t do this, because, if this is how it must be, I would rather have no celebration at all. I am a mother first, and must always welcome my child-ren into my home.”

  “I know Mama,” Katerina replied slowly. “I should have known better. I didn’t mean to make you sad or bring you bitter memories. You have always been a good mother and deserve proper treatment from all of us. I was dis-respectful and am very sorry. I will send a little note of invitation to Ophelia and Michael as I will to the others. Please forgive me.”

  Kyria Maria had always been a soft touch and, hearing the regret in Katerina’s voice, immediately hugged her daughter. “I know you’re not a mean or vengeful person. You have a good heart and will be blessed by God for your kindness. I love you Katerina.”

  Kyria Maria, Katerina, and the neighborhood women had prepared food and sweets for several days and were ready for the guests when Monday came around. They had made dolmades, spanakopita, pastitsio, stuffed peppers and tomatoes, salads, bread, and prepared souvlakia for the open flame. They also had plenty of appetizers including tiropitakia, olives, feta and kefalotiri cheese. For dessert, they had platters of freshly cut melons and watermelons. They knew that no matter how much their fellow Greeks had eaten, those Greeks needed the fresh fruit to settle a heavy dinner. They hadn’t bothered making sweets because it was expected that everyone would bring something to the house. No one went to visit with empty hands, and, as expected, everyone brought something whether it was sweets, flowers, or a small gift for Kyria Maria.

  Kyria Maria had taken extra care with her grooming. She wasn’t interested in a new husband, but she was a woman after all and appreciated a compliment whether it came from a man or another woman. She was still young and good-looking enough to attract a man’s attention and some had tried since her husband had passed away.

  She dressed in a soft rose-colored dress that was modestly cut but showed that she still had a fine figure. It was open at the neck and covered her arms a little over the shoulders. She wore the only set of pearl earrings and matching necklace that she had. So, who cared that they were fake? Her radiant face made them look as real as she was.

  She welcomed each and every person at the entrance in the little yard downstairs, bestowing kisses on each cheek and accepting their good wishes. Katerina could hear her saying, “Welcome to our house. Thank you s
o much for honoring me by coming. Thanks to all the kind neighbors, we have food and refreshment for you, so please help yourselves. This is an evening to celebrate and maybe we can get some of our local musicians to play some music for us. I know that several have brought their instruments and that Dimitri is ready to sing. When they begin, I’ll be the first one out there and I expect all of you to join in. Ha, what am I saying? I must be crazy to think I can hold any of you back.”

  Sure enough, they ate plenty, drank retsina wine or ouzo, and danced their hearts out. Kyria Maria was the first one on her feet when she heard the musicians begin. She took a handkerchief in her left hand for the next person to hold onto and struck her right arm straight out and high so that she could click her fingers to the beat. The first dance was the typical syrto—eight steps forward, one step back, rock on the right foot, and start again. She was good! She added her twirls, her little skip, and teased a little occasionally with some distantly related moves to the belly dance. It was her night and she was going to enjoy it!

  Katerina watched her mother and felt tears over-whelming her. Her mother was still beautiful and ready to fight for her share of happiness. She was going to fiercely grab and hold on to every tiny bit of joy that life would permit. She would never be defeated enough to easily step aside without an outright fight. This is how I always want to picture her, Katerina thought to herself.

  Being so similar to her mother, Katerina couldn’t stay away from the dancing for long. She had also taken extra care with her grooming and had put on a red, cotton dress which was sleeveless, V-necked, tight at the waist, and loose enough in the skirt to allow for easy movement and dancing. She could twirl in it easily and felt like a butterfly when she did. She had splurged on the material after she’d received her first payment for goods from her workshop; she hadn’t had any remorse for using her money so impulsively when she had bought the material and, knowing how good she looked, she had no remorse now.