by Lucy Monroe
“Come now, agape mou. This crying is not productive. Tell us what is wrong.”
Polly covered the smile on her mouth at the business speak leveled at their three-year-old, but it was all she could do not to laugh.
“I don’t want prod-i-vive,” their daughter wailed.
That was it. Polly bust out laughing, and both father and daughter gave her matching looks of outrage. The wails stopped though.
She tried to get control of herself, but the giggles kept coming.
“Why is Mama laughing? I was crying.” Oh, Helena sounded so offended by that turn of events.
“I do not know why she is laughing any more than I know why you were crying,” the great Alexandros Kristalakis admitted in a driven tone.
CHAPTER FOUR
HELENA’S FACE CRUMPLED, but she didn’t start crying again. “Why you here, Papa?”
“Because he wants to be,” Polly forced out between her inappropriate but cleansing humor.
The tension that had been building throughout lunch—and she wasn’t even sure why—was gone.
“You sound very sure.” The sarcasm was thick in her husband’s tone.
But Polly just shrugged, finally getting her laughter under control and returning to her seat. If she didn’t sound too confident it was because she herself had no clue why her husband was there for lunch for the second day in a row, with the unprecedented promise to work from home for the rest of the day, when he had never come home early in five years of marriage.
Alexandros frowned at Polly, but assured their daughter. “Yes. I want to be.”
“Is Mama sick?” Helena asked her father fearfully.
“No, remember, I explained, honey? Mommy is just making your baby brother in her tummy. I’m not sick.”
“But Papa is here.”
“Yes.” Polly didn’t know what that had to do with her being sick.
“Lunch is for Mama and dinner is for Papa.”
Polly tilted her head to the side. “But, Helena, your father is here during lunch on the weekends. Sometimes.”
Alexandros winced at the sometimes. “I will be here more. I miss you and your mama, koritsi mou.”
That was news to Polly. And she wasn’t sure she believed it.
Their daughter looked no more convinced. “Faire’s mama got sick and her papa had to take care of her.”
“Who is Faire?” Alexandros asked, in what she thought was focus on the wrong thing entirely.
“One of your daughter’s friends from playgroup,” Polly answered before meeting her daughter’s shimmering eyes. “I’m not sick, sweetheart. I promise.”
“But Papa is here during the day. He’s not here for the daytimes. He comes for bedtime. You are here during the daytimes. I don’t want you to go away, Mama!” her daughter wailed, and then burst into tears all over again.
Alexandros placed Helena on Polly’s diminished six-months-pregnant lap and then dropped to his knees so he could put his arms around them both. “No one is going anywhere. Mama is not sick,” he said, adding his promises to Polly’s, assuring their daughter that everything was all right and he was never going to let anything happen to her mama.
It took a while, but they got Helena settled down for her nap. In bed between Polly and Alexandros. It was not the first time they’d shared a family cuddle, but those times were rare. Polly couldn’t even miss the intimacy she and Alexandros had been planning, because the moment was so special.
Besides, she needed her rest too and didn’t fight her eyes closing. “Wake me in time for the doctor appointments,” she instructed her husband, who was no doubt going to take off and start working as soon as she fell asleep.
Only he was lying beside her when she woke, their daughter still asleep between them.
Feeling more refreshed than she had upon waking that morning, Polly smiled at him. “You’re still here.”
“The fact that my being in the vicinity is such a shock for both you and our daughter does not speak well of my presence in either of your lives.”
Polly had no experience with her husband in self-examination mode. She wanted to comfort him, but his words were no less than the truth.
“No denials?” he asked, his expression troubled.
“Your business and family have always come first.”
“You two are my family.”
“Of course, but—”
“There is no but. You and Helena are the only family I could not live without. Don’t you know that?”
“Um, no, not really.” And just because he said the words didn’t make them true. Even if he believed them, because his actions had said otherwise. Over and over again.
“And you do not believe me now,” he said, showing that he was still in that disturbingly insightful mood.
“Not really, no.” There was no point lying. He’d know, and besides, dishonesty wasn’t her style. Except when she told him she was fine when she wasn’t, and she had her reasons—maybe even conditioning—for doing that.
“Watch this space.” With that, he climbed off the bed coming around to help her up. “Come on, agape mou. Time for your appointments, chiropractic first.”
More surprises awaited her as he insisted on attending both appointments with her, asking first the chiropractor and then the acupuncturist if there were things they could do to help her with the pain and nausea. Both doctors suggested weekly visits along with herbs and naturopathic solutions that would not impact her pregnancy negatively.
Alexandros only left when the acupuncturist explained that her treatment would be most efficacious if Polly spent time in peaceful contemplation with the acupuncture needles in place. She’d been shocked she had not even felt them going in and that they caused no discomfort at all as she lay, comfortably supported by pillows on the massage therapy table.
Soft piano music played in the background, the herbs the acupuncturist had used to further stimulate the flow of her energy giving off a soothing scent.
An hour later, Polly sat in a lounger by the pool, sipping water and watching her husband encourage their daughter to work on her swimming technique. Pain and nausea free for the first time in weeks, Polly didn’t want to move and risk that happy condition.
So, when her daughter asked Polly to join them, she grimaced but went to stand anyway.
However, Alexandros waved her back onto the lounger. “Relax, agape mou. You can swim with us another day. The doctor said you needed to drink your water.”
“All right.” She relaxed back, wondering if there would be another day, as she took another sip of water under his watchful gaze.
Even on the weekends, time together as a family in the pool didn’t usually happen. That was something that she and Helena shared during the day, during the week. Like so many things.
That weekend, they hosted their first family luncheon. Petros and Corrina arrived with Athena and Stacia in the helicopter but reached the house ahead of the two women.
“You look lovely and fresh today, Polly,” Petros complimented after giving her a buss on both cheeks. “Where is my niece?”
“I put her down for an early nap, so she would be at her best when your mother and sister arrive.” Polly turned to Corrina and hugged her. “I think married life is agreeing with you. You look wonderful.”
Corrina was dressed in casual summer elegance, but it was the happy glow about the Greek heiress who had gone to school in England that brought a smile to Polly’s own features.
“And you don’t look nearly so tired as the last time I saw you. How are you feeling?”
“Really well. I’ve had a second session with the chiropractor, and both he and the acupuncturist are coming back in a couple of days.”
Corrina grinned. “I’m still gobsmacked that Alexandros arranged all that.”
“Would my brother not
do whatever was in his power to make sure you were as comfortable as possible if you were pregnant with his child?” Alexandros asked chidingly, showing he’d been listening even if it had looked like he was busy greeting his brother.
Corrina blushed, giving Polly a caught look. She smiled charmingly up at Alexandros. “Of course, but holistic medicine? Really?”
“It’s been working for people for millennia.”
“Well, of course…” Corrina let her voice trail off, clearly not sure what to say.
“It’s working for me now.” Polly laid her hand on Alexandros’s arm. “I feel better than I have since getting pregnant.”
He stilled and then slid his own arm around her waist in a jerky movement that was unlike his usual graceful self, pulling her so close, her entire side pressed into him.
She gasped, impacted by the touch far more than she should be. Pregnancy hormones.
As if he knew she was feeling things she shouldn’t be in company, he turned her to face him and slashed a knowing smile down at her. “Feeling all right, pethi mou?”
Swallowing, she nodded.
He leaned his head down as if he was going to kiss her. In front of his brother!
But he frowned instead when his mother’s voice came from the doorway to the drawing room.
“Stop pawing your wife in that common manner, and come greet your mother, Alexandros,” Athena demanded imperiously. “I was surprised no one was outside waiting to greet our arrival.”
The animation drained right out of his wife and she shifted, as if trying to step away from Alexandros.
But he had no intention of letting her go. “Not just yet,” he said to her.
“What? But…” Pollyanna stared up at him, like he’d grown two heads. “Your mother wants you.”
“And I want a kiss.” He didn’t wait for his wife to answer, but lowered his head and claimed her mouth.
With purpose. He wanted the life back, and in this, she always gave him spark.
For the count of three full seconds, Pollyanna did not respond at all, but then she relaxed against him and returned his kiss.
“Really, Alexandros, kissing your pregnant wife in company.”
Pollyanna went stiff at his sister’s snide tone, and Alexandros allowed her to step back when she pressed against his chest, pulling her head away from his. Ignoring both his mother and his sister for the moment, he cupped Pollyanna’s cheek. “I find you irresistible, agape mou, but I’ll keep. Did you want to go get Helena?”
Pollyanna nodded, her expression a cross between confusion and wary happiness.
He turned to face his sister and spoke before Pollyanna had a chance to leave the room. “I will kiss my beautiful wife where I like and in whatever company I find myself. Acting like a jealous cat because you don’t have someone interested in doing the same with you only makes you look petty.”
He flicked a glance over his shoulder and noticed that Pollyanna had a spring in her step as she crossed the drawing room that was rarely there in his mother and/or sister’s company.
“How can you say something like that to me?” Stacia demanded, wounded eyes filling with tears.
Five years ago? He would have fallen for it and jumped in to apologize and promise she was still his number one girl. They’d both been grieving the loss of their dear papa, and he’d felt his new role as head of the family keenly.
Alexandros had grown older and hopefully wiser. He now realized that playing into his baby sister’s need to be center of attention had done damage to his marriage and the way his wife perceived him. And he didn’t think he’d done Stacia any favors either.
“I can say it because it is true. Keep a civil tongue in your head when you are here or you won’t be invited back.”
“You don’t mean that,” Stacia yelped. “You wouldn’t exclude me from the family.”
“I should have excluded you from socializing with my wife a long time ago.” And how he was only realizing that in this moment did not speak well of his intelligence. “You are on notice. Take heed, or you will find more than just your social life curtailed in relation to me.”
“What are you saying?” Stacia asked, her voice pitching.
“That you are old enough to find a job, if not a career, and your allowance is now on the bubble. A bubble that will burst if your behavior does not remarkably improve.”
“I do not know what that wife of yours has been saying to you, Alexandros,” his mother butted in. “But Stacia is your sister and calling her a jealous cat for being uncomfortable with an inappropriate public display of affection is not what I expect from you.”
“There is nothing inappropriate about kissing my wife,” he told his mother curtly. “And I stand by my warning.” He gave Stacia a look. “Heed it.”
His mother’s mouth pursed with disapproval. “Your father left you head of the family and your sister is your responsibility.”
For once, he didn’t overlay the expression on her face with his own fear of her emotional fragility and saw his mother’s attitude for what it was. Damaging to his wife.
And that would no longer be tolerated.
His mother had grieved the loss of his father, but just like all of them, she’d grown stronger and more able to deal with her pain.
Now was the time to let her know she didn’t get to visit her disappointment that he had not married a Greek socialite on his wife. Ever again.
“One. Let’s be clear. My wife hasn’t said anything. Two. My sister is an adult, not a child. Three. If you want to take care of her monetary extravagances out of your own income, no one is stopping you.”
“How dare you talk to me like this? You still have not even bothered greeting me. I raised you with more manners.”
He walked forward and kissed both his mother’s cheeks, then stepped back. “Kalimera.”
“That is better.”
He looked down at her, letting her see his expression was not a happy one. “Good. Now, make sure your daughter stays polite and we will all be happy.”
Helena came running into the room, making a beeline for Petros. “Uncle Petros, Uncle Petros!”
His brother swung the toddler up and asked how her nap was.
Helena shrugged, the movement so like something he would do that, not for the first time, Alexandros thought his wife had her hands full raising a child so like him.
“I slept,” Helena informed her uncle.
“Would you like to say hello to your yia-yia?”
Helena tightened her hold on Petros, but nodded. Her usual vibrancy dimmed some, just as his wife’s did, as his daughter looked at the older woman.
Why? He’d watched Helena interact with his mother. She was not afraid of her yia-yia, but she also wasn’t enamored of her. And this was not normal for a Greek grandmother and her granddaughter, especially not his family. Alexandros could remember himself, his brother and their sister adoring their grandparents.
Helena should be thrilled to see her doting yia-yia.
Was it possible that Helena’s relationship with her yia-yia had been impacted by his mother’s less than approving attitude toward the little girl’s beloved mom?
His daughter gave her grandmother a kiss of greeting on each cheek, accepting the same in return, but made no move to leave her favored uncle’s arms to offer any further affectionate overtures. And Petros did not offer the child over either.
Neither did his mother reach for Helena.
In the past, he would have explained this response as a result of his wife’s attitude toward his mother, and as such would have had a talk with his wife, expecting her to fix it. But recent insights had made him less quick to jump to that as the solution.
He would watch the way his mother, and his sister, interacted with his daughter.
And over the course of the next hours,
he noticed things he had never noticed before.
Not only in the way his mother and sister related to his daughter, but in the very established patterns of their behavior toward his wife.
Even after the very serious warning he’d given his sister, she poked at Pollyanna, though admittedly without ever crossing the line to actual rudeness. Many of her comments had more than one meaning so she could claim easy deniability in the intent to offend.
“I don’t understand why we couldn’t keep dinners as they were. It’s tradition. If Anna isn’t up to joining us, surely you could have come on your own,” Stacia said to him as they all relaxed on the terrace with after-luncheon drinks.
Pollyanna, though dressed as elegantly for lunch as the other women, played on the lawn with their daughter, Petros and Corrina joining them for a game of croquet that Alexandros realized he regretted not being a part of.
Every time it was Helena’s turn to swing the mallet nearly as tall as she was, Petros stepped in to help her. On Helena’s first turn, Pollyanna had moved as if to help, but Petros had said something and done so. No doubt realizing a pregnant woman didn’t need to be bending over a toddler trying to navigate the mallet swing.
And Alexandros realized he wanted to be there, his arms around his daughter, playing with his family.
“She is my wife, which makes Pollyanna part of this family. Excluding her from family dinners because of her pregnancy, of all things, seems to defeat the purpose, don’t you think?” They were Greek. They were Kristalakis. Family was paramount.
How did his sister think it was even acceptable to ask such a question?
His father would turn in his grave if he knew the attitude Stacia had toward the mother of the family’s first grandchild of this generation.
“Your father started the tradition of family dinners on Sunday when I expressed a desire to have a set time for our family to be together, no matter what business the week might include,” his mother said wistfully. “It is not so easy to give up something that makes me feel like he is still with us.”
A week ago, Alexandros would have given in immediately to the subtle guilt trip, but he was on a rescue bid for his marriage and his parents’ traditions could not supersede what was best for him and his wife.