by Anne B. Cole
“Katarina, Anya . . . is . . .” Lorenzo stumbled over his words, fumbling at the shirt buttons.
“Getting dressed.” Anya giggled, snuggling into Lorenzo’s arms.
“Humph,” Yia Yia scoffed. “Michalis will depart with the Warren. He will be taking the girls to Daniel’s parents’ home in Athens. Captain Kearny offered to escort his ship. The children are anxious to see you both. That little one will not quiet.” She grumbled more as she turned out the door, leaving it open.
“We’ll be right there,” Lorenzo called then kicked the door closed.
Anya looked up at him and bravely smiled. One button at a time, Lorenzo freed her from his uniform. Anya tossed a dress over her head and grabbed her apron. He buttoned the back for her and tied a cravat around his neck before turning around for inspection.
Anya’s mouth dropped. Her entire being weakened. The final time she saw her father was in a naval uniform. Frozen in place, her heart raced.
Lorenzo sighed before taking her hands. “You’re as strong as you are beautiful. I draw my strength from you. When my tour is over, we’ll be together, I promise.” He kissed her hand before he offered his arm to her. “Mrs. Taylor?”
You’re wrong. I gain my strength from you. Anya slipped her hand through his arm forcing her feet to move. Perhaps Lorenzo had eluded his death on the Kalliste. Maybe Mama had changed his fate, and he would return in January. Anya clung to this idea because without hope she had nothing. Neither spoke as they walked outside to the store. Yia Yia met them at the door.
“How’s Mama?” Anya asked as she kissed her cheek.
“Not well. Alec is with her in the back room.” Yia Yia frowned.
Lorenzo’s face clouded. “May I see her now?”
Yia Yia affectionately kissed Lorenzo as if she had done so every day of his life and then took his arm. They disappeared into the back room.
Anya turned to the others who were enjoying fresh bread and eggs. The older girls sat with the brothers while Lydia bounced on Henry’s knee. Anya clutched her hands together, waiting patiently. Each minute without Lorenzo seemed like hours. How will I be able to get through the next seven months? Since she didn’t feel like eating, she placed her hands into her dress pockets. Her right hand fell upon a familiar softness.
Anya’s heart skipped a beat. The ring. She clutched it in disbelief. She thought it went up in flames in the explosion and sat on the sea floor with the rest of the Kalliste. Mama must have taken the dress with her when she returned to Milos. She wrapped her fingers around the pouch, molding the supple material around the ring. Lorenzo escaped certain death on the Kalliste. Hopefully that was what Mama foresaw. But what if it wasn’t?
The door to the back room opened. Lorenzo somberly entered into the store area. His eyes fell to the floor, full of despair. His hand remained on the door latch as if he was unable to let go. Others in the room turned away, but Anya couldn’t. Lorenzo had said goodbye to Mama for the final time.
Alec’s deep voice sounded next to her. “Katarina, will you sit with Tatiana?” Anya didn’t know whom to comfort: Lorenzo, Alec, Mama, or the growing emptiness inside her own heart.
Lorenzo kissed Yia Yia’s hand then turned to Anya. She bit her lip to hold back the tears. Tasting her own blood, she saw the pain she was causing in Lorenzo’s face. Pursing her quivering lips together, she swallowed as Lydia tore herself from Henry’s knee. Bare feet pattered over to Lorenzo. “Up,” she cried out in English. “Fly, Enzo!”
Lorenzo picked her up, vaulting her above his head. They twirled around the store, flying to soundless music. A warm, heavy hand touched Anya’s shoulder as Lydia’s giggles placed a smile on everyone’s face.
“The love and innocence of a child heals pain like nothing else.” Anya took a deep breath as Alec continued, “she reminds me of you when I first met your mother.”
“I’m here for you, Alec,” Anya replied softly. She placed her hand over his as his arm tightened around her shoulder.
Alec sighed, squeezing her fingers, “And I for you.”
‘Run!’ her mind screamed at her.
“We need to go,” Anya insisted.
Alec agreed, releasing her shoulder. “Yes, we do.” He turned to Lorenzo, reaching for Lydia.
Lorenzo swung her into Alec’s arms.
“Your turn.” Lorenzo picked Anya up and twirled her around the store.
Anya squealed. His warm touch took away the panic and fear. The remnants of a single tear trailed down his cheek.
Anya’s fingers reached up, pulling his face to hers. His gentle kiss soothed her sadness, calmed her fears, and gave her the courage to go on. But Anya wanted more, had to have more.
Their kiss turned passionate, full of strength and determination. A tiny giggle erupted from the smallest onlooker. Lydia’s laughter was contagious, keeping tears from Anya’s eyes as her lips left him.
“We need to go,” Anya whispered as laughter broke out around them.
“I don’t want to,” he declared with sincerity. The grin returned. “Let’s runaway.” He took her hand before looking sideways at the others.
“Don’t make me use my gun,” Thomas teased.
Lorenzo pulled Anya to the door. “You’re a terrible shot, Thomas. We’ll take our chances.” He flashed everyone a grin then flung the door open. A small crowd of locals was gathered right outside to bid their farewells. Thomas roared as people swarmed around them.
The walk to the harbor became a festive one. Family and friends sang and danced their way to shore. The distance was covered too quickly. Dozens of sailors lined the Warren’s rail. Anya watched her husband swell with pride. He needed to complete his duty. She had to let him go. Anya followed his gaze to the ship, the ship that would take him away from her.
It was time. Leaning into Lorenzo’s arms, she felt his crisp uniform rub her cheek. The smell was foreign, not her husband’s. Anya grabbed his hands, lifting them to her face, and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the smell of his skin. She etched his touch, his scent, his love into her memory. It had to last for more than seven months, forever if . . . Anya’s head jerked up. Her hand plunged into her pocket.
Nearly frantic, she tore off a length of twisted hemp from a crate on the dock, tying it to the little pouch. She thrust it into his hand. Lorenzo emptied the pouch into his palm. His eyes took on a confused look.
“This is Tatiana’s ring.”
“Yes. Keep it.” Anya closed his fingers around it.
Lorenzo scrutinized her. His eyes crinkled with hurt. He touched her cheek. “Anya, my love for you—never think that I will not be true.” She watched his hurt deepen. “Does Tatiana think badly of me?” Lorenzo placed the ring in her hand. “This ring binds the wearer with unconditional love to one who struggles with the loss of a loved one. I love you, without this ring.”
Anya pieced together the words she understood. “The ring, protect.” Her eyes began to fill. “Keep my Enzo safe.”
Lorenzo crushed her against him. His lips found hers, confirming his love. There was little time left, precious little time. He placed the pouch around his neck.
“I love you, Anya.” He lifted her chin then placed her hand on his chest.
She took in a little gasp.
“I will not say goodbye because you’re always with me, right here.” He pressed her hand to his heart. “And I’m always with you.” Without letting go he placed her hand within his on her chest.
“Always,” Anya repeated.
“Enzo,” Thomas called from a rowboat a short distance away. The crowd had moved down the shore, allowing them some privacy. Anya’s breathing quickened with the knowledge that time was up.
“I have to go,” Lorenzo said but didn’t move.
Anya’s trembling hands fidge
ted with his shirt. He groaned, pulling her into another embrace.
“This isn’t goodbye,” he stated firmly. “Feel the warmth of the sun? That’s my love for you.” He lifted her chin and kissed her. “Feel it?” His breath trailed across her cheek.
Anya forced a smile upon her lips.
“Enzo,” Thomas roared impatiently.
Lorenzo held her face in his hands, ignoring the misaligned buttons of his uniform.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to watch me go.” He gently kissed her top lip and let go of her hands.
“I love you, Enzo.” She opened her eyes as she felt his presence leave. He brushed his face with his sleeve and glanced back.
“Anya,” he scolded gently, “I said not to open your eyes.”
Anya swallowed hard. She wiped two salty drops from his cheeks. He kissed her fingertips and together they approached the boats.
Thomas was seated at the oars of one with Matthew and Kaiti. Alec placed Lydia between them. “Enzo,” she cried out.
Lorenzo let go of Anya’s hand and took a few steps into the water. He nodded to Matthew and hugged both girls. Next, he turned to the second boat, which held Henry, Daniel, and Anna. Lorenzo shook Daniel’s hand and kissed Anna’s.
“Take care,” Lorenzo told her. Anna blushed as Daniel’s hand found hers.
Thomas’ voice broke the silence, “Lorenzo, Binder’s going to—”
“Binder owns me for the next six months. He can wait one more minute.” Laughter erupted through the crowd.
Lorenzo spun around, nearly knocking Anya over. “Love, you’re in the water.” He lifted her into his arms.
She touched the soft lump beneath his shirt.
“Be safe, Enzo.” Anya kissed him with forcefulness like never before.
“Ahem,” Thomas interrupted. “You have an audience.”
The entire crew of the Warren, nearly two hundred men, cheered on deck. Lorenzo placed Anya’s feet in the sand. Next, they noticed the rowboats. Kaiti was struggling to cover Lydia’s eyes. She freed herself and scrambled into the water to Lorenzo, who picked her up and placed his hat on her tiny head.
More cheers rose up from the Warren in the distance. Lorenzo whispered into her ear. Lydia nodded as he placed her back into the boat. Lorenzo ran to the shore, took Anya’s hands, and pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” When Anya opened her mouth to speak, she was silenced by a final kiss.
As he eased away, Lorenzo gazed into her eyes. “I love you.”
Anya nodded, holding back the tears. Without his hands in hers, her fingers clung to her skirt. He stepped into Henry’s boat, and began rowing to Michalis’ ship, not taking his eyes off her.
“I’ll be waiting,” Anya whispered, but deep inside her mind commanded her to run after him. He promised to return. She believed him, so she stayed.
People on shore called out their farewells as the boats reached the merchant ship. Lorenzo helped the girls, Matthew, and Daniel board. Anya waved as Michalis and his crew set sail toward the harbor entrance. Lorenzo shook Henry’s hand, gave him the oars, and jumped over to Thomas’ boat. Thomas began rowing swiftly toward the Warren.
Anya watched Lorenzo’s boat approach the eighteen gun sloop of war. The crew tossed ropes down to Lorenzo, who secured the boat. The crew cheered as they hoisted it up to the rail. Binder began barking commands, and within seconds, the men scattered. Anchors were drawn; sails were raised. Lorenzo stood motionless at the rail then raised his right hand in a salute to her.
She finally allowed the tears to flow freely since he would not be able to see her cry. The Warren slowly set sail, heading toward the harbor entrance. Lorenzo didn’t flinch. One by one, others on deck joined him in salute.
Anya felt a large familiar hand on her shoulder. She touched the hand, closing her eyes. Her mind screamed, ‘run,’ but her feet were anchored to the ground.
“He told me not to watch him go,” she said without opening her eyes.
Alec squeezed her hand. “Hold on to the good memories.”
Anya kept her eyes closed picturing Lorenzo standing at attention, a small lump bulging underneath his shirt next to his heart, his tousled hair, and the morning sun on his face. Anya felt that sun on her face, warming her, drying her tears. She felt him.
Alec again squeezed her hand. “I need to get back. Henry is here if you want to stay longer.”
Anya opened her eyes. The harbor was empty. Henry stood a short distance away, securing the boat, but there was no one else. Time had slipped away. She prayed the next several months would, too. Turning away from the water, she faced Alec. “Mama needs us.”
Alec offered his arm to her. She took a deep breath as Alec patted her hand. “That’s my Anya.”
They made their way with Henry back to the store. Several people were waiting at the door. Anya followed Alec inside with the customers. She filled a short list that was handed to her while Alec helped another. ‘Stay busy,’ the voice inside her head stated. She collected goods for several orders.
Alec called to her when the room finally cleared. “I need to deliver this to the harbor. Lock the store, and stay with your mother. Katarina and Henry are with her now.” Anya attempted a smile as she caught the key he tossed to her. “I’ll be back in an hour.” Alec left, carrying a sack of goods on his broad shoulder.
Anya wiped the counter before leaving the store. The fresh air and warm sun felt soothing, but the sound of a ragged cough made her quicken her step toward her mother’s bedroom. She carefully propped her mother up and gave her a clean handkerchief. She then unlatched a window to allow a breeze in. Mama’s cough subsided.
“Mama, is Henry outside? Where is Yia Yia?” Anya gazed out the window toward the garden.
The whites of Mama’s eyes were red from the strain of her cough and sweat beaded on her forehead. She took an unproductive breath.
“They went to the market. Where is Alec?” Mama asked.
“He’s helping customers. Can I get you some water?” Mama stared out the window. “Mama? Are you all right?” Her eyes remained glassy, unfocused. Anya grabbed her hands. Mama laid still. “No!” Anya cried.
Mama blinked and began to cough terribly. Anya held her, wishing Alec were here to tell her what to do. “Where’s your medicine?” Mama pointed to a shelf by the door. Anya walked over and picked up an empty bottle. “I’ll get another.” She tucked the blanket tight around her mother.
“Please, Anya, don’t go,” Mama whispered in English.
Anya turned, surprised at her use of Lorenzo’s language. She recalled Mama saying the same words a week ago when Thomas had arrived.
“Rest, I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t, Anya, don’t go.” There was fear in her mother’s eyes. Anya squeezed her frail hand and quickly left. She entered the store, running behind the counter where Alec kept the bottles of medicine.
Anya picked one and examined the label. Her head snapped at a loud bang. She froze. It sounded again, from the back room.
“Alec?” Anya called tentatively. Perhaps he forgot something. She remembered unlocking the door when she entered. If Alec were in the back room, the store would not have been locked. The door to the back room burst open. Victor stormed through.
Instant relief washed over her. “I apologize. I must have locked you in,” she called out as he staggered behind the counter to her side.
“Where is it?” Victor’s eyes blazed; his breath reeked of rum. He gripped her by the shoulders. “The ring? Where is it?”
Anya struggled out of his grip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He seized her arm, escorting her roughly to the back room. The door slammed shut behind them. She again broke free.
“The ring I gave Tatiana. She put it right in this drawer,” he yelled, yanking it out of the dresser. The contents clattered to the floor. “Where is it?”
Anya fled to the door. Victor arrived first. He snatched her braid, jerking her head around. “Tell me, Anya,” he hissed. “Did you steal it?”
She shook her head, backing away. His hand struck her cheek, causing her to fall to the floor. He stood over her, seething with anger. “Tell me where it is,” he paused. “Did you give it to the American? I saw you two at the harbor.”
Anya shrank against the dirt floor. “Mama gave me a ring to give to Lorenzo.”
Victor crouched down beside her. “How dare you,” he growled, eyes full of fury. “Damn you. Damn the American.” She watched in horror as he loosened his belt and removed it. “You will get the ring back and give it to me.” He grabbed her by the neck and pushed her face down into the cold dirt floor. The smack of Victor’s belt sliced across her shoulders.
“Do as I say.” The belt landed a second time, searing her lower back. “Get that ring.” A third blow knocked the breath out of her. “Get it!” Anya tensed, preparing for another lashing from the thick belt. Instead of the crack of leather, Victor’s entire weight fell upon her. She wriggled over, yet she was pinned down with his face merely inches from hers.
“Mors ad vos. Quem amas mortem. Damnaret qui indutus est maledicta annulus,” Victor maliciously uttered the words.
Anya tried to breathe but could not fill her lungs. As the room blurred, Victor flew off of her. She instinctively pulled her knees to her chest and prepared for another blow.
Victor was angry, drunk. His eyes were open, unfocused. Anya remembered to breathe and then noted his hands. They hung limp at his sides, unclenched. The belt was gone. Her gaze fell to his boots. They were off the floor.