The Siege

by Marilyn Baron

  Theia smiled. She couldn’t wait for her family to arrive for the exhibition. It was the longest she’d ever gone without seeing them, even with her mother’s quick visit when she’d first arrived in New York City. She had given so much time to the project, so much of herself, time away from everyone she loved, including Wade. She had come to realize she was in love with Wade. He had gone on the journey of discovery with her. Would he take the next step?

  After discussing it with her mother, Theia had gifted Theo’s paintings to the museum’s permanent collection. She had already decided to donate all the profits from the exhibition to the Etz Hayyim synagogue on Crete, to ensure its future.

  ****

  All her brothers, all her aunts and uncles, and representatives of the other five families were expected at the exhibition, and they all showed up. So did the Greek Consul General in New York, the Greek Consul from Atlanta, and the mayor of Chania, who flew in for the occasion. Sophia was too old to travel, but she had promised to be there in spirit. A videographer had been hired to document the event.

  A shiver went down Theia’s spine, and when she looked up, Wade was standing at the entrance to the gallery. She’d been watching for him, afraid he wouldn’t come, but here he was. The pain of missing Theia was etched on his face. She wanted to run to him and feel his arms around her, but they had an audience. A big audience. An important audience. The reunion would have to wait. She motioned him over.

  “Theia,” he exhaled, his face beaming. “Finally! I’ve missed you terribly.” He enfolded her in his arms. Then he took a step back and looked at her. “You’re as beautiful as ever, but you’ve lost weight.”

  “I was so focused, sometimes I forgot to eat. Come, let me show you what I’ve been doing all this time.” She shepherded Wade through the exhibition’s rooms.

  “Look at this!” Wade exclaimed. “It’s like we’re back in Chania—the stars in the night sky, the tavernas, the harbor. It feels so real. Is it real? Are you really here? I think I’m dreaming.”

  “It’s not a dream,” Theia answered. “Or I’m having the same dream.”

  As they walked through the exhibition, Wade shook his head. “I had no idea,” he said. “These paintings are amazing.”

  And when he stood in front of hers, tears sparkled in his eyes. “This is yours?”

  Theia blushed. “Yes.”

  “It’s as if your grandfather was working through you. You are a major talent.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ve seen your sketches, but I had no idea. It’s brilliant. You’re brilliant. You belong to the world now, but I want you to belong to me.”

  Wade took Theia in his arms again. “I missed you. You have no idea.” Then he cleared his throat and got down on one knee.

  Theia’s mouth opened. “Wade, what are you doing?”

  “This may not be the time or the place, but I’m more sure now than ever. Theia Constas, I may not be Greek or Jewish, but I am in love with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

  Theia started crying. “You hardly know me or my family. I mean, I know you met them, but…”

  “Now there’s where you’re wrong. Your family and I have become very well acquainted in your absence. And all I need to know about you is that I love you.”

  Theia took Wade’s hands and lifted him up.

  “Wait,” Wade said. “I have a ring.”

  Theia’s eyes opened wide.

  Wade handed her a velvet box, and her hands shook when she opened it. The ring sparkled under the artificial lights of the chandeliers.

  “It’s an emerald to match your eyes, but it doesn’t do you justice.”

  “Wade, it’s absolutely beautiful. It must have cost a fortune.”

  “You are worth every penny I spent on it.”

  He slipped the ring onto her finger, and she held her hand up to the light. “This thing is huge.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I love it.” Theia stumbled over the words, all the words she wanted to say to Wade, but all she could manage was, “I love you.”

  From the broad smile on Wade’s face, she knew she had found the right words.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Wade started. “I want to take you back to Crete. Let’s hold the wedding at the Etz Hayyim synagogue. And for our honeymoon we’ll go to all the places we missed the first time—Rome, Capri, Venice, and of course the rest of the Greek islands.”

  “What a wonderful idea. It’s perfect.”

  “So is that a yes?”

  “Yes,” she said, melting into Wade’s arms.

  Theia’s parents and brothers came over to them. They hugged Wade.

  “Have you asked her yet?” Carolina wanted to know.

  “You knew about this, Mom?”

  “I helped him pick out the ring. But to answer your question, yes, we had nothing but time, waiting for you. We’ve gotten to know Wade quite well.”

  “And you approve?”

  “Of course,” Carolina said. “He’s a fine young man.”

  “He’s not Greek,” Theia stated flatly.

  “No, but does he make you happy?”

  Theia flashed her new engagement ring. “Completely.” Then she asked her mother, “Do you think Ya-Ya would approve?”

  “Absolutely. I think she was the one who brought you together.”

  Each member of the family took a turn congratulating the happy couple.

  Carolina had one more thing to say. “He doesn’t have to be Greek, but I am expecting a houseful of grandchildren, sooner rather than later.” She narrowed her eyebrows at Wade.

  “I’m ready to do my duty, Mrs. Constas,” stated Wade. “Bring it on. All of it. I can’t wait to start my life with your beautiful, amazing, talented daughter.”

  Wade winked at Theia and pulled her closer. She thought she’d melt right on the spot.

  “We need to get moving with the wedding plans, or you’re going to turn up pregnant under the chuppah,” he said.

  “You know what a chuppah is?”

  “I’ve been studying.”

  “Impressive.”

  “I mean it, Theia,” Wade whispered in her ear. “I really can’t wait. I’ve booked us a suite at the Shoreham, a luxury boutique hotel nearby. Our room is stocked with Champagne and flowers and chocolates, in hopes that you would say yes.”

  He circled her wrist with his fingers. “You haven’t been eating properly. That’s all going to change. I’ll have to fatten you up, not that I’m complaining. I planned a big celebration for us. And now that you’ve said yes, I’m anxious to get an early start on making that family your mom was talking about. I don’t intend to disappoint her or you.”

  Theia blushed. It had been a long time since they’d made love. Too long. She was more than ready to feel Wade’s body next to hers, to feel him inside her, to walk hand in hand with him around the city, to share a meal, to share a bed, to fill the empty places in her heart. They were both on the same page. She tugged on his jacket shyly, impatience and longing reflected in her eyes. He turned to face her.

  Theia rose up on her tiptoes and threw her arms around Wade’s neck as he planted a flurry of soft, slow, wet kisses on her lips that left her wanting more.

  “I’m eager too, sweetheart. That will have to do for now, but shouldn’t we wait a respectable amount of time before we leave? After all, you’re the star of the show.”

  “What I have in mind, Mr. Bingham, is not respectable. What are the odds that we make it out of here in the next five minutes?”

  Wade groaned. “I’d say the odds are in our favor.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wade and Theia stood, hands clasped, under the chuppah in the Etz Hayyim synagogue. The rabbi had flown in from Athens to conduct the ceremony. Theia’s family and Wade’s family had flown in to Chania, and all the Constas friends and relatives had shown up for the destination wedding. Sophia was there.

  The
photographer shot views of the bride and groom in their formal wear. Theia looked like a goddess. She wore her hair parted in the middle and pulled back, held in place with flowers, and she was a vision in her Christos Costarellos gown from the Greek fashion designer’s Spring Wedding Dress Collection. Wade’s sister, who was a fashion consultant for a San Francisco department store, had helped her pick it out. How could he describe the gown? How could he describe his bride? She was a fantasy in what seemed to him to be layers and layers of multiple laces and tulle in a feminine banded-waist ball gown.

  According to his sister, Theia had selected that gown because the designer was a Greek native and because of his attention to detail and quality fabrics and his trendy yet uniquely Mediterranean style. She had discovered new details in each fitting, right up until the wedding day. He could see her in this refined gown on a fashion runway or running barefoot on the beach. In fact, the photographer went crazy transporting the wedding party all over the island, to shoot them at this beach and that, in front of some sailboats, and in the harbor.

  A copy of their best wedding photo would hang on the Memory Wall, right next to the wedding photo of Theo and Eleni. There was plenty of empty space for Bingham baby pictures. Wade wanted six children. That was fine with Theia.

  Wade and Theia recited their vows, exchanged rings, and clung to each other for the kiss.

  “Hey, T, save some for the honeymoon,” one of her brothers shouted.

  “Remember where you are, T,” said another.

  Then there was the inevitable, “Get a room!” from another brother.

  ****

  Theia could take all the ribald ribbing. That’s what brothers were like. That’s what family was like. She couldn’t wait to build a family with Wade. The sun shone down and the sea sparkled in the distance like diamonds. The festivities continued under a tent in the synagogue courtyard. There were flowers everywhere, and dancing, music, and more food than she’d ever seen in her life. Sophia’s friends had been baking for weeks.

  She felt Ya-Ya’s presence, and Theo’s too. Wade’s idea for them to marry in the same place as her grandparents had been inspired.

  She looked up at Wade with eyes of love. She was sure she had made the right decision and that she had married the right man. She couldn’t wait for the honeymoon. They would spend the night at a secluded bed and breakfast on the island, then board a cruise to the rest of the islands. After that, Wade insisted on taking her to Rome, Capri, and Venice, to visit churches and museums to her heart’s content. She would sketch, and then paint the scenes they encountered once she got back home.

  They planned to stay on the continent for a month and fly out through Paris so Theia could visit the Louvre and other museums in that city, too. Wade knew what a hometown girl she was and how close she was to her parents. So they would settle in Atlanta, where Wade had already found a new job. But it didn’t matter where they lived. As long as they were together, they would be home. They had bought a big house and were anxious to begin the project of filling it with children.

  “Are you happy, Mrs. Bingham?” Wade asked when they were able to grab a minute alone. He hated to share her and couldn’t wait to get her alone and out of her spectacular wedding dress.

  Breathless from dancing, she replied, “Deliriously, Mr. Bingham.”

  “What were the odds that you and I would end up together?” Wade wondered.

  “I think fate brought us together. My ya-ya sent me on this trip hoping I’d find a husband, and I did. I think she would approve of you.”

  “I hope so. I hope we’re as happy as Theo and Eleni were when they started out their lives together, and I calculate we will have a long and happy life.”

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Dr. Morris “Mo” Soriano for sharing his family’s story about their emigration to Atlanta from Rhodes and his memories of his subsequent visits to Rhodes and of the Sephardic Jewish community in Atlanta.

  For more information about the unique history of the Jews of Rhodes, there is a wonderful site that chronicles a historical exhibition, located in the rooms formerly used as the women’s prayer rooms at the Kahal Shalom synagogue, which is now The Jewish Museum of Rhodes:

  http://www.rhodesjewishmuseum.org/

  ~

  How did The Siege come about? I created this story long after my husband and I visited Athens and the Greek islands, including Crete and Rhodes. On Rhodes, I met a woman Mo says was named Lucia, a Holocaust survivor who came to the temple every day to relate the story of the Jews of Rhodes while she was alive. She is similar to the elderly man I met at Dachau (who has surely passed on by now) who also volunteered his time daily at the former concentration camp to tell the story to those who came to visit. Lucia is the inspiration for my character Sophia.

  On Rhodes, I remember seeing a Memory Wall of sorts, with photos sent from locations around the globe, from Jewish families who left the Greek island before the Holocaust and flourished. While we were there, I distinctly remember seeing the name Soriano as one of the families who emigrated. I knew that family from Atlanta.

  Somehow, I got the two islands confused. While there also was a synagogue on Crete, I thought I remembered hearing the docent tell me about six children who left the island at the start of the war and so were saved from certain death at the hands of the Germans. They started families of their own around the world, keeping the Jewish tradition of Crete alive.

  According to Mo, there were five families on Rhodes who left long before the war, in the 1920s, for primarily economic reasons. Whatever the reasons, they signify the fact that the Jews did manage to survive World War II even though there are only a handful left on each island.

  When I found out the tragic true story of the Tanais, which had happened to the Jews of Crete, I thought I had my story. After I interviewed Mo, I found that I had blurred the stories of the two islands. But I decided to keep my story set on Crete, which had an interesting World War II history of its own.

  ~

  Mo told me about his Congregation Or Ve Shalom’s sisterhood that makes Turkish turnover pastries called burekas—a Jewish Sephardic dish that has been handed down from generation to generation. They bake the light and flaky dough with love and five fillings—potato, spinach, rice, eggplant, and ground beef—as a ritual every Tuesday morning and sell them by the dozen as a fundraiser, along with desserts they sell at their annual Hanukkah Bazaar. To get these savory hand-held pies, email:

  orderburekas@orveshalom.org

  To find out more about this tradition, watch the podcast “Pie by Another Name—The Burekas of Or Ve Shalom,” produced by the Southern Foodways Alliance at:

  https://www.southernfoodways.org/gravy/pie-by-another-name-the-burekas-of-or-ve-shalom/

  ~

  The artist Theo Frangos was a figment of my imagination. He never existed. He never studied with Chagall in France. Although who’s to say, if there had never been a Holocaust, had never been a Tanais, that one of the children on the vessel wouldn’t have grown up to be a famous artist? It’s possible. And the doomed children didn’t have to be anything. It would have been enough just to let them exist. The wasted human potential of that time is difficult to imagine.

  Thanks to my friend Lisa Frangos Dossey for loaning me her maiden name for my character Theo.

  The love story between Theo and Eleni is also fictitious. But they are typical of the couples who fell in love, got married, and were lost in the Holocaust.

  A word about the author…

  Marilyn Baron writes humorous coming-of-middle-age women’s fiction, historical romantic thrillers, suspense, and paranormal/fantasy. A public relations consultant in Atlanta, she’s a PAN member of Romance Writers of America (RWA) and Georgia Romance Writers (GRW) and winner of the GRW 2009 Chapter Service Award and writing awards in single title, suspense romance, paranormal/fantasy, and novel with strong romantic elements.

  She’s the Finalist in the 2017 Georgia Author of the Year Awar
ds in the Romance category for Stumble Stones: A Novel. She’s a member of the 2017-18 Roswell Reads Committee. She graduated from the University of Florida in Gainesville, Florida, with a Bachelor of Science in Journalism (Public Relations sequence) and a minor in Creative Writing.

  Born in Miami, Florida, Marilyn lives in Roswell, GA, with her husband, and they have two daughters.

  To find out more about Marilyn’s books, please visit her Web site at www.marilynbaron.com.

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