Secrets Under the Sun

by Nadia Marks

  ‘And for that I could never ask you to leave Him for me. I thank God for sending you to me. You are my gift from Him, you are my angel,’ she said and kissed his hand.

  ‘But I have fallen …’ He went to say something else but stopped; instead he closed his eyes and brought her fingers to his lips.

  In a few days the others would be returning, so they were making the most of their time alone. They were about to have lunch; Katerina had made dolmades, stuffed vine leaves, peppers and tomatoes, which she knew was one of his favourite dishes. She was about to fill his plate when the ringing in the hall shattered the peace. She put the pot back on the stove, looked at him with alarm in her eyes, and ran to pick up the phone.

  She held the receiver with trembling hands as she heard Olga tell her that Ernestina had passed away peacefully in her sleep the night before, and that she was now making arrangements for their immediate return and would Katerina inform the padre to start preparing for the funeral. Olga, in control as always, spoke efficiently and quickly to avoid giving either of them a chance to break down. Katerina knew her mistress well. She might have sounded matter of fact but Katerina was well aware that that was Olga’s way of coping. No time to waste or lose. Things had to be arranged and no one other than herself was going to see to them. There would be time for grieving later.

  ‘What happened? Who was it?’ he asked anxiously when Katerina, her face pale and her eyes red-rimmed, returned to the kitchen.

  They had planned to reduce their meetings, try and resume some kind of normality in their lives in preparation for the women’s return. But neither of them had expected it would happen so suddenly, so sadly, and bring their dream-like world to such an abrupt end.

  They buried Ernestina in the Catholic cemetery, in the family vault next to her beloved Franz. Two generations of Linsers were buried there. How many more would follow? Katerina asked herself as she held tight onto Anita’s arm, her eyes wandering across the graveyard over the old marble tombstones marking the resting places of so many Catholic families who had arrived on this small island over the years as visitors and chosen to make it their home.

  Half of the townspeople of Larnaka attended Ernestina’s funeral. She was a popular and well-known figure in the community and even though most people attending were Orthodox, they all crowded into the Catholic church to pay their respects. The eulogy that Padre Bernardino gave to his congregation was most touching and heartfelt. Katerina had never attended a Catholic Mass before, so she watched in awe as he performed the funeral liturgy. He was dressed in the traditional black funeral vestment, looking sombre, truly sad at the loss of a dear parishioner and good friend. The ritual was not dissimilar from the Orthodox one; the wafting of incense and sprinkling of holy water on the coffin, accompanied by chanting and praying. She watched the man she loved, the man who had shared her bed days before, and realized that the figure who was now leading her employer’s funeral service, standing by the altar in front of his flock, was an altogether different man. This was a man of God, with a calling far greater than the calling of an ordinary man, a lover or husband. She looked at the priest and at that very moment she knew. She understood that she might love him with her body and soul, and that she would love no other for as long as she lived, but she had no right to come between him and his faith, between him and his God; and moreover, that had never been her intention.

  Larnaka, 2010

  The stunned expressions on the three faces turned towards Anita spoke far more than words could ever convey. None of them – not Eleni, not Marianna and certainly not Adonis – could have guessed or suspected what his mother had been telling them. A tragic, doomed love story straight out of a romantic novel, and the heroine their very own beloved Katerina! How was this possible? Katerina in love! Katerina and the padre! Katerina the virginal mother of them all, their maiden tante!

  All three had liked and respected the padre when they were children and remembered the sadness felt by the family when he left the island. None of them had ever seen Katerina cry, apart from the day the priest came to bid them all farewell. The three children had been playing one of their board games – Monopoly, Eleni recalled – and Adonis was winning when Padre Bernardino came to the house.

  Grandmother Olga, Anita and Katerina were sitting in the saloni waiting to receive him. On the dining-room table all the best china had been laid for tea and the three-tiered cake dish was laden with all kinds of spectacular cakes and pastries. On a separate glass platter sat a huge karidopita, a chocolate walnut cake – Olga’s speciality and Adonis’s favourite. Abandoning their game, the children peeked through the door at all the mouth-watering sweets and hoped that they would be called in to join the tea party once the guest of honour arrived. They were used to seeing the padre when he called in, he loved the children and always had time for them, but this visit was different. It seemed formal and a little solemn. Katerina had been baking since the previous day and the three children were aware that she was doing it all with a heavy heart. Her usual cheerful expression when cooking had been replaced by a sadness in her eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong, Tante? Are you unhappy?’ Eleni asked, offering to help with making the koulourakia.

  ‘Yes, my darling, I am very sad because our good Father Bernardino is leaving us.’

  ‘Where is he going?’

  ‘Far away …’ Katerina replied and looked away so that Eleni couldn’t see her tears.

  The tea party was indeed a solemn affair and even when the children were invited in, the atmosphere around the room was heavy. The three tucked into the cakes with relish and were incredulous to notice that none of the adults seemed to have an appetite. The padre accepted a cup of aromatic tea, flavoured with cinnamon, but to the children’s amazement refused any of the treats he was offered. All the more for us, Adonis thought, stuffing another melomakarona into his mouth.

  ‘How can we live without you, Padre?’ Olga said, twisting her lace handkerchief nervously in her hands.

  ‘The new priest, Padre Ignazio, will be a good friend to you all. He’s a good man,’ he told them, ‘you’ll see …’ He looked at Olga. He could not meet Katerina’s eyes.

  Why are they all so miserable? Adonis wondered, reaching for a piece of cake and longing to return to the game he felt certain he would win.

  The memory of that day came flooding back to all three. Now at last they were beginning to understand its significance. Each of them remembered feeling sad to see the padre leave; he was the one regular male presence in their home. He came to visit them before he left and gave them a bible each as a parting gift. Adonis still had his.

  ‘How did you all find out about the affair?’ Adonis was the first to break the silence which hovered expectantly in the room keeping them all on edge.

  ‘Ah! That is another story, my children,’ Anita replied and reached for a glass of water. ‘Once again you must have patience and I will tell you everything. We were very close, Katerina and I … and over the years there was nothing about each other we didn’t know or didn’t tell each other; I was privileged enough, you see, for Katerina to trust me and gradually confide in me. But there is one thing you must all know: make no mistake … this love of theirs was not an “affair”. What the padre and Katerina had was a great love, one that transcended all boundaries.’

  Transfixed now more than ever, Anita’s audience sat motionless, waiting for her to continue with the story.

  15

  She went looking for him. She needed to see him alone, away from the house and family. She had rehearsed what she would say; she was guided by a feeling so strong, so powerful that it almost matched the strength of her love for him.

  Again, like the only other time she had paid a visit to his house, she found him in the garden watering his plants. This time he was wearing his ecclesiastical robes. Was he on his way to church, she wondered, or had he just arrived home? She stood back to watch him. Her heart ached with tenderness for him. It seeped into every cell
of her body. What could possibly follow after so much love? Nothing could equal it. What she felt was even greater than the act of lovemaking, which at the time she perceived as the most powerful experience of her life. Nothing could diminish her devotion to him, not even separation; she knew that.

  She watched him and waited; he did not sense her presence. He appeared to be deep in thought, a frown furrowing his brow. She moved closer and quietly spoke his name, in almost a whisper. He looked up, startled, and smiled in sheer pleasure at the sight of her.

  ‘Katerina …’ He hesitated on seeing her serious expression. ‘What is wrong?’

  ‘Nothing is wrong,’ she replied, her face softening, her smile soothing his frown.

  ‘Come, sit.’ He pointed to the two chairs by the lemon tree.

  ‘Can we go inside?’ she asked, pointing to the door.

  Padre Bernardino hadn’t lived the ordinary life of a priest. He had loved, and he had sinned. But through all the perils and adversities of his life one core aspect had always remained constant: his faith and his love of God which he never lost sight of even during his darkest days of grief and temptation. He came to believe that the hardships of his earlier years had been put there in order to test him, to make him stronger and to deepen his devotion to Him. He believed he had served his God and the Church with faith, honesty and truth but like most men he was fallible, and now he found himself divided as never before between his earthly passion and his pastoral vocation. His bond with Katerina went deeper than anything he could have believed possible. In his moments of despair when alone and in prayer he realized that the two loves were equal in his heart and were tearing him apart. He found it impossible to make a choice. He kept telling himself that it wasn’t just the flesh that propelled him to her, it was a love beyond the carnal, and if she asked him, he was willing to defect from the Church, marry her and make a life with her.

  At first Katerina was tongue-tied. She was aware of the significance of what she needed to say but she couldn’t find the words. They sat in his small living room, light pouring in through the window from the garden. She chose a chair that stood opposite his and folded her hands in her lap, silently searching for the right words. He waited, wondering what she might have come to tell him. On the one hand the young woman sitting opposite him represented all that was joyful in life, all that was human – and on the other, the symbol of his betrayal. He got up and went to sit beside her. He picked up her hand and silently held it in his. Her throat dry, she swallowed several times and looked deep into his eyes.

  ‘Bernardino …’ she started, but now it felt wrong to address him simply by his name. She had called him that when they were alone, ever since he’d asked her to do so; it had felt right and natural then. Whispering his name as they made love made her feel at one with him. The intimacy of it thrilled her. She loved nothing more than to hear him whisper hers in her ear. Now it felt inappropriate.

  Unease washed over her; they were sitting very close, his robe touching her leg. He continued to hold her hand, waiting for her to begin. She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes, those eyes that she could never have enough of, and started to speak. Her voice in her ears sounded wavering and small.

  ‘My love for you is unequalled, you must never doubt it, nor must you ever doubt that I will love you for as long as I live …’ She paused for a moment before she carried on. ‘Just as I am certain of and have never doubted your feelings for me.’ She took another deep breath but this time she looked away. She couldn’t bear to continue, she wanted to prolong the moment before she had to tell him what she’d come to say. Her eyes wandered out of the window and into the garden and rested on the jasmine bush. Slowly she turned to face him, her eyes overflowing. ‘But,’ she continued, ‘I am also certain that this love of ours cannot be. You do not belong to me. As much as I want you for myself, as much as I love you more than life itself, you are not mine. And I have no right to steal you away from your vocation, which you have dedicated yourself to.’ He tried to speak but she stopped him. ‘Even if you left the Church, even if you tried to live as an ordinary man, you would not be happy; you would regret it and what’s more your guilt would follow you and that would only bring us misery. And not only your own guilt, but mine too for taking you away from the calling that you are committed to.’ She had rehearsed what she was going to say to him. She had planned it, she had even written it down. She had intended to say that they were not worthy, that they had both sinned, and that this was God’s punishment. But she didn’t. Those words remained unspoken, because deep down she didn’t believe them. Her true belief was that since God was himself the spirit of love, He would not want to punish them for doing nothing more than loving each other.

  If she had had the courage to speak to Olga and seek her advice she was sure her mistress would have told her the same thing. Olga believed that there is only one sin that God does not forgive, and that is the sin of deliberately inflicting harm on others.

  Love does not perish when it is real, Katerina told him. They would live with the knowledge and memory of what they had shared, and it would be enough to give them strength and sustain them through the years.

  When she finished talking they sat silently holding hands for a long time, a haunted look in the padre’s eyes while he tried to find the strength to speak. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that they could make a life together, that if she wished it he’d discard the cloth, he would leave the Church and they would marry. Part of him wanted to say all of those things, take her in his arms and reassure her, kiss her tears away. But that was the part of him that wanted to please her, it was the part of him that was a man in love and not a priest. Instead he said nothing, because he couldn’t; because the other part of him, the greater part that had vowed to give his life to his faith, would not let him.

  ‘No …’ he finally murmured, the only word that left his lips.

  But they both knew it had to be that way. Nothing else was possible for either of them. Once more, Katerina proved to him that she was wise beyond her years. They kissed for the very last time and agreed their passion would bind them together forever and what they had shared would make them stronger. Life would continue as before but with one big difference: they would have love locked in their hearts.

  16

  1961

  It took no time for Katerina to realize that she was pregnant. For a whole week she remained in denial: I’m under the weather, it’s emotional, it’s influenza, she told herself as she lay awake fretting through the night. Eventually, she was forced to acknowledge the truth. She was three weeks overdue and she had never missed a period since she’d started menstruating at the age of eleven. She was well familiar with the signs of pregnancy, having seen them first hand in Anita several times.

  The option of getting rid of the baby was inconceivable for her. She knew that in cases like hers, when a domestic servant girl became pregnant, the family might arrange for an abortion or at the very least allow her to have her baby and then give it away, but more often than not the young woman would be thrown out for bringing shame to the family.

  Katerina knew that Olga didn’t fall into this category of employer. She had grown up hearing Olga’s liberal opinions on the subject of female equality and all she’d ever experienced from her was love and kindness. Nevertheless she had no way of knowing for certain how she might react when faced with the test of her ideals against the reality of a situation such as this. The last thing Katerina wished for was to bring shame to the family and load another heavy burden onto Olga’s shoulders; she was at a total loss to know what to do or who to turn to.

  Alone in her room she tried to review the paths that were open to her. She was well aware how few they were. But the love in her heart, and the new life that she was carrying in her body gave her the will and determination to go on. The only thing she was certain of was that she would keep her child, no matter what.

  This baby growing inside her was a testimony o
f her love, the most precious thing she could ever possess. She had been prepared to live with the mere knowledge of that emotion and now like a gift from heaven she would have its personification. Since she couldn’t have Bernardino she would have his child. The baby would carry his genes, carry the bloodline of the man she so passionately loved but had chosen to renounce; God, she thought, had rewarded her for her actions. She had now been granted a baby, a boy or a girl that would be the physical merging of the two of them. What more could she have wished for? Of course he must never know. That would destroy everything she was trying to protect him from. She would have to face this alone. The path she was about to take was full of obstacles but she was determined to find the strength to follow it, however great the problems ahead.

  There were days, however, when the enormity of what she was undertaking overwhelmed her and her strength deserted her. Where would she go, and how would she manage to bring up a child on her own? She had no means of supporting herself without work. She was a fool to think she could manage this alone. In her isolation, despair took over from her determination for independence and dark thoughts would engulf her mind. And then she would start to wonder whether she should take the risk of broaching her predicament with Olga, and ask for her help as she had done so often before.

  She had saved some money after her mother died since she stopped sending most of her wages to her, so perhaps she could go and live in the mountains where living was cheap, or ask Olga to help her find some work in another town. As she lay in bed at night her imagination took hold and she envisaged all manner of schemes. All that mattered was that she would be with her baby and so long as she had enough to feed them both they’d manage. Yes, she told herself hopefully, Olga might help me. She couldn’t imagine that her mistress would abandon her, she was kind and good, and Katerina had heard her speak sympathetically about the predicament of a ‘fallen girl’.