Nicolai's Daughters

by Stella Leventoyannis Harvey

  Alexia counted twelve fires. The men sat on large stones or logs, cranking their spits by hand. Others fanned the lambs with rosemary branches dipped in olive oil. Fat dripped onto the fire. Tiny sparks ignited. Just as quickly, they died away.

  “You do this by hand?” Alexia asked. “How long does that take?”

  “We all take turns. We share in the work and like life, the meat is better,” Solon said. “Maybe six hours, maybe more.”

  “Ours is a good size,” Maria said. “Not the biggest, but it’s enough.”

  The sky turned pink as Alexia stood in front of the fires, listening to the chatter, the jokes, the stories. I could stand here all day, she thought.

  She was introduced to daughters and sons of neighbours, home for Easter from Corfu, Athens and other places. She smiled, kissed cheeks and hugged people she’d never met before. Thoughts of Theodora edged in and out, never far away.

  The lamb and kokoresti had been on for five hours. Her cousins took turns at the spit. Christina, Katarina and Maria brought snacks of devilled eggs. Other neighbours brought dips and wine. Plates of almonds, crackers and cookies sat on the tables set up in the field, beside the fires. It was all there to share. Alexia tried everything. She’d be too full to eat any of the lamb. But no, she told herself, she’d find room for everything.

  Alexia practised how she’d introduce Theodora to Christina, Solon and the rest of the family. “This is our thia.” She thought about things they could talk about, what she’d do if there were any uncomfortable silences. She was ready, but Theodora wasn’t here. Theodora had called earlier, said they were coming. Alexia hadn’t said more than thank you, and given her directions. Alexia hung up quickly. Maybe too quickly, she thought now.

  She peered down the road. Saw nothing. She’d go into the house, perhaps try calling Theodora. Or maybe she would just wait. Theodora said she’d come. Be patient, Alexia told herself.

  She’d only been in the house for a couple of minutes, but when she came out, everything had changed. Alexia stood in the doorway and watched the scene. Christina had Theodora wrapped in her arms. Katarina and Maria stood beside them, smiling and waiting their turn. Katarina patted her eyes with her apron. Nicky stood with his tiny hand in his father’s hand, looking at the ground. Solon crouched down, asked Nicky a question. He gazed up to his father. His father nodded. Nicky took Solon’s hand.

  “This is for you,” Andreas said. He handed Solon a package wrapped in brown paper. “Not for today, but for another time.”

  “It’s nice to have a butcher in the family,” Solon said. “We’ll get the best from now on.”

  Theodora handed Christina a large box. It had a pretty red bow. Alexia knew it was a box of small cakes. It was a custom here to bring sweets for a special occasion. She couldn’t stop smiling.

  Katarina and Maria weaved their arms through Theodora’s, guiding her to the house. Christina followed behind. They chatted, asked questions. Theodora didn’t seem to mind at all. It reminded Alexia of the scene at the airport when she’d arrived in Greece weeks ago. She laughed to herself. I’d be better at it now, she thought. Thanks to them.

  “So you’ve met the family,” Alexia said, kissing Theodora on both cheeks.

  “Yes,” Theodora said as the wave of aunts carried her forward.

  “We’re not so bad.” Christina draped one arm around Alexia’s shoulders.

  25

  2010

  Theodora insisted they read their father’s letters together.

  “But they’re yours. He intended them for you,” Alexia said.

  “Haven’t we learned enough about hiding things from each other?”

  Alexia couldn’t resist a smile. “You’re right.”

  One night, a few days before her return flight to Vancouver, she went to Theodora’s for dinner. Andreas met her at the door, Nicky in one arm, a packed bag in the other.

  “Where are you going?” Alexia asked.

  “To my mother’s for dinner and the night,” he said, tucking Nicky into his coat. “You will need this time together to talk, be with your father.”

  Andreas kissed Theodora, Nicky hugged her.

  Theodora put a large bowl of Greek salad in the middle of the table. She’d set the plates down in front of them. They picked at the salad directly from the bowl. Alexia tore a piece of bread and handed it to Theodora. “So when are you coming?” Alexia asked.

  “We’ve talked about it,” Theodora said. “I want to come. Andreas has to leave the shop. We have to find someone.”

  “You will, though. Right?”

  Theodora leaned over and stroked Alexia’s arm. “Yes.”

  “We’ll make it work as often as we can,” Alexia said. “Right?”

  Theodora nodded. “I know.”

  After dinner, Alexia offered to help Theodora clean up.

  “Let’s leave it and go upstairs. I’ve always wanted a party where you invite a friend to spend the night. You giggle, talk, share secrets. I don’t know how you call it.”

  “A slumber party,” Alexia said.

  “Yes.”

  Theodora pulled out the letters.

  Alexia sat cross-legged on Theodora’s bed.

  Theodora sat beside her. “What was he like?”

  “He was carefree, loved having lots of friends and people around. He laughed a lot,” Alexia said. She pictured him at one of the office parties he liked to throw. “Always the loudest one in the room.”

  They looked at each other and laughed as if they both understood he couldn’t have been any other way.

  They leaned against the headboard, Alexia’s shoulder against Theodora’s. Both wore light pants and peasant-style lacey tops. Alexia thought about all the clothes she’d brought from Vancouver. None of it appropriate for the heat, this place. Maybe those clothes weren’t right for any place.

  Alexia took the picture out of her pocket. “He had it. It’s how I recognized you.”

  “My mother took that picture,” Theodora said.

  “Can I keep it? It’s a great picture of you.”

  “That and more.” Theodora leaned closer.

  Alexia straightened her legs to give her more room.

  Theodora pulled out the first letter.

  No one could replace Sara. I was a fool to allow other women, including your mother, Theodora, to try. I’m sorry I was so selfish. I shouldn’t have let it happen. But I’m not sorry we had you. I know you turned out as lovely as your mother always was.

  “He was a kind man,” Theodora said.

  Alexia nodded. It had been a long time since she’d heard her mother’s name, read anything he’d written. She could almost hear his voice.

  I was afraid I’d ruin your life or your mother’s if I came back. The gossip would have been terrible. And I was afraid for Alexia. I hurt her badly when I left her after her mother died. I realize now, I was always afraid.

  Alexia ran her fingers through her hair. Theodora squeezed Alexia’s leg.

  There were letters about his business, what he liked and didn’t like about his work, where he planned to vacation, what business trips lay ahead.

  Alexia just started high school. You’d be proud of your older sister as I’m sure she’d be proud of you. She’s out-debating every teacher and she’s an incredible basketball player, too. You’ll see her one day. She takes care of everything and everyone, even me. Never makes a fuss. I wish I was a better father.

  “You would have loved him.” Alexia swallowed. “I didn’t like him sometimes, but I always loved him. He was a great father. I didn’t tell him.” She swallowed again.

  Theodora squeezed Alexia’s leg tenderly. “I can see.”

  They opened another letter.

  Alexia doesn’t know I’m sick. She’s taken care of me long enough. Now, I have to protect her for a change. I hope the two of you will get to know each other one day. I made a lot of mistakes. I thought I’d be different than my father, more involved in the lives of my
children. He’d had a hard life. I understand that now. He had reasons for the way he was. I have no excuses.

  I ran away from my family and from you for stupid reasons. Be with your family, embrace them, don’t be afraid of shame or talk or any of that nonsense. You can do better than me. Both you and Alexia can do so much better.

  Alexia put the last few letters back in their envelopes and handed them to Theodora.

  “There’s one more,” Theodora said, pulling out another envelope. It looked thicker than the rest.

  This is yours. It’s a beautiful piece of land where your mother used to work and get inspiration for her sketches. A friend of mine and I had an idea about it, once. I bought this piece of land and now it’s yours. There’s an old Greek saying, if you focus on your past glories it will only make you cry. Go forward. Don’t look back.

  Acknowledgments

  I started this book with a few images, thoughts, really. The novel found its soul when I visited Kalavryta and the museum and listened to the testimonials of the victims and climbed Kappi Hill myself. Making a dream come true takes the unwavering faith and the kindness of many. I am very fortunate to have so many people to thank. They have stood by me through the six years of writing, editing, researching and reediting this novel. First I’d like to thank my Whistler critique group, Pam Barnsley, Katherine Fawcett, Sara Leach, Mary MacDonald, Libby McKeever, Sue Oakey, Nancy Routley, and Rebecca Wood Barrett. This group of talented writers has provided me with so much more than just their eagle eyes, their literary expertise, thoughtful questions and insightful comments. Thank you so much for your friendship, camaraderie and generosity. My Simon Fraser University critique group has also stuck with me. Thanks so much, Eric Brown, Jennifer Honeyburn, James Leslie, Linda Quennec and ElJean Wilson.

  I’d also like to thank Annabel Lyon and Paulette Bourgeois for their review and critique of my first chapters, Lawrence Hill for encouraging me to finish the novel, Wayne Grady for listening when I rambled on about my characters, Merilyn Simonds who innocently asked to read my manuscript one day and then helped me bring the novel to a level I know I could never have taken it to on my own, and Caroline Adderson and Andreas Schroeder for providing me with sound publishing advice and leads. I owe you all so much more than I will ever be able to repay or adequately acknowledge. Thank you.

  Thank you to Karen Haughian and the team at Signature Editions for taking a chance on an unknown author and a war tragedy forgotten by history. You’ve made my transition into the world of publishing exciting and seamless.

  I’d like to thank friends and family for always inquiring about my writing and my novel. Thanks so much for your genuine interest and support.

  Finally I’d like to thank the one who puts up with me day in, day out. Whenever I feel like my back is against the wall, I’ve taken on too much, nothing is going as planned, I find Dave beside me, encouraging me forward.

  About the Author

  Stella Leventoyannis Harvey’s stories have appeared in The Literary Leanings Anthology, The New Orphic Review, Emerge Magazine, The Question and The Dalhousie Review. Her non-fiction has appeared in Pique Newsmagazine and the Globe and Mail.

  A social worker by training, she ran a management consulting practice in Canada and abroad. She was born in Cairo, Egypt and moved to Calgary, Alberta as a child with her family. Much of her family still lives in Greece, where she visits often, indulging her love of Greek food and culture and honing her fluency in the language.

  In 2001, Stella founded the Whistler Writers Group, also known as the Vicious Circle, which each year produces the Whistler Writers Festival under her direction.