Daphne stood at the front of the church, holding Evie’s hand, Stephen beside her. She watched as Father Nikolaos shook the incense burner back and forth over Yia-yia’s open casket, filling the old church with the familiar musky scent. Wearing his black robes, trailing smoke as he waved the censer in the air, he sang the traditional funeral chant with such passion and intensity that she knew he was living the prayer, feeling it in his soul and not just reading it off the page. “Eonia oi mnoi oi-mnee mnee. May your memory be eternal. Memory eternal. Eternally in our memories.” Daphne felt the tears spill over again as she opened her mouth to join in the singing. She meant it. She meant every word. Although her body felt weak, her legs trembling beneath her, Daphne’s voice was steady and strong.
She looked around her and watched as the entire church, this sea of black dresses and moth-eaten, ill-fitting suit jackets, stood together, singing, crying, and vowing never to forget Yia-yia. She looked up at Stephen. He stood dry-eyed and stoic in this pageant of tears; not a hair or emotion out of place. In that moment, the church heavy with incense and sorrow, Daphne looked at Stephen and realized that like her fiancé, she too felt nothing. She looked deeper into the eyes of the man she had promised to marry, to spend the rest of her life with, to raise Evie with—and felt nothing. Daphne realized that this was the day she would be laying more than just her grandmother to rest.
Yia-yia was buried in the overgrown cemetery next to the church. As was customary, each mourner stepped up to the casket as it was being lowered into the ground and tossed a flower on top of the closed coffin to say good-bye. Daphne’s last vision of Yia-yia would be of her wooden casket covered in a blanket of red carnations, tossed to her by those who loved her most.
After the service ended, one by one the mourners began to file out of the cemetery and toward the hotel for the postfuneral luncheon. But Daphne lingered behind. “Take Evie.” She motioned for Popi to go ahead. “I’ll meet you at the hotel.”
Standing alone next to Yia-yia’s open grave, Daphne watched as Popi walked over to Evie, who stood by herself just outside the cemetery gate, gazing out at the sea in the distance. Evie had been quiet and withdrawn all morning, not even stopping to pet the kitten that had followed her down the dirt path from the house to the church. Popi bent down and took the little girl’s hands in her own. She leaned in farther and whispered something into Evie’s ear. Evie smiled for the first time that day as Popi kissed the tip of her little nose. Popi then scooped Evie into her arms and hugged her close. Evie wrapped her arms around her aunt’s neck and nestled her head on Popi’s shoulder. Popi carried her the entire way to the hotel, Evie’s tanned legs crossed at the ankles around Popi’s thick waist.
Daphne stood alone, looking down on Yia-yia’s casket, a single red carnation in her hand. She wanted one last solitary moment with her grandmother, but this was not good-bye. She knew better than to say good-bye. She lifted her hand to drop this one final flower, but just as she was about to release it from her fingers, she stopped.
Still clutching the carnation, she walked just to the other side of the cemetery gate. It took a moment, but then she found it. She dropped to her knees, and with her hands she swept away the leaves that had fallen on the simple stone marker from the olive tree above. Finally, when she was satisfied, she said one last prayer before laying this final flower on Rachel’s grave.
Thirty-eight
Although she had not eaten anything since Sophia’s koulouraki the day before, Daphne had no appetite when Nitsa placed the traditional mourning meal of fried fish with rosemary and vinegar sauce before her. “Eat, Daphne mou. You need to keep up your strength. Evie needs you, you cannot afford to make yourself sick.”
“Thank you, Thea.” Nitsa’s concern had a medicinal effect on Daphne. She instantly felt stronger, steadier, as she used to merely by being in the presence of Yia-yia.
“Daphne mou. Who would have known it?” Nitsa dug into her apron and pulled out a cigarette, using the burning tobacco stick to gesture around them. “Who would have known it—who knew that instead of a wedding, we would be hosting a funeral feast? No dancing. No joy. Just the sorrow of life, knowing that my friend Evangelia is no longer with us.” Nitsa looked around the room. “Where is Stephen? His fish will get cold.”
“He went back up to his room to make a phone call.”
“Still working? Even on a day like today?” Nitsa took a deep drag, exhaling above Daphne’s head. “Ah, Daphne mou. Does your young man ever stop working? Does he ever stop to enjoy what he has built? What he has accomplished?”
She shook her head while picking at her fish with her fork. “Ah, kala. I understand.” Nitsa stood to leave, but not before leaving Daphne with one final thought. “I knew your yia-yia for many many years, Daphne mou. You come from a long line of strong, incredible women. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Trust me, Nitsa. I know it well.” Daphne looked up at Nitsa. “I know it very, very well.”
“All right, then, you sit here, and I will finish serving the meal.” Nitsa turned to go, but as she did, she stumbled, her knee giving out beneath the weight of her body.
“Nitsa!” Daphne shouted, jumping up to grab her before she fell to the ground. “Are you all right?”
“Ah, damn. My knee has been bothering me. Not now.” Nitsa slapped at her knee with her dishrag as if she could shoo the pain away.
“Here, you stay. You sit. Let me help you serve.” Daphne was instantly up on her feet.
“No, no, no.” Nitsa lurched forward and tried to stand but fell back into the chair with a thud. “Gamoto, poutana . . .” The torrent of Greek curses streaming from her mouth caught the attention of many of the mourners, including Yianni.
“Nitsa mou, what happened?” Yianni asked. “What could have caused the mighty Nitsa to fall?” He knelt at her side and held his hand out to her.
“Nothing, it is nothing.” She took Yianni’s hand and again attempted to stand. He placed his arm under hers for support, but it was no use. The moment Nitsa put any pressure on her knee, she sank back down into the chair, writhing in pain. The cursing continued. “Gamoto, malaka, poutana—”
By now the entire patio full of guests had come over to see what was wrong, including Father Nikolaos, who despite being known for his warmth and sense of humor, was not amused by Nitsa’s choice of words.
“Ella, Nitsa. Such language, on such a day?” Father chided.
“Father, you know my friend Evangelia is looking down on us right now, laughing about how I can’t get my big fat ass out of this chair.” Nitsa took a deep drag, exhaling the thin stream of smoke up toward the heavens. “Eh, Evangelia, look at me. I am too fat for my old knees. Evangelia, put on some kafes, eh, I may be joining you sooner than you think.”
The entire room erupted into a chorus of laughter. Daphne looked around her and committed the vision to her memory; the threadbare clothes, the weathered skin, the callused hands, the signs that these were simple people who lived simple lives. But watching them all come together like this, supporting each other, helping each other through their grief with a simple hug or a naughty joke, Daphne could see how much they all meant to each other, how they all sustained each other. Daphne finally understood what Yia-yia had meant all these years. Despite the poverty, the isolation, and the lack of material goods, this truly was the richest place on earth.
“Nitsa, sit. Stay here. I’ll finish up for you. You have to take care of yourself, or you will be joining Yia-yia.” Daphne joked, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness that even stubborn Nitsa heard loud and clear.
“Ah, entaksi. All right. If you insist,” she finally concurred.
As Daphne got up and headed toward the kitchen, she felt a hand wrap itself around her wrist. “I’ll help you. It’s my fish, after all—it will only reflect badly for me if it’s not prepared properly.” Yianni spoke directly to Nitsa, but he continued holding Daphne’s hand. “Ella, let’s go.”
They walked towa
rd the kitchen in silence. Leaving the chatter of the dining room behind, they entered the kitchen through the swinging double doors. Once inside the kitchen, he turned to face her and finally let go. She looked down at her arm where he had held her, where she could still feel the imprint of his hand.
“It’s been a difficult day for you, hasn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes.” She looked up at him. “It’s been awful, but not just for me. For everyone.” She paused, biting her lip. “And for you.”
There was silence for a moment, neither one knowing what to say or do next. He turned from her and opened the oven, where Nitsa had placed the large platter of fried fish. He pulled it out and placed it on top of the stove, ready to start plating the fish that he had caught in his nets just yesterday.
“I did it, you know,” she blurted out.
He turned to her again, cocking his head as if he didn’t quite hear or understand what she had said.
“I did it,” she repeated. “I tried to tell you last night, but you were gone. You left.”
He winced as if he had been caught in a lie or stealing, instead of merely walking out a door and into the night.
“I finally stopped to listen, like Yia-yia told me to do.”
He sucked the air from his cheeks before taking three steps toward her. “And . . .”
“And I heard it.” She was trembling now, uncertain if it was the heat, the fact that she was hungry, or because he was once again inches away from her, and she could now feel the electricity emanating from his body without the necessity of his touch. “I heard Yia-yia, Yianni. She spoke to me. I heard her in the cypress whispers. I could barely hear it at first, but it was there. It was her. I know it was.”
He watched her cry and didn’t speak a word. He didn’t reply. He didn’t move to comfort her or wipe the wetness from her cheek. Nothing. He stood staring at her, as if his feet were cemented to the floor just inches from where she stood, just inches from where she had spoken words he had waited so long to hear. But now it seemed even these words were not enough to draw him closer.
“On your kaiki that morning, you asked me to put my faith in Yia-yia . . . and I did. I finally did.” It was she who inched closer to him. “You also asked me to put my faith in you.” She stood chest to chest with him now, his breath warm on her face as he looked down at her. “I’m ready to. I’d like to. I’m ready to believe again.” He still had not moved, but she didn’t wait for him this time. Wrapping her arms around his back, she placed her head on his chest. This time, it was his heart she felt racing in her ear.
He lifted his arms and placed them on her slim shoulders. They stayed like that for no more than a few seconds before he took the three fingers of his right hand and put them under Daphne’s chin. She was surprised by their light, delicate touch. They could now clearly see each other’s faces, his left hand still embracing her shoulder, her arms still clasped around his back.
“Daphne, I don’t . . . But you are getting married . . .” Her chest swelled as he began to speak, but before he could finish, the double doors burst open.
“Here you are. Look, I—” It was Stephen. He burst into the room but stopped short as he spotted his fiancée chest to chest with Yianni, her arms around him. “Daphne?”
She didn’t know how to answer him—or simply didn’t care to.
Yianni was the first to speak. “I was just saying good-bye to your fiancée.” He removed his arm from her shoulder and took two steps backward.
Daphne felt her blood run cold, a wave of fear washing over her body. Good-bye—what did he mean, good-bye? And she wasn’t Stephen’s fiancée. Well, not for much longer, anyway—she just hadn’t found the right way to tell him yet.
Yianni didn’t look at Daphne, but spoke directly to Stephen this time. “I whispered my plans to Thea Evangelia before we laid her to rest, so now it’s time to tell everyone else, I suppose.”
“You’re leaving?” Stephen asked, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile.
“Yes. With Thea Evangelia gone, there’s really nothing keeping me here any longer. She was the reason I stayed. Without her, I have nothing here.” He finally turned his head and looked again at Daphne, who was steadying herself against the kitchen counter. “Nothing.”
But I’m still here, I haven’t gone. I’m still here. The words screamed inside her head. But when she opened her mouth to speak, all she could say was, “But where will you go?”
“Maybe back to Athens. I don’t know. Maybe Oxford. I’m going to hang up my nets and get back to my work. I’ve been running away for so long, it’s time for me to run toward something again. It’s time for me to reignite my passion. I’ve seen so much here, learned so much. But it’s finished for me here now. I suppose the two of you have something to look forward to. I imagine you’ll have your wedding back in New York.”
Stephen was now beside Daphne. He reached his arm around her waist, but she pulled away. He shot her a sideways look, his thin lips in a tight line across his face.
“Well, I guess it’s good-bye, then.” Yianni turned and held his arm out to Stephen. “Good luck to you. You are a lucky man.”
“I know.” Stephen shook Yianni’s hand using the most forceful grip he could muster.
“Good-bye, Daphne.” Yianni leaned in and kissed Daphne one time on either cheek. She didn’t care that his stubble felt like hundreds of sea urchin spikes digging into her skin. The pain was proof that he was still there.
“Good-bye, Yianni.” She grabbed his arms and stared into his face, desperate to memorize every detail. She dug her fingernails into the cotton of Yianni’s shirt until he pulled away from her.
Thirty-nine
Daphne took Popi up on her offer to spend the night with Evie so Stephen and Daphne could have some much-needed time alone. Everyone imagined the couple would want a little quiet time together after the whirlwind of the past few days. They all figured the wedding would be postponed for at least the forty official days of mourning, No one yet knew it was Daphne’s intention to call it off altogether.
“Here, Daphne mou, ella etho,” Nitsa summoned her from the sofa in the lobby area where she had been convalescing since her knee gave out earlier that afternoon. It was not quite eleven. All the guests had stumbled off into the night, their bellies filled with Nitsa’s food and wine and their minds filled with their favorite Yia-yia stories, which they had all taken turns sharing and toasting to.
“Come, my Daphne. Come sit with me for a moment.” Nitsa patted the tiny space beside her on the couch, the only space not taken up by her ample assets. “You need to know something. Daphne mou, your yia-yia knew she didn’t have much longer on this earth. She knew I would do anything for her, but there was only one thing she asked me to do. One thing I promised her I would do when she was gone.”
Daphne straightened her back. “What was it? What did you promise?”
“I promised her I would remind you to keep living. We both saw the difference in you since you arrived. When you came, it was as if the light had gone out of you. But then we saw the change. After just a few days here, you were once again filled with life, with color and light. I know you think that we don’t understand these things. How could we, old widows dressed in our black, know about color? How could we know about life when we never leave this tiny island of ours. But we do know these things, Daphne. We do know how precious it all is. Every moment is a gift, Daphne mou. Every moment, every breath, even every tear, is a gift. Without our tears, how can we truly appreciate the laughter? Women like your yia-yia and me, we shed many, many tears, Daphne. And all of that sadness, all of that sorrow, all of those scars and difficult times—they only help to make our time here, surrounded by the ones we love, so much sweeter. Your yia-yia and I lost the men we loved, but we still had love in our lives, Daphne. We still found happiness. And now it is your turn to find your happiness. Whatever that means for you.”
Nitsa stopped and took a long, hard drag. Never at a loss
for words, she exhaled before finding just the right ones to finish her thought.
“Find your happiness, Daphne. This is something you must do for yourself. This is something you must bring to a marriage, not something you take from a marriage. Your own happiness. Your yia-yia and I both learned this lesson, and now you must too. You owe that to yourself . . . and to my friend.”
Nitsa looked up to the heavens and waved her short, fat fingers toward the ceiling as if saying hello to Evangelia. Still smiling, she leaned in and pulled Daphne to her humongous bosom.
“Daphne mou, sometimes the loneliest people are the ones who never know a moment’s solitude, and the most fulfilled are those who stand alone but can say that they were loved. That at least once in their lives, they knew what it was to be truly loved.”
It was the one certainty in her life right now. Daphne knew beyond a doubt that she was indeed loved. She hugged Nitsa back with all of her might.
“Thank you. Nitsa, thank you.” She kissed Nitsa good night and headed to the room where Stephen was waiting.
She entered unnoticed as he sat on the bed, typing on his computer. She had no idea what she would say or how she would say it. All she knew was that she wanted out. Finally, he looked up.
“Daphne. How long have you been standing there?” He walked toward her. “Honey, I know how hard this is for you. I know how much you loved her. The stress has been too much for you . . . and now, now this . . .”
He took one more step toward her, but she did not move.
“We just need to get back home, and everything will be back to normal. Once we get home you’ll see. All of this will be like a distant memory. We’ll go to Santorini like we planned. Let’s get away, just the two of us. We’ll move forward, we’ll get married in New York—and everything will be like we planned it. We just need to get home.”
But this is home.
His voice had lost its anesthetic effect. That deep whisky rasp did nothing to dull the memory of their impasse on the beach. It did nothing to soften the frustration of having her faith questioned and the reality of knowing that he would never understand the depth of her bond with Yia-yia, this island, or her people. And without that, she knew he could never truly understand her or love her for who she really was.
When the Cypress Whispers Page 28