“Deserters,” he said, more loudly this time. Katerina was sure that if they had not been inside the church, he would have spat on the ground.
Stefanos narrowed his eyes.
“You can think what you want about me,” he said. “All of you are free to do this, but none of you were there. There is no glory in dying at the wrong time, not when you have things you must do”—his eyes strayed toward Katerina—“people you must protect. That was not a battle we could win, but we can win the next one, and the one after that. We must work together.”
The debate continued until long after the light had drained from the sky. Katerina watched the flickering candles, Leni’s head on her shoulder as they sat side by side, watching as the men they loved tussled for dominance. The women began to leave; children would be at home wanting to eat, chores must be done, fears suppressed. Dafni paused as she reached them, and an understanding of sorts passed between the three. They would look after one another, whatever else happened.
The priest was the one to finally call a halt to the meeting, though Stefanos hung back with the brothers as each of the men filed out. Katerina waited until Leni and Michalis had gone, then she slipped out into the star-speckled night to wait for her lover.The walls of the church were chalk-white in the glow of a yawning moon, its benign smile so at odds with the troubles they faced. She wanted to feel strong but could not prevent the tide of fear from rising, even now, with her most primal of prayers answered. One man could not stop the onset of war; love could not conquer an army.
“Kat.” His voice was low and tender. She shivered but did not turn, her heart beating irregularly, plucked strings of abouzouki. He touched her hair, and she drew in a breath, felt his own on the back of her neck, hot and steady.
“You came back,” she said.
“Yes.” He moved closer, his hands now on her waist. Katerina sank back against him and closed her eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and Stefanos caught it, pulling her around and rubbing his thumbs over her face, examining her, gazing at her, then kissing her, all the while murmuring against her lips, telling her how much he had missed her.
She wanted to bite him, to tear at his hair, to shout and scream, though it was easier to push aside those more complicated emotions and simply be. He tasted of tobacco and of the sea, the skin on his hands calloused and rough with scars. Beaten, but not broken, as he had led her to believe in his letter.
“How long do we have until they come?” she asked, feeling him sag against her.
“Maybe a week, perhaps less.”
“Will you stay?”
Stefanos sighed.
“Come,” he said, taking her hand in his and leading her away from the church. “I brought somebody back to the island with me, and now the time has come for you to meet her.”
Thirty
Skye stared at Andreas.
“Traces of both?” she said. “Human and animal bones buried in the same grave?”
“That is what the police said.”
Skye let go of her suitcase, and it rolled several inches forward on its wheels.
“Did they say anything else?” Joy asked. “Do they know when whoever it was might’ve died or how?”
Andreas shook his head slowly.
“They didn’t tell me much more. It is not my house, and so…” He spread his hands wide. “I think perhaps they will come to visit Skye once they have completed a full report.”
“Right,” she said, still not moving.
“However, they will not be able to do that if you have left the island,” he pointed out.
Human remains.
Skye’s mind kept circling back to the inescapable truth: Someonehad been laid to rest here, on her grounds. An unmarked grave she could have filled in quietly without drawing attention and exposing herself to scrutiny. The instinct she’d felt when she’d first seen the bones had been right. She shouldn’t have allowed the others to sway her.
“I still need to leave,” she said.
Andreas began to rub the back of his neck, his T-shirt rising up to reveal an inch of stomach.
“That is up to you,” he said, but Joy made a small noise of protest. “I can look after the house while you’re away,” he went on, “and when you come back—”
“I’m not sure if I will come back.”
