“What’ll people think,” she said, trying to deflect his disapproval of her idea. “Petro, your friends and family. What will they say about us bringing up the girls together without . . .” She stopped, not quite sure how to say it.
“They’ll see that we both love the girls. That nothing’s more important than that.”
Liv turned back to the girls and reached out a hand to Phoebe. The little girl wrapped a tiny finger around her ring finger. Maybe it would be best to bring them up in the same house, in the meantime anyway, while they were so little, needing to be fed so much in the day and night. It made perfect, logical sense, and Markus was obviously thinking that way too. He was different. More relaxed. As if he’d accepted this arrangement now and had put any fantasies of being together aside.
“So, if we’re going to see the priest soon, you’d better tell me more about the christening ceremony,” she said as she watched him gently pull a vanilla pod from a vine. “When should we have it?”
He smiled. “I’ve been thinking we should really wait until my mom arrives. She booked tickets as soon as she could get time off work, and she’ll be here next month. She’d love to be involved. She’ll be especially pleased that Polly gave the girls Greek names.”
“Really?” Liv was astonished. “Phoebe and Zoë are Greek?”
“Yes. Zoë means life and Phoebe comes from the word for bright, although in mythology she’s associated with the moon.”
Liv thought back to something she’d read about the legend of Aphrodite’s rock and the moon. She couldn’t remember the details, and would Google it later, but it was amazing that Polly had given the girls a link to this place.
“We’ll need to choose godparents, too,” Markus said. “They’re a very important part of the ceremony. When we adopt the girls, you’ll be out of a job as their nona.”
The thought hit Liv swift and hot. She wouldn’t be Phoebe and Zoë’s godmother now, she’d be their mother, and Markus would be their father, when they eventually adopted them. She swallowed back the increasing lump in her throat and reached out to Zoë, who also clung to one of her fingers.
“Who would you choose as godparents?” Liv asked. “Family? Friends? Do they have to be Greek?”
Markus dropped his voice to a whisper and held her gaze. “I can think of someone we both know who loves the girls and who’d want to be in their life.”
“Petro!” Liv exclaimed, then lowered her voice too. “Oh, Markus that would be perfect! When do you think we could go ahead with it?”
“It’ll take a while to organize, but I’d think in a couple of weeks. And by then, we’ll also have worked out how we’ll go about getting married.”
Liv swallowed. “I guess there’s no real rush for that either, except of course it will need to happen before my entry visa runs out.”
“It would be nice if we could christen the girls after we get married,” Markus ventured.
Liv bent her head and stared hard at one of the paving stones. Everything was happening so quickly—talk of where they’d live, christenings and marriages. With a smile stitched to her face, she turned back to him. “Let’s just take things slowly, shall we? There’s no rush in the meantime.”
Markus reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope. “This came earlier,” he said. “Special delivery from Ana-Maria. Nicer than an email, I guess.”
He waited until she’d freed her fingers from the babies’ clutches and then handed her the envelope, and she saw an official-looking crest in the top left corner.
Her heart slammed against her breastbone. The paternity results.
“I asked them to send the results in Greek and English,” he said, smiling, “so you wouldn’t have to take my word for it.”
With fumbling fingers, Liv opened the envelope and scanned one of the pages inside. She only needed to read one sentence:
DNA testing indicates, to an accuracy of one hundred percent, that Markus Leonidas Panos is not the father of the twin girls in question.
Relief coursed through her body, and she was sideswiped by the force of her reaction. She’d believed Markus when he’d told her he wasn’t Phoebe and Zoë’s father, but the confirmation banished the last nagging fragments of doubt. She turned to him as she screwed the piece of paper into a tight little ball in her fist.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes growing wide.
“Well, it’s not true, is it?” Liv said, trying to stop the twitch at the corner of her mouth.
Markus placed the pruning shears on the ground and held her stare, his face dropping as he took a step toward her. “Of course, it’s true, Liv. It’s there in black and white. I’m not the girls’ father.”
“Of course, you are,” she said as she stood and put her hands on her hips. “Anyone can see that you are.”
He took two more steps until he was close enough that she could feel the heat from his body, inhale the tang of sweat from working in the sun. Teasing was fun, but it made her heart race in unexpected ways to have Markus standing so close, indignant and strong.
“Liv, I told you, Polly and I didn’t . . . I never would’ve . . .”
She started to laugh, and as she reached out a hand to touch his arm, relief washed over his face. “What I meant,” she said, smiling as she spoke, “is that this piece of paper says you’re not Phoebe and Zoë’s biological father, but in all the ways that count you are their father.”
“Thank you,” he said, his voice rich and low.
“I mean it,” she said. She let her hand drop, wanting him to know that these words came from the deepest part of her, not a part filled with desire and desperation, but a part filled with respect and admiration. “No one deserves to be Phoebe and Zoë’s father more than you do, and nobody but the girls deserve such a wonderful man to be their dad.”
The way he smiled at her made her heart sing.
Liv held her breath as they climbed the steps to the huge beige church the next week. Its domed roof seemed to hold up the perfect blue sky and its small arched windows hinted it would be an escape from the searing heat of the day.
Markus held the door open and shot her a heartwarming grin as she moved past him. Once inside, she took deep breaths as her senses were assaulted by the ancient smells from within. Calming waves of incense washed over her in a gentle rhythm as she moved from the bright, warm day to the cool, dark belly of the church and had to squint until her eyes became adjusted to the dim light.
And then she held her breath again to keep from crying out in wonder.
It was as if she’d been transported back to the pages of some magical fairy-tale book. All around the walls, candles burned in trays of sand, their flickering glow passing soft shadows across the brilliant gold pictures of saints hanging everywhere.
Markus reached out a hand to guide her forward, and she rejoiced in the togetherness of this moment as his palm spread solid across her back. She’d never been anywhere like this, and she didn’t want to do anything wrong or make a mistake. Turning to Markus, she raised her eyebrows in silent question.
He bent to whisper in her ear, and the feathered touch of his breath against her skin sent a million goose bumps all over her.
“Just do what I do,” he said.
She followed him as he put a coin in a box and picked up two long thin candles. He then lit them from those already burning and placed them in the sand. “One for our Phoebe, one for our Zoë,” he said quietly, and Liv’s heart lurched in her chest. The power of his voice, his unspoken love for the girls, touched her soul deep. Pride and wonder that they were now united for one sublime purpose ran sweetly through her veins. She wouldn’t feel regret that it meant they couldn’t really be together. She’d find solace in the depth of their shared vision, in the future that they’d be working toward together every single day.
He bent and kissed the glass cover of the exquisite silver icon, and Liv did the same. From somewhere inside, she felt Polly’s presence, Polly’
s acceptance of what they were about to plan, and it stilled her heart for a moment.
Markus indicated a pew at the rear of the church, and they moved toward it. There was no service being conducted, but there were a number of older men and women inside, some in groups whispering and chattering, some on their own, and a woman was dusting a table at the front.
“This is amazing,” Liv whispered as she sat close to Markus, feeling the power of his body beside her. This place was such a part of who he was, part of the whole of him that she’d missed for so long. “Should we have brought the girls so the priest could meet them instead of leaving them with Petro?”
“No.” His tone was soft. “We’ll bring them to a Sunday service sometime before the christening so he can meet them then.” He looked around them. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I spent a lot of time here with my parents and my brothers. Not always valuing it as I do now.” He grinned at her, pride shining in his voice.
“Is this where they’d get christened?” she managed to ask. “Up the front?”
He nodded. “The whole ceremony takes about an hour, and it’s quite involved. There’s a ritual of anointing with oil, cutting the first locks of hair, and of course, immersing them in the water. The godparents we’ve chosen will play a big part in the ceremony. They’ll have bought the girls new clothes to be dressed in after they’ve been christened and a gold cross to wear around their necks.”
“It sounds beautiful,” Liv breathed.
Markus watched Liv’s eyes dart around the inside of the church. At one point she looked right up to the ceiling, and the pale skin at her throat stretched so thin he could see the delicate veins in her neck, which made him burn to kiss her there. He wanted to drag her into his arms and tell her she could stop pretending.
He could see she was affected by being here. The distance she’d been keeping was softening. He didn’t know how much longer he could wait before he told her of his feelings, but he’d made a promise that he’d wait for her and not rush her into anything she wasn’t ready for. In truth, though, it was unmitigated torture pretending he could do this all as friends.
“I’d always imagined being married in this church.”
Liv was silent for a moment as she twisted the fabric of her skirt around her finger. “And now, the first time you get married it’ll be in a civil ceremony in the mayor’s office.”
“The first time? You think I’ll get married again?”
“Of course, you will.” Her voice was a rasping whisper. “I’m sure you’ll get to experience a real marriage one day.”
A real marriage. Disappointment and confusion ripped through his body. She really believed there was no future for them? That once they were married and she could stay in the country, he’d just toss her aside to go and find someone else?
“There won’t be anyone else,” he said quietly.
He heard the tight sigh escape from her lips. “Of course, there will, Markus. I won’t hold you back from finding someone special. Once you and I have sorted out how everything will work with the girls, when we’re sure their lives are stable and secure, we can look to our own happiness.”
She slowly shook her head and took his hand in hers. Her touch was as light as breath across his skin.
“I’ll be part of your life, forever, Markus. I won’t go away like I did before. But that doesn’t mean you need to deny yourself what will make you happy.”
He bit down on the desire to tell her there would be no one else, could be no one else, because she was the only one who would make him happy.
“You and I have Phoebe and Zoë as our glue now. We’ll be together at their sixteenth birthday parties, their graduations, and even, god willing,” she said as she looked around the walls once more, “their weddings in a place like this. We won’t lose each other this time because we’re bonded by something bigger than ourselves. And the beautiful thing is that because we won’t be lovers, because we won’t hurt each other in the same ways we did before, we can always be part of each other’s and the girls’ lives.”
Blood chilled in his veins. She really meant this.
He’d thought she was just holding back, trying to be strong, in the wake of all the emotion that was swirling about them. Trying to put her needs and desires second to the commitment he could see she so genuinely had. But they were in a church. She had to be telling the truth.
He’d given her every opportunity to open up to him, to tell him what she was afraid of and what they’d need to do to make a success of their love this time, but she was doing none of that. She was pulling down the shutters on even the possibility of something developing between them.
“Let’s just focus on the christening now, Markus.” She placed his hand back in his lap and looked around for the priest.
If waiting wouldn’t work, then he’d have to think of another way to convince her.
12
Later that evening, when the girls were asleep, Liv walked toward the living room to fold more washing.
It had been a beautiful afternoon at the church, and they’d decided on a ceremony in a month’s time when Markus’s mom would be here from Brentwood Bay and would have an opportunity to be involved in the preparations. Markus had talked of aunts and cousins he’d like to invite as well, and the possibility of the girls growing up surrounded by a precious extended family wherever they lived thrilled Liv.
Although she’d felt Markus’s pain at being in the church and speaking of the practicalities of their own marriage, she’d employed every rational and reasonable phrase to pull back from him again. But it was excruciating. The closer he tried to get, and the more she felt her need for him grow, the more frightened she became about how this would all end.
He was tidying in the living room when she entered.
He looked up. “Glass of wine?”
“Yes, thanks.” She pushed a ringlet from her forehead, and when he passed her a glass of red, she walked to the picture windows and looked out on the darkening night.
“I think Polly would’ve approved of what we did today,” she said. “She’d have thought the church was exquisite, and she’d have loved the priest.”
“Father Paul is a good man,” Markus said as he folded a tiny blanket. “I didn’t tell him the girls weren’t ours, because custody hasn’t been finalized, but I’m sure he’ll be supportive when he knows the truth.” He looked across to her. “I’m glad you think Polly would’ve liked what we’re doing.”
An image of Polly and Markus talking in Polly’s final hours lay heavy in Liv’s mind. She’d never asked what they’d discussed or what he’d thought when Polly asked him to help her.
“What was it like when Polly contacted you?” She ventured. “It must’ve been quite a shock to hear from her after all that time. I guess the last time you saw her would have been when she stayed with us in Paris.” She swallowed the lump in her throat that was always there when she spoke about her best friend. “I know she was upset when you and I broke up.”
Markus opened the French doors wider and gestured for her to move to the table outside. Small bowls were laid out on the table with a gauze throw over the top to deter insects.
A plump moon, not quite full, shone above the bay in the balmy night air and turned the sea a brilliant silver around the rocks that rose like waking giants from the deep. The beauty touched her deeply, the way it had when she’d first arrived, and a centering calm fell over her that this place would be a part of her now, a part of all four of them.
Her heart and body stirred at the sound of Markus’s deep voice so close. “She did think we’d been good together. She talked about it a lot. Even when she first called and asked me to help her with legal advice, she said she thought it was wrong that you and I weren’t still together.”
Liv held her glass tighter and tried to still the tremble inside at the thought of him sharing Polly’s final words.
She nodded. “She kept telling me you were the one and that I’d made a
mistake in leaving you.” Her brain scrambled with the honesty of her admission.
His mouth quirked in a grin. “But you didn’t take her advice.” The thump in her heart was too strong for her to smile back as his gaze held her. He looked serious again. “Feel like some food?”
Together they pulled chairs to the table, and after she was seated, he moved next to her and they both looked out to sea.
He breathed deeply as he took off his jacket and threw it across the outdoor couch. “It’s got so hot. Smell the orange blossom? It’s amazing how it intensifies in the evenings.”
She turned to him. “You can smell that? From all the way up here?”
He was reaching for one of the bowls, but he stopped and looked straight at her for a moment then nodded. Something she couldn’t read crossed his face.
He lifted out a small pastry and held it up. “Mezzethes. Lots of tastes. A Cypriot tradition.” His lips lifted in a grin. “Petro gave up making things for me for a long time because I’d lost my taste for most things, but he’s been cooking up a storm since you’ve been here. He says that in the last few weeks this place has been much happier. I’ve even seen him looking in some of those baby books for what he can cook up for the girls when they start to eat solid food.”
Liv laughed. “He’s so lovely. I was a bit scared of him when I first arrived, but now I can see how much he loves working for you and loves having the girls around. I even think he’s taken a bit of a shine to Ana-Maria.”
Markus grinned. “He invited her in for rice pudding. I’ve never seen him look so nervous.”
Liv clapped her hands together. “Oh, that’s so sweet.”
“It would be great if he found someone. His four children live all over the world now, so he doesn’t get to see them very often,” Markus said. “Now, open up.”
The intimacy of his words, his movement, the promise of a connection, caused her to avert her eyes as she parted her lips. She had to remember her plan—the longer she could keep from being close to him, the easier it would be for her feelings to fade away. But the sweet pressure of his fingers so close to her lips scrambled her thoughts.
A Family for Good : A sweet, small town, second chance romance (Tall Dark and Driven Book 6) Page 15
