Souls Entwined

by Anne B. Cole

  Lorenzo noticed the man, too. “Do you know him?” he asked. Anya shook her head. “He’s not a sailor. Quickly.”

  Lorenzo hurried her into another store where Anya peeked through the window. The man leaned against a cart, trying to look inconspicuous. He lit a smoke and peered in their direction. Anya ducked and stepped closer to Lorenzo, who was pointing the stranger out.

  “Never saw him before,” the storekeeper claimed as he jotted some figures in his ledger.

  “Thank you.” Lorenzo shook his hand then took Anya’s as they exited a side door. “I need you to run.” He touched her cheek, and concern filled his eyes. “Run to the taverna where Mo and Murphy are. Stay with them. I will distract this man and lose him in the market. Then I’ll meet you there. He will not take on four, even if he is with Lubber.”

  Anya shook her head frantically, not understanding everything he said.

  “Run. Taverna. Mo,” Lorenzo commanded then pushed her into the street.

  Anya ran fast, looking over her shoulder twice. No one seemed to be following. She slowed when she approached the taverna. Two of the naval men remained at the table on the terrace. Mo spotted her first.

  “Anya. Come join us. Where is Lorenzo?”

  She walked over, nervously smoothing her dress. The officer, Binder, had passed out and was drooling on the table. She did not like him. The man Lorenzo called Murphy was at another table, talking to a local girl of questionable reputation.

  Mo pulled a chair out for her. The drink in front of her was half gone with something strange floating at the top. Mo caught her looking at the glass.

  “I’ll get another.” He grabbed the glass and headed inside the taverna.

  “No.” She was thirsty but didn’t want to be left alone with the unconscious officer, who began moaning. He reeked of ouzo.

  “Here you go.” Mo returned, placing a glass of sweet wine on the table. She silently thanked him before taking a long drink.

  “Thank you,” Anya said in her best English.

  “Do you have a sister?” Mo’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

  Anya understood this as Thomas had asked the same question, yet she pretended to not understand.

  “Sister? Mother, father, brother, sis-ter?” He acted out the words, attempting to make her understand.

  Anya stifled a laugh. Mo was quite entertaining.

  Her smile faded as her heartbeat picked up. The black-haired stranger stepped out from behind the fruit stand at the far end of the street. He was studying her as he started in their direction.

  “Man. Bad,” Anya said, scanning for Lorenzo.

  “Who?” Mo demanded.

  When she pointed at the stranger, he stopped but didn’t look away. Anya stared right back, needing to know exactly who this man was and what he wanted. She didn’t know why, but she wasn’t afraid of him.

  “Stay here,” Mo commanded. He went over to Murphy, quietly pointing out the man. They returned to her table and sat down, not taking their eyes off him.

  “Anya,” a voice called out from behind.

  Mo drew a gun, and Murphy clutched a blade. Lorenzo put his hand lightly on Anya’s shoulder, relaxing everyone.

  “Who’s he?” Mo nodded toward the stranger across the street.

  “Don’t know. No one local does. He’s following us. I thought I lost him.” The man continued to look at Anya in a way that made her feel quite uncomfortable. Her cheeks filled with heat. Picking up her glass, she drank the remainder.

  “Stay here,” Lorenzo said in Greek.

  Anya’s heart pounded. The man was now looking at Lorenzo and Mo. He tipped his hat and began to walk slowly in the direction of the harbor.

  “Let’s have some conversation with the man.” Mo elbowed Lorenzo.

  Anya reached out, grabbing his arm. “Stay. Please, don’t.” Lorenzo hesitated. She squeezed harder.

  “Leave him,” Lorenzo replied to Mo.

  “Looking at your woman like that? I say that’s worth a conversation,” Murphy added, apparently ready for a fight.

  Lorenzo narrowed his eyes at Mo and Murphy. “You’re both guilty of that. Shall we have a talk?”

  The two sailors hung their heads then sat down to drink. They continued teasing each other as Anya shifted closer to Lorenzo.

  “Where did Thomas go?” Mo asked.

  “Thomas. We need to go back.” Lorenzo quickly took Anya’s hand, leading her away.

  “Good-bye, Anya,” Mo called dreamily.

  “Anya,” Murphy echoed with a theatrical bow.

  “See you next week,” Lorenzo replied over his shoulder.

  Anya broke into a run with Lorenzo struggling to keep up. She entered the store first, seeing Thomas at the table, examining his bloodied right hand.

  “Where’s Lorenzo?” he asked as Lorenzo burst through the door. “Where’s the ugly one?”

  “Gone, for now.” Lorenzo gasped, catching his breath.

  “Was that the scoundrel you stole whiskey from?” Thomas questioned as he blotted his hand with a cloth.

  “Rum,” Lorenzo corrected. “That’s not why he’s after me.”

  Thomas was trying to push the skin back together on his hand where the sword caught him. Anya laid her apron on the table. Lorenzo frowned as Thomas placed his hand on it. The cut was in the fleshy part of his palm, wrapping around to the back of his hand, narrowly missing the fourth finger. Anya went to the counter for supplies.

  “I got me a real pirate battle scar,” Thomas muttered. “Don’t mention this to Binder.”

  “Won’t say a word,” Lorenzo promised. “Lubber is the best swordsman I’ve ever seen. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “He’s Lubber? I’ve heard stories about him.” Thomas gawked at Lorenzo as Anya placed two bottles, clean cloth, and her sewing box on the table. She soaked a needle and thread, then nodded to Lorenzo.

  “Take a swig of this.” Lorenzo handed him a bottle.

  Thomas inspected it. “Opium?”

  “Won’t feel a thing,” Lorenzo answered. “Well, almost nothing,” he added with a sly grin. Thomas took a tentative sip, then another longer one. “That’s enough,” Lorenzo warned.

  “I’m thirsty.” Thomas retorted then took another gulp.

  Lorenzo grabbed another bottle from behind the counter, taking the laudanum away. Thomas grimaced as Anya opened the wound and cleansed it. She pushed the skin together and began to stitch. The two men talked as she worked. Anya was placing the final stitches when both became silent. Alec had opened the door to the back room. Thomas stiffened. Lorenzo looked from his friend to Alec and back nervously.

  Alec remained in the doorway. Tears streamed down Anya’s cheeks as she fled to his side. She had no idea why she buried her face into Alec’s shirt. He held her for a long moment, and she took comfort in his embrace.

  “Is Mama all right?” Anya mumbled.

  “She has a fever.” Alec saw the needle and thread dangling from Thomas’ hand. “Finish. I will stay with your mother until you’re done.”

  Anya’s eyes finally met Alec’s. She saw pain and sadness, and it frightened her. He kissed her cheek then returned to the back room. Anya made her way back to Lorenzo and Thomas.

  “Anya’s father?” Thomas asked.

  “No. Her father is dead. Alec takes care of them. He owns this store.”

  Thomas nodded with wide eyes. “He was going to throw me out, but the woman he is with told him I was your friend. I started to explain, but it was as if she already knew.”

  “Tatiana.” Lorenzo grinned proudly. Thomas’ mouth dropped open.

  “She’s the Tatiana?”

  Lorenzo nodded as Anya completed the last stitch and cut the thread. Thomas wiggled his finger
s gingerly.

  “I will see Mama now,” Anya announced in Greek.

  Thomas stood. “I best be getting back to the ship. Thank you, Anya.” He took her hand and kissed it.

  Anya closed her eyes, thinking she needed to be going somewhere. The urgency was overpowering.

  “Careful, Thomas,” Lorenzo warned, taking her hand away from him. Lorenzo’s hand was warm, comforting. Anya didn’t understand why she felt as if she needed to flee. Lorenzo kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  The men turned and left the store, talking so fast she could not understand them.

  Anya plated sliced bread, tomatoes, and fresh cheese and then carried it to the back room. Mama was resting in the bed Lorenzo had used when he was recovering from his wound. Alec stood next to her.

  “Thank you. Please set it down.” Mama gestured to the table.

  “You need to eat,” Alec urged.

  “In time. I want to speak with Anya.” Mama’s voice sounded weak. Something was wrong. “Where’s Lorenzo? His friend?”

  “They returned to the ship.” Anya replied.

  “I’m sorry.” Mama shook her head sadly.

  “Lorenzo didn’t leave. He has one more week here then the Warren will return for him.” Anya tried to keep sadness out of her voice.

  “Lorenzo went to the harbor?” Alec questioned.

  “Yes. He’ll be back in an hour,” Anya replied.

  Mama saw Alec’s worried expression. “I’ll be fine with Anya. Catch up with him,” Mama encouraged.

  Alec handed her his handkerchief and sighed before leaving the room.

  “Anya, there is something you need to know.” Mama appeared pained but not from her illness. “Sit down.”

  Anya took a chair next to the bed. Warmth radiated from the cushion. Alec had been sitting beside Mama.

  “This is not about me. It’s about Lorenzo.” Mama’s eyes welled. “He won’t return from America.”

  Anya stared, dumbfounded. “He promised me he’d come back.”

  “I have no doubt he intends to return.” Mama paused as her knowing eyes fixed upon her. “He won’t be able to.”

  “Why do you say this?” Anger filled Anya.

  “I’m not telling you this to hurt you.” Mama reached out to touch Anya, but she inched away.

  “Mama, I won’t leave you when Lorenzo comes back. He said he would stay in Milos or take us all to America.” Anya hoped Mama would consider going for she was determined to go to America.

  “No.” Mama replied firmly. “Lorenzo won’t return. When I first met him and did his reading, I saw his death.” Her red-rimmed eyes continued to fill.

  Anya stood and slowly backed to the door. “You’re lying. You . . . you don’t want me to go.” Her voice grew in intensity as tears filled her own eyes.

  “Anya I wish it wasn’t so.” Mama began to cough.

  “You’re wrong.” Anya hated what Mama said and hated her for saying it. The door swung open, hit her in the back and knocked her to the floor. Yia Yia and Alec hurried into the room. Mama’s cough grew violent as she gasped for air. Alec propped Mama up in his arms, her body heaving.

  Yia Yia dragged Anya to her feet and out the door as she heard herself cry out, “Mama’s lying!” Alec’s deep voice comforted Mama, making Anya even angrier. Yia Yia clutched her arm when she tried to go back to confront her mother. “Lorenzo, he is—”

  “Lorenzo is with Henry. You must not upset your mother.” Yia Yia gently scolded.

  “Upset her? Mama said—” Anya couldn’t say the words. Hot tears began to seep out of her eyes. Her mother’s visions were never wrong.

  Katarina sat her on the steps to the garden. Orange and yellow hues hung on the horizon, meeting the purple blues of the evening sky. Anya squinted against the direct rays behind her grandmother.

  “We want your mother to be comfortable. She’s very ill. We don’t know how much time she has left.” Yia Yia took Anya’s hands. “You have to be strong.”

  “What? What is wrong with Mama? Why would she lie to me?” Anya refused to let it go.

  “She is battling Plthesis. It is not something she can overcome.” Yia Yia lowered her head.

  The word pierced through Anya’s heart. Plthesis. There was no remedy for what Lorenzo called consumption. The cough, the terrible cough. Is Mama dying? She shook her head, refusing to accept any of this.

  “Mama said she foresaw Lorenzo’s death, not hers,” Anya whispered. A puzzled expression appeared on Yia Yia’s face.

  “Tatiana didn’t want you to know of her illness. She concealed it for a long time, even from me.” Yia Yia blinked and turned away.

  Anya rarely saw her grandmother cry, and it frightened her.

  “Perhaps it will pass.” Anya searched the old woman’s face for something, anything that she could take comfort in.

  “It’s beginning to advance.” Yia Yia sniffed as a tear fell.

  Anya’s hand found her grandmother’s. Together they sat on the step and cried. Footsteps sounded, Alec stood before them. His face confirmed Anya’s fears. Thick fingers gently smoothed hair away from her face.

  “Anya, she wants to talk to you. Please, don’t upset her.” Alec’s pain-filled eyes searched hers.

  The feeling to run became more intense than ever. Anya needed to run, run far and fast. Alec wiped away her tears then led her back inside. He left, closing the door behind him. Anya took a seat on the bed beside her mother. It was true. Mama was pale and much thinner. Anya couldn’t believe she had not noticed this before. Mama stuffed Alec’s handkerchief beneath the covers then folded her frail hands. Mama was dying.

  “Hand me the book that is on the table,” Mama ordered, as if there was nothing wrong. “I also need the little leather sack from the second drawer.” Anya obeyed automatically. “Open the sack,” Mama commanded.

  Anya’s fingers trembled as she held up a ring with a single red stone in a delicate golden setting.

  “It’s pretty.” Something made her focus on the ring instead of her mother. “Did Papa give this to you?”

  “Victor paid me with that for his readings.” She held her hand out for the ring. Anya placed it in her palm. “He said this ring is special, that the wearer would find unconditional love.” Mama held it up to the light, which emitted from a candle on the table. “I haven’t worn it, since I do not love Victor.”

  Tears filled Anya’s eyes as she felt pain, Alec’s pain.

  “Anya, you must be brave. There’s a chance that we may be able to change things.” Hope surged inside of Anya followed by a sudden fear.

  Mama flipped through the pages of the old book. It was written in Latin, which Anya could not read. “Here.” She held the ring in her left hand and read silently for several minutes. Her lips moved, but no words came forth. She squeezed the ring in her hand, made a fist, and then closed her eyes. Mama spoke in Latin, several sentences that she had just memorized.

  Upon finishing, she began to cough, worse than before. Anya took the book from her lap and placed it on the table. Anya didn’t know how to help, so she held Mama’s hand. “Would you like me to get Alec?” It pained Anya that she was unable to comfort her own mother.

  “Not yet. I placed a very strong longevity curse upon the ring. I borrowed the book from Luda.” She handed the ring to Anya. “Give this to Lorenzo.”

  Anya’s heart raced. She stared at the ring, shaking her head. “You need it.”

  “Anya, I don’t want—”

  “Wear the ring.” Anya repeated forcefully.

  Tatiana gently wrapped her daughter’s fingers around the ring. “I couldn’t bear to live like this for a long time. The ring is for Lorenzo. Tell him to keep it with him always. Do not wear it or give it to anyone e
lse for it is meant only for him.”

  Anya didn’t doubt her mother’s abilities. If there were any chance that fate could be changed, Mama could do it. She slipped the ring inside the pouch. After tying it closed, she placed it carefully into her apron pocket.

  “Please, tell Lorenzo I would like to speak with him,” Mama said as she closed her eyes.

  “I love you,” Anya whispered.

  “Pray this works, my child.”

  Anya watched her sleep. She didn’t know when Alec entered the room or how long he was standing behind her.

  “Lorenzo and Henry have returned. I’ll stay with Tatiana,” Alec said tenderly. Anya wanted to comfort him, draw comfort from him, yet her desire to be with Lorenzo was greater.

  Alec reached over to Tatiana and touched her forehead with the back of his hand. He fetched a towel and soaked it in water before gently swabbing the sweat from her face and neck. Anya marveled over Alec’s ability to care for her. He knew just what to do as if he had been tending to her illness for a long time. Filled with guilt, Anya stepped out of the room.

  “Anya.” To her surprise, it was Peter’s voice, not Lorenzo’s. Both men were seated at the table along with Henry and Yia Yia. Lorenzo placed a chair for her beside his. The men stood until Anya was seated. Instantly, she reached under the table and grabbed Lorenzo’s knee. His hand took hers. She needed his touch, his warmth more than ever.

  “Peter.” Anya tried her best to hide her despair.

  “Pleasure is always mine, Anya.” Peter’s eyes sparkled. His hair groomed, tied with a green ribbon that matched his vest, gave him the look of a corsair.

  “How’s your mother?” Lorenzo asked gently.

  Yia Yia gave her a stern look, relaying that Lorenzo was not aware of her disease.

  “Resting, she wants to speak with you when she wakes.” Under the table, he squeezed her hand tighter. She could tell he sensed her uneasiness. His fingers rubbed hers gently. Anya’s eyes refilled. Her heart pounded. She feared that if she allowed herself to breathe she would cry.