by Jane Porter
“I don’t need her approval. I don’t care what people think. I love you, and I want to be with you and that’s all that matters.”
“And there’s really no inheritance.”
“None. Zilch. You’re as poor as a church mouse.”
“That’s too wonderful!” Tears filled her eyes, tears and a hint of laughter. For the first time in years she felt as though she could finally breathe. No inheritance, no pretense, no duty. Just love. And hope. “You really do love me?”
He stared deep into her eyes, his own dark depths full of emotion. “With all my heart and all my soul.”
“Say it again.”
“With all my heart, all my mind, all my body and all my soul. I was made for you, to love you, and only you.” He kissed her then, stemming additional protests, silencing the intellect, letting emotion and sensation rule.
She woke the next morning nestled against him. It was early yet, not even six, and immediately her first thought was of Alexi, but instead of denying the flicker of pain, she drew a deep breath and said a prayer for him.
She did love him, she would always love him. As she finished her prayer Alysia felt a great wave of peace. The peace filled her, warm and light and bright, bringing tears to her eyes, but this time tears of happiness, and relief.
“Alysia?” Christos stirred, wrapped an arm around her waist, drew her closer to him. “What’s wrong?”
“I said a prayer for Alexi.” Her voice broke. “But it’s okay, I understand he’s in God’s hands, and I owe it to him to make my life matter, to make it better. I owe it to him to be strong.”
“As long as you live, Alexi will live on, in your heart, and in your thoughts.”
“Then I must live a good long life and never forget the blessings we’ve been given.” She couldn’t swallow around the lump in her throat, and burying her face in Christos’s shoulder, her mouth pressed to his bare skin, she let go of the anger and the guilt and the shame.
She cried for those she’d loved and cried for those she’d lost. She even cried for the relationship she’d never had with her father.
Christos held her throughout. But at last, there were no more tears, and exhausted, she lifted her wet face. “I’m sorry,” she sniffed, reaching for tissues. “That was rather appalling.”
He kissed her brow, the tip of her nose, her tear-streaked mouth. “It’s what you needed to do. Grieve. Love. Feel. Especially feel. You can’t live all shut down. You’re not a robot, you’re a beautiful, smart, sensitive woman.” He kissed her again, her lower lip quivering. “You can talk to me about Alexi as much as you want. And if you ever want to talk to someone else, you could do that, too. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.”
She pressed her cheek to Christos’s chest savoring the even beat of his heart. “You give me hope.”
“Then believe, Alysia, believe we will have a wonderful life together, a new life that will be better than anything either of us have yet lived.”
“Is it possible?”
“I know it is.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“I just know, the same way I knew that day in Athens that I would find you again and make you mine. I was made to love you. And I shall. Always.”
EPILOGUE
“CAREFUL! Watch out,” Alysia called, jumping from the polished marble bench, shielding her eyes as she anxiously followed the toddler’s progress down the flagstone path toward the fishpond.
“Gotcha.” Christos laughed, swinging the wriggling little boy in the sailor jumper onto his shoulders. “I know where you were going.”
“Fishies!” Two-year-old Nikos shouted, jabbing his father in the ear with a wet finger. “I wuv fishies.”
Christos walked up the path, returning with the energetic toddler to the bench in the shade.
Alysia stood, arms outstretched to take the bouncing boy. Happily Nikos lunged into her arms, patting her face, kissing her cheek and then her mouth. “Mama.”
Her heart turned over. “Yes, Mama loves you.”
“Nikos wuvs fishies,” he shouted, enthusiastically patting her face again.
“Careful with Mama,” Christos said, reaching out to touch Nikos’s small hand, gentling the tiny fingers.
“Mama,” Nikos said again, kissing her cheek.
Alysia lifted her head, met Christos’s dark gaze. “I’m fine,” she whispered, even as the baby inside her moved. In just weeks there’d be another little Pateras running wild in the lovely rambling Colonial house.
Christos leaned down, placing a possessive kiss on her upturned lips. “You’re so beautiful, especially now.”
“You’re blind.”
“Not blind, just deeply in love.” He kissed her again, over the top of Nikos’s dark head. “How did we get so lucky?”
Her eyes burned and yet she smiled as tears welled up in her eyes, her heart brimming with happiness and love for Christos. It still staggered her, the joy she’d found with him. “I don’t know. It’s a miracle.”
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0035-7
CHRISTOS’S PROMISE
First North American Publication 2001.
Copyright © 2001 by Jane Porter.
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