A Place For Miss Snow

by Moore, Jennifer

  He stood at the road long after she’d gone, unable to remove the grin from his face. “Kalinychta, Diana.”

  Chapter 14

  Diana dressed quietly and slipped down the stairs and outside before any of the household awoke. She knew Elena would want to get the chores finished early in order to prepare for the wedding, and Diana hoped to accomplish as much as she could before her friend awoke.

  She pulled a shawl around her shoulders against the chill of the early morning, lit a lantern, and set to work.

  Humming a tune that Elena taught her, she opened the top of the barrel and spread grain for the chickens. While the birds were occupied, she searched for eggs by dwindling moonlight.

  She took the eggs inside and brought out the milking bucket, coaxing the goats with a soft voice. Once the outside chores were completed, she took a deep breath, satisfied at what she’d accomplished. But an unwelcome thought stopped her short, settling in her chest like a lump.

  Diana was roleplaying a life that did not belong to her. It never would. This was not her house, and soon enough, she’d no longer be welcome here.

  She set down the bucket of milk and leaned her hands against the wooden table as the weight of her self-pity pushed heavily down.

  Instead of hiding the feeling away in its small box, she let it expand and cover her until she sank into a chair and held her head in her hands.

  What would happen when Petrobey realized a ship wasn’t coming? The list of possible scenarios, each worse than the one before, marched in front of her like a parade of carriages through Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. She shook her head, knowing nothing she could do would change the result. But the self-pity didn’t disperse. Why was she different? Why did she not belong anywhere? Molly belonged in London with her parties and ball gowns. Alex had found his place in Constantinople, plotting to save Greece. Sophia belonged in her home with friendly neighbors and a family that cared for her. But Diana had never belonged anywhere.

  From the very beginning of her life, she had been abandoned with other unwanted children, but even among those like her, she had not fit in. A small, skinny girl who was neither fast nor cunning was a prime target for stronger, tougher children. She’d found refuge in Reverend Delaney’s library, but the sanctuary was his place not hers. Once she arrived at school, she discovered the other girls belonged to families who welcomed them home on holidays and sent parcels containing sweets. Diana had nowhere to go and, aside from an occasional letter from the minister, no correspondence. Even as a woman, among the teachers at the finishing school, Diana was an outsider, a person with no connections, no family, and no prospects.

  She glanced around the lightening room and thought that this farmhouse in a remote Mani village felt like home more than any place had before. She loved to tidy the shelves in the storeroom, moving jars and bottles into straight, uniform lines. When she pulled a loaf of bread from the brick oven, she felt a thrill of pride, knowing she’d created it and her work would give the family health and strength and satisfaction. The women and children seemed happy to see her each day. They were patient as she practiced the language, and her affection for them was something she could not explain.

  Here on the farm, her hands had grown rough, her skin darker. She worked every day until her muscles were exhausted, but the satisfaction of completing tasks, of being needed, and of caring for others brought a contentment she would never have known if she had not been taken by Mediterranean pirates from a rocky beach in Corfu.

  “That is quite enough,” she said aloud, standing and brushing off her apron. “No one is more miserable than a person who does not realize her blessings,” she muttered, quoting the Reverend Delaney. She took out the bread bowl and started combining ingredients for the dough.

  She was truly lucky for this time, temporary though it might be. How many people had the opportunity to experience another life? To try it on as one might a new hat?

  The room was light, but the sun had not fully risen when she shaped the dough into a ball on the baking stone and slid it into the oven.

  “Missno!”

  Diana turned to see Elena standing next to the milk and eggs.

  “I had hoped to finish the morning chores before everyone woke. But you have beaten me to it.” The girl’s hands were on her hips.

  Diana shrugged. “Today is special. I wanted you to have time to get ready for the wedding.”

  Elena wrapped her in an embrace, taking Diana by surprise. She had never been hugged like that by anyone before. “Thank you.”

  Diana’s throat constricted as she patted Elena’s back.

  Hearing a scraping noise, the pair turned toward the staircase. Sophia was leaning hard on the rail as she slowly descended.

  Elena hurried toward her. “Mitéra, you must be careful.” She slid her arm around her mother’s waist and assisted her to the sofa.

  Sophia let out a labored breath as she sat. “Breakfast smells delicious.”

  Diana slid the paddle over the hot bricks and drew out the golden loaf just as the boys entered the room, rubbing their eyes sleepily. She and Elena sliced bread and cheese and served cups of warm milk to the hungry children.

  “You must be home early today if you want to attend the wedding feast,” Sophia told her sons.

  “And will we stay for the dancing?” Chrysanthos asked.

  “For a little while. Georgi and Elena will stay. You must bring your brothers home before dark.”

  Chrysanthos nodded but did not look happy about missing the celebration.

  Diana knew not to question Sophia in front of the children. She would speak to the woman later about bringing the boys home, since she had no intention of attending the wedding party.

  She and Elena prepared lunch as the boys ate breakfast. Then the women cleaned up the dishes once the younger ones had left.

  “Oh!” Elena said. “Georgi forgot his knapsack.” She hurried outside to catch him while Diana finished tidying the kitchen.

  Across the room, Sophia winced and pressed on her back.

  Diana hurried to her side. “Sophia, what is it?”

  She let out a heavy breath and relaxed. “Nothing to worry about. It just becomes more difficult near the end.” She eased back against the pillows, turning onto her side and moving her beads.

  Diana noticed her breathing came in quick gasps. “Sophia, I can fetch the younger boys home after the feast. Chrysanthos wants to stay for the dancing, and . . .” Her voice trailed off when she saw Sophia shaking her head.

  “No, you must go to the celebration.”

  Diana knelt onto the floor beside her. “I do not want to leave you alone. The baby—” She was not sure what words to use to express her worry that the baby might come while she was gone. “I should remain with you. Agatha and Stella will be with Elena. ”

  A tired smile spread over Sophia’s lips. “I have given birth to five children. I know the time is not near—although I wish it were.” She winced and shifted again. “You must dance at the wedding, Diana. It is what young women do.” She reached for Diana’s hand. “And I do not think your life has given you much opportunity for amusement.”

  Diana’s throat contracted. “I do not know how to dance.” The confession was humiliating, and she felt a flush fill her cheeks.

  Sophia squeezed her fingers. “In Greece, we do not memorize steps and routines. Dancing is not a performance; it is a celebration, an expression. We let the music fill us, and our emotions determine the movement.”

  The concept filled Diana with dread. “I cannot do that.”

  “You prefer structure and control. But sometimes you must loosen your hold and just feel.”

  “That is what Alex—Mr. Metaxas says.” Diana was horrified that she’d just confessed something so personal. But Sophia’s concern and the intimacy of the conversation drew the declaration from her.

  “Then he is wise as well as fine-looking.” Sophia winked.

  Diana’s flush deepen
ed until she was certain her cheeks must be crimson. She searched her mind for a reply. How did one respond to such a statement?

  Luckily she was saved from a stammering answer when Elena entered and closed the door with a bang. Her face looked like a storm cloud ready to burst.

  “What has happened?” Concern furrowed Sophia’s brow, and she groaned as she rose to a sitting position.

  “I saw Daphne Sássaris on the road.” She folded her arms. “I bid her good morning, and she shouted at me to leave her alone.”

  “Po-po-po.” Sophia settled back. “Come, tell me what she said.”

  Elena stomped across the room. “‘Return to your perfect home and do not bother me anymore.’” She crossed her arms as she knelt next to Diana. Tears were in her eyes. “Can you imagine anyone acting so rudely?”

  The corners of Sophia’s mouth pulled downward. “Do not be angry with her, paidi mou”—my child. “You must understand Daphne has endured much heartache. Costas was the third son she lost, and think of how she must feel with the village preparing for a happy day in the midst of her mourning.” Sophia’s smile was sad. “I have seen the pain in her eyes each Sunday as she looks at my strong sons. And here I am waiting for another. Her own boys have all been born sickly.”

  “Except Spiros,” Elena muttered. “And of course she has Theodora.” Her expression was still sad, but she did not look angry anymore.

  “It must be more than she can endure,” Diana said.

  Sophia nodded. “I am sorry for her.” She held out her hand, and Elena scooted closer. Sophia brushed her thumb beneath her daughter’s eyes, then cupped her chin, bending forward so they were face-to-face. “Remember this, my daughter. If you can understand a person’s reasons, you will learn to feel compassion for them.”

  “Yes, Mitéra. I will remember.”

  Diana watched the tender moment with a swelling in her heart, admiring the gentle way Sophia taught her daughter. Deep inside she felt a pinch of jealousy. How different would her life have been with a family? She pushed the thought away as quickly as it entered.

  Sophia patted Elena’s cheek and rested back. “Now, we have work to do. Today is a celebration, and you must both be ready. Elena, please fetch the taupe gown from the chest in my bedchamber.”

  Elena squeezed her brows together as if she would ask a question, but then her eyes lit up and she hurried up the staircase.

  “And bring hair combs and a brush,” Sophia called after her. Sophia smiled as she turned to Diana. She glanced at the stairs and spoke in a low voice. “I think my daughter favors Spiros.”

  Diana pursed her lips, wondering what to say. She did not want to betray her friend’s trust. “I do not know.”

  “His mother is difficult, but Elena wishes to impress her; that is why Daphne’s words hurt her today.” She raised her gaze to the stairs and let out a sigh. “It will be a good match. I only wish my daughter would remain young.”

  Elena pattered down the stairs with a gown over her arm. When she reached them, she held it up, smoothing out the skirt. The damask gown was a soft beige color. The fabric was thick and rich-looking. Dark green and gold embroidery detailed the hem and neckline. Covering the bodice was a velvet jacket in a vivid green color with gold fastenings and stitched embellishments around the edges.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful,” Diana breathed. “You shall look stunning, Elena.”

  Elena glanced at her mother.

  Sophia smiled. “This gown is made for a woman’s body, not a young girl’s. It will not suit Elena. And as you can see, I am in no condition to wear it.”

  Elena held the dress up to Diana’s shoulders.

  Diana looked down at the full skirt and ornate jacket. “But I cannot. It is yours, and I can see it is special.”

  “Extremely special.” Sophia motioned for the gown, and Elena brought it to her. She ran her hand over the stitching. “My mother made it for me years ago. I want you to wear it tonight, Missno.” She lifted it toward Diana. “You are special.”

  Diana’s heart felt as if it would overflow. Most of the items in Sophia’s home were well used and practical, and the dress must have been quite costly. She lifted the beautiful gown and held it at arm’s length, admiring the lovely fabric, amazed that the woman would be willing to share it. “I do not know what to say.”

  “Do not say anything.” Elena gave her a small push. “Put it on so we can see.”

  Diana hurried up the stairs, and a moment later, descended, wearing the gown. Elena and her mother both clapped. Sophia made a twirling motion with her fingers, and Diana turned to allow her to see the entirety.

  “It fits perfectly, as if it were made for you,” Sophia said with a nod of satisfaction.

  Diana loved the feel of the soft velvet. She had certainly never worn a dress as fine as this one. Swishing her hips, she felt the thick fabric flowing around her legs.

  “Perfect for dancing.” Elena grinned and clapped her hands again. “Now, wait here, and I will don my dress.”

  Elena’s dress was a soft mustard-yellow with a burgundy velvet jacket. She pranced into the room, twirling and giggling.

  “Beautiful!” Diana wished she knew more Greek words to describe exactly how striking her friend looked. Her dark hair and golden skin glowed in the jewel-toned gown.

  “Lovely.” Sophia motioned for Elena to sit by the couch and pulled a brush through her daughter’s hair, separating it into sections and arranging the thick, dark curls into intricate braids. She fastened the braids to her daughter’s head with hair combs.

  Diana watched, fascinated at how Sophia’s nimble fingers created such an elaborate arrangement.

  “And now you, Missno.” Elena motioned for Diana to take her place.

  Diana’s first inclination was to protest, but she sat and slid back against the couch. Sophia braided her hair around her head like a crown. “There.”

  She turned her by the shoulders so that Diana was kneeling. “Enjoy yourself today. You are beautiful.” She spoke in a low voice.

  “Thank you. I feel beautiful.” Diana kissed Sophia’s cheek, then stood and clasped Elena’s hand. The excitement of attending the wedding party suddenly made her heart flutter. Her hands were shaking.

  “And do not worry about me. I shall use the quiet time to rest.” Sophia laid back against the pillows, unable to suppress a quiet moan.

  Diana felt a trickle of guilt at leaving her.

  Elena brought a head scarf in the same beige as Diana’s dress. She also handed over a large handkerchief, instructing Diana to keep it in her pocket. The girls bid Sophia farewell and departed.

  Elena linked her arm with Diana’s as they walked. “What will Mr. Metaxas think when he sees you today? He will not be able to keep his eyes away from you.”

  The trembling in Diana’s chest grew into a feeling of nervous anticipation. She was torn, not knowing whether to giggle and sing or to run away and hide beneath her bed covers. After her declaration the evening before, the second option seemed the most appealing.

  Would Alex notice her? Would he even attend the wedding?

  She felt beautiful in the elegant dress with her hair braided and arranged loosely. Ever since she could remember, she’d worn simple, light-colored gowns and pulled back her hair tightly. Blending into the background had always been comfortable. A flicker of dread moved over her when she thought of the attention her appearance might draw. She fingered the damask fabric and adjusted her head scarf.

  The people of Tsímova, dressed in their finest, greeted each other as they drew near to the center of town.

  Elena’s arm tightened, and Diana looked to see what had caused her reaction. Spiros Sássaris stood near the church, speaking with a group of men. His forehead was wrinkled and his lips pulled tightly together. When they passed, he met Elena’s gaze and dipped his head, but his brows pulled together and he bit his lip with an uncertain expression, turning back to the men.

  Elena glanced at Diana with a qu
estion in her gaze.

  “He is in mourning.” Diana patted her arm. “Do not worry.”

  They greeted neighbors as they joined the crowd walking in the direction of the church. Diana could not help but glance around, searching for Alex, but she did not see him. Perhaps he would come later—or not at all. His presence should not determine whether or not she enjoyed herself. She repeated the declaration in her mind more than once.

  Strings of flags were hung between the trees in the town square. Tables were arranged in long rows in the shade. Diana smelled roasting lamb and listened to the excited voices around her. The anticipation in the air was contagious, and she felt a flurry in her middle.

  Here in Greece, Diana had the opportunity to be someone she could never be in London. The chance to live a new life was a gift, and although it frightened her, she was determined to enjoy herself, if only for Sophia and Elena’s sake. A surge of confidence made her straighten her back and hold up her head as she took a deep breath and walked through the church doors.

  Chapter 15

  Alex shifted his weight as he glanced over the crowd in the church—again. He knew nothing had changed since the last time he’d looked, but he could not keep from searching among those gathered. He stood near the back where he had a clear view of the congregation. Elena had been easy to spot in the crowd. She was near Petrobey and the others of the Mavromichalis clan. She wore a beautiful dress with a wine-colored jacket and stood near the wall on the far side of the room with a woman who must be a relative. Why had Diana not come?

  Disappointment felt like a rock in Alex’s chest. She had most likely remained behind to care for Sophia and the children. He didn’t know why he’d expected anything different. Diana was not in Tsímova for a holiday. Although the family treated her kindly—like a guest—such was not the case.