by Adele B.
“It’s time for the table” Edward whispered, awakening her from her daydream, as if able to guess the thoughts running around her head. He might have felt her hands shake in his; or maybe it was just the empathy between them.
The ceremony was nearly ended, tired Gypsies with their old violins were playing romantic waltzes now, so different from the jaunty tunes which would make the peasants jump up and down until their footwear was torn to pieces.
This time they used their most select repertoire, the melodies they would sing when at the Grof’s court, entertaining high Austrian officials.
“Will you offer me this dance, my love?” Edward asked, bowing deeply before Livia while the guests applauded.
“I’ll offer you one last dance” a blushing Livia answered.
“One last dance - for tonight” Edward retorted.
They were floating easily on the stone slabs, a dance the like of which the village had never seen. It had been used to the unpretentious music of the peasants, soldiers, tradesmen, land workers passing through it. But nothing like this.
Livia’ feet were sedately following Edward’s, and his steps were enchained by the music whose rhythm was getting faster and faster. As she moved her arm too abruptly a sharp, short and intense pain coursed through Livia’s body and a grimace of suffering appeared on her face. As she was clutching Edward’s hand, he looked anxiously at her. Livia smiled, trying to send him a calming gaze - but Edward slowed down his rhythm until the waltz ended and then headed for the table where their guests were smoking thick cigars and savouring steamy coffee.
“I would like to offer a toast in honour of my beloved wife” Edward said while rising from his chair at the head of the table, glass in hand, gazing sharply in Livia’s eyes.
He delivered a short but intense speech, a love declaration made from precious words and sincere looks. He had wished to renew his vows in front of everybody, those vows he had taken a year ago in the secret meadow. He wanted to dispel any sad thoughts which might haunt his young wife, horrible remainders of her troubled past.
Men listened to Edward’s speech with embarrassment, but their partners were furtively wiping tears from their eyes, overflowing with emotion. Looking upon them the men felt they had to declare their love too, by all means; there was something in their companions’ eyes that showed clearly they needed, demanded or begged for a declaration of love.
“The kiss, the kiss” Karl cried out. The food had been delicious, the music – pleasant, the bride and groom - charming; but he wanted the evening to end as soon as possible, because of Monika’s arousing presence. Monika, a blonde he had just met and with whom he was planning to retire to his rustic room in the local inn.
Edward gazed long upon Livia, smiled at her, delicately took her face between his hands and gave her a long kiss while the Gypsies were playing a last waltz
They had stayed on at the inn for one more day, all the other guests hurrying to leave as different obligations were calling them.
Just the two of them, to enjoy the mild spring weather and the pleasant care of their hosts.
It was a warm afternoon, so hand in hand they headed for the vast meadow covering the citadel’s edge, just perfect for a few hours of riding. A young boy, unsuccessfully trying to keep a wild stallion on the leash, was following close behind them.
Livia headed towards a lonely tree and leant against it while Edward jumped lithely into his saddle. Waving to her, he disappeared over a hill, only to reappear behind her, throwing a freshly-picked flower. Livia was smilingly observing him as he enjoyed the ride like a child, basking in the sunlight and letting the wind ruffle his blond hair while his whole countenance was lit up by a charming smile. This smile chased all the questions, all the fears, all the anxieties away from her mind.
Livia answered his wave, but this gesture, so simple and natural, now brought an insufferable pain, a pain which left her breathless and made her clutch at the tree’s trunk, desperately trying not to fall on the damp earth. She waited, suffering, for Edward to finish his cavalcade. And when he drew near, his cheeks a pleasant rose colour and a shadow of tiredness on his face, she welcomed him with a smile.
Edward alighted from the horse and gave the reins to the boy, then took Livia’s arm and headed towards the inn. Livia was trying to hide the mounting fear which had taken hold of her; she was joking and laughing, while walking slowly and avoiding any sudden movements.
# # #
They reached their Sibiu hotel room late in the evening and while they were unpacking their suitcases and unwrapping the gifts received from friends, they started their first conversation as husband and wife. Transylvania was no longer a safe place for her, not with a perfidious, vengeful Petros around - so Edward was planning to leave for Vienna as soon as possible, to ask for another transfer, this time from Transylvania back to Vienna. He hoped the Archduke was going to understand and help him this time too. Livia needed a change of air in order to help her forget, and Austria was the best destination for her now. But he would have to go to Vienna, while she would return to her home in Brad for two weeks, for he didn’t dare let her alone in Sibiu. After he would get everything ready, he would return and take her away with him. Joking, he said that he hoped this time her parents would take more care of her, in her short stay at their house!
Livia listened to his plan and acknowledged it; nothing was keeping her in Transylvania any more, and as long as she was with him she could be anywhere. If he believed Vienna was a safe place, she would follow him there.
She was a little concerned by his decision to take her to Brad for two weeks – the time for him to reach Vienna, arrange the transfer and search for a house. She feared the reunion with her parents, she feared to see the house she had loved so much, but which now meant nothing for her; she feared seeing again all the places of her childhood and drowning in all the old pains again. Now she wanted none of these; she just wanted to be happy.
# # #
Helga and Livia were slowly walking through narrow stony streets. Livia would have wished to tell Helga she was going to her parents, and their roads would have to separate, but she had no idea how to begin. But Helga had already understood; seeing them so happy and so in love at the wedding she had felt her mission had ended. So she said; “Livia, I have already decided to go to Brasov, I submitted a petition to the Mother Superior there to accept me in her monastery”
“Oh, no, Helga!” Livia answered, confused by the woman’s decision to enter such a rigid, secluded place. “I have to visit my parents for a short time, until Edward returns from Vienna, then we’ll both go to Austria. But we won’t abandon you, Edward will certainly find a position for you, a very good one, as children’s nanny or as teacher!”
“No, Livia, thank you - but my decision was already taken when I left Petros’s house. I chose to stay with you for as long as you needed me, and now the time has come for me to go” answered Helga with darkened face, with the same expression Livia had seen her wear while in Petros’s house.
Helga could not stand to hear the word “child”, and Livia had proposed she become a children’s nanny - when she could never even tolerate any child near her! The only solution for her would be the monastery, there she might make peace with herself, with God and with the unborn child she had buried in the woods on a hot summer day, a long time ago. Only there she might be able to forget the pain, the blood and her daughter’s tiny hands. Every night she prayed for forgiveness and every morning she shed a tear for the daughter she had been forced to abort.
She was satisfied that Livia had finally managed to escape, to be free again, to be with the man she loved. Helga knew there is nothing more painful than having to live with the memory of a lost love, haunting your nights and embittering your days. Remorse, nostalgia, sadness, longing, desperation - they all turn the soul to stone and leave their mark upon the face.
“Thank you for your help, Helga; may all your wishes come true” Livia said as they were
entering the hotel. She had seen the firm determination on the woman’s face, and she had understood her decision was irrevocable.
They both started packing, to head towards different destinations and different destinies.
# # #
On a sad, rainy day, Livia was riding in a carriage towards Brad. A day not resembling the day of her abduction by Petros at all. How strange; she had left Brad with Petros and now she returned with Edward. She was a little emotional at the thought of seeing her parents again, after refusing to receive them in her Sibiu house so many times. Aware of her thoughts, Edward told her not to worry; he had sent a telegram to announce their visit, and they had answered she was always welcome there.
In front of the house, Livia felt her heart skip a beat; everything was exactly as before but it elicited no positive emotion in her whatsoever. She only hoped she wouldn’t’ it have to stay there long. As she had feared, it all seemed cold and foreign to her now.
She saw the kitchen curtain fall, a sign her mother had seen them arrive and was hurrying to greet them. Now her parents were both near the door, the priest clearly feeling emotional, his wife a little preoccupied as she did not know how to behave in the presence of her daughter.
The priest embraced them and invited them to the drawing room, while his wife was hurrying to bring all kinds of delicacies, pastries, biscuits and fruit. The table was adorned with the best table cloth, the one her mother only used for extremely special occasions. Livia watched her as she was pretending to straighten a corner of the tablecloth, or offered either her or Edward something from the tray, with downcast eyes. She would potter around the house, avoiding her daughter’s gaze.
Livia rose from the table and hugged her.
“Everything is all right now, Mother” she said, holding her tight, feeling the familiar vanilla scent her mother always emanated.
The priest’s wife broke into desperate tears, her delicate nerves unable to control the feelings of guilt and sadness which had plagued her lately.
“I am sorry, Livia” she answered while gazing long upon her face, studying her beautiful but now so tired countenance, her pale cheeks, her striking eyes now veiled by fatigue. She looked towards Edward with hostility, she would have wanted to tell him something, to accuse him of not seeing Livia’s suffering countenance; but no, he did not seem to care enough for her to be able to notice anything.
Edward left early the next morning, a long and tiresome journey awaited him before he would reach Vienna.
After kissing Livia he had taken his leave of her parents by telling them in broken Romanian; “Please take better care of her this time, I want to find her here on my return!” He had given the priest’s wife a meaningful look; the enmity between them was all too obvious, anybody could see this mother-in-law and this son-in-law could not stand each other at all.
The priest’s wife still believed that if Livia had never met Edward her marriage to Petros might have been a happy one. Edward knew that, had her mother not been so greedy for Petros’s money, Livia would have been spared all these sufferings, both of the body and of the mind.
Livia ignored the exchange of glances; she did not care whether the two could stand each other or not. As she watched the carriage draw away she just wished he would return as soon as possible, she did not want to spend too long in this house, where once she had been happy but now she just felt like an intruder. Not even the relationship with her father was the same, something was missing from it and they suddenly felt like two strangers. Those days of laughing and joking together were so far away now; less than a year had passed, but to her it seemed like a century.
Livia appreciated her mother’s care; she would bring her fresh flowers and fruit, prepare her favourite biscuits. She would thank her politely and smile, but they did not start long conversations any more, like in the old times. In the little wooden balconied house, no laughter resounded.
The priest could feel Livia’s coldness and found it hard to endure, so he spent most of the time in his little workshop next to the church. His daughter had left as a young girl and had returned as a woman with a suffering-filled face. He would have wanted the old Livia to come back - but it was not possible. As a priest he had forgiven his wife, but as a father and a husband he still felt a deep resentment. For a long time he had tried to find excuses for her behaviour, thinking about the sufferings she had endured before their marriage, but now he had come to tell himself all of this would not be enough justification for a mother to betray her daughter and deliver her into the hands of a stranger. There was no affinity between them, now. They continued to live in the same house, avoiding each other as much as they could. Each one of them alone with their thoughts, their resentments, their discontent.
# # #
Livia was idly returning from the walk she had taken through the village and the forest. She felt lithe and radiant, nature was magnificent; unlike the house, the meadow still filled her with an ecstatic happiness.
She gracefully acknowledged the salutes of admiring peasants who took off their hats and gazed respectfully upon her.
In her hand she held a letter which the postman had given her. She had opened it, curious, not able to recognize the handwriting on the white envelope. A certain Wolfe, notary, was informing her that the late Agatha Von Hart had died three months ago, leaving her all her worldly goods, her money and the Sibiu apartment. The envelope also held another sheet of paper on which an unknown, obviously feminine hand was relating that Agatha had seen, from her window, Edward as he was carrying her in his arms, all covered in blood and unconscious. The old lady had assumed she was dead; the fear and the pain had brought about a heart attack. She had died a few days later, in hospital.
Livia examined the date of the will; it had been made a week before Petros’s beastly attack upon her. While a tear dropped from her eyes, she thanked Agatha for all, especially for the afternoons on which she would keep her company with her thousand-year-old stories.
She entered the courtyard, opening the wooden gate. Her gaze caressed the rose bushes guarding the entrance, already filled with buds. She walked along the alley, now covered in stone slabs and edged by tulips. Her mother had taken better care of the garden than of her own daughter. She had planted new flowers, changed the carnations’ place, brought new varieties of lilies and daffodils.
She climbed the first steps holding onto the wooden banister. She was planning to sit in the old rocking-chair and, like before, watch the hills or maybe even embroider a small flower. But a sharp pain made her lose her footing and fall on the wooden stair. She felt nothing, but she could hear footsteps and a door closing forcibly.
She awoke in bed, with her parents’ frightened faces looking at her.
“Sshhh, please be still Livia” her mother said. “You had a fainting fit, now everything is all right, and tomorrow morning the doctor will be here”
“Thank you, Mother “Livia answered. She felt her head becoming heavy and her thoughts swirling confusedly. She sat up in bed with difficulty and took the steaming tea cup from the night table near the bed.
“I feel so tired and sleepy” she continued, putting the empty cup back on the night table. She pulled the sheets up to her chin and turned on one side, leaving her parents puzzled and worried.
“Till tomorrow, Livia” the priest said.
“Till tomorrow, Father” she answered in a faint voice.
Chapter 14
“Good day, Doctor, please come in” said the priest, in a preoccupied voice. Both he and his wife had noticed that Livia was not feeling well, she was as white as a sheet, her face drawn, barely able to get out of bed. The doctor’s arrival did nothing to quieted him; what he would have really liked to do would have been to take his daughter and leave for Buda or Vienna immediately - but these cities were so far away now.
He desperately studied the old doctor, looking rather like an undertaker in his black clothes, blasé and incompetent. He lived on his own in an isolated
house, lost somewhere between two villages. He was alone now that his wife, weary of so much emptiness and wildness, had left him. The years had added to his morose quietness and people did not love him at all. His severe figure frightened them even more than the bitter medicines or strange disease names he used. Word had it that he was not such a good doctor after all, especially after a few women had died in childbirth. More often than not, his visit would precede the Grim Reaper’s by only a short interval, so it certainly seemed to be more of an anticipation of death than a hope for any cure.
More and more often, whenever the priest would be called to give the extreme unction to someone on his deathbed, he would be informed by the relatives that the doctor had been there too. That’s why he didn’t want diagnoses or prescriptions - he just needed to know whether Livia would be able to withstand the trip to Buda or Vienna, where he planned to take her as soon as possible.
“Good day Father” answered the doctor trying to smile. He was tired and sweating, he had hurried up trying to keep in step with the young boy the priest had sent to fetch him. His horse had suffered an accident and now was sadly sitting in a corner of the stable, so there was nothing left for him except to walk at a brisk pace towards the priest’s house. He wiped his face with a handkerchief, lifted his bag which he had set on a table for a second, and headed towards Livia’s room.
“Good morning, Livia, how are you today?” he asked her with a big smile. He had known her since the day she had been born, in fact he had helped the priest’s wife with the birth. He always felt a sort of tenderness for the children he had brought into the world, and deep pain whenever thinking about the ones he had been unable to save – either them or their mothers.
