At one time, Leonidas had believed loss was exclusive to happiness, but he now understood better: they went hand in hand. The knowledge of potential loss was a potent reminder to pause and enjoy, to appreciate the victories in life. His twins were victories, his wife equally so. Their life together was special. Every moment, every day, for as long as they both shall live.
“Are you okay?” Mila leaned closer, an arm around his waist.
He nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m grateful.” It was true. He was grateful for his family, his wife, his children and his father. He was grateful for the ways Kon had shaped him, even for the ways in which he’d pushed him too hard. Life was a marbled slab, no one texture completed it. There were knots and undulations but there was also strength.
The ceremony concluded as the sun dipped towards the ocean, rays splintering like golden shards high into the sky, the scattering of clouds tinged with pink, lightening the plaque at the base of the tree they’d planted, a tree that would grow old and bless this land with fresh growth and newness.
“Let’s go to the house, darlings,” Maggie murmured, linking arms with her sister-in-law, her late brother’s wife, and Cora’s mother, as she moved to the twins’ pram and took the controls. “May I?” She asked Mila, who nodded approval.
As Mila and Leonidas began to walk towards the main house, Phoebe and Anastasios came towards them. Phoebe opened her mouth to speak and then paused, stopped walking and frowned, her eyes in the distance.
Instinctively, Mila turned, looking towards the long drive. The gates were open—after all, the property was so difficult to get to, it was unnecessary to secure it, for the most part. A woman stood between the gates, not moving, simply staring. She was tall and slim with long dark hair, and she wore a pale dress that showed off her golden skin. Other than that, Mila couldn’t see her features clearly enough to know if they’d met.
“Darling, is that—,” Phoebe asked, squeezing Anastasios’ arm. The oldest Xenakis brother swore under his breath.
“Hell. Yes, it is.”
“Who is it?” Leonidas asked, his body language tensing, as if sensing a problem, and being ever ready to intervene, just as he had for Mila in Croatia.
“It’s a long story,” Anastasios muttered, lips grim.
“One I should hear?”
“Yes,” Phoebe spoke before Anastasios, her eyes probing her new husband’s. “It’s time, Tasso. You must see that.”
A muscle jerked at the base of the oldest brother’s jaw, his stubborn expression reminding Leo of all the arguments they’d been in as children. Once Anastasios made up his mind, it was almost impossible to change it.
Anastasios cast a glance towards his brothers and cousins just as Cora turned, her eyes assessing the group before she moved to intercept them. One look over their shoulders had her paling.
“She’s come here,” Cora murmured, as she drew level with them.
“Who’s come here?” Leonidas demanded. “What the hell is going on?”
Anastasios turned to Cora. “Would you go to her and stall? I need to speak with my brothers.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’ll go too,” Phoebe murmured, pressing a kiss to Tasso’s cheek. “It’s okay, darling. It will be okay.”
It was clear that Anastasios didn’t believe her, but as always, Phoebe was the only person capable of softening a damned thing about the oldest Xenakis. He visibly calmed at her words. “Thank you.”
The two women walked away and Mila was torn. It felt as though she were missing something important, some information she should possess before confronting the situation head on. Besides, she suspected her husband would need her.
“Leonidas, gather the family in dad’s study.”
“Our mother?”
“No,” Anastasios bit out. “Not Mitéra. Not yet.” He frowned. “But soon.”
Ten minutes later,they were assembled in the study, all standing in a rough circle, except for Anastasios, who positioned himself at the window. From there, he had the vantage point of the garden, and of the three women who were talking quietly on the edge of the drive, where the gates met the hedge.
“What’s going on?” Leonidas cut to the chase.
“Shortly after dad died, I learned something, something I wish I didn’t know. Something I wish I could change.”
Dimitrios made a noise of impatience. “What the hell was it?”
Anastasios watched idly as Dimitrios crossed to the scotch decanter and lifted the lid, pouring a measure then offering it around. Anastasios shook his head, frowning a little. “There’s not an easy way to say this.”