Read Online The Priest's Well (The Greek Village Collection Book 12) by Sara Alexi - Free Book Online
Authors: Sara Alexi
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walking away. The card reads, ‘Alekos garage. Tractors, cars, mopeds. ’ Savvas looks into the wheel arch to see if he can see what Aleko could see, but there is just a thin layer of dust on the new, shiny paint.
A couple of people use the car as an excuse to loiter and chat, causing others that are passing also to stop and join in the conversation. Savvas recognises most of them from his Sunday morning service. He recognises more of the women perhaps than the men. The men have work as their excuses on Sundays; trees that won’t wait to be tended, tractors that need to be tinkered with, animals that must be fed. But even though the male population has, in part, been absent, Savvas feels that over the last couple of weeks, he has made his status known and the majority of them are showing him suitable reverence.
There are one or two of the older ladies who think they have seen it all before and have offered him advice with very little respect, but he has dismissed these, firmly putting them in their places. The one he keeps his eye on, though, is Maria. There is nothing in the way she acts towards him that denotes what she witnessed of his predecessor. Sotos’ secret seems to be safe with her. How many other secrets does she have? Come to that, how many secrets does everyone else in the village have? He looks about at the faces. They might all know things, about Sotos, about him, about the church.
It is a bad time for Maria to come across from her house. She looks over the car with disdain, shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare with her hand. Above the bonnet, the air rises in shimmering waves.
‘A very pretty toy,’ she begins. With her presence, the boys return to their game of football and the others who had been using the car as an excuse to take a break and chat melt away. It seems he is not the only person who tries to avoid Maria’s company.
‘It is easy,’ Maria says, folding her own arms and standing beside him, ‘to fall into the ways of mankind.’
‘It is a car, Kyria Maria. I need it for church business.’ He would like to take it for a drive now, smell the leather interior. Take it for a spin into Saros perhaps, park on the sea front and sit having coffee overlooking the bay.
‘An earthly desire,’ Maria mutters through gritted teeth.
‘Kyria Maria, I appreciate your sentiment, but please rest assured you have no need to concern yourself about my spiritual life.’
Maria looks up to the grand house where Nefeli is throwing a sheet over the stone balustrade of the balcony to air. Savvas is grateful that in this moment, the sheet is not wet and clinging to her. The sight of her attending to her domestic duties, even though it is a commonplace, trivial thing, makes the heat in his cheeks rise.
‘I have seen how quickly a man can fall,’ Maria says and her gaze, which is now on him, seems to see right into every thought he has ever had. Her penetrating look creates flashing images in his head of his mama spreading him in a crucifix position on the cold floor as a punishment. He forces himself into composure.
‘Maria, please do not play games with me. If you have something to say, then say it.’ His guilt twists into anger.
‘What did they tell you about your predecessor?’ Her voice is low so it does not carry, but Savvas looks around the square anyway.
‘He was a good man,’ he retorts, as if this is the end of the conversation. But his words do not sound convincing.
‘Men are good till they fall. I suppose they told you he died of a heart attack?’
It would be wisest to stop this conversation right now, but his curiosity is too strong. She ‘tuts’ and lifts her chin, rolling her eyes, a Greek ‘No! ’ ‘He did not die of a heart attack.’
Savvas’ limbs tense rigid, waiting for her to say more. He cannot ask her, that would be tantamount to encouraging gossip, and it would admit that she has power, and knowledge that he wants it. It would most definitely imply his
A couple of people use the car as an excuse to loiter and chat, causing others that are passing also to stop and join in the conversation. Savvas recognises most of them from his Sunday morning service. He recognises more of the women perhaps than the men. The men have work as their excuses on Sundays; trees that won’t wait to be tended, tractors that need to be tinkered with, animals that must be fed. But even though the male population has, in part, been absent, Savvas feels that over the last couple of weeks, he has made his status known and the majority of them are showing him suitable reverence.
There are one or two of the older ladies who think they have seen it all before and have offered him advice with very little respect, but he has dismissed these, firmly putting them in their places. The one he keeps his eye on, though, is Maria. There is nothing in the way she acts towards him that denotes what she witnessed of his predecessor. Sotos’ secret seems to be safe with her. How many other secrets does she have? Come to that, how many secrets does everyone else in the village have? He looks about at the faces. They might all know things, about Sotos, about him, about the church.
It is a bad time for Maria to come across from her house. She looks over the car with disdain, shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare with her hand. Above the bonnet, the air rises in shimmering waves.
‘A very pretty toy,’ she begins. With her presence, the boys return to their game of football and the others who had been using the car as an excuse to take a break and chat melt away. It seems he is not the only person who tries to avoid Maria’s company.
‘It is easy,’ Maria says, folding her own arms and standing beside him, ‘to fall into the ways of mankind.’
‘It is a car, Kyria Maria. I need it for church business.’ He would like to take it for a drive now, smell the leather interior. Take it for a spin into Saros perhaps, park on the sea front and sit having coffee overlooking the bay.
‘An earthly desire,’ Maria mutters through gritted teeth.
‘Kyria Maria, I appreciate your sentiment, but please rest assured you have no need to concern yourself about my spiritual life.’
Maria looks up to the grand house where Nefeli is throwing a sheet over the stone balustrade of the balcony to air. Savvas is grateful that in this moment, the sheet is not wet and clinging to her. The sight of her attending to her domestic duties, even though it is a commonplace, trivial thing, makes the heat in his cheeks rise.
‘I have seen how quickly a man can fall,’ Maria says and her gaze, which is now on him, seems to see right into every thought he has ever had. Her penetrating look creates flashing images in his head of his mama spreading him in a crucifix position on the cold floor as a punishment. He forces himself into composure.
‘Maria, please do not play games with me. If you have something to say, then say it.’ His guilt twists into anger.
‘What did they tell you about your predecessor?’ Her voice is low so it does not carry, but Savvas looks around the square anyway.
‘He was a good man,’ he retorts, as if this is the end of the conversation. But his words do not sound convincing.
‘Men are good till they fall. I suppose they told you he died of a heart attack?’
It would be wisest to stop this conversation right now, but his curiosity is too strong. She ‘tuts’ and lifts her chin, rolling her eyes, a Greek ‘No! ’ ‘He did not die of a heart attack.’
Savvas’ limbs tense rigid, waiting for her to say more. He cannot ask her, that would be tantamount to encouraging gossip, and it would admit that she has power, and knowledge that he wants it. It would most definitely imply his
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