Read Online The Years That Followed by Catherine Dunne - Free Book Online

only a little later than normal—careful, always careful not to arouse her mother’s suspicions.
    Each time Calista calls him, the words that Alexandros speaks so softly, so insistently, make the whole world tilt. Calista no longer recognizes herself. Sometimes she forgets where she is, forgets what Alexandros looks like. His voice is enough.
    Her mother thinks that she has had a change of heart about her exams, that this last-minute fever of seeming conscientiousness has been ignited by a sudden desire to do well. Calista feels no guilt about feeding this continuing deception; she feels only defiance, mixed with a sense of elation, that the term of her imprisonment at home is coming to an end. Freedom beckons. Freedom and Alexandros.
    â€œMeet me,” he says. He’s been urging Calista for days. Alexandrosdoes not understand why she has not come to him, and Calista can sense his growing impatience. She is afraid—afraid that he will lose interest, that he will stop pursuing her unless she gives him something to pursue.
    â€œSaturday,” she says suddenly. “I can get away next Saturday, but it will have to be in the morning.”
    He laughs, that soft laugh that Calista will come to know so well. “As early as you like,” he said. “The time of day makes no difference.”
    â€œWhere will we meet?”
    He gives her an address off Palmerston Road, right in the heart of the most fashionable part of Dublin.
    â€œTake a taxi,” he says. “That way, it’s more private.”
    â€œBut I’ve no money,” she says, dismayed. Calista senses rather than hears his laughter this time. She is glad he can’t see her. Suddenly she feels very young; misgivings are tugging at her underneath the excited thumping of her heart.
    â€œCome for ten o’clock,” he says. “I’ll be waiting, and I’ll pay the taxi man.”
    â€œAll right,” Calista says. Ten is good. María-Luisa plays tennis on Saturdays, leaving the house around nine.
    It is as though Alexandros senses her sudden doubt. “I can’t wait to see you,” he says. “I’ve thought of nothing else since I met you.”
    Calista hangs up as though the receiver has burned her. She is glad no one can see her face, that no one knows the reason for the sudden heat she feels, the flush that is only partly guilt.
    * * *
    María-Luisa takes forever to get ready on Saturday morning.
    â€œWon’t you be late?” Calista asks, taking the plate of scrambled eggs that Maggie is handing her. She is pleased that her voice sounds so calm: polite, not really all that interested.
    â€œMarilyn has telephoned to say she will be half an hour late today,” María-Luisa says. The disapproval in her voice is eloquent. Calista waits to hear her mother say all that she has said so many times before. That sometimes the Irish have no breeding. That punctuality is a virtue. That one must never make commitments one cannot see through. María-Luisa expects things to be as they should. She sees no reason why an external event should have an impact on anyone’s life.She turns to Maggie. “Have lunch ready for one thirty, Maggie, instead of one. There will just be the three of us: Mr. Timothy is at the office.”
    Calista seizes her opportunity. “I’m going to the library at school. They’re opening on Saturdays between now and the exams. Miss Holroyd is giving an extra class in essay writing.” She stops. Best not to over-egg the pudding.
    Her mother smiles. “Very well. Fluency of expression is impor­tant.” She nods. “Maggie will keep something for you if you are late. I think your brother is having a good effect on you.” She bends down, takes Calista’s chin in her hand, and kisses her daughter on the forehead. “A little learning is no burden for a woman to carry.”
    Calista watches as her mother’s Ford