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

pulls out of the driveway. She leaps to her feet. Maggie is watching her from the doorway.
    â€œLibrary?” she says, grinning. She is wiping her hands on her ever-­present, ever-grubby pinny. Another bone of contention between her and María-Luisa. But Maggie is sly enough not to invite confrontation: each time she serves at table, she dons a new, spotless apron, its stiff, square folds still visible from having been recently ironed.
    â€œExcuse me, Maggie,” Calista says, annoyed. “Can you please get out of my way?” She leaves the dining room, taking the stairs two at a time.
    When she reaches the landing, Maggie’s Longford voice rings clear and true from the hallway below: “Library me arse,” she calls.
    * * *
    He is waiting. Alexandros is waiting. Calista is filled with an anticipation that energizes her, makes her feel alert and awake and alive.
    He is very proper as he helps her out of the taxi. “Thank you,” he says to the driver. “You are right on time. It is good to know that my sister has been in such good hands,” and he tips the taxi man generously.
    Calista steals a sideways glance at him as he leans through the window of the car, one arm carelessly resting on the roof. It is true: they could be brother and sister. The same dark coloring, the height, even the elegance. Alexandros’s clothes are right up to the minute: his dark trousers, white shirt, narrow tie. Calista can see his powerful shoulders, muscles rippling beneath the white fabric. “Tennis,” he’d said that day at lunch, in answer to María-Luisa’s question. “I like to play tennis in my spare time.” And the laughter when he’d spread his hands wide, indicating innocence. “I have no vices,” he said. “I am a good Cypriot boy.”
    â€œBoy?” boomed Timothy. “You call yourself a boy at thirty?”
    And Alexandros had shrugged, the smile never leaving his eyes. “I am the boy of my family, sir—with three brothers older than I, I am simply the apprentice.”
    That day, María-Luisa’s eyes had lit up as Alexandros described the reach and extent of his family business: Petros’s shipping company was tightening its embrace around Europe, conquering smaller enterprises, swallowing them whole as it advanced. And all the while, Alexandros’s knee was pressed against Calista’s, and she tried to keep the white heat of his flesh from showing on her face.
    Alexandros leads Calista up the stone steps now towards the entrance to the building. He pushes the door open and flourishes Calista into the hallway with one hand. My territory , he seems to be saying. Welcome to my territory.
    His first kiss bruises her. His hand, grasping its way under her blouse, makes Calista push him away at first. “Stop!” she says. The strength of her own voice startles her.
    Suddenly, he understands. “You’ve never been with a man before,” he says. It is not a question.
    Calista looks at him, indignant. “I’m only seventeen,” she says. “Of course I have not been with a man before. What kind of girl do you think I am?”
    Alexandros kisses the inside of her wrist, gently. “That is nice,” he says. “I am glad that you have chosen me for your first time.” He murmurs endearments she can barely hear over the singing of her blood. His green eyes are brimming. “It is an honor.”
    Has she chosen him? Is that what this is? Is this how people make choices? Calista begins to panic. All at once, she is not sure that she wants to happen whatever it is that is already happening. Alexandros is tugging impatiently at her clothes. Alexandros is silencing her with his kisses. And it seems that Alexandros is the one to have chosen her, and that she is somehow powerless to resist.
    Calista cries out when he pushes his way inside her at last. Alexandros thinks it is with