Waiting
When he opened his eyes, he drew in awed breath. He was in a world he had never known.
The gray rock that jutted along side hardy but spindly trees was mirrored in the silver water. Islands in the middle of the lake looked like the sloping shoulders of sleeping giants. The sun was barely up but that still did not diminish the beauty around him. He turned to his lover. She looked back at him, her smile lighting up her girlish face.
"This is home."
Luka sat up.
"You were born here?"
"No," Ceila replied softly. "I was born in Ottawa. But this place is important to me."
She waited for Luka to recollect.
"Don't you remember? This place is the seed-ground of my people. A little more than a hundred years before my forefather came to this country, my foremother roamed this land - when it was still her people's land."
Luka tried to remember what Ceila had told him when they lay together long ago but couldn't. While she rambled about the beauty of Georgian Bay and what it meant to her, all he could focus on was her skin and how flawless the patch of skin just below her shoulder bone was. He was snapped from his reverie by her ardent declaration of Luka, let's go there. It was a shadow of a memory made sharp only by her voice and her skin.
"Yes," he lied. "Of course."
Ceila grinned. She patted his lap.
"I knew you would like it."
She drove down the gravel road and turned right.
"We'll be on paved road in a few minutes," she promised.
Luka nodded and still looked out the window, transfixed by all that was around him.
"Good," he breathed.
His eyes never lifted from the rough rock or the trees that looked down on them.
He enjoyed the silence for that.
"Ceila?"
She didn't lift her eyes from the road.
"Yes?"
"You have to tell me more about this place," he asked, slouching in the passenger seat.
"Oh," Ceila nodded. "Well, this is a cottage overlooking the lake. My friend- who works in Toronto- comes down with his wife and..."
"No, no!" he laughed. "The history of the place!"
Ceila now understood.
"I told you before."
His eyes were locked on a glade of tall trees.
"Tell me again," he requested monotonously.
Ceila nodded, her hands gripping the wheel through the twists and turns.
"Well, over three hundred years ago," she began, "this all used to be untouched land. Only the Wendat -or Huron, as they were known- and the Iroquois lived here. The French came here for trading and that, and brought with them missionaries. My foremother was born just over five kilometers from here, where the old mission used to stand. Her father was French and her mother was Huron. Not too liked by most people. You never intermarried way back when."
Ceila turned over a bend.
"She was a convert and the missionaries saw her as a great opportunity to show how the French and the Huron could blend together."
"They used her?" Luka gaped incredulously.
Ceila took offense to that.
"No! Certainly no more than she wanted to be used. Imagine your parents are from the opposite ends of the ethnic divide."
Luka thought of Miran. He knew about that.
"She was abandoned," Ceila explained. "The missionaries looked after her. They looked after more people than what others like to admit."
Ceila slowed to a cottage at a fork of the lake and the trees.
"Anyway, in 1649, the Iroquois attacked, killing virtually anything that moved. My foremother survived but they really worked her over."
Luka sat up.
"So what happened to her?"
Ceila was not prepared for that question.
"Just went on living, I guess. I mean- they burned out her tongue and everything but I guess the rest of her was still functional."
Luka, his eyes bulging, asked no more questions. However her ancestors may have survived, they did so at a great cost and he did not wish to further delve into the subject.
Ceila pulled to the side of road and stopped the car.
"This is it," she indicated to a cottage on the right.
Luka got out of the car and looked the cottage over. It was a simple abode, removed from the other cabins that dotted the lakeshore. It was a burnished brown colour with faded cornices and a porch for sitting on and looking at the lake.
Ceila put her hand in the standing mailbox and rummaged around for the cottage key. She produced it with a beaming grin and skipped to the front door. She nudged the door open and swung her arm in a grand gesture.
"Voilà!" she cried.
Luka smiled at her and entered the cottage. It reminded him a little of the homestead in Šibenik. The furnishings were simple, even dated, but they were not meant for style. The real beauty lay outside.
"Do you like it?" Ceila asked.
Luka turned to her, smiling.
"It's perfect."
She grinned like an excited school girl. She skipped out the front door to the dock overlooking the lake. Luka followed her at a distance. Ceila stretched her arms and let out a great laugh. Luka laughed a little, too. There was something to be mirthful about at last.
Evening set in gradually like a dark violet haze over the forested horizon. The two had settled down to a quiet supper. Ceila's supper was simple. Luka would barely admit to himself that Ceila wasn't the best cook but she was passable. She did try, if only to please.
Ceila placed the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink and ran hot water over them.
Luka listened to all of this. He did not want to move from the table or even think, only to be.
"Luka?"
He was jarred from his idleness.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Tea?" Ceila cheerfully offered.
"Yeah," Luka nodded. "Thank you."
Luka stiffly rose from the table and wandered out to the porch. He sat on an old wicker chair, taking care to move a ratty plaid blanket from under him. In the dimming light he watched the lake ripple from the sporadic movement of loons and water insects. He remembered the homestead in Šibenik. The water came in gentle waves that diminished with the movement of heavy tides. Gulls would squawk and during the May festival he could hear the fire crackers go off in town.
"Luka?"
Ceila presented a cup of tea to him.
"Thank you," he said.
Ceila smiled and sat beside him.
"You like it here."
Luka smiled back.
"Yes."
He placed his hand on her knee.
"Thank you for bringing me here. I love this place."
She was glad.
"I knew you would."
Ceila looked out on the water.
"The sun is going down later and later," she noted.
"What time is it now?" Luka asked.
She craned her neck to see the clock on the mantle piece.
"Five after nine."
She leaned forward on her seat with her tea.
"I like moments like this when it's quiet," she said, "times when you can only hear the water and some bugs buzzing about."
She pointed to the bright lights in the sky.
"You can see the stars here. Not so much in the city."
Luka looked up as well.
"When we were little, my brother and I used to sneak out in the summer to the furthest end of our grandfather's orchard and point to each of the constellations."
Hepointed to one.
"Andromeda."
Ceila tilted her head and searched for it.
"Where?"
Luka pointed at each star.
"There," he said.
She shook her head.
"I can't make anything out."
"You have to use your imagination a little," he coaxed.
Ceila groaned.
"Oh! I can't see this thing! I'll take your word for it!"
Luka laughed a little as well.
"I suppose you have to do this a little more."
Ceila locked her fingers together.
"I guess you have."
Luka leaned back in his chair and sipped his tea.
"Yeah."
Ceila swished her hand at bugs buzzing in front of her face. She stood up and turned the fly-catcher on.
"I hate it when bugs get right in your face," she complained.
She sat back down and the two enjoyed a comfortable bout of silence. They watched the water ripple with the faint light from the fly-catcher to guide them.
Luka sipped his tea again.
"Malina, tell me something."
"Yes?"
He leaned back in his chair.
"Remember the time when you overturned the car?"
Ceila's brow furrowed.
"Why do you keep bringing that up?"
Luka shrugged.
"I just do."
He sipped his tea again.
"How did you come to be all wet?"
Ceila smiled wryly.
"Why do you want to know?"
He returned her sultry gaze.
"I just do."
Ceila thought for a second.
"I don't know if you have an expression like this in Croatian." She thought hard for a second. "Plivati bez rublje," she answered in an unsure tongue. "Is that right? Swimming? Wearing nothing at all?"
Luka laughed with a blush rising to his face.
"O-kay!"
He looked at her once more with sultry, inviting eyes.
"You're bad, Student Nurse Kowalski."
She returned his look. She then put her gaze low, rose from her seat and walked toward the water. Luka looked on as she did this. She stopped walking once she got to the water's edge.
The only visible lights were the fly-catcher on the porch, the light over the kitchen sink and the moon hiding behind intermittent clouds.
Ceila crouched in front of the lake. There was a spirit in the water. It lapped on the gravelly shore.
Luka looked at Ceila. She was happy here, he thought. Happier than he had ever seen her.
Ceila rose, removed her t-shirt and walked into the water.
Luka followed her.
Luka still had his watch on. It was nearly six in the morning. The sun crept up over the trees and coloured the sky a calm butbleak hue. Ceila fell asleep ages ago and was asleep still. Luka was happy for it. Her black hair mingled with rough shoots of grass. Luka covered her with his portion of the blanket he had taken from the porch and got dressed. He looked at the water. It was calm, not lapping on the shore as it had done last night. The sun was still rising and it was mirrored on the water's surface.
In the distance, a dog barked. It startled Luka who thought they had the lakefront to themselves. The dog, seeing it had company, playfully jaunted to Luka, jumped on him and licked his face. The owner was not far behind.
Luka poked Ceila in the arm to stir her.
"Ceila, get up!"
The dog was still jumping on him and licking his face. Its owner was calling after it.
Luka poked Ceila again.
"Get up!" he cried. "Someone's coming!"
Ceila stirred, still drowsy and unaware.
"What?" she muttered.
"Someone is coming!" Luka cried.
Ceila looked at him and the dog.
"Where did you get that dog?" she asked.
Luka pointed at an approaching woman.
"From her."
A woman in red track pants and an old cardigan finally caught up with her dog. She pulled on its collar.
"Scamper, over here!"
She impatiently brushed back sunny brown curls and pulled her dog away from Luka.
"I'm so sorry," she apologised quickly.
She caught sight of Ceila barely under the blanket.
"Oh... I'm really sorry," she apologised profusely.
Luka, likewise, looked embarrassed.
Ceila turned from the woman and Luka and discreetly put her clothes on under the flimsy protection of the blanket.
"I didn't realise you were otherwise occupied," the woman said.
Luka offered an awkward smile as if to apologise.
"We were...sleeping," Luka explained.
The woman nodded.
"Sorry about my dog," she said once more.
Luka now petted the dog.
"No. Don't worry about it. I like dogs."
The woman sought to break the awkwardness.
"Do you live here?" she asked.
Ceila, now dressed, rose.
"No," she answered. "We're staying at a friend's cottage."
The woman seemed intrigued.
"So you're not regulars to cottage country?"
Ceila shook her head a little.
"He isn't," Ceila indicated to Luka, "but I know the area well."
The woman smiled.
"Oh really? Well, my husband and I live up here," she pointed beyond the tree-line.
She extended her hand to Ceila.
"Simone."
Ceila nodded and extended her hand as well.
"Ceila," she said politely. "This is Luka."
Simone smiled back.
"Well, sorry to bother you," she mumbled and turned away.
Simone stopped.
"I feel bad..." she started. "About..."
Ceila and Luka looked at bit uneasy about their former state of undress.
"Never mind," Ceila offered quickly.
"Hey!" Simone called out. "You're staying here, right? At Peter's place?"
Ceila nodded.
"Yes. You know him?"
Simone nodded.
"My husband does. He goes sailing with him whenever they're up and about."
Ceila nodded.
"Why don't you join us for breakfast?" Simone offered. "We're having pancakes."
Ceila tried to politely refuse.
"Oh no. I wouldn't want to trouble you..."
She paused and spun around to Luka.
Luka shrugged.
Pancakes seemed like a good idea.
Ceila smiled.
"Thank you," she answered. "Pancakes would be lovely."
Simone smiled.
"Great! See you in an hour. Our place is just down the way."
Ceila and Luka waved as Simone and Scamper made their way back to their cottage.
Ceila brushed her hand through her hair.
"That was nice of her."
Luka shoved his hands in his pockets.
"You should be naked on the beach more often."
Ceila swatted him playfully and they ambled back to the cottage.
It was early yet but the sun had completely risen, marking the second day in what Ceila had cryptically called the seed-ground of her people.
Ceila and Luka took a shower before heading off to Simone's cottage for pancakes, having slept in less than the clothes they had worn the night before.
Ceila knocked on the cottage's screen door gingerly.
"Hello!"
Simone, seeing it was them, wiped her hands on a towel and allowed them in.
"Come on in!"
She led Ceila and Luka past a play-pen to the kitchen table and had them take a seat.
"It's really nice of you to invite us. Thank you," Ceila thanked Simone.
"Yes, thank you," Luka politely added.
Simone smiled.
"No bother," she chirped. "It's always good to see new faces at the cottage. And any friend of Peter's will automatically become a friend of ours sooner or later, any way, so this was a pre-emptive move."
Ceila cocked her head.
"I'm glad we beat you to the punch!"
Simone fiddled at the stove.
"I aim to please."
Ceila nodded. She tapped her fingers against the table.
"I'm not entirely new, you know," Ceila returned. "I do know the area."
Simone looked a little perplexed.
"I know Peter but I've never seen you around."
Ceila joined her fingers together.
"I've been lurking about every now and again. Camping out under the stars."
Simone smirked.
"You're a hippy!"
Ceila smirked.
"Yep. That's me!"
Luka listened to their conversation. Once again, he was struck by Ceila's ease with life. She could do anything, talk to anyone. He felt conscious about his own inability to be free around people, to be alive. After all the months he spent with Ceila, he still felt this way. It made him feel small.
"Luka?"
Ceila had a soft expression on her face.
"Simone asked you a question."
Luka felt embarrassed that he had been caught unawares.
Simone only smiled at Luka's inattentiveness.
"Lost in space, eh, Luka?"
He smiled warily.
"Where are you from, Luka?" Simone asked again.
"Croatia," he answered. "Šibenik."
Simone tried to mentally process what she had been told.
"That's near Zagreb, right?"
Luka smiled. "It's about five hours away."
Simone indicated a small space with her fingers.
"I was close."
She pointed a fork at him, as if to affirm her general knowledge.
"Right across the way from Italy!"
Luka nodded.
"Yes."
Simone smiled in a self-satisfied way.
"Aha! Not so out of the loop!"
Simone returned to her hot stove and finished cooking the pancakes.
Ceila looked around.
"Isn't your husband joining us?"
Simone placed a pancake on a platter and smiled.
"He's looking after the baby. Our Rourke, he's an early riser."
Ceila was keen on what Simone was saying.
"How old is he?"
"Nearly a year old," Simone answered.
She placed another pancake on the platter.
"Do you two have any children?" she asked.
Neither of them spoke, shifting weight on their shoulders and darting their eyes about.
Simone ignored the question, as they had done.
"What do you do?" she asked Luka.
Luka smiled quietly to himself.
"Nothing right now."
"He's looking for a change of place," Ceila added.
Simone was intrigued.
"From?" she asked.
"He's an emergency room doctor," Ceila explained.
Simone couldn't help but laugh.
"You're a doctor and you're looking for a new place?"
Luka shrugged.
"It was time to move on from my old place," he said and looked at Ceila.
Ceila smiled at him. She now looked at Simone.
"We're free spirits."
Simone nodded and placed the platter of pancakes before them.
"I can see that."
She sat before them.
"Tuck in, please."
Ceila helped herself to the pancakes but Luka seemed hesitant. He was unused to the informality even after all the years living in North America.
"Not hungry, Luka?" Simone asked. "You don't look like you eat enough."
Luka, feeling, out-of-sorts, now helped himself to some pancakes.
Ceila chewed her way through the first pancake.
"These are good."
She pointed a fork at Simone.
"You know who makes fantastic French toast? Luka!"
Luka was embarrassed.
"Uh, no."
"Yes," Ceila nodded. "You two should have, like, a recipe exchange or something."
Simone supposed so but kept light about Ceila's sudden bubbliness.
She sat down.
"So, if you two aren't gainfully employed or anything, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be doing something...?"
Luka and Ceila waited for Simone to finish her sentence.
"Useful?" she finally proffered.
Ceila put down her fork and Simone wondered if she had offended her.
"We have to change our lives," Ceila said. "We had been planning to come down here for a while now but things changed."
"What things?" Simone asked.
Ceila resumed her eating.
"Things."
Simone eased off. Neither of them, it seemed, wanted to talk. She would have to be content with their aura of pleasantness.
It was officially morning now that the rest of the cottagers had emerged from the cozy recesses of their vacation homes to the outdoors. Ceila observed them from the veranda of Simone's cottage. She put her tea mug on the armrest of the chair she was sitting in.
Simone sat in a chair next to her.
Ceila acknowledged her with a smile.
"Need some company?" Simone offered.
Ceila nodded.
"Sure."
She sat upright.
"Look- sorry about before. It wasn't like we were deliberately being cagey," Ceila tried to explain. "It's ..."
She fidgeted in her seat.
"It's kind of hard for Luka and me to open up sometimes. Especially now."
Simone raised a curious brow.
"Why now as opposed to any other time?"
"Well," Ceila explained, "we've had quite a go of things and there have been some sudden changes, things that make other stuff uncertain. It's not too important for you but my point is, I wasn't trying to be rude, nor was Luka. He's not like that."
Simone waved her hand at Ceila.
"No, no. It's up to you to be as open as you want. I'm not offended."
Ceila nodded. She felt a little more at ease knowing that Simone was not slighted by her former aloofness. She leaned back in her chair.
"Where's Luka?" she asked.
"With my husband," Simone answered.
She craned her head to see them out the side window.
"They're getting along famously."
Ceila smiled and sipped her tea.
"Well, that'sLuka. He has a way about him."
Ceila locked her eyes on the water. It waved about gently, swirling in little circles under the bright sun. She was mesmerized by it.
"Can I ask you something, Simone?"
Simone put her hands together.
"What about your husband makes you love him?"
She swiveled her head to Simone.
"If you don't mind my asking."
Simone once again set her at ease.
"No, not at all."
She thought for a second.
"He's...Eric!" Simone chirped. "He's fun to be with, he's dependable, and he's great with kids!"
Simone tried to look into Ceila's eyes.
"What about Dr. Feelgood makes you feel good?"
Ceila smiled quietly to herself.
"Well, he's fun to be with, he's dependable, and he's great with kids!"
Simone laughed.
"That's all the men we like!"
Ceila stopped smiling and returned her gaze to the water.
"There's something about Luka. It's under the surface but I know it's there. He hides things from people, but I can see. A twitch of his eyes. A set jaw. The way he breathes. He feels things. He makes people feel things."
Simone leaned closer to Ceila.
"These are impressions, Ceila."
Ceila did not look at her.
"They are," she conceded, "but they stay with you."
She looked at Simone now.
"It's not just his presence, Simone. It's him. He would lay himself in the line of fire - and he has done - and I would do the same for him."
Simone drew in sharp breath.
"That's extreme, Ceila. Do you really feel that way about him?"
Ceila nodded and drew her knees up to her body.
"I wanted Luka to see this place because it's important to me. My ancestor lived here. No one knows how important this place is to me except my uncle and him. I trust him so completely that I could share this with him."
Simone leaned forward, changing her view from Ceila to the water.
"That's good you can do that."
"And here, you can be away from the bullshit and the other stuff that complicates things when you're out in the bigger world," Ceila said.
"Yeah, I feel that way sometimes," Simone agreed, and sipped her tea. "Is there anything else about Luka you love other than his taking a bullet for you or anything?"
Ceila grinned.
"You mean aside from his generosity and his love for all creatures great and small and the kids and fixing the front step and that?"
Simone nodded.
"Something like that, yeah."
Ceila shook her head.
"I think that's it."
They laughed.
Simone turned her head at the sound of a small cry.
"I think someone wants to be picked up."
She excused herself and went into the living room, returning with her infant son in her arms. He squirmed and fussed with her hair.
Ceila moved closer to them.
"Is this your little man?"
Simone nodded proudly.
"One of them."
Ceila extended her arms outward.
"Can I hold him?"
Simone handed Rourke over to Ceila. He fidgeted in Ceila's arms but she only laughed.
"This looks like practice," Simone observed.
She stared at Ceila more intently.
"Is it?"
Ceila adjusted Rourke's shirt.
"I've been waiting for the right time."
"There's no better time than now," Simone said.
Ceila handed the fidgety Rourke back to his mother.
"I suppose so."
She touched Rourke's head once and looked for Luka out the side window.
"Luka's a good man," Ceila said. "He would stay if I asked him and go if I begged him."
Simone re-adjusted Rourke on her knee.
"He should just be sure he stays for the right reason and not because he thinks he should," Ceila said softly.
Simone put her hand on Ceila's shoulder.
"I think you're being paranoid."
She looked at Luka as well.
"If he is the man you said he is, then there is no reason to worry. You shouldn't be plagued with doubt."
Ceila nodded slowly.
"I know."
She swallowed hard.
"I know..."
Luka stayed along the lakefront while Simone and Eric prepared a light lunch of salmon and a salad. He skipped stones along the water. He stopped when he heard Ceila approach him.
Ceila smiled and covered her eyes to keep out the glare of the sun.
"Hey!"
Luka smiled back.
Ceila now put her hands on her hips.
"Eric tells me you might go out on his boat."
Luka nodded.
"If the weather is good, we might."
He bent over and picked up a smooth black stone.
"Did you want to come?"
Ceila shook her head.
"Nah. Not my thing, really."
Luka still examined the stone.
"Yeah."
He now looked at her. His eyes were clear and serious.
"Malina, is there something you want to say to me?"
Ceila was caught. He knew her. She could hide nothing from him.
"There was always something in the way before but now there is nothing," he pointed out.
Ceila stepped closer to him.
"Do you love me?"
His brow furrowed.
"Yes. You know I do. Why do you ask this?"
She touched his face.
"I only want to know, just to be sure. I mean- really sure."
Luka shook his head.
"You're always confident, Malina. You shouldn't be scared."
He had confidence in her, she thought. But he always had.
Ceila folded her hands.
"I'm two months pregnant."
Luka's jaw dropped. He said nothing.
Ceila stepped back. Was he disappointed?
Luka flung his head back and laughed. He picked Ceila up and swung her off her feet.
"Oh Malina!"
He stopped swinging her and cupped her face in his hands.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He became suddenly downcast.
"You were going to leave without telling me."
She bowed her head.
"I wanted to tell you so many times, even before the flight but you never came and ..." She wrung her hands. "Luka, you're a stand-up guy! You always have been! People know that and used you for it and... I didn't want you to think you should stay. Only that you wanted to..."
Luka was disappointed.
"Don't judge me like that! I would stay because I wanted to be with my child and with you! Didn't you believe that?"
Ceila nodded.
"I wanted to be sure."
She bowed her head.
"I did try before...when you were laid up after McAllister..."
Luka drew her to him and embraced her.
"I know. Don't try to explain..."
He placed his hand on her belly. He laughed a little.
"It's been a while."
Ceila put her hand on his.
"I know."
She swallowed.
"You know we have to get a house and find jobs and, for me, anyway, finish my schooling."
"Little things," Luka murmured.
Ceila shifted her weight from one foot to another.
"Well, this little thing will be a big thing in a few months."
Luka said nothing but planted his lips on her forehead.
"It will work out. I promise."
The tension Ceila had in her shoulders disappeared. There was no more fear.
Luka and Ceila sat next to one another at lunch time. They had retained their former quietness as well the penchant for conversation, something their hosts became at ease with.
Simone had sensed that something had been resolved. They were absorbed by the advent of new things.
"Won't be staying long, will you?" she casually asked.
Luka sipped the white wine he was offered.
"No. There's somewhere we have to be."
"On my boat?" Eric quizzed.
Luka laughed a little.
"Yeah, that, too!" Luka laughed. "But some other places."
He reached for Ceila's hand under the table.
"We're settling somewhere."
Eric nodded.
"Great. You'll let us know when you get there, right?"
Ceila nodded, squeezing Luka's hand.
"Sure will."
He longed to show her the beauty of his homeland. The cypress trees, the sharp peaks on the mountains, the rolling hills, the white walls of the churches and the antiquated stone roads where the Romans once trod. It wasn't quite like the beauty of her homeland but she glowed at everything he showed her.
They stayed at a bed and breakfast not far from the water. Next day they would journey to the homestead outside of Šibenik where his parents lived.
They lay together in bed. Despite having a long day ahead of them tomorrow, they stayed awake, thoughts of what else to do in Croatia and of the baby occupying them.
The lights in the room were dimmed.
Luka held Ceila to him.
"There are places where we can go rafting."
Ceila patted her belly.
"I'd like that but I'll wait until after the baby is born."
She smiled.
"Wouldn't it be great to take the baby camping with us?"
Luka blanched at the thought.
"No! We can't let the baby do that. We must keep the baby safe."
Ceila nuzzled Luka's shoulder.
"Oh, Luka! We're just camping, not jumping out of a plane. It will be alright."
He shook his head.
"No. I don't want to take any risks."
"Luka," she reasoned, "I used to go camping and sledding when I was a kid. I've done more dangerous things before I was twenty and I'm still alive."
Luka moved away.
"I'd like the baby to stay alive."
He rolled up onto his side of the bed and pulled the covers to his chin.
"We have a big day ahead of us. Let's get some sleep."
Ceila, feeling the cold of his remove, likewise pulled the covers around her and tried to sleep.
There was more to see the next day and the baby still did not have a name.
It was another sunny day. The top of the car was down. The wind caught Ceila's hair, sending it flying and waving through the air. Luka laughed. He found it funny.
"Luka, where exactly are we going?" Ceila asked.
"Šibenik," he answered. "At least, a place outside there. I was born there, you know."
She nodded.
"I know. I've even seen a picture of baby Luka, remember? Who are we going to meet?"
"My family," he replied.
She smirked a little.
"Yeah, I know that, but whom? Like your mum and dad? Any aunts and uncles? Who?"
"My mother and father," he answered.
His mood became a less jovial. He bit the inside of his cheek.
"They are very traditional. We must be careful what we say and do."
He looked at the tattoo on her arm.
"Do you have a sweater or something? I don't think they will like that."
Ceila frowned a little and reached into the backseat for a pullover.
He kept his eyes on the winding road.
"There is someone else there- their grandson."
Ceila looked at him and smiled.
"Your nephew!" She clapped her hands. "I've wanted to meet your family for the longest time..."
He gripped the steering wheel harder, never taking his eyes off the road.
"He is my son."
Ceila pressed her hands into her lap and looked away from Luka.
He swallowed.
"I can't tell you everything but just know that when things were bad, he saved me."
Ceila squared her jaw.
"You could have told me, Luka! I'm not going to judge you."
He didn't believe her.
"Oh really?"
She huffed.
"Yeah! If I were going to do that, I would have done so already!"
Silence. Spaces filling with anger and impatience.
Luka squared his jaw.
"You were going to leave without telling me about the baby!"
"I was waiting for the right time!" Ceila snapped back. "And this shit is completely different!"
"Is it?" Luka bounced back.
"Yeah, Luka!" she returned. "How long have I known you? When did you ever mention this son who saved you? Hhmm? It's not like I would have branded you or anything!"
She huffed.
"Luka, if you have anything to tell me, just do it!" she demanded. "You should know by now you can trust me, and I would certainly appreciate getting prior knowledge of some things rather than finding out at the last minute!"
He would not let that pass.
"There are things you don't say to me," he retorted. "Things you can't say..."
She swiveled her head to him.
"Don't you dare!"
He stopped, realising his near-mistake.
"I'm sorry."
Ceila said nothing. She tied back her hair and let Luka drive in peace.
The road forked in three directions. One road led to the sea. The other would take one beyond Šibenik. The third fork led to the homestead. It was tucked behind apple trees and swaying grass.
They'd forgotten about their previous anger. Ceila, her temper having gotten the better of her, was now calm and spoke intermittently of how nice the scenery was and how she longed to finally meet some of Luka's relatives. Luka concurred. Their conversation was polite and sparse, the past hurts still stinging.
The homestead was just up ahead. Luka slowed the car into the drive. As Luka pulled up, four dogs jumped on either door of the car- a St. Bernard, a German Shepherd, a Siberian husky and an Irish Setter (the Dalmatian puppy wasn't at home). Ceila reached for one such dog and it licked her hand compulsively. When she got out, the Irish Setter jumped on her. Luka scolded the dog and told it to get off of her.
"That's okay, Luka," she said. "I like dogs. You know that."
"You won't like it when this dog jumps into bed with you!" he warned.
Ceila knew dogs were friendly but not that friendly!
The front door swung open. A tall woman emerged from the shade of the porch. She covered her eyes from the sun.
"Luka!" she cried out.
Luka leaned against the car, smiling as he did so.
"Mama!"
The woman ran from the porch and hugged Luka.
"Oh my little boy!" she cried.
It made Ceila laugh to think that Luka, who towered over everyone, was little.
When his mother pulled away, she looked Luka over, examining him for change in height or mass, or any little change.
"You look good, Luka," she noted. "You must be eating well."
Luka nodded.
"I'm okay, Mama."
He put his arm around his mother.
"Mama, this is Ceila. Remember- I told you about her before."
The woman nodded carefully, almost taken aback by the sight of Ceila.
"Oh yes!"
She grasped Ceila's hands in hers.
"It is good to meet you."
She held Ceila's chin carefully in her hands and smiled softly as she looked at the girl's face.
"My!" she gasped and released her gentle caress of Ceila's face.
"Aren't you pretty!"
She now reached for Luka's hand and pulled the couple toward the house.
"Now you must tell me why you are both here!"
She looked especially on her son.
"Luka, your father isn't home but when he is, he will be so happy. He's asked about you. Miran, too."
She turned her head to Ceila.
"Miran is my grandson," she explained.
Ceila nodded.
"Yes, so I've heard."
Luka felt embarrassed. He did not look at Ceila.
"Inside quickly," she ordered. "The sun is out and it's too strong."
She held the door open for Luka and Ceila and then called the dogs in.
"They're thirsty, too," she explained to Ceila.
Ceila nodded.
Naturally, the dogs would be thirsty.
Rujan Kovac was a lovely woman, in more ways than one. Tall and angular, she bore an expression of pride that did not exclude friendliness. Her black eyes always gleamed. She tied her graying black hair back into a braid or a roll. After giving bowls of water to the big dogs, she poured cold fruit tea for Luka and Ceila. She never stopped talking.
"Your uncle Pasko has taken up with another woman - half his age, too," Rujan said as she poured herself a glass of fruit tea. "I really don't know why anyone bothers to say anything because it's obvious he has no shame. He had the audacity to ask the boys over for summer and Matja had the good sense to say no. It's one thing to ask his own grandsons over but to ask my grandsons over! Never!"
She sat at the table where Luka and Ceila were sitting.
"Are you on holiday, Luka?" she asked. "You never told me why you are here."
Luka chuckled.
"You never stopped talking, Mama."
She sipped her tea.
"I've stopped now."
She reached over and touched Ceila's hand.
"You must listen! Luka has always told stories."
"It's not a story," Ceila told her.
Rujan was taken aback.
"Oh?"
Just then, Zdeslav and Miran walked in. Zdeslav gaped at seeing his youngest son. Miran was holding a Dalmatian puppy. He thrust the dog into his grandfather's hands, ran to his father and threw his arms around him.
"Tata!"
Luka could see how the boy had grown. Soon he would nearly be as tall as his father.
Miran locked his big indigo eyes on Ceila.
"Hello!"
Ceila grinned.
"You must be Miran!"
Luka whispered into Miran's ear.
"She's from Canada."
His eyes lit up when he heard she was from Canada.
Rujan took the Dalmatian puppy from her husband and gave it to Miran.
"Go on a walk with our guest and take the pride of our province with you."
Miran held the puppy in one arm and took Ceila's hand.
"Come. We have to walk the new puppy."
He smiled broadly at her.
"Puppies are like babies but in dog form," Miran explained.
Rujan clucked her tongue.
"Puppies are like babies! That's silly!"
Miran was quite serious.
"But they are, Baba. Dogs are God's way of showing us He loves us, just like sunshine and Easter candy."
Ceila laughed.
"I bet they are! Let's go."
Miran, glad at finding someone who agreed with him, walked out with his guest into the hot sun.
Zdeslav sat across from Luka, scratching the head of the St. Bernard.
"We weren't expecting you, Luka."
Rujan poured her husband a glass of fruit tea.
"He was just going to tell us why he's here."
Zdeslav and Rujan waited for Luka to answer.
Luka's eyes darted back-and-forth.
He would have to tell them.
"I don't work at the hospital anymore," he slowly revealed.
His parents were puzzled.
"Why? What happened?"
Luka shook his head.
"I left because I wanted to."
He looked at Ceila walking with Miran through the sheer curtain.
"Ceila- I want her to be my wife."
Rujan gasped and clapped her hands together.
"Oh Luka!"
Zdeslav was happy.
"You've asked her to marry you? That is the best news!"
He grasped his son's hand.
"If she is a good girl, then you'll be so happy!"
"I haven't asked her yet," he revealed.
This baffled his parents.
"Well, you can't marry her until you do, Luka!" Rujan cried.
"I will, Mama," he promised.
"And you need another job," Zdeslav pointed out.
Luka wrung his hands.
"I know, Tata."
Still, his parents were happy.
"You have to tell Miran, as well," Rujan pointed out.
She clasped Luka's hands in hers.
"After you ask her."
Zdeslav leaned closer to Luka.
"Will you live here or in her country?"
Luka was lost. He kept his eyes on Miran and Ceila until they completely disappeared from view.
"I don't know."
Miran and Ceila walked down to the beach, stopping periodically while the puppy sniffed at something or chased a bug. All the while, Miran told Ceila how his grandparents came about having the puppy and how he insisted on training it. Ceila listened but her eyes caught the brightness of the water and it mesmerised her.
"Miss Ceila, do you have a dog?"
She was jarred from her daze.
"I'm sorry?"
"Do you have a dog?" Miran repeated. "Like a husky dog?"
Ceila kicked at the pebbly sand.
"My uncle has a wolf."
Miran gaped.
"Really?"
Ceila nodded.
"He doesn't listen too much to my uncle, though."
Miran petted his puppy.
"What do you do in Canada?"
"I'm studying to be a nurse," she answered.
"Like a trauma nurse?" Miran asked. "Like where Tata works?"
Ceila nodded.
"Just like that."
She scrutinised every line on Miran's face, every eyelash, the shade of his hair and his unique eye colour. She looked for Luka in the child she just met and wondered what her own unborn child would look like.
Miran was perplexed.
"What, Ceila?"
She tried to allay his confusion.
"I'm trying to see your father in you."
Miran scratched the puppy behind the ears.
"Mama says I look like Tata sometimes and I look like her sometimes."
He shrugged.
"I don't know."
He now examined Ceila's face.
"Do you look like your father?"
Ceila thought for a bit.
"I think I have his nose..."
She reached into her pocket.
"Right here in my pocket!"
Miran laughed.
"Do you look like your mother?" he asked.
She kept her eyes low.
"Some people think so."
Miran peered into Ceila's eyes.
"Like her eyes?"
Ceila smiled a little.
"Yes."
Miran brightened and let the puppy wander.
"Just like me, too!"
Ceila and Miran had wandered from the beach to the orchard out the back of the homestead. They sat under the shade of an apple tree. The Dalmatian puppy rested at their feet. They toyed with blades of tall grass and chattered away.
Ceila regaled Miran with stories of her country- the vastness, bathing in cold rivers, nights with no end. Luka could hear her as he approached carefully.
"The closest we'd get to natural light is when the sky would turn a dark blue colour..." she told Miran.
"Are you boring him?" Luka joked.
Ceila and Miran brightened to see him.
Miran jumped up and embraced his father.
"Tata, Ceila is the most amazing person. I know for a fact she's seen a moose. She says they're so big that they can make a car crash!"
Luka looked amazed.
"Is that so?"
Miran nodded furiously.
Luka crouched to his height.
"Your grandmother is making cookies and she needs your help."
Miran was surprised.
"You know my feelings on cookies!"
He ran inside to help his grandmother.
Luka and Ceila laughed at the fast-retreating Miran and his pleasure of cookies.
Ceila rose from the shade of the tree.
"He's a bright kid."
She nodded.
"I like him."
Luka nodded.
"I knew you would."
Ceila shoved her hands into the pockets of her pullover.
"You could have told me about him."
Luka kept his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
She kept her eyes fixed on Miran until he disappeared into the homestead.
"Luka..."
He waited for her to finish.
"Your children," she started uneasily, "tell me about them."
Luka steadied his quivering jaw.
Ceila tried to make the request easier.
"Were they anything like Miran?"
Luka was forced to laugh.
"No! No one can be like him!"
He shook his head.
"I don't..."
He gulped.
"I don't want to talk about them."
Ceila touched his shoulder.
"Please. Don't keep this from me."
She choked back emotion.
"I don't want to hurt you because I know this is painful but I don't want anything to be held back. Things can't work for us if they do."
Luka swiveled his head to her. He could have slapped her.
"There are things you don't tell me. Secrets! I know it! You keep them from me!" He glared at her. "You don't tell me about your children."
Ceila quivered.
"That's not fair."
"Yes, it is," he returned.
He could see her shake at his anger. He felt sorry for it. There were things she did not want to say and why she did not want to say them. But her insistence one knowing his pain was too much. He touched her face now, tenderly, as if to apologise for his anger.
"Don't ask these questions, Malina, and I won't ask you questions you don't want to answer. Please."
Her chin quivered and her eyes blushed with tears.
"I told you what I saw after my accident put me in a coma, remember? You even know about Ike and Avivit. You have no idea how I've tried to bury that. No one in myfamily even knows. And all I ask of you is to know how the baby is like his brothers and sisters."
Luka's shoulders fell under the weight of guilt. He brushed away her advancing tears with his thumb.
"You have no idea what it's like to outlive your children," he admitted in a soft voice. "To look at your hands and realise that they could have saved one, just one, and they didn't."
Luka rested under the shade of the tree.
He looked into the distance.
"Jasna," he began, "was my daughter. She was like my wife- always thoughtful, with green eyes. And she never stopped asking questions. 'What are trees made of, Tata?' 'What's in the sky?'"
He laughed wistfully.
"I loved her so much."
He paused now.
Ceila could see it was getting harder for him.
"Marko was my son."
He laughed when he thought of Marko.
"He had big brown eyes and looked surprised at everything. He loved being high on my shoulders. If I ever let him down he would run away until my wife or I caught up to him. Every Sunday, after church, I would buy him candy."
Luka stopped.
His eyes became glassy.
"I can't... they didn't live long enough for me to know any more."
Hot tears ran down his face.
"I didn't know my own children so how can I tell you about them?"
Ceila went to her knees and held him. He tried to resist her embrace but she held firm.
"No, Luka. You knew them."
She ran her fingers through his hair.
"You knew them as much as you could know them."
She kissed his head.
"Why do you torture yourself like this, Luka? You do so much for people and yet you hate yourself."
"They're dead and I'm not," he said. "I didn't save them."
Ceila shook her head.
"Don't. Don't say that."
She held him tighter.
"If you were dead, I would never have known you."
She smiled a little.
"You wouldn't have a new child, the way you have now."
She rose and he hugged himself to her waist.
"You're alive for a reason, Luka."
Luka opened his eyes, glassy but now full of realisation. He supposed it was true.
She hadn't led him astray.
"Ceila, I'm sorry. How can you stand me being so cruel?"
She crouched and touched his brow.
"You're not a bad guy, Luka."
She tapped his shoulder.
"You're kind of a softie!"
He now laughed and fell to her shoulder feeling a sense of relief.
They stayed under the tree for some time. Luka saw his mother and father exit the homestead with what appeared to be food. He surmised that there would be a long evening of conversation and eating.
"Go to them," he told Ceila. "Talk with them. I know they will like you."
"Say it like you're sure," she asked him.
He smiled.
"If you can speak in Croatian, you're half way home," he joked.
Ceila smiled and rose from under the tree. "Then I'm half way home."
She walked over to Luka's parents.
Luka, too, rose.
He had to find Miran. There was much to tell him.
By four in the afternoon the sun had relented in its mercilessness. It had become cool. It was time for an outdoor cook-out (in honour of the lost son returning home with his bride-to-be). Zdeslav set up the outdoor grill and splashed it with flammable liquid (best not to ask). Rujan prepared some vegetables. A sudden breeze pulled a strand of hair from its austere roll and she brushed it away carelessly.
Ceila was alone with Luka's parents. She would try out her Croatian but was nervous about it. One mistake could cause great embarrassment or worse, Ceila thought.
"Can I help?" Ceila asked.
Zdeslav did not look at her. He waved his hand at her.
"No, no," he refused. "Help my wife."
Rujan smiled and wiped her hands on her apron.
"No! You're our guest!"
Rujan's expression became pensive. She sighed and touched Ceila's face.
"You are so white. The sun will make your skin a nice colour soon."
Ceila suddenly felt self-conscious about her paleness. She wanted to break away from that vein.
"You were a teacher, Mrs. Kovac?" she asked.
Rujan smiled.
"You may call me Rujan."
Ceila nodded.
"Yes...Rujan."
Rujan sliced the tomatoes.
"I was a schoolteacher. Many years ago."
She nodded to her husband.
"He used to be a train conductor."
She placed the sliced tomatoes aside.
"And your parents- what did they do?"
Ceila chuckled a little.
"They weren't teachers."
Rujan was put off by Ceila's aloofness.
"How do you mean?"
Ceila caught Rujan's abrupt response.
"Police officers," she finally replied.
Rujan nodded.
"So you would never be a criminal!" she joked.
Ceila nodded.
"I guess."
Zdeslav laughed as he placed slices of meat on the grill.
Ceila allowed herself to relax now. The hard part, she supposed, was over. She looked around.
"Give me something to do, please," she pleaded. "I feel like a fifth wheel."
Rujan sighed.
"Wash some fruit."
Ceila nodded.
"Alright. Where is it?"
"See in the cellar," Rujan told her. "There should be some apples and peaches."
Ceila nodded and trotted off after the fruit.
Zdeslav still prepared the meat.
"I hope the pretty girl knows how to cook."
Rujan huffed.
"Oh Zeddi! Stop thinking with your stomach!"
Zdeslav scowled.
"I'm not!" he denied. "I'm...being...practical."
Rujan rolled her eyes. Of course he was, she thought.
Luka was not far from where Ceila had left him- near the apple tree. Miran, now freed from his willing responsibilities of cookie-making (and eating), joined him. He fingered a blade of grass and stood next to his father.
"Baba and Djed are with Ceila," Miran reported. "The food will be ready soon."
Luka smiled.
"Oh?"
Miran nodded.
"Uh-huh. Just for Ceila."
Luka nodded. He took Miran's hand and sat the boy next to him under the tree.
"What do you think of Ceila?"
Miran brightened.
"I like her. She likes having fun, and so do I!"
Luka smiled.
"I'm glad you like her."
He snatched a blade of grass and toyed with it.
"I want to marry her."
Miran blanched a little.
"Marry her? Like- to be your wife?"
He dropped his blade of grass.
"What about Mama?"
Luka looked at Miran.
"No, Miran."
Miran gulped. His little face was becoming whiter.
"Then Abby? What about her?"
Luka shook his head.
Miran bowed his head and tucked little fists into his pockets.
Luka touched Miran's cheek.
"I love Ceila."
"And Mama? And Abby?" Miran asked.
"Not the same," Luka replied.
He wanted Miran to understand.
"Miran, your mother and I are... we always felt differently..."
He took the boy by the shoulders.
"But we love you so much."
Miran pulled away from him.
"I have to check on the puppy."
Luka rose and reached for him.
"Miran, wait!"
Miran pelted from the orchard, presumably to check on his puppy.
By the time Zdeslav had finished grilling the fish, the numbers at the homestead hadincreased. Mihail, Luka's cousin, walked from the marina and brought with him Ruza, a cousin visiting from the east. Rujan dusted her hands on her apron and crossed her arms, smiling.
"I knew you'd show up! Whenever there is food!"
Mihail smirked.
"Of course!"
Ruza walked along side of Mihail with a basket of raspberries.
"Well, I'm here just to see you!"
She presented the raspberries to her aunt.
"I brought these for you, Aunt Rujan!"
Rujan stretched her arms for the raspberries.
"Good girl. These will do well for dessert. Thank you."
Rujan, Mihail and Ruza walked up the path to back of the homestead and chatted about daily things.
"Luka's back, you know," Rujan said.
Mihail and Ruza were interested.
"Oh?" Ruza queried. "I thought he was busy with work at that major hospital in Chicago."
Rujan shook her head.
"No. He left his job. Wanted to move on, or some such thing. He was rather vague at first. Wicked boy for that."
Mihail and Ruza were confused.
"I thought that was sweet job," Mihail wondered. "Has he found something better?"
Rujan smiled.
"Something like that."
She pointed to Ceila in the distance. She was laughing with Zdeslav.
Mihail raised a curious brow.
"Who's the pretty girl?" he asked.
"Her name is Ceila," Rujan said. "She's from Canada."
Rujan smiled and linked arms with Ruza.
"He has big plans for her."
Ruza smiled knowingly.
"Long, white dress plans?"
The two women giggled softly.
Mihail locked his eyes on Ceila. Her black hair was coming undone from the pony tail she had it in. She smiled broadly.
"What's Luka going to do with this girl?" he asked.
Ruza rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"Marry her, naturally. After that, he doesn't know."
Mihail looked at Luka walking in from the orchard.
"Luka doesn't know what he's going to do? That's not like him," Mihail noted.
He shrugged.
"Oh well. He'll get it sorted out. He always does."
Mihail stopped pondering and looked for something to eat.
Rujan set the basket of raspberries next to the prepared food.
"We have some raspberries for dessert," she announced.
Ceila broke from Zdeslav and picked out one.
"Good! I love raspberries."
Rujan smiled and led the girl to Ruza.
"This is my niece, Ruza. She brought the raspberries."
Ceila smiled at Ruza.
"Hello."
Ruza offered a strained smile.
Ceila could sense some hesitation.
"Yes?"
"You look like someone I know," Ruza said and then tried to be friendlier. "How do you know Luka?"
Ceila helped herself to another raspberry.
"We worked at the same hospital."
Ceila picked at the raspberries until Rujan slapped her hand away.
"I'll send you there if you don't stop eating those raspberries!" the woman scolded.
Ruza still offered the same awkward smile.
"Try to save some for the rest of us."
Ceila nodded and kept her eyes low.
Mihail met Luka halfway from his journey back from the orchard.
"Luka!"
Luka smiled at his cousin a little.
"When did you come?" he asked.
"Just now," Mihail answered.
Luka nodded, distracted.
"Did you see Miran?"
Mihail shook his head. "Not today, no."
Luka ignored the first part.
"I was looking for him."
Mihail nodded.
"He's around somewhere, I'm sure. You know how he's mad about the dogs. He's probably playing with one right now."
Luka didn't believe him but kept still.
Mihail at last pointed to Ceila.
"Your mother told me you left that hospital of yours and brought back that girl with you."
Luka smiled at Ceila.
"Yeah. That's Ceila."
"I know," Mihail nodded.
He walked with Luka toward the gathering.
"You brought her all the way from America to here. Is there a reason?"
Luka tried to hide a glare.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Yeah!" Mihail admitted. "Is she important to you?"
Luka did not hide his impatience any longer.
"What kind of question is that!"
Mihail walked past his cousin.
"Just something I want to know."
Mihail joined Zdeslav and started to eat.
Miran had returned at last. He kept quiet and removed from the gathering. He fed the dogs scraps of barbecue in a manner unusually listlessfor him.
Luka was happy to know that at least he was safe and surrounded by family. He wanted Miran to understand what he felt about Ceila and how he did not feel the same way about Hanouš and Abby. Mihail sat next to Miran and made him smile. Luka glared at his cousin. He knew he was with the boy when he wasn't. Mihail had become some kind of replacement to his son. He damned his cousin.
He felt a tug at his shoulder. It was Ceila.
"Walk with me," she asked in a small voice.
They turned from the gathering.
The sun was setting.
Ceila caught the gold of the sun on Luka's hair.
"It was quite a party."
Luka nodded.
"Yes."
"You didn't eat much," she prompted.
Luka shrugged.
"Wasn't hungry. I had some things to think about."
Ceila was curious.
"Oh?"
Luka nodded and Ceila smiled wryly.
"Is there something you wanted to ask me?"
Luka stopped.
"What? No!" he denied.
Ceila laughed.
"I know when you're lying."
Luka was caught and he knew it.
"I should have asked you before," he admitted. "A long time before and I'm sorry I didn't."
"Ask me now," Ceila insisted.
Luka nodded.
"Marry me."
Ceila was breathless.
Luka did not move.
"You don't want..."
Ceila shook her head.
"No, no. It's just... I kept expecting moonlight and roses and things..."
Luka was humbled. "I'm sorry."
Ceila shook her head.
"No." She wrapped her arms around him. "We could be on a fiery airplane hurtling down at a million miles an hour and I'd still marry you!"
Luka shook his head. "No one would marry us like that!"
She cocked her head to the side. "I don't know about that!"
Luka sat alone in the kitchen. Everyone had either gone to bed or home. The moon cast a pale light over the cliff past the trees. Luka looked on it, letting himself be caught by its light. A glass of milk sat before him on the table, barely touched. He touched the side of the glass absent-mindedly.
He had put Ceila (and the baby) to bed, tucked under a pink quilt. She had agreed to marry him even though neither of them knew their next move, a state they never thought they would be in. But still, she knew he loved her and he knew she loved him.
"Luka?"
Luka was jarred from his pensiveness.
His mother stood in the kitchen, her bed robe wrapped around her tightly.
"Can't sleep?" she asked and sat before him.
Luka shook his head.
"Not yet, Mama."
He looked into his mother's obsidian eyes.
"I asked her to marry me."
Rujan's smile was broad.
"And she said yes?"
Luka nodded.
Rujan could cry.
"I've waited for this," she admitted. "For you to live again."
She touched his hand.
"I know she is not..." Rujan stopped before she could utter what they feared to.
"But she is...a good girl..."
She smiled again.
"And you are so happy!"
She rose from her seat.
"I'll get the family to come down. They have to hear the news!"
She touched her youngest son's face.
"There will be life again!" Rujan toddled off to bed.
All Luka could think about was how he saw Ceila that day in Dubrovnik, her black hair free from any snare, the onyx necklace he had given her around her neck and the impish smile on her face. The face was burned in his memory before and after it had been made. In his mind he could see her walking away into the crowds and the old buildings, her dark hair swishing back and forth, becoming one with the crowd, unforgettable. But there was another memory, not as fresh but still vivid. It was a memory no one and nothing would let go of.
Luka finished his milk and left the kitchen.
Tomorrow, the family would come to see his new bride.
Adam looked at Ceila from across the table. She wasn't just striking, he thought, she was beautiful. Her white face was porcelain and her black hair didn't just fall to her shoulders; it lay there waiting for Luka's hand to run through it. Her eerie blue eyes stared before her (it made her seem cold and removed, hardly a warm woman, he thought). She didn't say much but struggled with Croatian and smiled politely. She asked about Mass times, which made his aunt, Rujan, happy. He wanted to talk to her and would do so once his other aunts stopped coddling her about her wedding dress.
"Won't your family come?" asked Aunt Ava.
"I haven't told them yet," Ceila admitted.
Rujan huffed.
"Full of secrets, this one!"
Adam could see Ceila resented what Rujan said but said nothing. Maybe her cold remove was for a reason.
His mother, Magda, touched her face and then turned it this way and that.
"She's so pale, and thin! Do you eat, girl?"
Adam could see Ceila's reserve slipping away.
"Plenty."
Luka called to his aunt from across the table.
"Aunt Magda, leave her alone!"
Magda pulled away from Ceila.
"Luka, she doesn't look healthy."
Luka frowned at his aunt.
Ruza disagreed.
"Of course she is! She's plenty healthy! She hikes down the mighty rivers of Canada and everything!"
Ceila laughed at Ruza's joke and felt a little at ease.
Magda only muttered something under her breath. She moved to Rujan.
"She's like Danni a little but not as colourful."
Rujan stiffened her upper lip, signifying her desire not to mention the name again.
Ceila locked her eyes on Rujan.
Adam could see all this from his vantage point, away from the aunts and near the children.
Luka sat next to Miran but it appeared the boy did not notice. Indeed, he kept his head down and his gaze from his father.
"Miran?"
No answer.
Luka reached over for the bread and butter.
"Do you want me to make you a sandwich?"
Miran did not answer.
"Please talk to me," Luka pleaded.
Miran lifted his head a little but did not look at his father.
"Will you move far away from me?"
Luka spread butter thinly over the bread.
"I will never be far away from you. You know that."
"But you're away from Mama," Miran pointed out.
Luka sighed heavily.
"I can't explain things between your mother and me."
"But you're marrying Ceila and not her."
"I love Ceila. I've always loved her."
"Is that true? Then what about us?"
Miran now looked at Luka.
"I don't know what to think any more, Tata."
Luka looked Miran squarely in the face.
"I've always loved you. That's what you can know."
Miran nodded slightly.
"If you say so."
Miran's little brow furrowed and he rested his head on his arms.
"What should I tell Mama?"
"I'll tell her," Luka said. "Will you come to the wedding?" Luka asked. "Ceila wants you there. She likes you, you know. She never stops talking about you."
Miran nodded.
"I dunno."
He hid his face from his father again.
"Maybe."
Luka placed his hand on his son's hair, brushing it back-and-forth.
"Please, Miran."
Miran moved away to the opposite end of the table.
"I said I'd think about it!"
A huge sigh broke Luka's shoulders. His head fell to his chest. He knew now he never wanted his son to walk away from him.
Rujan moved to the kitchen counter and started to cut more bread for the visiting family.
Ceila came up behind her and helped her.
"Why does everybody think I'm Danni?" she asked.
Rujan stopped, turned pale and spun her head to Ceila.
"That's...not true..." she denied.
Ceila disbelieved her.
"No. People keep saying it. That I remind them somehow of Danni. That was her name, right? Luka's wife- Danni?"
Rujan kept slicing the bread.
"It's nothing. It's just talk."
Ceila shook her head.
"Don't."
Rujan stopped. She cut her eyes into Ceila.
"Do you know how this family was torn apart by the deaths? Hhmmm? My own grandchildren, my own son, my daughter-in-law whom I loved."
"I'm not trying to hurt anyone or replace anyone," Ceila said. "I just want to marry Luka."
Shebowed her head but Rujan took her face in her hands.
"The memory of her is so near," Rujan whispered.
She picked up the bread and carried it to the table.
Ceila stayed behind. She gripped the counter.
Luka walked up behind her.
"Hey! There's still alot of food!"
He placed his hand on her belly.
"I know you two need the food."
Ceila struggled to smile.
"I'm full," she said and walked away.
Luka stopped her.
"Hey! Don't let my mother or aunts get to you. They always meddle."
Ceila shook her head.
"It's not that."
She moved from Luka and away from the family that had come to see her. She left under the pretense of a headache.
Luka found a moment alone to smoke a cigarette. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was disappearing from an angry sky.
"Do you need company?"
He turned to the voice.
Ceila was there. Her hair was undone. She wrapped her arms about herself.
Luka smiled at her.
"Sit by me."
Ceila pleasantly refused.
"Been sitting and talking all day."
She cocked her head to the side and reflected on her answer.
"Or rather- I've been talked about."
Luka knew.
Ceila pulled on her pullover.
"Everyone keeps making references to Danni."
She wrapped her arms around herself more tightly.
"Your wife."
Luka did not look at her.
"I suppose that's natural seeing as I'm filling her shoes, so to speak," Ceila assumed.
"Don't," Luka begged.
Ceila swallowed an obstruction.
"Luka, if you love me and the baby and you want to marry me because you love us both..."
He looked at her.
"I do," he insisted.
Ceila nodded.
"I just wouldn't want to be a ghost is all."
Ceila shuffled back into the house, leaving Luka alone with his cigarette and the angry sky.
Rujan had the couple separated. It wasn't right for an unmarried couple to be together, she said. Ceila thought of the child in her belly and then thought of how to tell the woman about it.
Luka put Miran to bed. The boy spoke very few words to his father. Ceila saw how it pained Luka that his son wasn't speaking to him. She wondered if Miran hated her. She had to ask Luka about it. In everything, she had to tread lightly, even on the subject of Danni, the woman no one could stop talking about.
That night, Ceila crept into Luka's room and slept near him. She wanted to watch him as he slept (as he had done to her). She wanted him to love her. With all the talk of Danni, doubt started to creep in. She kept thinking of when they first connected. She felt that he wanted her and not just her body. But now something was being resurrected that she could not stop.
Ceila drifted off but shot up an hour later. It stirred Luka.
"What? Ceila?"
She panted.
"It was just a dream..."
He breathed.
"What was your dream?" Luka asked.
Ceila hesitated but then told him.
"I was drowning. I was being pulled under into the darkness. Finally, I couldn't see the light any more."
Luka shut his eyes.
"You're lying."
Luka turned over.
"If you're not going to tell me at least don't lie to me." he resumed sleeping but Ceila could not sleep anymore. She just watched as he slept.
An hour later, she woke him up.
"Luka?"
Breathing.
"Luka, I'll tell you about my dream. I was digging a grave for myself, with my hands."
"Why?"
"I was ashamed of myself. I was dead."
Luka turned around.
"Why? Why were you ashamed? Why do you think you are dead?"
Ceila bit her lip.
"I don't want to say."
"You have to say."
"Why do I?"
"I told you things I wouldn't say."
Ceila became cold.
"I was ashamed because I was stupid, because I was weak."
Luka understood. He peered into her light blue eyes.
"Because you think it was your fault that man overpowered you and ruined you?"
Ceila nodded.
"Ceila is dead. There is nothing left," she said blankly.
Luka touched her forehead.
"I remember you cried when a child in the paediatrics unit was dying. And I told you that you couldn't save everyone and you said you knew. Well know now you can't always save yourself but that doesn't make you bad or even dead."
He held her face in his hands.
"The girl I know isn't dead."
He brushed her hair over her face playfully.
"Sleep, Ceila. Just rest."
Ceila, somehow feeling absolved, shut her eyes and slept.
When Ceila woke up, Luka wasn't beside her. She tiptoed out of his room and slipped through the house. No one was up and the sun was coming over the slowly cresting water. She went back to her room and slipped on some warmer clothes. She left the house without making a noise and wandered to the cliff. He was there, just as she thought he might be, looking at the sun as it was rising.
She stood next to him.
"You love her still. I know. That's alright. I don't expect you not to."
She stubbed her toe on the stones.
"You knew her once and sometimes that's all you can hope for."
Ceila put her hands on her hips. "I can't be her."
Luka didn't look at her.
"I know you can't."
He turned from the sunrise to her.
"I don't think you are her. I never did."
He swallowed hard.
"Danni was someone no one could ever imitate."
He touched her chin.
"And no one ever can ever be you."
His fingers traced her face.
"Promise me you won't hide or think that you're dead, or hate yourself."
Ceila shook her head.
"I know you'll look after me, Luka. I don't have to think that."
Luka laughed.
"I know you can look after yourself. You don't even need me."
Ceila shoved her hands into her pockets.
"Well, there's always the odd pickle jar."
Luka laughed.
"Okay, you do need me."
He touched her brow.
"But not for other things."
He swung his arm over her shoulders.
"I think we should run away before the wedding. If Mama has her way, it will be too big to pay for."
Ceila nodded.
"That's a plan."
She nestled her head into his shoulder.
"One of many."
Luka agreed.
"Yeah."
Not a month after they had left Chicago and four months since they had become lovers they married.
