Flowers in the Blood by Courter Gay

Author:Courter, Gay [Courter, Gay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Egret E-book Editions
Published: 2010-10-23T06:00:00+00:00

28

Everyone could see that Edwin and I were linked in mind and spirit long before the culmination of the marriage ritual. The scene under the huppah hastily draped in jasmine and hibiscus is a blur I can barely recall. Surrounded by family, with my brothers and my sisters by my side, I saw no one else but Edwin. I sipped the wine and repeated the words when required, but any knowledge of those events has been superimposed by one lasting memory: Edwin's eyes riveted to mine.

After the breaking of the cup and the rounds of kilililees, he clasped his arm about my waist and never, never let go. Everybody talked about us. “So happy! Have you ever seen a bride and groom as jubilant?” they murmured as we passed, beaming.

Aunt Bellore pushed forward and gushed her congratulations. “I have never known a bride to appear so content,” she said to us both. “At least not since Luna married Benu,” she added in a tone that would have anyone, even Edwin, believe that she was praising us. Only I knew she meant her words as barbs to break the perfect bubble that until that moment had surrounded us.

Sensing my mood had changed, Edwin steered me away from the guests. “Dinah, my darling, what is wrong?”

“Nothing.” I shuddered. “Just chilly.”

“You must tell me. Rule number fifteen: there will be no secrets between us.”

“I hate her!” I seethed.

“But why?”

“Didn't you hear what she said about my father and mother?”

“I thought she was complimenting us.” His eyelids drooped with concern. “You told me your parents were a love match.”

“Yes, but . . .” I could not go on. Silently I mulled over my turbulent thoughts. My mother had adored my father. Together they had produced three children they both had cherished. What had gone wrong between them? I could not recall any angry words ever expressed. The practical problems inherent in my father's long absences and my mother's overreliance on her friends had brought her into contact with other men. Now I had come to know the enormous power of a physical attraction. With my father away, with the privacy of her own house, with nobody watching over her, she had succumbed to her instincts. The evil force had been Nissim Sadka, not my mother.

And what of my father's love for her? Had it ever diminished? I thought not. Whenever he returned, the relationship had flourished. And what of my father's fury when he came home after her death? What of the burning of her possessions? What of his refusal to mention her again? Were those the actions of a man who did not love his wife? No, they had been the violent responses of a man whose lover had been taken from him cruelly. I gripped Edwin more tightly. What if anything happened to him? How would I go on? Could I take even one more breath without him?

Finally I spoke. “Aunt Bellore thinks happiness is an illusion that cannot last.”

Edwin stared as my aunt's bustle moved across the garden like a load on the back of a bullock-cart.

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