“Nervous!” said a matronly lady at a nearby table.
Andreas smiled. “For sure.”
The lady and the others at her table laughed.
The bathroom was illuminated by a single, bare light bulb over an unframed mirror above a tiny sink. Andreas pulled a few paper towels from a dispenser, moistened them, and pressed the wet towels against his face. He stood quietly holding them in place for a minute before throwing them in a bin. Andreas looked up and stared at the mirror. People always said he looked like his father.
“Well, Dad, the day is here. Wish you could be with us.” Andreas cleared his throat, combed his hair, and adjusted his tie. He took another look in the mirror and turned to leave. As he opened the door the light bulb began to flicker and would not stop. Andreas paused and looked back. “Love you too, Dad.”
Andreas and his family were standing in a line along the front wall of the monastery greeting arriving guests. When Andreas heard blaring car horns he knew Lila had arrived. He motioned for Tassos to come over to him and whispered in his ear. “No matter what I’d like to think, I know I’m going to be out of it from now until after the ceremony. I’m relying on you.”
Tassos smiled. “Don’t worry. Just enjoy your wedding.” He patted Andreas on the shoulder.
Kouros was in front of the metal detector checking identity cards against the guest list. The florist had done a terrific job of covering the detector in flowers, but it still had a serious purpose and a sounding alarm meant a mandatory, no exceptions, physical search. “Be courteous, but firm,” Kouros told the cops assigned to do the screening. “If the detector goes off, no one talks his or her way out of a body search.”
Andreas heard the three musicians before he saw them. One was playing a santouri dulcimer hung from his neck, striking away at its strings with two small, wooden, cotton-tipped hammers. The two other musicians played accordions. It was the simple, old-style Mykonian way of arriving for a wedding, and about the only thing at the moment that seemed simple to Andreas.
That, and his decision on what to wear to his wedding: a midnight blue suit, white shirt, and silver-blue tie. But what to wear was simple only because Lila had picked everything out for him. When Lila told him who designed her dress, “just in case anyone asks,” Andreas promptly forgot, but always smiled when the subject came up. He never had the courage to ask her to repeat the name.
But Andreas had been to enough weddings to know that as much as women might like to say otherwise, weddings were significant fashion events for them. Athenians came dressed to impress, and locals to show they could do better.
I sure hope no one asks me who designed Lila’s dress, he thought.
Andreas caught a glimpse of Lila’s father behind the musicians, then a bit of her mother. As soon as the musicians reached Andreas they stepped aside and there was Lila, linked arm-in-arm between her parents, her dark hair pinned back in flowers.
Andreas felt a smack against his chest. It was the florist jamming the bridal bouquet of white roses into his hands. “You forgot this.”
Andreas gave a nervous smile. “Thank you,” and wondered what else he might have forgotten. He gave a quick glance at his brother-in-law whom he’d chosen to be his koumbarous, an honor akin to, but far more significant than, best man.
The koumbarous smiled, and gave Andreas the thumbs-up sign.
Lila and her parents stopped directly in front of Andreas. First her mother, then her father kissed Lila on each cheek before turning to face Andreas. He embraced them both, everyone smiling. Andreas handed Lila the bouquet and they lightly kissed before turning and stepping toward the archway.
“You look terrific,” said Andreas.
Lila smiled. “The color is ivory, it’s a Lanvin gown, Manolo Blahnik shoes, and Susan van der Linde headpiece and veil-just in case Yianni or Tassos ask. If anyone else does, don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.”
Andreas laughed and squeezed Lila’s hand. At that instant an alarm went off freezing him in his tracks.
“Sorry about that,” shrugged an obviously embarrassed Kouros. He waved for them to move on through the metal detector. “You can frisk each other later.”
The line was moving very slowly. The old man looked at his watch. I knew I should have gone inside before the bride arrived. He put down the four red shopping bags bearing the symbol of his store and waited patiently. The line began to move. He picked up the packages, took a few steps forward, put them down again, and waited to repeat the process. As he approached the archway, he watched two men examining identity cards and checking them against a list of names.
“Hello, Inspector Stamatos,” said the old man.
Tassos looked up, “Why Mister Ilias, how nice to see you, sir. How are you?”
The old man shook his head. “Tired. It was a lot easier carrying wedding gifts from my shop to new brides when I was younger.”
Tassos smiled. “I remember when you carried a few to my wedding. That was a very long time ago, my friend.” Tassos looked at the shopping bags. “What’s in them?”
“Candle sticks, silver bowls, picture frames, the usual.”
Tassos nodded. “Sorry, but you’ll have to go through the metal detector. We can’t make any exceptions.”
The old man smiled. “I understand. There are a lot of very important people here this evening. But what about the gifts?”
“No gifts are allowed inside the monastery. You’ll have to take them back to your car and leave them there.”
The old man’s smile faded.
Tassos paused for a moment, leaned over, and whispered. “A few family members also forgot they weren’t supposed to bring gifts to the church. Don’t worry, I won’t make you carry them all the way back to your car. Let me have them. I’ll put them with the family’s, in the corner of the courtyard next to the church.”
The old man nodded thank you and stepped inside, followed by Tassos carrying four carefully wrapped packages.
Chapter Sixteen
An organized faith must offer more than words in exchange for the lifetime commitment of one’s soul. Symbols, advocates, and inspiration are required. Andreas and Lila stood before a priest, under the dome of the church, in the presence of the revered icon of Panagia Tourliani prepared to do as centuries of Greek Orthodox brides and grooms had done before on that very spot according to the same traditions.
Andreas stood to Lila’s right, facing the altar and the priest. Andreas’ koumbarous was to his right, and to Lila’s left stood her koumbara, her bride’s maid. The church was filled with friends and family and more stood in the courtyard. For the next hour all eyes would be on the soon to be bride and groom; that is, all but those of Tassos, Kouros, and every cop under their command. They would catch the service on video. This was crunch time for preventing an attack.
Tassos studied the scene around Andreas and Lila. No unexpected faces, objects, or packages, and the silver tray on the small table by the priest held only the usuaclass="underline" a bible, almonds, wine cup and decanter, and two stefana bridal crowns of starched white leather, orange blossoms and ivy joined together by a single silver ribbon. Tassos had checked out the wine and almonds personally. No surprises there. Now to make sure there were none elsewhere. Tassos looked at the couple and smiled. “Good luck, kids,” he whispered to himself and left.
In the Greek Orthodox faith the priest read from the wedding service as he performed the expected traditional rites, such as touching the wedding bands, and later the stefana, three times to the forehead of the bride and of the groom. But everyone attending a Greek wedding had some traditional part to play.
The koumbarous and koumbara were charged with switching wedding bands three times from the couple’s left ring fingers-where worn when engaged-to their right where worn when married, and with holding the stefana above the couple’s heads waiting for the moment to switch them three times between bride and groom.