Read The Unquiet Mind (The Greek Village Collection Book 8) for Free Online

black habit, her black headdress wrapped around her face, cupping her chin so only her features show, her back a little bent. She disappears through an arch and returns with a metal jug and two matching beakers. Putting them on the table, she leaves Yanni to pour and takes up her pen again. He drinks and watches her as she concentrates on her writing. ‘Sister, have you ever been off the island?’ Yanni opens the conversation. Sister Katerina pauses before gently exhaling.
    ‘Well, I was born in Athens, so the short answer is yes. But I have been here since I was about thirteen so not really, not as an adult, and certainly not since I was ordained.’
    Yanni looks past her at a small icon hung on the wall at the end of the room. His eyes flick at his own internal snapshots of Sister Katerina in her habit hovering over imaginary city pavements. It is impossible to imagine.
    ‘People talk about the mainland as if the people there are so slick, they would have the shirt off your back and you would thank them for it before you have even said hello.’ It is a long sentence for him and he takes a moment before asking, ‘Do you think there is any truth in that—really?’ His features are unmoving. There is a slight tremor in his voice but he wonders if it is more something he can feel than something that can be heard.
    Sister Katerina’s calm is in her eyes, in the way she sits, the way she talks. ‘I think people are people the world over. They will treat you as you allow them to treat you.’ She takes a sip of water. A brightly coloured butterfly settles on the windowsill. ‘Most people describe their own lives in the way they treat others. Those who feel the world is harming them harm others in word or deed, and those who feel the world is a gift, who are grateful, treat others as if they are part of the gift.’ The words are soft as silk, spun from a compassionate heart.
    ‘Don’t those two sentences contradict each other?’ Yanni follows her gaze to the butterfly. ‘Either they treat you as you allow them to treat you or they treat you as a reflection of their own world. Can it be both?’
    The butterfly dances in through the open window, circumnavigates their heads, and flies out again. They follow its swooping progress into the garden. It lands on a rose and stays there for a full minute before flying to the next flower, where it spreads its wings in the sun. ‘Maybe they can,’ the sister ponders. ‘The way people begin to treat you reflects them but when you respond, with kindness and love or otherwise, you draw your boundaries. People rarely want to hurt kindness or love, no matter how scared of it they are.’ She closes her mouth. Yanni looks over to her. Her eyes are flitting back and forth but she does not see the outside world, she is sieving through her thoughts. ‘Unless we are talking about people who are extreme, who block out everything. People who hurt so much and are so scared they presume there is no love in the world and attack as a form of defence.’ She pours more water.
    The butterfly closes its wings.
    ‘That is what I am asking—is that true of the people on the mainland?’ Yanni says.
    Sister Katerina waits before she answers.
    ‘No more so than anywhere else. But, you know, maybe their expectation of how their lives should be is different. There is a limitation to our comfort here on the island. Even for the rich, if their air conditioning breaks down, they know they must wait for the repair man to come from the next island. They know they will be uncomfortable for a day or two. It is a part of life; we accept it here on the island. But on the mainland with all the modern conveniences and the abundance of material wealth everywhere, maybe they expect that in their lives, there should no discomfort. Which appears to make any hardship worse, perhaps? But I am just guessing. Maybe we should study some psychology?’ The sister, not expecting an answer, nods over her reflections as