The Bells

We always are talking about Darcy as some Adonis. Well, how about a Greek Darcy?

Elisavet and Vassilis are the Greek versions of Elizabeth and William.


Elisavet sat in a chair in avli* of their house looking out over the Mediterranean. The daylight was almost gone and the water looked almost black now. A gentle breeze blew in from the sea and the soft, soothing sounds of the bells serenaded the coming night.

He would be home soon and this time he wasn’t going anywhere for many months. Their unborn child assured that. Before long Elisavet would become a mother, Vassilis a father. A tiny miracle, a part of each of them, a new member of their family renewing the age old line. The next generation.

When he was away on business she would come out here at night. It was beautiful, often breathtaking, watching the light change, the shadows slowly creeping to cover the houses and land, the sky a riot of color.

And the sounds of the bells. Always the bells.

The first one came while Vassilis was away on a business trip to America. She was surprised when the package was delivered. She was even more taken aback when she opened it. Inside was a small bronze bell and a note.

My dearest Elisavet,

My time spent in Phoenix so far has gone well. After a hard first week my host from the company here took me to see a hidden treasure. Cosanti is an artisan’s haven in the midst of some of the most expensive homes in this area. The Gallery is known for its sculpture and its bells. When I heard the wind nudge the bells to sing, I thought of your voice and I knew I must send one to you. Hang this in the avli and when the wind causes it to sound, know that my heart is forever captive to your command.

Your Vassilis


There where many bells hung there now. Each time he traveled to Arizona he bought another a new bell. No two were alike and when the breezed awoke them, the different pitches played a song that mirrored the love they had for each other, their own unique harmony. The new additions only deepened the music, just as the years together strengthened their love and commitment.

Elisavet closed her eyes and let the sound roll over her, comforted by the familiar chords.

Vassilis let himself in and called for his wife. She did not answer but he was not worried, he knew where he would find her. He opened the package he carried into the house. It was never, ever checked in his luggage; it was too precious to leave his possession on the journey home.

Careful to make as little sound as possible, Vassilis walked through the house and out the back door. There she was, asleep, resting. He smiled at her, and his foresight to hang a hook before he left two weeks ago. Ever so silently he hung their newest piece.

“Darling, wake up,” he whispered as he leaned down to kiss her brow, running his finger lovingly along the hairline of her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open and the next thing she knew, she was feeling the delightful sensation of his lips brushing hers. Elisavet would have been quite happy to continue on with the delightful exercise until a gust of wind played a new song.

“Vassilis, you remembered!”

“How could I forget?”

It was then she saw not one new bell, but three grouped together on a hanger.

“Do you like it?”

“It is wonderful! And so different form the rest.”

“This is my last trip before our child is born. I saw the clusters the first time I visited and knew that someday I would buy one for us. The three bells represent our family. We are all different, but when we are together we are one. A new chord.”

Elisavet was too overcome to say anything, but he saw the look of love and adoration in her unshed tears, and gathered her to his embrace.

They had no idea how long they stood there, engulfed in the others presence, listing to all of their bells in the gentle breeze. But soon the third made its presence known, kicking out at the father from inside the mother.

“The baby wants some space.”

“I don’t want to go indoors just yet.”

Vassilis sat down on a swing he had installed just for occasions like this.

“Come, sit next to me. We have all night.”

“I’m glad your home.”

“My true home is where ever I am with you.”

Elisavet turned and gently kissed him. “Thank you for the bells.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m relieved it will be some time before you can buy another.”

“So am I, Elisavet. So am I. Have I ever told you why I love the bells?”

“I always assumed it was for the cacophony of sounds.”

“Yes, that, but there is another reason.” Elisavet snuggled deeper against her husband. “They will last long beyond us. A thousand years from now they will still be here while we are but dust. They symbolize constancy. I hope that, in some small way, my love and devotion is as lasting as these bells.” His hand rested possessively on her pregnant belly as he kissed her hair.

“Oh, Vassilis. How I adore you.”

“I will cherish you forever. My Elisavet.”


*Greek term for the area in back of the house


Author’s Note: I wrote this for Elsa’s 21st Birthday. Now she is old enough to marry whomever in Regency England! If you are interested in checking out the bells, go to for a good look.


When I was married, my favorite gift was a piece of artwork; my two Cosanti bells in one piece called “Wedding Bells”. I loved it then and I still love it today.

I decided to send a small bell to my dear firend Elsa for her 21st birthday and this story was just an afterthought. I suppose you just have to hear a Cosanti bell to understand. They are the most soothing sound in the world to me; man in harmony with nature.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

~Linnea Eileen~