As his grip on me holds fast, the scent from my childhood wafts over me. Long-forgotten memories surface, of bedtime stories, tickle monsters, and swinging from his arms like he was my trapeze and safety net all in one. In this moment, I know I’m safe. Protected. Loved.
Home, indeed.
Nika
The next morning, I wander into the not at all “small dining room” where Dad asked me to meet him for breakfast. A dozen chairs surround an ornate walnut table. Side boards align each wall, and tall windows overlook the garden.
Christmas carols like my mother used to play drift from somewhere deeper in the house.
I remember her voice singing along, off-key but still joyful.
Staring at the garlands that hang from every window, the table runner of green, red, and gold, and the miniature Christmas tree that sits fully decorated in the window, I can’t help but wonder what celebrating the holidays with family will be like after so many years estranged.
Dad sits across from me, platters of eggs, bacon, pastries, fresh fruit, waffles, pancakes, crepes, and some kind of porridge between us.
He seems to favor the porridge, scooping himself a bowl and adding some sort of cream and jam.
The meal is a far cry from my typical breakfast of a microwave biscuit or meat lover’s bowl.
Dad pours himself a cup of coffee from a silver pot, then silently offers me some.
I flip my cup over on its saucer and push it close.
He fills the mug, slides it back over, and gestures to the silver service tray with cream, sugar, and packets of sweeteners.
Lifting the cup, I take a sip and savor the rich flavor. “That’s good coffee.”
Dad nods before drinking from his own mug. “You mentioned last night that you saw me rip the necklace from your mother’s neck. I’m sorry you had to see that. I can only imagine how terrified you must have been. I was out of my head. Blind with grief and desperate to find you.”
The man I remember as my cousin Alexei and a younger guy who looks a lot like him stroll past the open dining room door. Alexei acts nonchalant, but the other guy leans around him to peek inside. A young woman with the same facial structure trails a few paces behind them. She doesn’t pretend not to look, but at least she doesn’t dawdle.
They’re probably trying to get a glimpse of me.
Trying to pretend this is a normal meal, I reach out for the spatula and attempt to serve myself with my left hand since a cast encases my right arm. I manage the scrambled eggs, but the bacon proves more difficult.
Dad rises, spears three pieces, and puts them on my plate.
He clears his throat. “That night, I intended to give you the necklace. It was always supposed to be yours. My father said so. When we couldn’t find you…or your body…I hung it on Lilia’s portrait so the two of you would always be together.” He indicates each platter, serving me whatever I nod toward.
Then he hands me my plate and reclaims his seat like this is a typical Tuesday.
“I never got over failing you two that night.” He pokes his porridge again. “The meeting was supposed to be safe enough for our children to run around and play and enjoy the island. But all this time later, we still don’t know who started thefighting or the fires. Then we discovered your nanny, shot dead in the hall. You might not remember her.”
“I do remember her.” Vaguely, anyway. “It was Dimitri. He admitted to setting the fires, attacking people, and killing Mom as a way to get back at you for his own mother’s death. Though the story he told didn’t make a lot of sense.”
Dad just nods, then busies his hands.
“I searched for years, using every resource, connection, and possible lead. But you were…gone. No body. No evidence. Nothing. Eventually I had to accept…” He pauses to massage his temples.
The silence is heavy with fifteen years of grief and loss.
“This isn’t an excuse. It’s a confession. I failed you and your mother, but I want you to know…” His voice gets softer. More vulnerable. “I loved her. I loved her so much. And you were my everything.Aremy everything. I’m so sorry, Nika. I’d appreciate it if you gave me another chance. I’d like to be part of your life.”
I’m both tempted and terrified, but maybe I can sweeten the deal.
“I have something for you, though I’m not sure whether it’ll help or make things more painful. It’s back in my room. I can go get it.” I slide my chair back and start to stand.
He waves me back down. “Kirill. Kolya.”
