AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Don’t be so sure. There’s nothing that makes me feel more at home than a good homemade knish.”
She smiled.
The oven buzzed and she rose to help serve, but a hand on her arm stopped her.
“Sit,” Konstantin ordered. He stood and moved toward the oven as if automatically expecting her to obey. “I’ll get it.”
Slowly, she sat back down, feeling awkward as they served her. Antonia grinned and passed her knowing looks. If Konstantin noticed, he didn’t let on.
He and Baba Nina talked through dinner. Antonia jumped in here and there, but Varushka stayed silent, even though he tried politely to draw her in. Instead she watched him, learning his mannerisms, paying attention to what he liked and didn’t like. It would be her job as his wife to know these things. Plus, it would make her feel more familiar with him.
It felt surreal that she was to move to another country with a stranger, however, it wasn’t uncommon in their village. Most families would’ve given anything for the opportunity. Papa had said the Romanovs were “good stock.” She should be pleased to have been considered for such a match. And then to have been chosen over all the girls he’d put through school . . . It was an intervention of God.
She wished only that she knew him better. All she really knew, other than that he was generous and rich, was that he had worked his way up from nothing and that his parents had died in a car accident when he was a teenager. Baba Nina had talked about what a kind man he was, and how handsome. The pictures of him scattered around Baba Nina’s house didn’t do him justice.
Being matched with a stranger had seemed like an old-fashioned idea, but Mama and Papa had their marriage arranged and they’d fallen in love. Mama had promised it would be that way for her too. Or that they would at least have a deep regard for each other.
Maybe with time, it would happen.
For now, without worldly knowledge or good looks, she’d only have cooking to win him over.
The conversation paused and Konstantin finished the last bite of his meal. He certainly had an appetite. Hopefully she could cook enough to keep up. She would have to plan as if feeding her family of seven.
She’d spent her childhood watching Mama slave in the kitchen for Papa and her four brothers. As she’d gotten older, she’d helped, dreaming of having her own big family.
“Did you finish your schooling yet, Varushka?” he asked.
“Yes. Well, the classroom part. I need experience in the field to get my certificate.”
He nodded. “We’ll get that set up when we get home.”
Home. Russia was her home. Going to America, and living there with a stranger—would it ever feel like home to her?
“Thank you.”
“If you want to. You don’t have to. If we marry, you won’t need to work.”
“Whichever you want.”
“I’m not going to run your life, Varushka. I want you to be happy.”
Varushka smiled, and he smiled back. Then she got caught by his dark eyes. Demurely, she tried to avert her gaze but she was helpless to look away. Deep in the pit of her belly warmth sparked again, spreading downward. There was such devilishness in his eyes, at times, that she wondered how she’d ever keep his attention. Doubtless, he’d had many lovers. Varushka didn’t even know how to kiss, even though she was twenty-one. She had the feeling that learning from him would be far more interesting than learning from the young men in her village.
What would that broad chest look like with no shirt? And the rest of him?
Antonia cleared her throat and the spell broke. She looked around, noticing Nina and her cousin staring at them as if they were performing onstage. Her cheeks heated, and she felt like melting into the floor.
Konstantin pushed away from the table, mumbling in English. “Nosy relatives.”
A picture of Antonia and his grandmother with several noses poking out of their faces formed in her mind. She tilted her head, puzzled.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked, holding out his hand.
She looked at the others, and they grinned back eagerly. Hand trembling, she placed it in his. Anything to get out from under their watchful eyes.
They walked quietly down the dirt road, away from Nina’s house, passing familiar sights as they went. How many times had she walked this road? To get to the small schoolroom, to go to the market, to steal apples from the Gribkov’s orchard with Antonia. Hundreds? Thousands? Would she ever walk here again? Once they left, would it be the last time she set eyes on this town? It wasn’t perfect—too hot in the summer, too cold in the winter, noisy neighbors—but it was home.
“Do you speak much English?” Konstantin asked in English, breaking the silence.
