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Maybe Everly or Kate had picked Varushka up to go out somewhere? He wandered into the backyard, on the off chance that she was out enjoying the mild weather. A mug of tea sat next to one of the lounges on the deck. He felt like he was tracking her. What did he get to do to her when he captured her?
When he stood still on the steps leading down to the lawn, he heard a noise that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Curious, he followed the sounds behind the stand of high, decorative hedges.
For a moment, all he could do was stand there and stare. Was The Twilight Zone airing an episode on the grounds of his estate?
Varushka, wearing one of her old dresses, her hair tied back in a kerchief, was on her hands and knees in the middle of a huge garden which had miraculously appeared in his absence. Not a decorative flower garden either. It looked like she was planning to supply vegetables to several of Everly’s homeless shelters single-handedly.
Behind her stood a wooden structure that hadn’t been there the last time he was on the grounds, and through the chicken wire, he could see . . . chickens. Actual fucking chickens in his motherfucking backyard. There was even a fenced-off area where they could wander without danger from predators.
Anger tried to rear its head, since she’d basically destroyed the place without so much as a text asking for permission, or even a small hint that she was turning his yard into a fucking farm. But between the fact that he wanted her to feel like this was her home, and the fact that the situation was so absurd, he couldn’t be angry. He was too stunned.
She looked ridiculous and adorable and the only urge he had was to whisk her into his arms and swing her around.
“Varushka . . .” He made his way to her where she stood in the garden. “You’ve been busy.”
The girl whirled, eyes wide. She looked so sweet and girlish in the too-big dress, with wisps of red hair straggling out of her kerchief. Before he’d left, she’d begun to seem more worldly in the things he’d bought her, but he had to remember that she was still an innocent village girl. It wasn’t an illusion or a role-play.
“Konstantin, I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow.” She rose, putting a self-conscious hand to her covered hair. She looked down at her dress and slapped some of the dirt off, but no amount of brushing was going to help. She needed a bath. And he wouldn’t mind giving her one.
The wall he’d decided to keep between them until he could be sure of her feelings melted on the spot. He stepped closer to her and brushed some dirt off her cheek, but more was smudged underneath. They stared at each other and attraction sizzled between them in the twilight.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement. One of her silly chickens was sneaking across the lawn like a feathered ninja.
“Is that one supposed to be loose?” He pointed at the thing.
She said something that sounded suspiciously like a Russian curse word, and snuck quietly toward the wayward bird. Her quarry, however, wasn’t stupid. It kept out of her way, and every time he thought she was going to outsmart it, the silly thing dodged. He moved in, and tried to shoo it toward her. It veered off, and he followed. This was harder than it looked.
Giving up on subterfuge, he lunged at it, and it flapped and went left. Varushka was there, but it scooted between her legs. She laughed, and gave chase, with Konstantin hard on her heels. It backtracked, and Varushka tripped over Kon’s foot then sprawled into some wet muck. He helped her up, and got splattered when she slipped. It was so completely ridiculous, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing out loud.
As though it was mocking them, the hen scooted past. With a final burst of speed, Konstantin caught up with it. He grabbed it up and hauled it, flapping, to the coop, then released it into the fenced yard. Together, they looked over the structure but couldn’t figure out how the Houdini chicken had escaped.
Konstantin collapsed onto the ground, and laid with his arm over his eyes, laughing and trying to catch his breath. “Where did you get those crazy things?”
“A farmer called Malachi sold them to me. He’s a friend of Everly’s. They’re good laying hens.” She sounded defensive, so he grinned at her to let her know he was teasing. “They might be a little too smart.”
“At least it’s not goats.”
The girl settled next to him on the lawn, and leaned on him with a familiarity that warmed him. “No, not for two weeks. I have to build the pen first.”
He chuckled, then looked up at her when she didn’t laugh too.
Oh shit, she wasn’t joking.
“Goats, Varushka? There are laws here about keeping livestock. You can’t just have chickens and goats in our yard without making sure it’s allowed by the government.”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s what Everly told me. So she helped me call City Hall, and the nice man there told me that because we live so far away from the city, we are zoned for almost any kind of livestock. I will use the money you gave me for shopping for supplies, so you needn’t worry about me asking for more. And when the vegetables come, their harvest and sales will help pay for animal feed as well as feed us.” She smiled proudly.
That face. How could he ever say no to that face?
It wasn’t exactly in keeping with the general theme of the house, but if it wasn’t going to be just his house anymore, he had to give her some say. He wanted her to feel at home, and he knew she desperately wanted to feel useful. Besides, it was nothing a landscaper couldn’t fix if she left him.
If it would keep her busy and give her a sense of purpose, he could tolerate it. They’d have to hire someone to babysit the operation whenever they went on trips, but it wasn’t impossible. “But why goats?”
“I like goats. They’re small, and funny, and their milk is very useful. I’ve already made arrangements for them to be delivered, so I need to get the pen built soon.” She was watching him, and seemed disappointed he wasn’t happier. “Not buying the cow was a good decision, I think.”
Konstantin struggled to stifle a belly laugh, not sure what to say. “Yes, that was a good decision.”
“You’re not happy with me,” she observed. She sagged, and he wondered if he should have pretended he was excited, for her sake. Humoring people wasn?
