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I sleep most of the day. At 4:30, I still haven’t gotten out of bed. I spent the day binge-watching the last season of Madame Secretary, which I missed during my captivity. I was obsessed with the show. My father was friends with an executive from the network and was able to get me advanced copies of the episodes. It’s interesting to be able to watch them all in the same place whenever I want to. Normally, I’d hate to be such a lazy bones but Danhy did tell me to relax, so I am. Vaguely, I hear the doorbell and a cacophony of voices. Shit. I get up and slide a dress on. Walking out in the living room barefoot, I see the girls from the other day some guys that look like Danhy and an older couple. There is also an additional woman with crazy 80’s blonde hair.
“Ah, Zoya. These are my parents, Thor and Enid.”
“Thor?” I blurt out.
“Less Chris Hemsworth more god of Thunder,” the man says, and I giggle, liking him instantly.
“My other sister-in-law Stacy.” 80’s hair pulls me into a hug.
“Sorry, I couldn’t go shopping with you the other day. I was volunteering at the high school.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” I say starting to get overwhelmed.
“We brought dinner,” Kensie says.
“Oh, thank you.”
“These are my brothers, Om, Brand, Tori, Troy, Tom, and Hagan.” Danhy says pointing each of them out.
“It’s nice to meet you all.” I look around for some kind of escape and I find it in a smiling Enid.
“Come over here, Zoya dear. Let me get a good look at you,” she says holding her arms open for me. I walk into them and she wraps her arms around me. Instant warmth washes over me and I find myself crying.
“Zoya?” Danhy says coming over and placing a hand on my back.
“Girls heat up dinner. Boys go put a game on or something. Leave us be for a moment.”
“Mom,” Danhy begins but he’s cut off by his dad.
“Best leave the women to their gossip.” He practically has to drag him away. Enid and I sit on the bench by the front door. She doesn’t say anything to me. She just holds me and lets me cry. Then, she sings Bayushki Bayua, a Russian lullaby, to me and I look up at her.
“Ty govorish’ po-russki?” You speak Russian? I ask in my native tongue. Though it’s clear she can speak Russian.
“Da. The stories I could tell you,” she says smiling wistfully.
“What kind of stories?” I ask very intrigued.
“Come have lunch with me tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“I’d like that,” I tell her. We stand and I hug her again. I can already tell I’m going to love this woman.
There’s another knock on the door, opening it, I shout “brat” and am engulfed in a huge hug from my brother.
“Mladshaya sestra,” Anatoli says. He doesn’t look the same as the last time I saw him. He’s aged.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, wiping a tear away.
“Nothing. I promise. I’ve just been emotional.”
“If you are unhappy here, we can leave. Just say the word.”
“No, no. I’m very happy,” I assure him. Too happy. Happier than I have any right to be.
“Well, I for one I am very happy that you are safe and sound. I was so fucking worried about you. When I found Mama and Papa like that and you were nowhere to be found, I anticipated the worst.”
“Brother, please. I can’t talk about that right now. I am fine,” I say.
“Zoya Marenka, I know you. This has to be eating you up inside,” he says.
“Anatoli, you knew me. I have changed. I am not the spoiled bitch I was before I was taken. I am dealing with it. They didn’t do anything to me physically, but I was subjected to conditions I was not used to. Please, let it go for now.”
“If you are sure,” he says shaking his head.
“I am sure.”
“Just know that you have options,” he says before zipping his lips.
“I know,” I answer truthfully.
We leave it at that with the house full of people. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up later.
After our greeting, Taryn tells us dinner is ready. Going back to Danhy, I assure him that I am fine. As I look around the table, I realize this is my ever-growing family and I can’t wait to see what the future holds.
Chapter Eleven
Danhy
Getting out of the car in front of Jorgensen’s Jewelers, the air feels crisper, the sun brighter, and my life feels as if it is just starting. Looking across the street, I see that Pixie’s brother Anatoli is also exiting his car. I called him this morning after Pixie left with the girls to go shopping for something and asked him to meet me here.
“Mr. Jorgensen,” He says as he walks up to me and holds his hand out.
