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“Shouldn’t you sit down? Rest?” Gleb asks me.
“I’ve been resting for months. I’m tired of resting. Hey, but I’m serious,” I tell him, going to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Normal, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, closing his hand over mine. “But he’s my grandson. I can spoil him on his birthday.”
“Fine.”
We haven’t talked much privately since everything, and I want to spend some time with him. Hear about my mother from him.
I’m grateful that my brain seems to have blocked out the actual events of the afternoon that led to my medically-induced coma. I hope I never remember what happened to me that day because the sliver of memory I do have—the blurry vision of Vasily as he told me to look at him, to make sure I see him as he killed our baby, a baby I wasn’t even sure was there yet—still has me waking up at night covered in a cold sweat.
I don’t understand that kind of evil, and I never want to.
Gleb smiles up at me. I see the sadness in his eyes, that regret or loss. He hasn’t opened up much about how he feels. I don’t think it’s natural for him to do that, but I get the feeling the regret is for what could have been.
If my mother had come to him, I think he would have forgiven her. Would I have grown up with a father then?
No. Even if I’d had a dad, I wouldn’t have Lev or Josh, and I won’t give them up for anything in the world.
“Take my grandson upstairs, Katerina. There are a few more presents for him in his room.”
“More presents?” I ask.
“I’m allowed to spoil him on his birthday, remember?” His gaze falls on Lev. “Lev and I will have a talk.”
I glance back and forth between the two of them, and I wonder if Lev knows what this is about.
“Go upstairs with your mom, Josh,” Lev tells Josh, who has just licked a little icing off his finger.
He hops off the table, and I take his hand. “Don’t think I didn’t see that.” I wink at him as Lev takes a seat at the kitchen table, and just beyond them, I see the two men outside.
Gleb’s house is in a highly secure compound outside of the city, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to all the guards. With Vasily and Andrei dead, do we have other enemies? In a way, I guess being Gleb Mikhailov’s daughter makes me a target, and it makes Josh one too.
Josh hums a tune as we make our way upstairs to his bedroom. It’s beside ours with a connecting door between and about three times the size of our little cabin in Colorado.
I have to tell him not to get used to this. We will leave soon, I think. But as much as I love Colorado, a part of me wants to stay here to be closer to my father now that I’ve found him. Give Josh the family I never had.
I know, though, that Lev wants out of this life. He doesn’t like staying at the house, but it was the best option while I was in the hospital, and we didn’t want to move Josh too much until we figured out what to do.
“Wow!” Josh’s eyes go wide when he opens his bedroom door.
“Oh…my God.”
He runs toward his bed, probably unsure where to start as boxes and boxes wrapped in brightly colored paper litter every available surface on the bed and floor.
I walk into the room to sit down at the head of the bed, hating that I feel a little tired, and watch him as he begins to tear into the packages. I can’t help the smile on my face to see him so happy.
Does he remember that day at the house with Andrei? Or those men at the rest area when we’d run? Will those events ever come back to haunt him later?
I touch the scar on my arm and remember the events that traumatized me. That made me who I am.
I can’t take those terrible things away from Josh, but I can be there for him when he does remember.
Glancing at the nightstand, I pick up one of the photos. It’s the one of my mom with Gleb, and they both look so happy. I have one exactly like this in my room too. And I think about my dream at the hospital.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her,” she’d said. Her. Our little baby girl.
“Mommy.” Josh climbs up into my lap, and I wrap an arm around him as he rests his head, then touches my mother’s face in the photo. “Mommy.”
“Grandma.” I’m not sure he believes me.
“Grandma,” he repeats and looks up at me with Lev’s eyes.
He touches a scar under the freshly cut bangs I got to hide this newer one. His face grows darker when he does it, but he never asks about that time I was in the hospital. I guess he will later, when he’s older. Instead, he shifts his little hand to my hair and takes a lock of it into his hand.
