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She’d survived. They’d both survived.
He held onto her and walked her over to the sofa and sat down, settling her on his lap, and she held his face, deepening her kiss.
Yes, she wanted to marry this man. Right here, right now.
Go home with him, build a life with him, have his children.
Live happily ever after.
She leaned back and smiled.
“What?” he said, resting his head back on the sofa.
“Gotcha,” she said softly.
He grinned. “Didn’t know what else to say.”
She laughed, and then he pulled her close, holding her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him back. “Never let go.”
“Never leave me.”
“Deal.” She turned her face to his neck, rested her lips there. Closed her eyes.
“I hate to interrupt, but anybody hungry?”
Ned’s entire body sighed, and she pulled away, looked over at Fraser. “Please tell me it’s not kasha, or wormy potatoes, or cold noodles.”
“How does borscht sound?”
“Whatever that is, as long as it matches that smell, I’m in.” She pushed off Ned but took his hand as he got up.
The soup was a deep red, with fresh bread piled in the middle of the table, and she wanted to weep with the smell, the fresh dill, the homemade mayonnaise, the hot tea.
She sat down on a bench, Ned beside her, and then, to her shock, Pavel took Sasha’s hand.
“Grace?”
Ned took her hand, and she took Fraser’s. He took Sasha’s and bowed his head.
Okay. Sure.
“Lord, zhank you for safety tonight. For a varm home. For soup and bread. For family, khere and across zhe ocean. For never leaving us, even in ze darkest moments. You are Emmanuel, and ve are grateful. Amin.”
Pavel looked up, grinned. “I still have my English.”
“Where did you learn it?” Fraser said as he reached for a piece of bread. Shae lifted her spoon. Hearty chunks of meat, chunks of potatoes and beets, carrots and onions. Pavel dolloped mayonnaise on his soup.
“I met a missionary, years ago, vhen he landed here. The first flight to Russia from Alaska in a small plane. His name vas Dwayne and he invited me to fly vith him. I was already pilot for Aeroflot, but I vanted to fly small planes in Alaska. I got visa and spent one summer in Copper Mountain, flying. He showed me Jesus and I became believer. And so did Sasha. And I zhink…” He reached out and took Sasha’s hand. “Alexi.” His mouth closed, and she swallowed.
Clearly, she’d missed something.
But the soup was filling all the nooks and crannies of her body, and she couldn’t stop eating. Ned seemed to enjoy it too, given the sounds emitting from him.
“Still eats like a grizzly bear,” said Fraser.
Sasha laughed. “My Alexi vould do the same.”
Ned turned to her, his voice low. “Their son died working for Lukka Petrov and their organization.”
