What to do for Natalia? She had no need of gold coins or apple orchards. He scanned the interior of his bedroom, looking for something special to send to her. An icon of a sad Madonna frowned on the wall, but Natalia already had plenty of icons. A piece of his jewelry? A book? A pile of books was stacked on the bureau, and she always liked books.
“Bring me the second book in that stack,” he instructed Sergei. His lawyer put the pad of paper down and retrieved a leather-bound book embossed with gold.
“This one?”
“No ... the little brown one beneath it. Bring a pencil too.”
Sergei did as requested. Dimitri suppressed a weak laugh because the gurgling in his lungs upset his mother, but he managedto flip open the cover ofLittle Womenand find a blank page. It was a Russian copy. The original one Natalia had sent was long gone, but he’d bought another copy once he arrived at Mirosa because it reminded him of her. Now she would have it.
Anna propped the book on a pillow so he could scribble a message.
Dearest Natalia. You were right.
The pencil stilled as a surge of memories came to the fore. He hadn’t cared for this book when he first read it, but in hindsight, it was about the sort of family he wished he could have had. A case of the mumps at nineteen had robbed him of that, but he hoped Natalia would have such a family someday. He loved her enough to wish that for her. He blinked a sheen of tears away. Ridiculous self-pity would not be tolerated when he had work to do. He adjusted the page and continued to write.
Dearest Natalia. You were right. This book contains a wonderful family. Thank you for sharing it with me, but I still contend the best scene is when Beth dies ... as all good heroes do.
He choked back a laugh, but it turned into a strangled cough, and his mother began to panic. Liquid in his lungs gurgled and bubbled up, strangling him. He couldn’t breathe.
“Go get Dr. Sopin,” his mother cried out to Sergei.
Pain banded across his chest and back. He was dizzy. Suffocating. The edges of his vision turned dark, but he forced himself to calm down. He waited until he had the strength to take a sip of air ... only a sip. Any more could lay him low again, and he needed to finish the will and get it formally witnessed and signed.
He lay against the pillow, taking shallow breaths until his vision cleared, but then the chills set in again. The sad Madonna frowned down at him from the wall, but he smiled up at her.God had been good. This life had been good. Too short and filled with pain and calamities, but joy and purpose too. Yes, God had been very good to him.
Sergei completed the will an hour later. Dr. Sopin and Count Ulyanov witnessed it, and Dimitri signed the document with a shaking hand.
His job was complete. He smiled and lay back, savoring a job well done ... as all good heroes did.
38
Natalia’s kitchen was delightfully warm as she fussed over a pot of simmering cranberry sauce on her new enamel stovetop. Her kitchen now had a new oven with two burners, new cabinets, and a new icebox. Today she would host her first Thanksgiving meal, and she was determined to do everything right. She may have once struggled to boil an egg, but in an hour a holiday feast would be served with great fanfare.
The chef on theBlack Rosehad provided the main course, since a roasted turkey was beyond her fledgling skills. Liam helped Natalia in the kitchen, but there was no room for Gwen, who was seven months pregnant and probably ought to be off her feet anyway. She sat in the parlor with Patrick, who was lazily skimming the newspaper before the meal.
By the time Natalia lit the candles, Liam was teasing Gwen about her choice of baby names because Gwen wanted to name her children after plants. The baby would be called Iris if it was a girl and Florian if it was a boy.
“You can’t name a boy Florian,” Liam insisted.
“Why not?” Gwen asked. “It’s an ancient name going all the way back to Roman times, and it means flower.”
“That’swhy you can’t name him Florian,” Liam said. “Thekid won’t be able to hold his head up in school. Patrick, you can’t be on board with this.”
Patrick kept his nose buried in a newspaper. “I’m hoping for a girl.”
“I’m hoping you grow a backbone and stand up to your wife if you have a son,” Liam said.
The bickering continued, with Liam trying to think of other names from the botanical world that might work for a boy, but all Natalia could come up with was Basil, which wasn’t much better than Florian.
Suddenly, Patrick looked at her over the rim of the newspaper. “Have you read today’s news?”
“Just the headlines,” Natalia said. After all, part of her efforts to broaden herself beyond the world of business meant that she no longer had to obsessively monitor stock prices and economic news. Still, Patrick looked concerned. “Why?” she asked.
“There was an explosion in a Saint Petersburg train station. Twenty-six people were killed.”
She sucked in a quick breath but forced herself to remain calm. “I’m sure Dimitri is fine,” she said. “His estate is two hours south of the city.”
Thinking about Dimitri was worrisome. He still hadn’t responded to the letter she sent him almost a month ago. All she had was a strange package containing a Russian translation ofLittle Womenthat had arrived last week.She hadn’t even realized it had been translated, but she’d flipped open the cover, reading the odd message from Dimitri scribbled on the title page, reasserting his insistence that Beth’s death scene was the best in the book.
