Chapter 3
Lily
“This year?” I mutter the words to myself as I pace the small cabin, too irritated to do anything other than fume about what Ilya just said. He’s the exact guy I need to stay away from. I’ve been hurt in the past, and I’ll be damned if I make the same mistake twice.
And I have a feeling Ilya would be one hell of a mistake, the kind that I’d never get out of my head, the kind that I would always crave and want to make again.
With another frustrated groan, I force myself to forget about him and get ready for bed. I want to wake up early and put together some new lesson plans for Bran. At the thought of him, I smile. I’ve already fallen hard for the little guy. My heart split wide open today when he felt me laugh and smiled. He’s my focus here, always, and Ilya is going to have to take a much-needed backseat.
The next day I’m up bright and early, coffee mug in hand while I sit on my small porch and flip through my lesson plans. I’ve just grabbed my pen to jot down some notes when I hear a loud scream. It’s not a happy one. It’s the kind of sound that instantly sends goosebumps along your skin and lights up the ancient part of your brain that relies solely on instinct.
Dropping my mug, I race down the steps and run towards Vasily and Nina’s. By the time I get there, it’s chaos. Nina is crying and Talia is wailing while she clings to her dad, refusing to be consoled. He’s holding Talia to his chest with one arm while the other is wrapped around his wife. He’s supporting them, but I see the fear in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, running over to them.
“We can’t find Bran,” Nina says, her voice wobbling before she starts crying again. “He wasn’t in his room this morning when I went to get him. I can’t find him anywhere.”
“We’ll find him,zolotse,” Vasily says while Dmitri runs out with Ilya and Nikolai right behind him. Several other men come around the side of the house to join us and soon we’re all spreading out to search the sprawling grounds of this estate. It’s daunting enough just thinking about the acreage, but when you add in the swirling, turbulent ocean a few hundred feet away, it becomes terrifying. I understand Nina’s scream, because the thought of Bran’s tiny body trying to stay afloat in that rough water makes me feel like I’m going to be sick.
“He’s wearing his green pajamas,” Nina manages to say, “the ones with little bears on them.”
Her words and the image it brings to mind have her sobbing again as everyone starts to fan out and start looking. I feel numb when my feet start guiding me down the path to the water, and when I trip and almost fall, it’s Ilya’s strong, tattooed hands that catch me.
“We’re going to find him,” he says, repeating Vasily’s words.
I nod, unable to speak, and continue walking while still using him for support. We occasionally hear someone shout Bran’s name before catching themselves and returning to the silent search. It’s pure habit to shout for someone’s attention, but screaming Bran’s name isn’t going to help us find him. All we can do is search and hope like hell we catch sight of him or that he catches sight of us.
The wind picks up when our feet hit sand, and a quick look around shows several adults searching every place they can think of. A large group heads into the woods while others branch out to the beach like we’re doing. I catch sight of Vasily’s large form, still holding a sobbing Talia because she refuses to let him go. His arm is securely around her while he and Nina head to the left of us. Nina has Dmitri’s hand firmly in hers, determined to not let her other two kids out of her sight. Ilya and I take the right side, both of us scanning every inch of what we can see, desperate for a glimpse of Bran’s small body.
My heart races at the thought of him being alone and scared, and as much as I don’t want to, I keep looking over at the turbulent water to my left, the rough, crashing waves that could so easily pull a small child out and never bring him back. I’ve almost made myself sick with the all-too-vivid images in my head when we walk a few steps further and I feel Ilya’s body freeze beside mine. Following his gaze, I see the small patch of green that’s almost hidden behind a large sand dune. With a gasp, I start running as Ilya shouts for Vasily and Nina. I reach Bran’s small body seconds before he does. Fearing the worst, I slowly reach a hand out, resting it on the little boy’s back to see if I can feel him breathing. Scared at the sudden contact, Bran flinches and turns his head to look behind him, and I let out a relieved sob when I see he’s okay.
Nina and Vasily come running over, and as soon as she sees that he’s okay, she falls to her knees and starts crying. Talia struggles to break free, and as soon as Vasily puts her down, she runs over to Bran, wrapping him in a big hug while Dmitri walks over and ruffles his younger brother’s hair, a move that’s just as affectionate if not as exuberant. Big hazel eyes look around at us, and the scared look on Bran’s face has Nina scooting closer while she gives him a wobbly smile.
“It’s okay,” she says, knowing he can’t understand her but also knowing he’ll be able to pick up on the fact that she’s not mad, that none of us are mad.
When she reaches out her hand, Bran looks up at her and then slowly gets to his feet. He seems so much older than his three years as he closes the small distance and then hesitantly reaches his arms out to her. Nina immediately pulls his small body to hers, wrapping him in a protective hug while she cries and looks up at her husband. The love she feels for all three of her kids is a tangible thing, and right now we’re all surrounded in it. Vasily wraps his arms around the two of them, holding them close as he looks over them and asks me, “What was he doing?”
I drop my eyes to where he’d been lying in the sand and then look back at the roiling waves. They look scary, the kind of danger that even a small child would naturally be wary of, but Bran’s a very curious boy, and I’m not all that surprised that he wanted to go exploring. I am surprised that he managed to sneak out of the house, though.
“I think he was trying to feel the vibrations of the water,” I tell them. “Yesterday, while he was playing with the water table, he kept putting his head against the plastic, trying to feel the movement.”
Vasily kisses Bran’s head and tells Nina, “We’re baby-proofing the hell out of every door in the house.”
“Definitely,” she says.
I can tell the moment the guilt hits her and so can her husband, because he quickly says, “This was a one-time thing, Nina. There’s no way we could’ve known he’d manage to get out. Every door and window we have is locked and secure.” He runs his fingers through Bran’s hair and says, “He’s going to need a little extra baby-proofing, that’s all. I promise you this will never happen again.”
She nods as Vasily picks up Talia and starts to lead his family back up to their house. Ilya yells something in Russian, and Vasily darts his eyes to mine before giving a quick nod before he says something back to Ilya. I watch Dmitri run along beside them, happy and oblivious to the terror we were all feeling just minutes ago.
When I start to get up, Ilya grabs my hand and pulls me next to him. “Come on, I’m taking you to your cabin.”
I look back over at Nina, watching Bran rest his head on her shoulder as they keep walking, his gaze firmly on the vast ocean spread out before him.
“Don’t worry,” Ilya tells me. “I told Vasya I was doing it. Everyone needs time to decompress. He said for you to come back in the morning.”
I know he’s right. I also know it would be very easy for me to insert myself too firmly into this family. Bran needs to learn from me, but he also needs to not be confused about who his mom is. Nina needs to be the one to comfort him right now. They need to have their own time to bond. I’m here to help, not take over. It’ll just be more confusing to Bran if he starts to see me as a mom-type presence. He needs to see me as a friend, someone he can trust and who loves him and wants the best for him, but not as his mom. That needs to always be Nina.
Ilya doesn’t let go of my hand, and I don’t pull away. I’m too wound up from everything that just happened, too raw, and my mind is still replaying the sight of his small body lying on the beach and the way I’d felt when I briefly thought he wasn’t breathing.
