Or when to hide.
Mom’s expression was not unsympathetic, but her competitive streak ruled. She didn’t want to win. Sheneededto win. No matter what it took or who paid the price. Dad and Alek were the same. Tasha used to be, too, until she realized others had more control of her destiny than she did.
Mom stepped closer, close enough for a hug, which Tasha desperately needed, but Mom’s arms remained pressed by her sides. “Then change your mind and come to Seattle with us for Christmas.”
Forget Tasha’s uncertain future. Mom only wanted her family together over the holiday. And not to have them all together for the family time. No, Alek got a couple days off for Christmas, and Mom wanted to take advantage of the time for photo ops. “My vacation is fully paid for. The money is nonrefundable.”
Not that Alek cared about the money. But he knew Tasha needed to get away. And she did.
“We’ll pay—”
“I’m not canceling.” Tasha raised her chin. “A vacation in a winter wonderland is what I need.”
Mom’s gaze softened. She touched Tasha’s shoulder, and Tasha leaned into it more than she should, but Mom didn’t show this kind of emotion often. This counted as an almost-hug, right? Mom’s mouth lifted in a Mona Lisa smile, but it was the affection in her eyes that brought a lump to Tasha’s throat, and she fought the temptation to lean in closer.
Mom kissed her head. “You need more than that,moyasolnishka.”
Tasha’s heart skipped a beat—possibly three. Wishing Bay was at sea level, but her struggle to breathe reminded her of high-altitude training. She loved the kinder, gentler Yelena the press and public saw.
As Mom lowered her hand, Tasha nearly fell sideways. She caught her balance and straightened. “Maybe I’ll find what I’m looking for in Berry Lake.”
“When do you leave?”
“Saturday.”
Mom’s lips parted, but no words came out. That was unlike her. “Remember, Natasha. You are in control of your destiny.”
Softness gave way to strength in Mom’s eyes and voice—the same kind of strength Tasha would need to get through the rest of the year, possibly longer.
“You can’t keep spinning, hoping when you stop, everything will be okay,” Mom added.
Tasha half laughed. “Don’t worry. I stopped spinning a long time ago.”
She didn’t want to do that again and repeat her past.
She couldn’t.
* * *
Saturday afternoon, Elias stood on his front porch. The cold air bit like tiny fangs on his face and hands, and the below-freezing temperature chilled him to the bone. He shivered, wishing he’d put on a coat before answering the door, but how was he supposed to know Sabine Culpepper’s visit wouldn’t be a drop-and-dash?
Right about now, he should wake from the nightmare. The best part was not working on a weekend, which suggested he was dreaming. Except the small mangy brown and white dog attached to the other end of the leash he held was real. And the number of items piling up on his porch like someone had gone on a Cyber Monday shopping spree kept piling up.
He flexed his cold fingers. “Does a dog need this much…stuff?”
Sabine placed another box on top of a black wire cage. She adjusted the down vest she wore over the Berry Lake Animal Rescue sweatshirt. “We provide our Home for Holidays fosters with all the supplies they need. You’ll find an instruction sheet and numbers to call if you need help with your temporary family member. I will warn you since you’re new to this, a few people have earned the term foster failures.”
Elias cringed. Her gleeful tone sounded more like a plaintiff winning a six-figure settlement than an animal rescuer. “I hope they didn’t hurt any animals.”
Sabine’s face lit up. “Nope. They adopted them. Foster failure, get it?”
Elias did, but he wasn’t worried. He’d been roped into fostering, but it wouldn’t go further than that. “Fostering for my grandmother was mentioned but nothing about adoption. I won’t be failing at this.”
Sabine winked. “That’s what they all say.”
The odds of an asteroid hitting the Earth or buying a winning lottery ticket would be better than him adopting anything, including a goldfish. Come December twenty-sixth, the dog would return to the rescue with all its stuff. He didn’t have time for a personal life, let alone a pet. Elias eyed one item warily. He didn’t want to keep the dog, he didn’t want it locked up as if this were a zoo, which begged the question. “Why did you bring a cage?”
“It’s a dog crate.” Sabine’s patient tone suggested she might have heard his question before. “Many dogs feel safe and comfortable in them when they’re alone during the day or when they sleep at night. This crate came to the rescue with Higgins, so it’s familiar.”
