“It’s no secret, Lidochka.”
“But you didn’t know, Papa Duke.”
My child has a point. I clear my throat. “I mean, it’s not wrong. You should spend more time with your mother.”
She shrugs and swirls around. The woven silk gown she wears, with gold and crimson stripes, has trim plaited about the neckline. It matches the delicate braids done up in her chignon.
“Papen’ka,” she says as she climbs onto the bed, rumpling the burgundy tapestry covering the mattress and linens. “Have you met the tzar?”
“Once. Tzar Alexander is an impressive figure. He was very liberal in his youth. Now, not so much. With age …”
My dorogaya gapes at me with innocent, wide eyes, dark and sparkling like her mother’s. I guess she doesn’t want to hear about how men age. I change tactics. “He defeated Napoleon.”
“A warrior! I knew it. I bet he’s strong and brave like you.”
While bravery is determined by circumstances, I can admit he probably is. Alexander has no known sickness. “You’re a precious daughter. Speaking of precious, Mr. Steele says you’ve made friends with Lada.”
“Yes, while Katherine’s gone, I keep the kitten. We don’t play so much. She doesn’t crawl too good.”
“Does that make you like her less?”
“No. I mean, nyet. I love Lada. I always wanted a kitten, but Other Mother, Katherine’s … not mine, she didn’t want a cat.”
I brush the curls from her eyes. “You have the truth, dorogaya,and access to a kitten. That’s a lot.” I sit her on my lap. “Have you forgiven your true mother?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “She says she won’t take me from you, but …”
“But what, Lydia?”
“Don’t know if it’s true. Katherine’s been so mean to you. Now she’s nice.” The child reaches up and hugs my neck. “I don’t like being scared. I’ve been scared a lot since you were sick.”
Feeling her little body in my arms, knowing this is flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, overwhelms me. When I can speak clearly, I say, “I’ve written to you today. Since I found out about us, I write a little note every day.”
Her dark eyes light up. “Where? Let me see.”
“No, not now. When you’re older.”
She sits back down and pouts. “Why tell me if I can’t see it?”
“The letters aren’t for now. They are for when I am unable to be with you.”
Her lips pucker. “But you said we’re not going to be separated.”
“Lydia.” I hold her small face in my palms. “No person is here forever. My papen’ka is gone. I’m lucky that my mother is still with us.”
“I knew it. You’re dying again.” She starts to cry, and I keep her close until she calms. I hold her a long time, long enough for me to calm and remember how it feels to be loved this completely.
“Dorogaya. I’m solid. My heart is beating. I’ve no plans to go anywhere without you.”
She sniffles.
I wipe tears. “Listen to me. I couldn’t always be with my father. I only got to spend the summers with him. But he wrote me often. I treasure those letters, even though he is gone.”
“So you’ll keep making them for me?”
“Yes. That way, you’ll always remember how much I love you. You’ll know that I think of you every day. There will be advice about everything. Your mother says I’m full of it.”
“But … But what if I get sick and not do so good? I’ll not know what you said.”
