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Elena hides a laugh against Lev’s hair, and Dmitri looks at the ceiling.
“He’s definitely yours,” Cara tells Alexei.
Mikhail joins us with Misha’s yellow car in his hand. “You dropped this.”
Misha takes it and presses the car against Alexei’s shoulder. “He needs something to hold.”
Alexei accepts the car without question.
Mikhail points at Alexei’s torn sleeve. “My papa breaks his clothes too.”
Cara looks at Dmitri. “He owns other shirts. You wouldn’t know it.”
Dmitri removes his torn coat. “This one was clean this morning.”
“A personal record.”
Mrs. Wentworth enters carrying a tray of hot tea, chicken broth, thick slices of buttered bread, and small jam sandwiches cut into squares for the children. Two cups of warm cocoa sit beside a bowl of biscuits. Lev wakes up and coos from Elena’s arms. He reaches toward the biscuits as Mrs. Wentworth passes.
She pats Lev’s cheek and sets down the tray. “Irina is waiting across the corridor, and Dr. Yelena is on her way,” she tells Alexei.
Misha tightens his arms around Alexei’s neck. “No doctors.”
The paper crown slips from his head.
“Your mother is a doctor,” Mrs. Wentworth reminds him.
“Only Mama checks Papa.”
Dr. Yelena enters from the corridor with her bag in one hand. Her eyes move over Alexei, Dmitri, and me before stopping on the blood across my sweater.
“I’ll check Vera first.”
“Later,” I say. “Alexei had surgery, and he’s bleeding through his dressing.”
“You were dragged into an ambulance and held at gunpoint.”
“I know where I’m hurt. His injuries can turn serious faster.”
Misha lifts his head from Alexei’s shoulder. “Mama checks Papa.”
Yelena looks at him, then at Alexei’s hand pressed against his side. “All right. Your mother can check him, but Irina checks her at the same time.”
Dmitri lowers himself onto the sofa in the sitting area. Cara stands beside him with one hand on his shoulder.
Yelena points at him. “You stay there. I’ll deal with you next.”
“I was planning to.”
Cara looks down at him. “For once.”
I slide one arm beneath Misha and try to lift him, but he locks his legs around Alexei’s waist.
Alexei braces one hand against the wall and pushes himself upright. “It’s all right.”
“You can barely stand.”
Misha nods against his shoulder. “I’m helping.”
