by Nicole Fox
Again, I try the knob. And again, the door is unlocked.
I push it open and immediately blink against the brightness.
A window is open, allowing the afternoon sun to stream inside, and it takes me several seconds to be able to see anything at all.
Then, I begin to make out the shape of a bed and a chair and a desk. There is a trunk for clothes and a closet, just like in my room.
Unlike my room, however, there are electrical cords running across the carpet and wires dangling from the ceiling and across the bed. Surprise pushes me back through the doorway and into the dim hallway. Curiosity pulls me forward again.
I step inside, eyes narrowed against the brightness, and see a small, pale, blonde-haired girl lying in the center of a bed that is much too large for her.
Then, I see a man walk through a narrow door to the right. I start, but don’t retreat. There is nowhere to go. He has already seen me, and I can’t leave the house.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, hoping I can claim directional dyslexia as an excuse. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Amanda?” the man calls over his shoulder. He has on a slim-fit button-down with a skinny tie tucked into straight-legged jeans. He looks like an accountant.
A red-headed woman in bright green scrubs walks through, looking like a medical elf. “Doctor?”
He nods towards me. “What is she doing here?”
The woman—Amanda, apparently—goes mute at the sight of me and simply shakes her head.
“You didn’t ask her to come here?” he asks.
“No one asked me,” I interject. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt … this. What is this?”
“You need to go,” Amanda finally says, rushing towards me. She moves between me and the little girl as though hiding her from me will keep me from remembering I ever saw her in the first place. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Where is here?” I ask. “What is going on?”
“You need to go,” Amanda repeats.
“Get her out,” the doctor says from behind her, as though she wasn’t already trying.
Amanda grabs my arm, but I pull away from her weak grip and charge fully into the room until I’m standing next to the bed.
The little girl is hooked up to machines that monitor all of her vitals. There is an IV pumping fluids into her bruised and battered arm. She doesn’t stir at all from the commotion.
“What happened to her?” I asked. Then, a horrible thought washes over me. “Did Dmitry do this?”
“Get her out,” the doctor orders, more forcefully this time. “Before we both lose our jobs.”
“What is your job?” I ask, voice high and frantic.
Amanda moves towards me again, but I dodge her and bump the side of the bed, shaking the frame and the little girl.
“Why are you here? Why does she need to be hooked up to all of this stuff? What did Dmitry do to her?”
Was this little girl taken from her family in the same way I was? Was she payment for a debt?
The thought turns my stomach, and I try to push it aside until I know the facts.
“What happened to her?”
“Courtney,” Amanda says gently. I assume Dmitry or one of the other members of staff in the house told her my name, but it’s still unnerving to hear her use it. “Dmitry doesn’t want you here. I have to ask you to leave.”
I raise a hand like I’ll hit her, and she backs off. “I’m not leaving until I know what happened.”
The doctor comes for me this time, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to let you cost me my job. You have to go. Now.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch the girl, though I see her roll slightly from the addition of my weight on the mattress.
“Don’t touch her!” Amanda warns. “Don’t bother her.”
“I’m not. I don’t want to hurt her. I just want to know what happened.”
I look back and the girl is shifted on her side, and I scoot away, trying to bother her as little as possible. As I do, I realize she didn’t roll onto her side because of me. The girl rolled onto her side because she … rolled onto her side.
“Is she awake?” I ask.
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, the room goes silent. The doctor and nurse freeze next to the bed and study the small girl.
When the girl blinks, Amanda gasps and makes me jump.
“Is that unusual?” I ask.
The doctor runs around to the other side of the bed and presses a stethoscope to the girl’s chest. The nurse follows behind him.
“What is going on?” I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.
The two of them whisper amongst themselves, though their words dry up when the little girl lifts a hand to her face and rubs at her eyes as though waking up from a dream.
“Call him,” the doctor says suddenly. “Now.”
Amanda runs for a phone across the room as the little girl becomes more and more aware.
“Tati?” the doctor asks, laying a hand on her cheek. “Can you hear me, Tati?”
Finally, the little girl opens her eyes, wincing against the light, but rather than look at the doctor, she turns and looks directly at me.
I’m frozen, stunned by the little girl’s beautiful brown eyes.
So stunned that I don’t hear Amanda call him or hear the doctor say anything. I just stare at the little girl and watch as she’s looked over and inspected and checked.
It feels like only a second has passed when the door bursts open and Dmitry rushes inside. He glares at me for one second, but then turns his attention to the little girl. He drops to his knees next to the bed, his eyes creased with worry and awe.
“Tati?” he asks. “Can you hear me?”
The girl turns to him, and her dry lips lift into a weak smile.
Dmitry smiles back, and I think what a beautiful sight it is—his smile.
“Out.” I look up and realize Dmitry is looking at me. “Get out. Now.”
I’m too confused to argue, so I stumble through the door and into the hallway. Seconds later, the nurse follows me.
When the door closes between us and the small child, Amanda turns on me. “If I get fired because of you—” Her voice cuts off, too angry to finish, and she shakes her head. “This is bullshit. Not my fault at all. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“What happened to that little girl?” I ask. “What is going on? Was she unconscious? Who did that to her?”
“She was in a coma,” Amanda says as though it was obvious. “She just woke up for the first time.”
I gasp. “Did Dmitry hurt her? If he did, you have to go to the police. If he’s keeping you here, then we can both try to get out together. That little girl doesn’t deserve this kind of life. She doesn’t deserve—”
Tears well in my eyes. I’m overwhelmed and confused and heartbroken, and Amanda must sense that because her nursing instincts take over. She lays a hand on my arm.
“The girl is Dmitry’s niece,” she says. “She was in a bad car accident with her family a few months ago. Her parents died, and Dmitry took her in. He hired me and the doctor and swore us to secrecy. He didn’t want anyone to know in case his enemies decided to use her against him. Tati was helpless and vulnerable.”
I absorb the information as well as I can, but I feel like a sponge already full of water. “Dmitry didn’t hurt her?”
Amanda shakes her head. “He saved her.”
I sigh, unsure what to feel. Then, I reluctantly add another checkmark for Dmitry in the “good guy” column.
After a few minutes, the doctor steps into the hallway and hitches his thumb over his shoulder towards the door. “Dmitry wants to see you.”
“Me?” Amanda asks.
He shakes his head and nods to me. “Her.”
I hesitate for only a second before Amanda pushes on my back, and I walk back into the bright room where the little girl is now sitting up in bed.
Dmitry
turns to look as the door clicks shut behind me.
12
Dmitry
Amanda doesn’t explain anything on the phone. Just: It’s Tati. Come quick.
In the middle of a meeting with Rurik about the Italian problem and without explanation, I jump up and run from the room. I drive like a madman through town, grateful I don’t pass a police officer, and sprint through the house and into the east wing with no thought for anything or anyone aside from Tati.
I see Courtney.
Sitting on the edge of Tati’s bed.
Then, I see Tati.
Eyes open, blinking.
There’s too much going on. Too much happening at once, and I need to get everyone out of the room and figure out what’s going on.
After sending Courtney away, I interrogate the doctor, trying to figure out why she was in Tati’s room, why she was in the east wing at all.
“She just walked in the door,” he says, shaking his head. “There are no guards here, so there was no one to stop her. I tried to get her out, but she wouldn’t leave. She was worried about the girl and sat on the bed, and the next thing I knew, Tati was waking up.”
“Is she really awake?” I ask, looking down at her.
Tati’s brown eyes look up at me; they study me, but she doesn’t try to sign anything. Doesn’t try to communicate at all. She just stares.
“It isn’t some kind of reflex?”
“No,” the doctor assures me. “She’s truly awake.”
He removes a few of the wires and the tube. Tati coughs, and it’s the first time I actually believe any of it is real. It’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to believe she could be okay.
Then, Tati lifts her hand. Hello.
Tears spring to my eyes, and I have to force them back down as I lift my hand and stroke my niece’s blonde hair.
Still, questions nag. So, I send for Courtney.
When she walks in, her finger is twisted in a strand of her black hair, and compared to the bright light in the room and Tati’s pale face, Courtney’s skin looks like an even richer shade of tan than normal. She’s beautiful, and I have to push those thoughts away to focus on what matters.
“What were you doing in here?” I demand.
Courtney looks down at the floor. “I just … I wanted to know what was back here. I didn’t know it would be a person. Your family.”
I narrow my eyes. “Amanda told you?”
She nods. “I’m not sure why you didn’t.”
“Because Tati was vulnerable. Is vulnerable. If my enemies knew she was here, they could have attacked the house the way they did the bar. I didn’t want to risk it.”
“I’m not your enemy.”
We look at each other for a long moment, and Courtney shrugs. “I don’t want to be your enemy. I don’t think of myself that way. Not anymore.”
I don’t think of her that way either, but I don’t say so.
Then, I feel a small hand on mine. Tati frowns at me and then begins to sign, her fingers stiff and slow, as though it takes her a while to remember the right movements.
Where are my mommy and daddy?
My heart seizes in my chest, and I’m glad I don’t need to speak to respond to her because I wouldn’t be able to get through it without breaking down.
Not here right now, I sign, and then smooth down her hair.
“What did she say about her parents?”
I look up and Courtney is watching us.
“How do you know sign language?”
“I worked at a coffee shop,” she says with a shrug. “We had a few deaf customers, and I learned the basics.”
I turn back to Tati and smile. Give me a second.
Then, I move towards Courtney, grab her just above her elbow, and pull her towards the corner. “How much do you know?”
“Enough,” she says. “I took a class in school about trauma at an early age. The way you handle this is so important. I just want to help.”
“Don’t.” I shake my head and look back towards the bed. Tati is watching us, so I turn so she won’t be able to read my lips. “She’s my family. I will handle this.”
Courtney opens her mouth to argue, but I raise a brow and she stops.
“I should end our deal since you broke the rules and came to this side of the house.”
“Dmitry, no!” Courtney pleads, laying a hand on my chest. “Please.”
I step away from her touch. “The only reason I’m not going to is because, for whatever reason, you’re good for my niece’s health. Your presence brought her back.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Courtney says. “I didn’t even touch her.”
I’m not usually a superstitious man, but after months of visiting Tati with no change, no movement, no improvement, I have to take it as a sign that she woke up the first time Courtney walked into her room.
It has to mean something.
“I don’t know what happened,” I admit. “But you brought Tati back, and I will not punish you for that.”
Courtney relaxes, but I step forward and press a finger under her chin, lifting her face to mine. Her brown eyes gaze into mine, wide and searching, and I find myself drawn to her lips, to her warmth. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from kissing her.
“But if you disobey my orders again, I will not be so forgiving.”
I hold Courtney’s chin up, forcing her to look into my eyes and see the truth of my words.
She blinks, and I finally let her go. She takes a deep breath, releasing a shaky sigh. “You know, sometimes it feels like you might be two entirely different people. It doesn’t make sense that the same man who would care for his niece like this could also threaten me and my family.”
Courtney has seen enough for one day, so without responding, I grab her arm and drag her towards the door. She doesn’t resist, and I’ve just opened the door to allow the doctor and Amanda back into the room when Tati lets out a raspy kind of cry.
Before the accident, she rarely vocalized at all, so the sound surprises me. When I turn around and see tears pouring down her face, I freeze.
I don’t know how to handle this.
I love her because she’s family, but she’s still a six-year-old girl. I know nothing about children. Especially when they’re upset.
I let go of Courtney’s arm and stand in the doorway, frozen and uncertain.
Then, Courtney moves to stand next to me and whispers in my ear, “She’s overwhelmed.”
I can relate. I’ve just barely figured out, on some level, how to deal with Courtney, and now Tati is awake and needing me, and I don’t know where to give my attention first: to the woman threatening my power in my own house or my orphaned niece.
“She doesn’t recognize the doctor or the nurse,” Courtney says, laying a hand on my shoulder and urging me forward gently. “She needs someone to explain to her what is going on. She needs her uncle.”
I move blindly towards the bed and reach for Tati’s hand. With my other, I gesture for the doctor and nurse to step back. Eventually, I tell them to leave altogether.
Then, I sit with her and hold her hand and try to make sense of things for her.
Am I sick? she asks.
You were sleeping. That man and woman were helping you. Making sure you ate and had enough water.
Where are my mom and dad? she asks again, looking around the room for them.
I tell her in as few words as possible that they aren’t here. When she asks if they will be soon, I distract myself with adjusting her blankets around her waist.
Then, suddenly, Tati stiffens and shakes her head. I follow her gaze and realize Courtney is slipping through the door, trying to sneak away without being noticed.
“Wait,” I call.
When Courtney turns around, Tati grabs my hand and claims my attention. Stay. Tell her to stay. I want her here.
“Sorry,” Courtney says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t mean to disturb you two. I’m jus
t going to go—”
“Nowhere,” I finish for her. “Tati doesn’t want you to go. She asked you to stay.”
“Me?” Courtney asks, looking from me to Tati.
Tati smiles at her, tears still making her eyes glassy, and waves for Courtney to sit on the bed.
Seeing her smiling, making requests of people she doesn’t know—acting like a child—makes me happier than anything has in months.
When I lost my brother and sister-in-law, and I thought I was going to lose Tati, too, everything felt dark. My father is gone, as well as my grandfather. I have no family. No other blood relative in the world left.
But now, Tati is awake and healthy, and I have Courtney to thank … for some reason.
Courtney watches me as she crosses the room, gauging whether I’m okay with her getting so close. Finally, she feels comfortable enough to sit on the edge of the bed, and Tati reaches out for her hand.
As soon as their fingers are intertwined, Tati lies back on the pillow. There is still sadness in her face, but for the moment, she’s content, and that is all I can hope for. For now.
Her eyes start to droop closed and panic grips my chest.
“Tati?” I call, even though she can’t hear me. “Is she okay?”
Could the coma come and go like that? Could she slip back into it if I’m not vigilant? I look to the door, wondering if I should call the doctor back in, but Courtney reaches across the bed and lays a hand on my cheek.
“These kinds of injuries require rest,” she says. “She’s going to be very tired for a while. She’s just resting.”
I ease back onto the bed, studying Tati and the slow, deep movement of her chest. The panic in my chest slips away, and I take a deep breath.
“Thank you.”
Courtney’s attention snaps up to me, clearly surprised, and then nods. “Of course.”
We both sit there for a long time, watching Tati sleep, neither of us saying anything.
13
Courtney
I’m in my room with one of the three new sign language books I ordered in my lap when the door opens and then quickly closes. Before I can even look up, the book is off my lap and Dmitry is between my legs.
