by Kenzie Hart
“Go on,” Klara urges her grandmother. She can always tell when her grandmother is getting into the romantic parts, and she can’t wait to hear more.
“Alexander’s family always resided in St. Petersburg, even during the fleeing throughout the ’30s. He had dark brown hair and a perfectly tailored mustache. In his formal attire, he was dashing and so charming. He kissed my hand when we made our introductions, and his eyes never left mine all evening. He insisted on showing me St. Petersburg, and the next day, we were off. We took walks through the park, covered in wool and furs. He showed me the Winter Palace.
“One night, weeks later, we were sitting in front of the fire, eating honey cakes and drinking champagne. It was Christmas Eve. We’d decided to exchange gifts privately even though I was to attend his family’s Christmas celebration the following morning.” Cordelia swallows a large gulp of her drink, her hand shaking lightly.
Klara types away in awe, hanging on to her every word.
“It was the night he professed his love to me. He kissed me so passionately and then, right there on the floor in front of the fireplace, he gave me my Christmas gift. He pulled a ring box from his pocket and proposed.”
“Grandmother!” Klara exclaims. “What did you say?” Klara’s eyes go big, and she turns to stare at her grandmother.
“I said yes,” Cordelia barely gets out. “We planned to tell our families the following morning. We wanted to keep that secret between just us for the night, as something we two could only share. But, the following morning, when I woke, I got word that both of my parents had died in an automobile accident. They’d been on their way home from a Christmas party, and their car slid off the road.”
“So, you left,” Klara gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. It’s apparent Grandmother was so desperately in love with Alexander.
“Yes. We talked it over a hundred times. I had to return home to take care of the family estate. Even though I had left to travel and it was still important to me, I couldn’t just abandon my responsibilities, as I was the only one at that point who could handle it. And Alexi had to stay. He was rising in the ranks, and the Cold War was on the horizon. He couldn’t leave.”
“Grandmother, I had no idea,” Klara says softly.
“It was a long time ago, child. I returned the ring to him, and I promised to write,” Cordelia tells her.
“And then you came back to England and married my grandfather?”
“I did. And understand this: your grandfather was a wonderful man. He was good to me and our family. But there was a part of my heart that was always in Russia. At that point, it wasn’t mine to give anymore.” Cordelia rises from her seat, moving toward the window. She unlatches it with shaky hands, letting the air hit her face as she reaches down to her box of cigarettes. She lights one, inhaling the smoke, and instantly relaxes.
“Did you write to him?” Klara asks as she continues to type out the story for her grandmother.
“Of course I did. We wrote constantly, but once I met your grandfather and realized I needed to marry and take my place in English society, I had to stop. It wasn’t something my heart could handle. The pain of knowing someone out there loves you in such a way but that you may not be with them is sickening. So, I sent him a letter, asking him to forget me and to not continue writing me.”
“How heartbreaking,” Klara murmurs, noticing Grandmother’s sullen expression.
“And he listened. He sent me one final letter, stating he would always love me but wouldn’t write me again. But, over time, your heart learns to heal. Do not fret, dear,” Cordelia says, a little brighter. This was something that always haunted her, but her late husband, Rupert, gave her a family. And what is life without family?
Cordelia turns and admires her great-granddaughter sitting at the table, focused in on recording what she spoke. Cordelia knows that this time spent with Klara means more to her than the memoirs ever will, and a smile tugs at her lips as she ashes her cigarette.
“Morning, Mum,” Eddie says, placing a kiss on his mum’s cheek. He moves beside her in the garden, watching as she waters each of her plants.
“Hello, sweetie.” Rose smiles back at her son. “How was dinner at Mattie’s last night?”
“Good.” Eddie smiles, thinking back to the night before. “His mum isn’t as good a cook as you, but she did make a delicious roast.”
Rose’s cheeks go pink as a giggle escapes her, getting a grin from Eddie.
“Besides that, just played a little football and some games online,” Eddie says, moving to sit on the stoop leading into the house. He watches as his mum moves around their small garden, hose in hand.
“And how was Klara?” Rose asks, trying to keep her eyes on the vegetables. She knows it’s unlikely that Eddie will admit to anything, but she got it out of him the morning before that he was going to her house.
“Mum,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, “it was fine. I’ve told you, we’re just friends. We hang out.” Eddie breathes out. He greatly enjoyed the day before, and his mind always seems to wander back to Klara’s rosy lips and bright eyes.
“Sometime, I would like to meet your new friend then,” Rose says, amused with herself. She knows that Eddie is downplaying the fact that he probably likes her, and so she figures she could corner him into inviting Klara to their house. After all, if they’re just friends, it shouldn’t be a problem.
Eddie knows exactly what his mum is getting at. She prides herself on being sneaky, but both Eddie and his father know she is quite the opposite. But she seems to enjoy thinking she can outwit them, so they both let her get away with it.
“Maybe sometime,” is all Eddie says back, but his mind goes to having Klara at his house. In his bedroom. His body instantly flushes, and he decides he shouldn’t think about being with Klara while he is in front of his mum.
Rose stands tall, placing one hand on her hip, the other still holding the hose. She stares at Eddie, looking at him with great determination, one eyebrow raised.
“Okay,” Eddie says, raising his hands in the air. He knows that look in his mum’s eyes, and it’s best if he gives in now, or he will never hear the end of it. “I will invite her round, all right?”
“Wonderful,” Rose says, feeling quite peachy with herself. She continues watering her garden with a slight sway to her step.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Grandmother! Look who has arrived,” Klara says, walking into their sitting room with Eddie on her arm.
He has on a bright smile, and it gets even wider when his eyes land upon Cordelia. She has on a floor-length silk robe and is holding a cigarette and scotch in one hand and a book in the other. She looks quite pleased with herself.
“You look ravishing today,” Eddie says to Cordelia, striding over to place a kiss on her hand. He has to fan away the smoke that swirls around her.
“Grandmother! You know we talked about your smoking,” Klara says, marching over to open up the windows along the far wall.
All of the patterned curtains are already pulled back, and there is a lightness in the air, aside from the smoke.
“I’ve told you, dear, I can’t help it when I get inspired.” Cordelia smiles, rising to pace across the hardwood floor.
“Inspired?” Eddie asks.
“My book!” Cordelia almost sings out. She knows she needs to gain some composure, but she feels so lit up, it is hard to do so.
“It’s Grandmother’s bad habit to light up a cigarette when she starts reminiscing about her youth,” Klara says with a laugh. She wishes she could be mad, but Grandmother looks happy. Oddly happy. And it pleases her.
“Yes. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the chapter we are working on,” Cordelia replies after taking a sip of her drink. Her bracelets jangle together as she moves her hand back down.
“Or rather, who is in this chapter.” Klara giggles, moving to sit on the couch next to Eddie.
Cordelia is still walking back and forth in front of the wi
ndow, and she is moving at a fairly quick pace.
“Klara! My dear, I’ve taught you to never insinuate without proof.”
“I think your smile is proof enough, Grandmother,” Klara says back.
Eddie lets out a laugh, loving their banter. “That explains the cigarette. But what about the early morning drink?” he asks, noting that it is barely ten.
“You’re right, Edward,” Klara says to him before addressing Cordelia. “Grandmother, you’re a full-blown mystery this morning. Like a wonderful novel. Now, do tell, what has gotten you so excited and nostalgic yet worked up enough to need a scotch?”
“Oh, hush. You know I slip scotch into my tea every chance I get, child. Don’t be daft,” she replies, waving her hand at them.
“I know you do, but usually you wait until after noon. You are a proper lady mind you, Grandmother, and you have your own set of rules that you follow.”
“And you never did answer the question,” Eddie chimes in, then he meets Klara’s bright eyes with the same spark of excitement in his own.
“I think you two need to run along now. Grandmother will not be answering any more questions this morning,” Cordelia says, putting down her cigarette and taking a seat across from them. “Now, leave me to read.”
“Grandmother, you don’t read anymore,” Klara says while standing up. She has had enough fun poking at her grandmother for one morning. But she is enjoying the moment.
“Walter!” Cordelia screams in a high-pitched chirp. She leans her head back against the cushions and crosses her hands over the book.
“Madame,” the butler, obviously named Walter, says as he rushes into the room.
Eddie watches as he heaves slightly, a little out of breath.
“I would like to be read to,” Cordelia says to him but never takes her eyes off Klara and Eddie. She even raises a single eyebrow at them.
“We love you,” Klara says, walking over to place a kiss on her grandmother’s cheek. She can smell her strong, pungent perfume, and it, mixed with the scent of scotch and smoke, is enough to knock anyone onto their bottom.
“I can’t wait to read that chapter,” Eddie says in Klara’s ear as she weaves him through the house, leading him outside.
“It was strange. We were working on her time in Russia yesterday. But most of the chapter is about her Russian lover, Alexi.”
“That must be painful to think about,” he adds.
“She seemed almost lost in her memories yesterday. As though she were being pulled back into Russia,” Klara says. “Although, I have to admit, I am liking this chapter. It is devilishly romantic. And quite dramatic. The snow, the jewels she received. They would sneak glances at one another in public but make love behind closed doors in front of a blazing fire, surrounded by the finest silks and furs. And then tragedy struck, and they had to part.”
“It’s hard to think about your grandmother making love, honestly,” Eddie says with a sour look on his face.
“So, you don’t find it all tragically romantic then?” Klara asks with a grin.
“Oh, I do,” he says, laughing alongside Klara. “Is that what you want?”
“What? A romance like that?”
“That,” he says, “or to be doted on with silks and jewels.”
“I like to think I can take care of myself. Besides, I think a romance such as theirs would drain me.”
“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, surprised by her answer. Girls love romantic gestures, don’t they?
“All the drama. It makes for a wonderful story, but I want other things. I want adventure and to have fun. I love being outside with the animals and exploring. Taking time to read and being with grandmother. To me, a relationship, at least like theirs, sounds all-consuming. And I don’t want that.”
“I can understand that,” he replies back, unsure of why he feels a twinge of unsettledness in his stomach.
Klara moves along the path leading out of the garden, stopping to take in the warm sunshine on her face. The breeze dances around them, and she is delighted by the beautiful day.
“You look lovely today,” Eddie says, stopping next to Klara and noticing how the flower-printed dress she is wearing hugs her chest and flows outward, revealing her thin legs.
She is holding an oversize camel-colored hat in her hand along with a book.
“Thank you, Edward,” she says, opening her eyes back up to meet his.
Freckles dot across Eddie’s nose, and his strawberry-blond hair makes him look as though he were glowing. And Klara has just decided that her favorite color on him is hunter green. It goes wonderfully with his eyes, and it is the color of the shirt he is wearing today.
“I like this dress,” Eddie says, moving his hand down to Klara’s waist. The fabric feels smooth under his palm, and he can’t take his eyes off Klara as a slight blush spreads on her cheeks. A smile comes to his face, and he moves his hand from her side, placing it against her back. “So, what do you have in mind for today?”
“With the sun being out and the weather so beautiful, I thought we might just lie in the meadow for a while. And then I would love to take you to the edge of the woods,” Klara says, walking forward, past the large garden and the chicken coop. The ducks cutting across the pond are mesmerizing to watch, but Klara wants nothing more than to close her eyes and let the meadow fill her senses. The smell of the flowers and the sound of the wind whipping through the grass are intoxicating. With the sun shining down on her face, she feels as though she were floating on a cloud.
“I would like that,” Eddie says, taking her hand in his.
Nana runs toward them from the kitchen’s French doors as they walk back toward the house.
“Come here, Nana,” Klara yells out.
“Hi there,” Eddie says, dropping down onto one knee to run his fingers through Nana’s golden curls. She places a few kisses upon his hand, causing Klara to giggle.
“I think she likes you,” Klara coos, dropping a kiss onto the dog’s head. “Now, come along,” she says to Nana as Eddie stands back up. “We are going out to the woods, which I know is one of your favorite things.”
Nana moves alongside Klara as her trusted companion. They seem to walk in step, but as Klara leads Eddie farther out into the thick trees, Nana seems to veer off here and there, exploring smells and pushing her nose under rocks and in the dirt.
“She does enjoy it, doesn’t she?” Eddie laughs, spotting a dollop of mud stuck to Nana’s nose.
Her tail is held high as she moves in between trees, and there is a lightness that comes upon Eddie’s heart.
“This looks like the perfect spot,” Klara says, sitting down with her back against a thick tree trunk.
“Do you come out here often?” Eddie asks, the smell of rich dirt in his nose.
“I do. I love to explore with some of Grandfather’s journals. See if I can find anything he once found.”
“I feel like I already know so much about your grandparents. Tell me about your parents,” he says, taking a seat next to Klara. It will probably leave stains on his pants, but he doesn’t care. It will probably do the same to Klara’s dress, and a smile comes to his face at the thought of her beautiful dress covered in dirt.
“Quite honestly, I don’t know too much about my father.”
“Do you get to see him often?” He’s trying not to pry, but he wants to know more about her.
“I see him often enough. He is a wonderful doctor. Very well known and respected in London. He enjoys being in the city, I think. There are lots of distractions. Things to do. But, if it is what makes him happy, then it makes me happy for him,” she says with a smile. Her smile carries to her eyes, meaning she is sincere in her words.
“I’m glad you see it that way,” Eddie replies, letting out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.
“And my mother was an angel. If you ask anyone who knew her, surely, they’d tell you the same. She was always so happy and bright. Very loving. I have fond memo
ries of her.”
Klara thinks back to her mother taking her out for walks in the meadow. She used to indulge Klara by allowing her to play with the ducks or staying up past her bedtime. She always felt loved by her mother. But it destroyed her father when she fell ill.
“I wonder if my parents knew her,” Eddie says.
“Maybe.”
Eddie moves his hand onto the book resting in Klara’s lap. “Winnie-the-Pooh, huh?” He laughs at the choice.
“Oh, yes. Pooh gets into such mischief. Luckily, he has a friend like Christopher Robin to help him when he gets in sticky situations.” She grins. “Get it?”
Eddie furrows his brows, confused for a minute, but then his eyes light up. “Because Pooh was always on the hunt for honey,” he says with a grin matching Klara’s.
“Exactly!” Klara says, pleased, a twinkle in her eye.
“I can’t believe you just made a joke,” he says, laughing at how simple it was. “I’m impressed.”
Klara giggles to herself. Sitting here with Edward is nice. He seems so eager to learn more about her. And she feels the same about him. She likes the way she feels when she is with him. How her stomach gets butterflies and the sensation that pulses through her when he holds her hand or when his fingers brush across her cheek.
“You know, you’re sort of like Christopher Robin,” Klara says, looking back down at her book. “He loves the woods. Exploring them.”
“Does that make you Pooh?” Eddie teases. “He always ended up getting himself into trouble. Does that mean you’re going to get me into trouble?” He can’t help himself in his response. It’s hard not to flirt with Klara, especially because, anytime he directly does so, she blushes, and her blue eyes sparkle back at him. And he likes it.
“Well, my intention is to never get you in trouble,” Klara says matter-of-factly. “Though I suppose it wouldn’t be an adventure if a little mischief wasn’t involved!”
“I like that,” he says, thinking about the adventure he is on now with Klara.
