Nicolai Powerful
Page 9
Rich and powerful men are every bit capable of making hopelessly bad choices as anybody else. And of not wanting to admit it. I get it.
He’s Laurel's father and he doesn't want to be moved aside, doesn't want to let his daughter go. And she's not living the life that he'd mapped out for her in the first place. So he's angry. He's not getting any of what he wants out of this arrangement. Or from his daughter.
But that's the way that it's going to be. She is mine, now. I can never get hold of him, because he's almost always either abroad, or in business meetings in Seattle or California.
After that one conversation, I leave him messages and I write to him, but he never returns my calls. I've even thought about stalking him to his chalet in Colorado.
Laurel and I never discuss it, but I want to marry her. Make her mine officially. On paper. By law. But I don’t want her to have to stand at the altar without her father, and I would prefer not to do it without his consent, at least. Preferably his blessing. Much as I hate unfinished business, I put the idea aside for the time being.
Meanwhile, I'm just planning the best Christmas celebration that I can, for the best year of my life, and for my queen.
Because it was always something I loved in my family when I was young, I ask Laurel, "Do you like to ski?"
Her face glows with excitement. "We used to ski all year round when I was little. Cross-country, downhill. Even some competitive. Nothing serious, but you know."
She holds onto me and presses her cheek against my shoulder. Plants a kiss and looks up into my face. "Do you like to ski?"
"I love it. We have marvelous skiing all over Russia. How would it be if we went skiing for Christmas?"
"Oh, Nicolai. That would just be wonderful. We could get a chalet, we could decorate. Wear big sweaters." She's smiling.
"Huddle together to keep warm," I say.
"Can we? Should we?"
When I was a child in Russia, going to the mountains to ski was a huge family thing. I have the warmest, fondest memories from those times. Being here with Laurel rekindles them for me.
The chalet in Aspen is a lot more grand and luxurious than our cabins in Russia back then, but I chose it because I think it's what will make Laurel feel at home. And that's what I want more than anything. Us, together, snow outside, coming together around a fire to make the beginnings of a new family, around mulled wine.
The whole of the inside of the chalet is hung with silver, green, red and gold in sparkling forms of all kinds. Laurel has covered every room, from the kitchen, all the way through to the little lobby. She even decorated the two spare bedrooms, though the two of us are not expecting any visitors. I offered to help with the Christmas decorations., but, obviously, I don't know much about Christmas.
In Russia, we have some similar traditions. An old guy with a white beard, called Father Frost, Ded Moroz. My grandparents said when they were children, they used to call him Grandfather Frost but somewhere down the years he became a generation younger. So, even in Russia, Christmas was magical. Father Frost comes around at New Year with presents for the kiddies. And the spirit is the same. But we don't have all of the business around the tree, the tinsel and baubles, all of that is new to me.
I've seen it, in my travels. Obviously. But I've never been a part of a family, so it never happened, until now.
On Christmas morning in our chalet, I find some Christmas music that I know Laurel will just love. Traditional songs from winters of her childhood.
When I give her the first of her presents and she’s about to unwrap the big, chunky sweater that I know she’s going to love, there's a knock at the door. I go to open it. Outside, in the snow, with snow on his shoulders, and snow on the two St Bernard dogs he brought with him, Laurel's father has a bottle of eggnog and a bag full of presents.
Laurel wipes away a tear as I show him in.
Hugo is huge, round, red-cheeked and, in our chalet, he’s surprisingly shy. After a few awkward moments and a few shots of vodka, though, a thaw comes, and he and I take his dogs for a run in the snow while Laurel ‘finishes making lunch.’
In hopes that Hugo would come, I’ve prepared and cooked everything ahead of time. All it needs is a little warming up. Laurel pretends that she’s doing the cooking, mainly so that he and I can spend a little time adjusting to each other.
At first, I don’t expect he likes me any better than I like him. But I respect him, and I make sure that’s mutual.
We can build from there.
Over lunch, Laurel holds my hand as she looks into his face, and then she looks into my eyes.
When she asks me, “Can I tell him?"
I know what she’s going to say. I tell her, “Darling, of course. But you know that we are not absolutely sure. It's too soon to be certain.”
“I know about that, but I’m sure, Nicolai.” She squeezes my hand, “I’m absolutely sure."
Hugo surprises us both then. “I expect you youngsters would like to get married, then?”
So that’s how we spend the afternoon of Christmas Day. We make a thousand phone calls to find a Justice of the Peace nearby who’s willing to marry us on Christmas Day. The old man’s wife acts as a witness, and she sheds a tear when I take my Laurel in my arms for her first kiss as my wife.
Of course, she was right. That first Christmas, the three of us were together, and little Nicolas, just starting in his Momma’s womb, was the start of some of the best things in all of our lives.
Epilogue
Her
OUR SNOW CHRISTMAS HAS become a family tradition. Nicolai organizes where we’ll be—he always surprises and thrills us with the location—and we spend the Christmas holiday skiing, drinking hot chocolate, and singing old American and Russian songs.
We always go somewhere wonderful, but together with Nicolai, everywhere is wonderful. I do love this time of year, though. Sitting around a fire together as a family, telling stories and remembering, with the snow outside. And Daddy is always with us, too.
Nicolai has been able to bring out a transformation in him. I think that when he showed Daddy how he made me happy, that he was taking care of me and that Daddy didn’t have to worry about me, somehow Daddy seemed ready to relax and join the family. Be a family, more even than were when I was little. I think then that Daddy had too much on his mind to be able to really relax and enjoy himself.
Now, Nicolas and Andrei have given him a whole new outlook. I think being a grandpa lets him be with the boys in a way that he was never able to with me. I asked him how come he didn’t ever seem to play with me the way that he does with them. He actually twinkled at me when he said, “I couldn’t exactly give you back when I got too tired to play anymore.”
This year, we’re all together in a cozy chalet in a lovely little Russian village near Sochi, where Nicolai used to come when he was a boy. I'm looking forward to Christmas even more than usual. This year, I'm almost certain that our two boys, Nicolas and Andrei, are going to be joined by a baby sister.
My babies all seem to arrive on schedule, and this one is due today.
Olga was the easiest of the three births. I delivered her in the chalet. Nicolai insisted on having a doctor here, but there was no need. With the help of a midwife from the village, Olga was my shortest labor.
When Daddy first saw her, a little tear trickled down the side of his cheek.
Daddy beams, holding her for the first time. “I never experienced it before," he says, giving little Olga his finger to hold onto for the first time. "I've never been at a birth before."
Nicolai says, “I’m so glad you could be with us for this one,” but his smile for me is the best Christmas present I could have.
Well, possibly the second best. I take little baby Olga in her Christmas blanket. She’s ready for a feed.
I really hope you enjoyed that fast, sizzling tale.
DIMITRI is a driven Russian man
with an overwhelming hunger
for an innocent young
American girl
DIMTRI
DIMITI
NOW
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