From Russia with Love
by Colleen Coble
“Coble’s books have it all, romance, sass, suspense, action. I’m content to read a book that has any one of those but to find an author like Coble who does all four so well is my definition of bliss.”
Mary Connealy, author of Doctor in Petticoats
Copyright © 2012 by Colleen Coble
First published in the United States by Barbour 2003
A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. The Publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
All Rights Reserved.
Cover Design by Kim Killion
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DEAR READER,
From Russia With Love is one of my favorite stories. I loved Tatiana’s courage and self-sacrificing love for her little girl, and Gabe’s commitment and strength was just what she needed. It’s a story that has stayed with me though I wrote it over ten years ago. It’s a great reminder of how much love can change us. I hope you love it!
Drop me a note at [email protected] and let me know what you think. I love hearing from readers!
Love, Colleen
For Mary Rhoads, true sister of my heart.
Contents
one
two
three
four
five
six
seven
eight
nine
ten
eleven
twelve
thirteen
fourteen
one
Tatiana Lazarenk buried her hands deep in the pockets of her ragged coat, but the threadbare wool was little comfort. She set her trembling chin. Swallowing hard, she blinked against the sting of tears. She wouldn’t cry. Weariness slowed her movements, but she squared her shoulders and slogged through the snowdrifts. Her thin shoes gave no protection from the Russian cold.
Stopping outside the small house at the end of the street, she stomped the snow from her feet and pulled her hands out of her pockets to open the door. The piercing cold of the wind numbed her fingers almost instantly. Pushing open the door, she stepped out of the wind. A shiver trembled through her, and she shut the door.
The small house smelled of urine and garbage. Her shoulders drooped with fatigue and hopelessness. If only there was someplace else for Irina to stay. Then she heard her daughter’s voice, and her despair lifted. She followed the sound of the gentle voice she loved so much.
“Is it time for Mat yet?” Irina asked. “I want Mat.”
“Quit asking for your mother.” The woman’s voice was so gruff, she nearly sounded like a man.
Tatiana winced at the impatience in Olga’s voice. Stepping into the room, she held out her arms. “Where is my lamb?” The sight of her daughter’s corkscrew curls lightened her heart. As long as Tatiana and Irina could stay together, things would be all right. But how long would that be? She pushed away the persistent question.
“Mat!” Irina’s blue eyes lit up at the sight of her mother. She slid from the chair and ran to Tatiana.
Tatiana swept her up and hugged her. Tatiana’s eyes stung again at feeling Irina’s small bones through her skin. Although she would be four in four months, she looked more like two. She struggled to keep the despair from her voice. “Were you a good girl today?”
“Very good.” Irina wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck. “You’re cold, Mat.” She buried her face in Tatiana’s hair. “You smell like borshch. Can we have borshch for supper?”
“She’s a handful, that one,” Olga said. “I want my money, or don’t bother bringing her tomorrow. If you want charity, take her to the orphanage down the street.” Her beady eyes squinted. “I know you got paid today.”
Tatiana’s heart squeezed with fresh pain. Not the orphanage, never the orphanage. But the fear that the gray building at the corner might one day be her only answer loomed larger every day. She swallowed. “Klara was able to pay only half what she owed me.” She hated the way her voice quavered. Where was her pride, her determination? The grinding poverty had worn it thin. If he were still alive, Sergio wouldn’t believe his spitfire wife could have so little pluck.
By a supreme effort, she squared her shoulders and faced Olga’s stare. “Can you wait for half until the first of the week? Irina must eat, Olga.”
“That’s not my problem,” Olga sniffed. “I want my money, or you can find another one to take care of your brat.”
Irina tugged on Tatiana’s hair. “I’m not a brat, Mat. I was very good,” she whispered.
“I know you were, my lamb.” Weariness pierced more deeply than the cold wind. She was so tired of fighting to survive. She had to have a place to bring Irina tomorrow, or she couldn’t work. There was no choice. She put her daughter down and dug into her pocket. Clutching the meager coins a moment, she sighed, then dropped nearly all her money into Olga’s hand. As she slipped Irina into her small worn coat, Tatiana felt hopeless tears well up in her eyes. What could they do for food for the next few days? And what if Klara couldn’t pay her the rest of her wages on Monday? There were no answers to the questions. She swallowed hard and carried Irina through the door and into the wind-driven snow.
The drifts had worsened in the short time she was inside Olga’s house. With Irina in her arms, Tatiana struggled for nearly half an hour to reach their small flat. Opening the door, she put her daughter on a chair and lit a lamp. Their electricity was erratic at best and had been out for two days. The meager light illuminated the tiny room occupied by two cots, a washstand, and two chairs. She wrapped Irina with a blanket, then hurried to light a fire in the stove. Within minutes, the little room was warm enough for them to take off their coats. She warmed some milk for her daughter and smoothed a bit of butter over the last slice of bread. It would have to do for Irina’s supper.
Irina was nodding sleepily by the time she finished the last of the milk and bread. “Bedtime for you, my angel.” Tatiana slipped Irina into a flannel gown and tucked her in the small cot near the stove. “Sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams to you too, Mat,” Irina murmured.
Tatiana hid her sudden surge of tears. Her dreams were likely to be punctuated with nightmares of how to feed them both. Hunger gnawed at her belly, but she was just glad Irina wouldn’t cry of hunger tonight. She washed the few dishes and went to check the mail. Someday their luck would change. She clung to that hope, but it grew dimmer every day.
Why had Sergio gone to that demonstration? Because of his fervor, she was alone. And poor Irina didn’t remember her father at all. She’d been only a year old when he was killed.
Tatiana opened the door and retrieved the mail. A few bills and a thick envelope. Her hunger forgotten, Tatiana stared at the envelope. From America. Her heart pounded. Could this be someone who had seen her picture on the Internet? Was this a way out for her and Irina?
Her hands trembling, she tore the envelope and stared into the man’s handsome face. His gray eyes seemed kind, but maybe that was wishful thinking. Opening the typed letter, she scanned it, glad her English was so good. Her heart soared. Someone was
interested in her. She read the name again. Gabe Salinger. A strong name. Where was Indiana? She would have to look at the atlas in the library.
Terror and exhilaration fought for control of the tightness in her throat. To leave this familiar place was frightening. But allowing her daughter to grow up in this deprivation terrified her more. She was willing to do anything for Irina. Anything at all.
Wait until she told Oksana! Her friend would take full responsibility for the news, as well she should. Without her persuasion, Tatiana would never have done such a crazy thing. With this letter in her hand, it suddenly didn’t seem so crazy. She had resisted the idea at first, but watching her child suffer had stifled any sense of pride she had. The threat of the orphanage made anything else seem a lifeline of hope.
§
A month later everything had changed. She was going to America! There would be food for Irina, nice clothes, and a home. Mr. Salinger had flown to Russia to meet her. Though he struck her as a bit too carefree, he was a blond, very handsome man of thirty-two. She had hoped to find someone more mature and stable, but no one else had answered her ad. It was this chance or none. She wondered why such a handsome man found it necessary to get a mail-order bride instead of finding someone in America. But she hadn’t wasted much time on the thought. She was just thankful he was only five years older than she was and not lecherous. He’d been a perfect gentleman.
She filled out the biographical data for her fiancée visa and went to the doctor’s examination. The tensest moment came when she realized the police would have to give her a letter saying she had no criminal record. Would they hold Sergio’s demonstrations against her? But the police made no mention of that. Perhaps Mr. Salinger’s influence had smoothed the way.
Tatiana had packed their few belongings, given notice at work, and informed her landlord she would be vacating the flat. Tomorrow she and Irina would leave this dreary flat for the last time. She pushed away the knowledge that she would be back in ninety days if Mr. Salinger decided not to marry her. She had just put Irina to bed when someone knocked on the door. Who would visit so late? She peeked through the peephole. Her mouth went dry when she saw her sister-in-law.
Arranging her face in a welcoming smile, she opened the door. “Polina! How lovely to see you!” She hadn’t seen Polina in over two years. Not since Tatiana’s brother Anton, sweet, generous Anton, had been killed. Her eyes still filled with tears every time she thought of her older brother.
Polina’s eyes were fearful, but she settled herself on the threadbare sofa and took Tatiana’s hand. “I got your letter last week. I couldn’t let you leave with harsh words between us.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Please forgive me, Tatiana.”
The apology broke her heart. “I’m sorry, too. When Anton was killed, I had to blame someone. I know it is not your fault the police killed him. It was his fault for going to that worship service when he’d been forbidden to go.”
“Are you still angry with God?” Polina asked gently.
Tatiana bit her lip but couldn’t hold back the bitter words. “What kind of a God would take everyone I love from me? What kind of a God would allow my brother, such a kind and gentle man, to die because he wanted to worship Him? What kind of a God would allow my daughter to cry in the night because she was hungry? Tell me, Polina. Is that the kind of God anyone should worship?”
Tears slipped down Polina’s cheeks, and she shook her head. “My sister, you must let go of this anger. This bitterness will ruin your life. God loves you and wants you to come to Him. You mustn’t marry this man in America just to escape. You don’t know anything about him. There is so much violence in America. What if he is some sort of murderer who preys on women? You had love with Sergio once. Don’t settle for second best.”
Tatiana shook her head. “Don’t talk to me of God. He hasn’t cared that we are cold and hungry. I must find my own way to take care of Irina. I will learn to love this man. And violence is even more widespread here. We will be fine.”
Polina gripped her hand. “I am so afraid for you.”
“Be afraid for yourself. You are in for much pain and disillusionment from your God.”
Polina touched Tatiana’s cheek. “My dear Tatiana, I fear you are the one who will find disillusionment. But I will be praying that God will send someone into your life who will show you His love.”
Irina awoke at the voices, and the women changed the subject. Tatiana knew Polina would never see how futile her faith was. Just as Anton and Sergio had never seen.
The next morning the alarm went off at four, but Tatiana was already awake. She had barely slept. After pulling on a moth-eaten sweater and worn slacks, she dressed Irina. Mr. Salinger had left them some money, and she had considered buying some new clothes, but prudence had prevailed. What if they were sent back to Russia? She must hold onto any money she had.
One large, battered suitcase held all their possessions. The flight would be long and tiring, but America beckoned at the end. Tatiana couldn’t help the thrill of hope. They had a chance at a better life—only a chance—but it was better than none at all. It was better than the orphanage.
Through the window of the bus, she gazed upon the dirty streets of St. Petersburg for the last time. A lump grew in her throat, but she forced it away. All she was leaving behind was hunger and deprivation. All those she loved were gone except for Irina. What awaited her in this faraway place called Indiana? She would soon find out.
§
“Will you quit pacing! What is wrong with you? You haven’t been able to sit still for three days. Sit down and tell me so I can get some work done.” Gabe pushed back his chair and propped his feet on his desk. It was likely woman trouble again. Women were all his twin brother Mike seemed to think about.
Mike stopped his pacing and turned to stare at Gabe. His face was pale, and he dropped his gaze. “You’re probably going to kill me when you hear.” He fiddled with some papers on Gabe’s desk. “I’ve regretted doing it, but it seemed the only way to introduce you to life. I thought I had to do something. When was the last time you asked someone out? Bet you can’t even remember.”
Gabe frowned. “What have you done now? I suppose it’s that woman you’re seeing. What’s her name, Letitia? The one with black hair and clothes. Even her nail polish was black. She could pass for a younger Elvira.” He was used to getting Mike out of scrapes, but he had hoped his brother was beginning to settle down. He’d even asked out a really nice young lady last week. Margaret Baxter was an accountant, very stable and levelheaded, who attended Gabe’s church. She’d talked Mike into attending with her last week.
Mike groaned and leaned his head into his hands. “I haven’t seen Letitia for a month. I like Margaret. A lot. She’s the one who said I had to tell you and give you a bit of warning. She said I deserve anything you do to me.”
Gabe thumped his chair forward and put his feet on the floor. A flicker of alarm disturbed him. He’d never seen his twin so agitated over a scrape of any kind. It must be worse than usual. He sighed. “Let’s hear it.”
“I was surfing the web a few weeks ago after you’d been on me to find a nice girl and settle down. It was just before we went to St. Petersburg, remember?”
Gabe nodded. “You weren’t much help in Russia. Every time I turned around you were off somewhere.”
Mike dropped his eyes. “That’s part of it,” he said. “Anyway, I found this site offering mail-order brides from Russia. The conditions are so bad there, many women are desperate to escape. It was rather pitiful, actually.”
“You didn’t order yourself a bride!” This was the absolute limit. Gabe wanted to throttle his brother. Well, he would just have to live with the consequences this time.
“Worse,” Mike said, “I ordered you one.”
For a moment, Gabe only stared at his brother. Mike’s hair stood up on end where he’d raked his fingers through it, and he was pale. He was also serious. Gabe opened his mouth but no words came, so
he closed it again. He gulped and tried again. “You ordered me a bride. From Russia.”
He stood and walked to the window and looked down onto Canal Street. Their business, Salinger Architects, was in a prime building in the downtown area. A snowstorm had covered Wabash with eight inches of snow, and there was very little movement below. Bewilderment slowed his thoughts. His mind wouldn’t quite grasp what Mike had just said. Surely, he’d heard his twin wrong. As through a fog, he heard Mike continue the eager recitation of his latest debacle.
“She’s really nice. Her name is Tatiana, and she’s a widow with a three-year-old daughter. They were destitute and barely had enough food to survive.” Mike’s voice was eager as he tried to further explain the situation.
A woman was coming here with a child and expected him to marry her! Gabe wheeled back around. “How? Just tell me how you could order me a bride? That certainly sounds illegal to me!” His voice rose nearly to a shout. He raised his hands as he stepped toward his brother, then forced himself to drop them back to his sides. If he wasn’t careful, he could easily choke Mike. Control, he told himself. Don’t lose control.
Mike licked his lips. “I—uh, I gave her your name. We are twins, you know. I filled out all the paperwork in your name. I had a picture taken with her; but since you and I look alike, no one questioned that it was a picture of you and her together. I had to show them your Russian visa to prove you’d been in Russia. My friend Jeff works for Immigration, and he ran the visa through for me quickly as a favor.”
“So she has no idea that she’s not marrying the man she met?” Gabe’s voice rose again as the full impact of what his brother had done hit him. “We have to stop her from coming!”
“It’s too late. Her plane arrives at Indy in four hours.”
Gabe lost his voice. He wanted to grab Mike by the shoulders and shake him. How could he do something so irresponsible? His eyes squeezed to slits.
“Go ahead,” Mike said, “call me all the names you want. You can even swear at me, and I won’t tell your pastor. I deserve anything you say or do. Let go of that ironclad control of yours for once. It would make me feel better.”
From Russia With Love Page 1
