by Lana Sky
Eventually, I coax her into pulling back enough for me to see her face.
“How about we go pet your pony?” I suggest, wiping away some of her tears.
Her eyes blaze. “No!” She lunges from the bed, storming into a corner, her arms crossed.
“Okay.” Sighing, I start to follow her only to change tact and enter her closet. “Let’s go for a walk instead, hmm?” I take my time picking out the clothing I suspect were her favorites from our shopping trip. The red dress. The black faux fur stole. It doesn’t matter if they’re too extravagant, I help her dress in them as she allows me to stiffly manipulate her limbs, her expression blank.
I gingerly brush her hair and arrange her curls behind a red headband. Then I take her hand and lead her downstairs for a quick snack before we step out onto the terrace. It’s a relatively beautiful day, though the sun is hiding behind a screen of overcast. Still, it’s warm enough out, and a gentle breeze enhances the natural beauty of the property.
“Do you want to swim?” I ask, pointing to the pool.
Magda shakes her head, her wall still in place. She doesn’t even show interest when I take her past the partially done playground and suggest she try out the jungle gym. It’s only when we near the water’s rocky edge—where a grunting Ena is adjusting the docked rowboats—that any semblance of curiosity shapes her otherwise flat expression.
Like a shark sensing blood, I latch onto the potential diversion. “Would you like to see if we can go out onto the water?”
After a second, she nods, and I nearly drag her over to Ena.
Forcing what I hope passes for a charming smile, I try to meet his gaze as he wrestles with a length of rope, securing it to a post on the dock.
“Mr. Vadim gone,” he says gruffly before I can say a word. “All day.”
“Do you think you could take us out?” I ask. I have to physically stop myself from batting my eyelashes in the hopes of cajoling a yes.
His lips part to deliver what I suspect is an automatic no. But then he makes the mistake of looking at Magda and something in his surly expression cracks.
“Okay.” He sets his rope aside and lumbers into the boathouse, returning with two orange life vests. “You put on.” He shoves the preserver at me but stoops into a crouch and takes his time assisting Magda. She stiffens, but gradually submits to his surprisingly gentle instruction.
The moment we’re sufficiently dressed, Ena steps into one of the boats and helps us down from the dock. Taking up both oars, he sets us off while I settle in beside Magda.
That logical, nagging part of my brain picks up again, warning me against letting her sit too close—I don’t move. But I should pull away when she nestles into me, shivering against the cooler air over the water. I shift an inch, putting space between us only to put my arm around her a heartbeat later. That little act of rebellion is the gateway drug to crossing even more boundaries. I smooth back her fluttering curls and stroke away one of the final tears as her expression brightens.
Even Ena seems to fall under her spell, and he keeps his pace steady, steering farther out into the bay. Eventually, her blank mask cracks, revealing genuine excitement beneath as she scans the shores and gentle roving waves.
She sits forward so suddenly the boat jolts beneath us. “Look!” She points to a spot along the left-hand beach. There, up on a ridge, appears a little white pony with a flowing mane. Riding him is a small girl with blond hair streaming from an ebony riding helmet. Spotting us, she waves, and to my surprise, Magda offers up a tentative one in return.
“It looks like you might have a friend to play with after all,” I blurt. Only to feel the color drain from my face as a woman appears beside the girl, holding the pony’s reins. She’s slender, with long brunette hair, but even from this distance, I recognize her instantly.
Maxim’s fiancée.
Ena too must sense the property he’s unintentionally strayed into. Grunting with the effort, he immediately begins to turn the boat around.
“Can I play with her?” Magda tugs on my arm, and I can tell from her surly expression that she doesn’t like to beg. Because that’s what she’s doing—begging. “Huh? Do you know where she lives? I bet I can find it!” She starts counting on her fingers, her lips moving wordlessly.
“Oh, honey…” I tuck a curl behind her ear, wrestling with indecision. In the end, my feelings match Ena’s. “Let’s go get some lunch, huh?”
Magda’s frown returns, lasting the entire trip back to the house. When we enter the kitchen, I do my best to feign supreme excitement in finding something to eat amongst Ena’s prepared meals. “How about some pizza, hmm?”
I fish out the meal and pop it in the oven while she watches me from the counter.
“Can I go wait upstairs until it’s ready?” she asks.
I nod, relieved to leave the topic of our possible neighbors behind. “Go ahead. I’ll get you when it’s ready.”
She scampers off while I set the table and fish some fresh orange juice from the fridge. Ena must stock it regularly, maintaining a methodical sense of order with just a few bare things he needs to keep Vadim, and now Magdalene, alive. It’s such a contrast from my old fridge in the home I shared with Jim, when I had it stuffed with failed attempts at baking and cooking. All because he insisted I play the role of the perfect housewife.
He’d scoff in disgust if I ever had the nerve to serve him a previously frozen meal. The thought makes me frown. It’s been at least a few days since I’ve thought of him. Why now? In an effort to distract myself, I rearrange one of the cupboards, moving around Vadim’s already neatly composed collection of glass dishes. Then I grab the food from the oven and head upstairs to get Magda.
“Come and eat, it smells divine…” I push open her door only to find her room empty. So is her bathroom and the closet, and she isn’t in the hallway. “Magda?” I check the master bedroom but don’t find her there either. Returning downstairs, I scan the kitchen and the living room only to come up short.
My heart is starting to race, my palms slick with sweat. A barrage of worst-case scenarios crosses my mind as I race out onto the terrace and check the pool. Thank God, she’s not there, but neither is she anywhere within view. A harsher sense of dread thickens my throat as I run to the dock. I’m almost too horrified to scan the water at first.
But…
The boats are still here, as are the lifejackets left inside the one we took out. I don’t see any sign of a tiny body floating on the water. I’m so relieved that I have to bend over, bracing my hands over my knees. And then I hear it—faint, soft laughter, riding a gust of wind.
Out here with little noise on the property, sound travels far. Blindly, I plunge beneath the trees, following the laughter through brambles and faded trails for what feels like an eternity.
“Magda?” My heart is a constant hammering pulse by now. I feel like I might vomit, and a call to 911 is my next course of action until I spot a tiny flash of scarlet between two trees. “Magda!”
I throw myself into the underbrush and crash out on the other side.
“Oh, thank God!”
Magdalene stands just a few paces away, her red dress wrinkled, her shoes muddied. Otherwise, she looks none too worse for wear—as does the blond girl standing beside her. Both watch me, wide-eyed in a way that makes me question my own appearance. I’m panting, my skin slick with sweat.
“Sweetie, don’t you ever take off like that again! I was worried sick! And I’m sure your mother is worried about you too,” I tell the girl.
Magda shrugs, her tiny lips pursing. “Can I visit her pony?” she asks. After a moment’s hesitation, she adds, “Please?”
“Yeah!” The little girl pitches in. She’s beautiful—the blond equivalent to Magda’s dark-haired visage. Her tiny riding habit is secured by a bright pink ribbon, the fabric every bit as expensive as the one Vadim bought Magda. Something tells me that despite their feud, the two brothers share the same inclination when it come
s to spoiling the children under their protection. “My house is right over there,” the girl adds, pointing through the woods. “We can play whenever we want!”
“Ainsley!” In a scene that I assume must mirror my appearance just seconds ago, a woman staggers from a copse of trees. “Don’t you ever run off like that. I—” She breaks off, her brown eyes flitting in my direction.
Again, I’m struck by just how young she is. Especially when paired with a man like Maxim, who—while no old man by any means—is certainly far older. And stronger. And bigger. I’m so lost in the mental comparisons that I barely notice when she speaks.
“Ainsley, come back to the house.”
“And we should be leaving too.” I step forward and take Magda’s hand. Surprisingly, she doesn’t resist.
Instead, she turns her eyes on me, deploying an as of yet unseen ability—puppy dog eyes brimming with as much intensity as her trademark icy glare.
“Can she come over to play? And see my pony? …please?”
“I, um…” I make eye contact with Maxim’s fiancée. Francesca, I think that’s her name. Without a word spoken, I sense that we share a mutual understanding—these children may be innocent in the affairs of the adults around them, but it’s better not to touch that dynamic with a ten-foot pole. “We’ll talk about it later, sweetie. Come on, your lunch is getting cold. Maybe after we can go pet Dasha, hmm?”
She follows as I tug her along, but cranes her head back to watch as Francesca does the same to Ainsley. The two girls wave at each other while my insides squirm uncomfortably. How utterly cruel is it to deny a child a potential playmate merely because their guardians hate each other?
Very, I decide once we return to the house, and Magda’s frown makes a dramatic reappearance. I cajole her into eating, and we’re in the middle of another game of Monopoly when the front door opens. I turn only to choke on my relieved sigh; Vadim isn’t the one who storms into the kitchen.
“Mr. Vadim no come back,” Ena declares. “Business. Be back tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I try to keep the panic from my voice. “Can I call him? Do you have his number—”
“No call.” Ena crosses his arms, and I have enough sense to suspect that point is non-negotiable. “He busy. You see him tomorrow.”
“But what about…” I trail off, glancing at Magda. This isn’t her fault. I can discuss the whole “how dare you abandon me with your child” issue with Vadim at a later date. Instead, I force a grin and pick up the dice. “Ready to get your butt kicked, kiddo?”
She smirks, apparently more than eager to accept the challenge.
Chapter Fifteen
I figure I should be far more pissed at becoming a forced babysitter than I actually am. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? Babysitting?
Because, as I’ve told myself repeatedly, Magda isn’t mine. I shouldn’t enjoy losing to her at Monopoly for the umpteenth time. I shouldn’t find an odd sense of pride in the fact that she allows me to pick out her pajamas—a pink, gossamer nightgown—while she takes her bath. Brushing her hair is far too personal a task for a glorified babysitter, as is tucking her in and ensuring that both of her dolls are within reach.
“Goodnight, sweetie.”
I return to Vadim’s room alone, finding the bed huge without him here. And as I huddle beneath the silken sheets, a wave of doubt crashes over me with such brutal intensity, I almost can’t breathe beneath the onslaught. Where is he? Is he safe? Or has something happened? Something that drove him off on one of those emotional benders he’s hinted at?
I spend the night tossing and turning as those various fears torment me, robbing any anger I should feel of potency. I’m exhausted by the time I finally crawl out of the still-empty bed and get dressed. Downstairs, I make myself more tea and turn my sole focus to Magda.
Pushing any thoughts of boundaries aside, I make her a bowl of cereal for breakfast and pour her a fresh glass of juice. Then I head upstairs, relieved to find her still in bed.
Perched on the end of her mattress, I run my fingers through her hair until she wakes up. “Time to get the day started, kiddo.”
Rubbing her eyes, she sits up and scuttles to the end of her bed, waiting expectantly. It’s a belated second before I realize why. Following my unspoken cue, I enter her closet and pick out another outfit—a pair of jeans and a lime green sweater. After I braid her hair, she follows me downstairs and eats.
Then she fixes me with another disarmingly vulnerable glance I’m woefully unprepared for. “Can I go play with Ainsley?” Her eyes are so wide I feel swallowed by them, devoured by their openly pleading nature. “Please?”
I fumble for my glass of juice and promptly knock it over. “I… Um, we should wait for Vadim to get back.” I force a grin, but her mouth falls flat in response. From her dour expression, I assume that she feels the same way on that prospect that I do deep down—who knows when that will be?
“I want to play,” she says, folding her hands beside her bowl.
It’s such a simple, plaintive statement that somehow slips through my defenses and cuts deep. Maybe because it’s a different tact from her stoic persona. I’m just as vulnerable to her as I am to Vadim when he lets his true emotions slip through. Helpless.
“I… I’ll be right back.”
My mind spins as I leave the kitchen and head aimlessly for the foyer. Instead of Vadim returning, I find Ena standing guard, his arms crossed as I approach. And a split-second’s decision forms in my brain too quickly to challenge.
“I want to make a deal,” I tell him as he eyes me warily. “And I know you’ll want to refuse it, but hear me out.”
He cocks his head, his frown skeptical. “I listen.”
“Magda wants to play with the little girl next door—” As far as mansions with acres of property go. “And I think she could. And yes, I am talking about Maxim’s daughter.”
Ena’s nostrils flare, and I almost take a step back. He looks liable to hit me, revealing the true depths of his loyalty to Vadim. “No. No—”
“I’ll take all responsibility,” I insist, lifting my hands in a placating gesture. “Or… I’ll tell Vadim that you let her wander onto his property unprotected. I found her there yesterday.”
It’s a low blow. One I would never resort to under different circumstances. Is a playdate even worth it?
No. Ena’s furious expression warns me that making an enemy out of him is the worst possible act I could have taken.
“Look at her,” I demand, trying another tack. “She’s cooped up in a strange house, with strange people. The man who brought her here just disappeared to only God knows where. She’s lonely. All she wants to do is play with a little girl her own age. Are you going to tell her no?”
He squares his jaw, and I have no doubt that he’s capable of doing just that. He takes a step toward her, only to deflate, his shoulders slumping. Whirling on his heel, he jabs a finger at me.
“You take blame,” he insists. “Ena knows nothing. You take girl on your own.”
I sigh in relief. “Thank you—”
“No thank me.” He laughs coldly, his upper lip quirked. But it’s not a smug expression. It’s pitying. “Mr. Vadim kill you.”
And he may, I concede to myself. But not if I kill him first.
“Thank you.” I race past Ena before he can change his mind and approach Magda. Any doubts I may have are instantly dashed when she gazes up at me, her wall lowered a fraction to reveal the little girl underneath.
Screw boundaries. If Vadim wants to leave me with his daughter overnight, then he would cede her to my authority. Gosh, I just hope that trust isn’t misplaced.
“Ready to go on an adventure?” I run upstairs just to grab a jacket from the closet, then I open the door to the terrace and lead her outside. Taking her hand, I let her show me the route she took the other day.
“How did you even know where to go?” I ask, already hopelessly confused by the vast expanse of nature rende
ring this section of the grounds a virtual wilderness.
“Nautical navigation,” she says, a rare hint of excitement seeping into her voice. She has Biphany clutched under one arm, but curiously it looks like she left It behind.
“Oh,” I say, nodding. “Nautical navigation... Which in English means?”
She giggles in that rare, fleeting way. “Like the pirates used,” she adds in response to my puzzled expression. Lifting her tiny fingers, she points in two opposing directions. “Longitude and latitude—the lines that go on a map like this. Then you use the position of the sun—” she points up above. “And cardinal directions, you know—east, west, north, south. You use those to estimate your position on the axis. Then you just calculate from there. If I assume that we were fifty feet out on the water, then Ainsley lives roughly…” She counts on the fingers of her free hand. “One point seven five miles west of our house. See? It’s easy.” Whatever expression she sees on my face makes her giggle, shaking her head. “It’s basic calculations. Even a baby could do it.”
“Yeah,” I say, almost stunned into silence. “Basic…”
Still grinning, she surges ahead, tugging me behind her, and all I can do is follow, seeing the world as a seven-year-old might. An exceptionally bright seven-year-old who is far too perceptive for her own good. Vadim and Maxim may have a proverbial ocean of emotional distance between them, but a child has no trouble cutting through the physical boundaries. Which isn’t much. Once upon a time, these properties were connected, it seems, linked by a series of dirt paths that are now barely visible in the underbrush.
And yet, as a testament to the vastness of both properties, Maxim’s is still a good twenty or thirty minutes’ walk at the brisk pace of an eager seven-year-old. If Maxim is anything like Vadim in terms of security, I half-expect a gruff, gun-toting equivalent of Ena to come bursting from the shadows the second we breach the boundary of his land. Instead, we emerge from the woods relatively unscathed—though I sense eyes on the back of my neck with every step we take toward the modest, cozy-looking mansion on the hill.
