Surrounded by more potted plants and well-maintained gardens, Yuri, Slavic, and Anton were sitting on the back deck in deep-seated lounge chairs that faced the water, drinking beers and eating brownies taken from a large glass table covered with sandwiches and salads.
“Mind your manners,” scolded Zoya affectionately as though she were speaking to little boys. “We have company. Anton, move aside so Mia can get some food.”
Anton obeyed, sending Mia a wink before Zoya continued. “Luka says this is your first trip to New York, so we will be sure to show you a good time, but in the presence of my sons, I am afraid you must fight for your food. They all have their own homes, but they will stay here tonight because they know I will feed them a good breakfast when we have company. Eat something to tide you over, and tonight we will have a full Georgian meal so you can see the differences from my country.”
“I don’t need anything special,” said Mia, “and this is not only my first time in New York, but it’s the first time I’ve ever seen the ocean. Your view is amazing. I kind of want to run down to the water and get my feet wet.”
“You are special,” Zoya said. “This was Pavel’s property before he married me. It is the home where we raised our sons, but it’s been prone to flooding. We moved many of our treasures to the lake house long before Hurricane Sandy, which was good because our entire first floor was lost in that storm. We also have a home in Florida for those days when I need to get away from the cold.”
“All three of our boys were raised here,” said Pavel. “Anton, too.” Anton looked up from his plate as though he hadn’t been following the conversation. “My brother sent him to America with Zoya. He was a sad, scared little boy, and now, look at him.”
“Yeah, look at him,” said Mia with a grin. “He has mayo all over his lip.”
Pavel laughed loudly, and Anton grabbed a napkin with a rare grumble. “I like her, Luka,” said Pavel. “She has pylkiy.”
“I only understand a couple of Russian words,” said Mia, filling her plate with cole slaw, a ham sandwich cut from thick slices of meat and cheese, and handfuls of salty potato chips, “and Luka tells me none of them are appropriate for polite company, but I’m assuming that’s a good thing?”
“It means spunky,” said Zoya, “and I think you are beautiful, but come, bring your food, and we will let Pavel have his conversation with Luka.”
Pavel raised his eyebrow in displeasure and an awkward silence fell over the back porch. He looked so much like Luka when he was scolding her that Mia shuddered, but Zoya brushed him aside with a kiss on his cheek. “Why hide the truth? Everybody knows you didn’t bring Luka all the way to Brighton Beach to feed him a ham sandwich, so have that conversation now, and we will enjoy the rest of our weekend. You three,” she added, looking at the other boys. “Leave them in peace before I find you something to keep busy.”
The three of them grabbed as many sandwiches and brownies as they could carry before disappearing around the side of the house. Mia gave Luka a last glance over her shoulder before following Zoya inside, but he looked to be just as confused as she was.
They settled on comfortable couches in a three season sunporch that had a wonderful view of the water, but remained hidden from the road behind several wavy green forsythias. The windows were open to catch the cool ocean breezes, and she settled on a couch with her plate and her soda.
“Tell me about yourself,” said Zoya, pulling her long legs underneath her in a rattan chair. “You are from upstate New York? And a doctor, my sons tell me.”
“Yep,” she said uncomfortably. “Born and bred in western New York, went to college and medical school in Buffalo, and started my internship last year in Rochester. That’s my hometown, so I was pleased to get the position.”
“And you saved our Anton’s life. To you, he is a grown man, but to me, he is that little boy who will always be my first love. Those first months spent in a frightening new country where neither of us could speak the language brought us together in ways I will never forget.”
“They really weren’t life-threatening wounds,” insisted Mia. “Just a lot of pain and...” She trailed off, recognizing she sounded like an idiot. “Thank you, Zoya. I’ve grown to consider him a friend, and I...” She stopped talking and frowned.
“I know Luka and his family better than anybody else.” said Zoya gently. “You can trust me.”
Mia took a deep breath. “Luka and I have had a lot of arguments about the money he paid me that night. Once I got to know all of them, I think if he had just kept the money, we would have started this relationship with a lot less drama.”
“Money,” Zoya said with a sigh. “Like all couples, Pavel and I have had many bitter arguments over money. He wanted to sell this house years ago and buy a home in the Hamptons, but I put my foot down and the lake house was our compromise.” She paused with a little sparkle in her eyes. “Of course, putting my foot down with Pavel means I pouted like a child until he gave in. Ultimately, he doesn’t like to make me unhappy.”
“Luka is the same way. He and I have had disagreements about money since the day we met. We even had a fight over what kind of sheets to buy.”
“A fight, eh? Like I said, I know the Petruskenkov men, and you are exaggerating when you say you had a fight. In the end, you lost?”
“Yep,” she said with an eye roll. “I lost. He can be a stubborn bastard, but he doesn’t need to spend all that money on me. I consider a can of name brand root beer a treat.”
“Don’t let your past rule your future,” said Zoya, giving Mia her full attention. “I was born to a very poor family. My father sold me to Pavel’s brother, like a dog or a horse when I wasn’t much more than a child.”
Mia couldn’t hide her shock but Zoya dismissed her. “Don’t judge my father. It was a hard world even before the communists lost control, but in one day, our entire country ceased to exist. Everything we’d ever been told, every history book we had, and every understanding about what we thought was important were all gone, along with the government’s control that limited rents and food prices. My country entered into a civil war that lasted for years. Selling me to the Petruskenkovs kept me fed.”
“Believe me,” said Mia, embarrassed. “I’m the last person who should judge you or your father, but I don’t need expensive gifts from Luka. I’m always going to be just a poor kid from a trailer park.”
“But Luka is a rich man. Why would you deny him the happiness of giving you beautiful things?”
“It’s hard to explain,” she said, the guilt returning in waves, “but the money has always been this barrier between us.”
“It’s only a barrier if you allow it to be. If you dated a poor man who’d grown up in your neighborhood, what would you do if he saved his pennies for a month and bought you something, say flowers?”
“I’d probably love it, but Luka doesn’t buy flowers. He charters planes to fly to Texas, and he bought me a pair of diamond earrings that had to have cost him thousands of dollars.”
“They did,” Zoya responded with a shrug. “We went to my jeweler in Manhattan, but I know he has bought you other gifts, too, trinkets that cost much less.”
Mia had understood the couple was important to Luka, but in a very few minutes, Zoya had simultaneously provided too much information and too little, sparking a thousand questions. “It’s not just the money. Don’t you worry about their safety?”
“Of course I do, but I am not the only woman who deals with fear when their husband and sons leave the house. You have no idea what life was like around here twenty-five years ago. New York was in an undeclared war as families fought for control. Even today, the world is filled with dangerous jobs that don’t make good bedtime stories for people living in their quiet cul-de-sac neighborhoods, but we understand this fear, and we deal with it together.”
“Anton was shot, Zoya. Somebody pulled out a gun and shot him. Surely you can’t just accept that?”
“I learned ma
ny years ago you must take the Petruskenkovs for what they are. They bring light, love, and happiness, but their dark side isn’t going to change. Not when you’re walking hand in hand down the beach at sunrise and not when you’re in their bedroom receiving their discipline.”
Mia was so mortified that she had to look away, but Zoya waved her off. “You stayed in my house. Who do you think that room over the garage was built for?”
“Not even sure of the protocol here,” said Mia, forcing herself to meet Zoya’s gaze, “but obviously, I’m an idiot. It never once occurred to me I would have to look another woman in the eye and admit I’ve been in her personal kinky sex dungeon. Am I supposed to tell you I liked the paint color, or something?”
Zoya burst out laughing. “You are hysterical, and you don’t need to be embarrassed. Sex is a beautiful thing, filled with passion and pleasure. When I came to Pavel, I was an abused, shy young woman, and he nurtured me until he found my strength. But you, you are already strong, and Luka hasn’t brought you into an easy lifestyle.”
“Yeah, well, things were going a lot better before I fell apart on him about three weeks ago, and we haven’t gone down that road since. I think...” she had to pause before she could admit it out loud, “I think he’s just biding his time until he goes back to Russia. I’ve known from the beginning this was temporary.”
“You understand this, but—” Zoya started.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mia interrupted, unable stop the bitterness. “We weren’t going any further in this relationship. Luka is, truly, two different people. One of them is a kind, loving man, but the part I can’t access is untrusting and cold. He’s going to return to Russia without looking back. That’s been the bigger barrier and all of that got all tied in with the money.”
“He is different than my sons,” Zoya said slowly, as though she were carefully choosing every word. “Luka needs to build his trust slowly, and his past is more complex. His father beat his children and his wife, leaving deep scars, both on the outside and on the inside. I have been told he was a wonderful little boy, full of love and life until his mother died.”
Leaning forward, Zoya took Mia’s hand. “He was there, you know. He saw her die, and he’s spent his life regretting he didn’t keep her safe. I met him shortly after his sister disappeared, another victim of a family dysfunction that you can only imagine in your worst nightmares, and he’s lived the same guilt over that loss.”
“I didn’t know any of that,” said Mia softly. “I knew his mother died tragically, but I didn’t know he was there, and I didn’t even know he had a sister. I’ve only heard him mention a brother.”
“He has two brothers, and both of them are harsh men. Ana... Ana was a joy as a child. That loss broke Luka’s heart, and he is convinced she is dead.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me. It explains a lot about his obsessive need to protect me, but I can’t work on taking down a wall that he won’t admit is even there.”
“Come,” said Zoya, unraveling her long legs and offering Mia a hand. “Let me show you something.”
Mia followed her up the stairs to the master bedroom where Zoya removed a large velvet box from a chest at the end of her bed. “There is a portrait of my mother-in-law at the lake house. I never knew her, but she was a woman who was forced by time and circumstances to accept her husband in order to survive, as was her mother-in law before her, and her mother-in-law before her. Russia is a beautiful country with a rich culture, but its history was not created by weak individuals.”
With a tiny key retrieved from a desk drawer, Zoya opened the box to reveal the stunning necklace Mia had seen in the portrait over the fireplace, the huge green emerald nestled in a heavy platinum setting and surrounded by more diamonds, rubies, and sapphires than she could count in a glance. In the painting, it was stunning; in person, it was overwhelming.
“This is our family’s greatest treasure,” Zoya said, taking it out of the box and handing it to Mia.
“Shouldn’t this be in a safety deposit box or something?” said Mia, nervously holding the heavy jewelry in two hands for fear it would combust into a million pieces. “Somebody might steal it.”
“Who would steal from the Petruskenkov family? We don’t flaunt it. Nobody sets foot on our property without an entire army of people knowing about it, and a half dozen heavily armed men would be here within minutes if I were to scream. Most of the time, I keep it downstairs in Pavel’s safe, but sometimes, I like to just look at it. It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is beautiful, and I appreciate the trust, but why are you showing me this, Zoya?”
“Don’t you see? You are struggling with the meaning of Luka’s money and his past. My family will never sell this necklace, and if you never plan on selling it, it has no true monetary value, either. It’s the history that has meaning to us, dating back to 1918 when Princess Ántonia Romanov fled for her life and sought protection from Sergei Petruskenkov, with this sewn into her dress. If Sergei had sold the necklace, he would have betrayed his true love to her enemies, so he returned to his life of crime to feed them, keeping this as a symbol of their past, and it’s the tie to our future.”
“That’s a beautiful, romantic story,” said Mia, “but we live in twenty-first century America, not Revolutionary Russia. It’s hard to accept a world where women, like you, are sold for sex and worse or selling drugs that destroy children and families...”
“Pavel deals with imports and exports, everything from wine and alcohol to nickel and gold. Damir’s world is... darker. We are tied to that world by default, but we take no money from him, and neither does Luka. As a matter of fact, we pay Damir to keep him out of our lives. The credit card numbers the boys were retrieving the night Anton was injured was for that purpose. This arrangement is what complicates if, and when, Luka returns to Russia. That part of his life, he feels is out of his control.”
“Is it out of his control? Pavel got away.”
“Nobody gets away from Damir, my love. We have bought ourselves some distance, and only Luka can answer that question for himself because a son’s relationship with his father is more complex than his brother’s. But you must love what is in front of you. Don’t look for change, and you will never be disappointed. Don’t walk away from what you believe is goodness and be prepared to fight to pull him out from behind that barrier. Like that necklace, this world isn’t defined by money.”
“Zoya,” said Mia, handing back the necklace, “that is pretty much, word for word, what my mother told me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Mia had given him one last glance over her shoulder before disappearing inside with Zoya. Luka had no concern for her safety, but he also had no idea why Pavel would want to speak with him alone. Before he could ask, Pavel went into the kitchen, returning to Luka with a pair of intricately cut Waterford crystal shot glasses and a good bottle of chilled vodka, the brand they smuggled into Russia to feed his country’s healthy appreciation for fine spirits.
“So, djadja,” Luka said to his uncle. “I’m beginning to think this invitation had nothing to do with seeing my handsome, clean-shaven face?”
“I like her, Luka,” said Pavel, ignoring his question. “Your mother would have liked her too. You haven’t mentioned her to Damir?”
His father’s name effectively destroyed Luka’s good humor, and he turned to stare at the water. “No, and I am asking that you don’t either. I’ll return to Russia without her in a few weeks, and he never needs to know.”
“I haven’t truly spoken to your father in years. Your secret has been safe with me and with my sons, but Anton tells me you are serious about this girl. He doesn’t see it ending in a few weeks, and he fears you are struggling.”
“Anton should learn to keep his mouth shut,” said Luka dryly.
“He cares about you and that isn’t a crime,” scolded Pavel. “They’ve been raised to accept you as one of us, and you should show them the same respect.”
“I’m an old man, but I’m no fool. You care about each other, and you have your whole life ahead of you. Plus, you are my nephew, and my nephew should understand what to do with a beautiful woman who makes him happy.”
“To what end?” He waved his hand around the deck, but it wasn’t Pavel’s world that was the problem. “Bring her into all of this? She is vulnerable, and... there is no place for her here.”
“I don’t understand what you mean by here? Your childhood was filled with misery and trauma that still clouds your view of the world, but have you explained these things to her? No matter what happens in a few months, she has to live with the memory of this relationship for the rest of her life and deserves to know who she has fallen in love with.”
Luka slammed his fragile shot glass to the table. “You’ve seen what he did to my mother and Ana, too. He destroyed them, and we let him. We will all pay the price long after he is dead. Ana... she was just a baby.”
“You owe him nothing except your anger and contempt. Your father is my blood, but he is the reason I left Russia. Even after I saved my sons, Damir raped Zoya for weeks before he sent her to me as his castoff, a young, impressionable, nineteen-year-old child. I would kill him with my bare hands if I didn’t understand it would start a war with your brothers and our cousins in Russia that none of us would survive unscathed.”
When Luka didn’t answer, Pavel continued. “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you with me when I came to America. I asked him, begged him, to let me take you, too. I didn’t want to leave you behind after that night, but he refused and there was nothing I could do.”
The Russian Page 18
