One Wrong Move

by Shannon McKenna

  She walked down the corridor, nobody here, no big deal, following the route Aaro had indicated. Around the corner. There were personnel in the medical station, but they didn’t see her walk by.

  At one point, a nurse came out of a room, and headed purpose-fully down the hall, walking past Nina without turning her head.

  She’d gotten here at the end of a shift. That was lucky. Everyone tired, thinking about dinner and some mindless TV. She paused outside the room. It felt rude to shove open a door without knocking, but drawing attention to herself by making a sound was crazy. She turned the knob, and pushed.

  It was a normal-looking bedroom, with a dim, mellow-golden bedside lamp. Not a sterile white hospital room, except for the bed, which was an automated hospital bed with rails and an IV

  rack.

  A wasted form lay in it, eyes closed. Nina stopped at the door.

  The woman had high, jutting cheekbones like Aaro’s, an oxygen tube taped beneath it. Her skin was yellow, her eyes were closed, sunk deep in shadowy eye sockets. Her head turned, and her eyes opened.

  The impact of her gaze made Nina gasp as if she’d been splashed by ice water. She went from feeling invisible to feeling intensely visible.

  She tried to speak, but she was immobilized by the dying woman’s intense, haunting gaze. Pressure built, as if she were holding her breath. She was about to panic when the tension abruptly eased.

  The woman tried to speak, but her hoarse rasp did not carry.

  “Excuse me?” Nina said, feeling inane and helpless.

  The woman twitched her fingers. It was hardly visible, and yet it was an immistakable “Come here.”

  Nina couldn’t disobey. Charisma and a compelling personality must be genetic traits that ran strong in Aaro’s family.

  Close to the bed, Nina saw every detail of Tonya Arbatov’s skull pressing against the yellowed parchment of her skin. Her thin fingers twitched imperiously. Nina could come no closer, so she did the only thing she could think of. She took the woman’s hand.

  Tonya’s fingers were cold, but the crackle of awareness was anything but. It thrilled through Nina’s nerves, too sparkling to be fear, too nervous and unsettled to be joy. Vividly, intensely aware.

  The dying woman began to speak. Nina bent low, putting her ear closer to the woman’s mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured.

  “Again?”

  Tonya sucked in air, and let it out in a long, slow wheeze, forming words as she did so. “You bring my Sasha?”

  Nina stared down at her, that thrill of emotion jangling through her again. The woman’s eyes shimmered with happy tears.

  “How did you know . . .” The question trailed off. It was stupid and irrelevant, under the circumstances, and Tonya didn’t have the strength to answer anyhow. Twenty-one years, no warning, no word, and somehow, she just knew that her beloved nephew was out there.

  Tears rushed into Nina’s eyes. She had to make this happen, before Aaro panicked outside and spoiled everything. “I’ll get him for you,” she whispered. “I have to hurry. We’re not supposed to be here.”

  Tonya Arbatov made a wheezy creaking noise that sounded like distress. Then Nina realized that it was laughter.

  “Go, go,” she mouthed, her voice inaudible. “Get my Sasha.”

  Nina shoved open the door, bolted to the end of the corridor.

  She was so rattled, she didn’t establish the drone of nobody here, no big deal in her mind. God forbid anyone see her now. She was so excited.

  She slid the square of folded brochure into the stairwell door and ran down the stairs. Aaro glowered through the small glass window. She ran at it full tilt, shoved it open. Aaro burst inside, grabbing her arm.

  “What the fuck took you so long? It’s been sixteen minutes!”

  No time for scolding, not with his aunt waiting, tears of joy in her eyes. “Shut up!” She towed him toward the stairs. “Come quick!”

  “You found her?”

  “Yes. She knew you were coming. She’s waiting for you.

  Hurry!”

  But he dragged his feet, slowing at the foot of the stairs. “How, ah . . . how is she?”

  It stabbed into her again, that sudden glimpe into his armored head. He was so afraid of what he was about to see. And she could not help him with that. Not one little bit. “She’s dying,”

  she said. “She’s emaciated, jaundiced, bald. But she’s lucid, and she’s alone. Now is your chance. Come on! ”

  They hurried up the stairs. The corridor was still deserted.

  Aaro hesitated again outside the door, but Nina shoved him in.

  They damn well were not going to all this trouble to get kicked out by a night nurse.

  Aaro stared at the woman on the bed. His aunt’s eyes streamed with tears. Such a blaze of love shone out of her skeletal face, it could only be described as beautiful.

  Nina waited at the door, to give them some privacy. Aaro bent over his aunt, spoke to her for a minute, and turned, beckoning her. “She wants you, too.”

  Tonya was waggling her fingers as she approached, a clear invitation, so Nina took the woman’s cold hand once again.

  Tonya’s eyes cut from her to Aaro, and back again. The tender gleam in her eyes started to sink in, and with it, a terrible realization.

  Oh, God. The woman thought that she and Aaro were a couple.

  She was appalled. Of course Tonya would think that. It was a natural assumption. Like a guy would dream of bringing a woman to his aunt’s deathbed if she wasn’t his fiancée, or at least a serious girlfriend. Any guy at all. Let alone a guy like Aaro.

  Oh, this was bad. The dying aunt, all misty-eyed and contented to see her darling boy finally settled before she died. But a deception of this magnitude felt immoral, whether it was inten-tional or not. She shrank away, but Tonya’s fingers tightened around hers.

  “This one, she is perfect. Pretty, too, eh? But she doesn’t know. She needs you to show her how pretty she is. Perfect for you, Sasha.”

  Aaro grunted. “Pretty, yes. Hardly perfect. You should hear her scold me.”

  Tonya’s chest jerked, creaking laughter. “Good, good,” she wheezed. “You are terrible. From minute you were born. Of course she scolds. She is smart to scold you. You would crush a weak woman beneath your boot.” She looked up at Nina, her eyes sparkling. “Yes, scold him, scold him,” she urged. “He is bad boy. Needs strong hand.”

  Nina opened her mouth to explain that she was just a . . . well, hell. Her imagination failed her. A friend? Could she be defined as Aaro’s friend? His protectee, rather. Did having a violent adventure in common make people friends? God forbid she made any more friends like that. She wouldn’t survive the bonding experience again.

  Aaro was speaking again, but she didn’t catch his words, just Tonya’s response. “Yes, and she has gift, too. Like you, Sasha.”

  Aaro shook his head. “No, Aunt, you’ve always been wrong about that. I don’t have the gift. Not like you.”

  “Oh, yes, you have gift. You just never let it out of cage. I understand. You are smart. You didn’t want to end up like me.”

  Aaro looked tormented. “Aunt, I didn’t want—”

  “Shhhh.” She patted his hand. “One day you will open cage.

  And she . . .” She flapped her fingers at Nina. “She has it, too. Like you, but different. Just different enough to complete you. Very good girl.” She patted Nina’s hand, smiled up into Aaro’s eyes. “I am so happy.”

  Aaro sank down to his knees next to the bed. He hid his face against the bedclothes. Tonya stroked his tangled hair. The protests, the explanations, the Oh, no, we’re really just friends that Nina had been trying to phrase dissolved. Tears welled up, spilled over. Aw, hell. She couldn’t disappoint Tonya now. She’d been set up, boxed in, and there was nothing she could do to fix it. She and Aaro were going to have words. But not now. Not while just looking at him made her cry.

  Tonya’s eyes were fluttering. The brief but in
tense conversation had exhausted her. “You come back tomorrow?” she rasped.

  He lifted his head. “If they let me in. They don’t like me much.”

  Her lips twitched. “I will tell them I want my Sasha. Maybe they will listen. But your clever lady will get you in. Her gift is strong. Strong with strong. Makes both of you stronger. Very good. Son of my heart.”

  “I’m sorry, Aunt.” She could barely hear his gruff, choked voice. “That I was gone so long. That I didn’t visit you.”

  “No, no.” She shook her head, smiling. “No, Sasha. The one thing that gave me peace was to think that you were free, somewhere. Like we dreamed of, remember, Sasha? That star we saw?”

  His head jerked, affirmatively. “I remember.”

  “I see it now, Sasha. I will be that star now. You go out, look in the sky, say hello to me, ey?” She put her hand on his cheek. “I did not want you to come, risk you getting snarled in Oleg’s web.

  But now . . .” Her gaze flicked to Nina. A smile creased her face.

  “With her, you are strong enough to face even Oleg.” She petted his hair. “I am so happy.”

  Her eyes fluttered shut. Her hand went limp.

  After a few moments of listening to her labored breathing, Nina realized two things. Tonya was fast asleep, and Aaro was not going to move one inch on his own initiative. His shoulders shook.

  “Aaro,” she said. No reaction. Not even a twitch.

  It was up to her. She grabbed his arm, pulled until he was on his feet, stumbling as if half asleep. Nina peered into the hall and hustled him out, her arm around his waist. She got him down the stairs, and onto the street. Aaro showed no signs of resuming his usual executive control of the universe, so she linked her arm through his, and towed him in the direction that she vaguely remembered him parking the car.

  “I shouldn’t have left her there alone,” he said starkly.

  “How old were you when you left home?” she asked.

  His brow furrowed, as if the question were too difficult to process. “Sixteen,” he said finally. “Almost seventeen.”

  “For God’s sake,” she muttered. “Sixteen is a child. You should not have been responsible for yourself at that age. Let alone for an adult.”

  “I should have come back for her,” he repeated.

  Nina stared around the deserted street. There was a bench on the sidewalk, a bus stop. She steered him there, poised him over it, and shoved until he thudded down. He stared at the passing cars, blankly.

  She hated to see him like that. It was like a fist, squeezing her heart. She wanted to pick him up, cuddle him as if he were a small child. As if. But the impulse was too strong to resist, so she did the next best thing. She sat on his lap. Wrapped her arms around his neck.

  His arms clamped around her. His arms were very strong, and they held her very tightly. It gave her a dizzy thrill, which she squelched, sternly. This was about comfort. He’d comforted her, in his own rough way. Now it was her turn to comfort him.

  He vibrated, as if a tremendous voltage was running through his body. He pressed his hot face to her shoulder, and hung on.

  They must have been there for twenty minutes, but time warped and stretched, bloomed into something new and strange.

  She felt him, so intensely. His body and hers, every point of contact thrumming. The throb of his heart, reverberated through her body. The pulse of his breath against her collarbone. Every ticklish swish of the breeze moving her skirt against her legs. Her bottom, perched on those hard, powerful thighs. The warm, earthy smell of his hair filled her nose.

  A car drove by, stereo bass thumping loudly. A guy hung out of the window, and howled, “Get a room, asshole!”

  Aaro lifted his head, without meeting her eyes. “Good idea,”

  he said gruffly. “You need rest. And we need to listen to that recording.”

  They stared at each other. He looked nervous. And flushed.

  She realized that she was petting him. Stroking his hair. Her hand was actually sliding down to touch the jut of his high cheekbone.

  She jerked back, horrified at herself, and scrambled off his lap, smoothing down her skirt. She was sending crazy mixed messages to this guy, and that was totally unfair. And dangerous.

  “Uh . . . sorry,” he muttered.

  “I don’t need your goddamned apologies,” she snapped.

  His mouth twitched. “Uh, yeah. Thanks for getting me into the—”

  “I don’t want your thanks,” she said coolly. “I owed you a favor. Don’t take it personally, OK? It’s not about you. It’s just payback.”

  He blinked, and a quick, appreciative grin flashed over his face. “Ah. OK. I see. Tough bitch.”

  “I’m learning,” she said. “I’m learning fast.”

  “My aunt said you were strong,” he said.

  “I know. I was there. Right next to you. In case you didn’t notice.”

  An odd look flashed over his face. “Huh? Come again?”

  “I heard what your aunt said,” she snapped. “That you’d squish me like a grape if I weren’t strong. And I don’t appreciate being called a scold. It’s unfair, considering the day we’ve just had. And what on earth possessed you to let her think that we were a couple?”

  His jaw sagged. “But I . . . but we . . . but I didn’t say—”

  “You said nothing to make her think otherwise.” She hadn’t intended to lecture him right off the bat, but she hadn’t expected to embarrass herself by petting him, either, so what the hell. “It was inappropriate, to deceive her like that. No matter the circumstances.”

  “Nina,” he said slowly. “Explain something to me.”

  “I’m not the one who should be explaining myself. What was all that stuff about gifts?” Freed from the spell of their timeless embrace, she had to cover her discomfort with brittle chatter.

  “Nina, do you speak Ukrainian?”

  “Of course not,” she snapped. “Would I have been calling you to translate for me if I did? What are you talking about?”

  He seized her shoulders, gave them a hard squeeze. “Aunt Tonya was speaking Ukrainian, Nina,” he said. “The whole time.”

  She stared at him. “No, that’s not even remotely possible,”

  she said. “I don’t speak a word of Ukrainian, or Russian, and I understood every word your aunt said. I get by in Spanish, and I studied some French in college, but Slavic languages are a complete blank to me. She was speaking English, Aaro, and you just didn’t notice.”

  Aaro was shaking his head. “Tonya never learned English very well. She didn’t want to come to this country in the first place.

  She was in love with someone back in the old country. My father forced her to come. Not speaking English was one of the things that kept her so trapped. She wasn’t speaking it tonight. I remember what she said, and how she said it. It wasn’t English.

  And I wasn’t speaking it, either.”

  “But I . . . but she . . .” Her voice trailed off. “How could I . . .”

  “The mind-reading thing, maybe?” he said.

  She shook her head. “It didn’t feel like that,” she faltered.

  “I . . . I it was the words. I heard them. With my ears. I swear, I did.”

  They stared at each other. Aaro wrapped his arm around her shoulder, sweeping her into a trot. “Fuck it,” he said. “It’s one more weird thing, in a long list of weird things, and it’s not even the weirdest of the lot. We’ll process this later. Forget about it.”

  That would be a neat trick. But Nina put her arm around his waist and let herself be borne along anyway.

  The weight of his arm around her shoulders felt very, very good.

  Chapter 11

  Fay Siebring picked up the telephone, and put it down again.

  Get it over with. When Tonya Arbatov had been admitted to the hospice, Oleg Arbatov had requested a meeting with her.

  Oleg was a tall, thick-bodied man, once powerfully handsome, now riddled wit
h disease. A cancer survivor, she’d heard, but it had not affected the force of his personality one bit. His face was pitted, yellowish, his eyes sunken, but deep in their pits, they burned with an unabated fire. His voice was a rasping growl that made her flesh crawl. His charisma was enormous.

  Oleg had explained, in correct but heavily accented English, that Tonya Arbatov was to have absolutely no visitors except for the immediate family, and if anyone else requested to see her, that person was to be denied entrance, and Oleg was to be immediately notified. Not that such a thing was likely, he assured her, but Tonya had suffered from mental illness for most of her life, and was very fragile. He wanted to ensure that her final days were tranquil and secure.

  Fay had explained that though his care for his sister was noted, their patient-based care policy dictated that Tonya’s personal wishes regarding visitors would be considered above any other—

  “That is your son? And your daughter?” he’d interrupted, pointing at the picture on her desk of Cass and Wills. His long, misshapen yellow fingernail looked like a devil’s horn. Fay was startled by the impulse to knock the picture facedown to stop him from looking at it. “Ah. Er . . .”

  “Cassandra,” he murmured. “Pretty. And William. Fine-looking young man. So tall. Basketball, no? I see why.”

  She froze. Their names. How in God’s name had he known . . . ?

  “I heard that Cassandra has applied for the Seaver scholarship.

  Should help paying for Northeastern. Congratulations on her getting in, by the way. Great accomplishment. Good school. Expensive, though, hmm? For a single mother, working in health care administration.”

  “How do you know . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  Oleg smiled. His teeth looked sharp. “I can make sure Cassandra gets the Seaver. A word, with people I know, and the thing is done.”

  Fay’s vertebrae stacked up in a burst of maternal pride. “I appreciate the thought, but Cassandra is by far the best candidate, and I don’t think she needs any help at all to—”

  “Oh, Ms. Siebring. No. We all need help. You, William, Cassandra. Me, too. It would be a shame, if the scholarship board learned of that unpleasant business . . . the shoplifting incident?