by Robin Caroll
Sophia shook her head. She’d been dying to try to just say one word, but Dr. Rhoads hadn’t cleared her yet and had told her not to try. She could permanently damage her vocal chords. Considering everything else she’d lost, she wasn’t willing to take the chance.
“I am sor—” Her eyes widened as she stared at the quilt. “What is this?”
Oh, right. Alena was a quilter. Something good, at least one thing, had been passed down from mother to daughter to daughter. “Mamochka took her ballet costumes and quilted them into this. She would tell me the stories of each of the ballets as we quilted.” So many wonderful, wonderful memories Sophia would hold dear to her heart forever.
“May I?” Alena held her hand over the quilt, waiting for Sophia’s approval before she touched it.
Sophia nodded.
She touched the first piece, the scarlet with polka dots costume in the bottom corner. “I remember this one. Your mamochka was only eleven years old when she wore this.” Alena’s smile widened. “The Little Radish. Everyone says she is too young to dance such an important role in Cipollino, but she show them all. She was beautiful, even with the silly headpiece.”
Sophia smiled as well. “This was back in Russia?”
“Da. She was studying dance at the Vaganova Ballet Academy in St. Petersburg. Everyone was surprised when she landed the role, but she was perfection on stage.”
“I remember she told me that she’d been so nervous before she went on, but as soon as she entered stage right, it was as if she were dancing alone.”
Alena nodded, a faraway smile on her face. “She loved to dance and dancing loved her.”
Silence filled the room, but not uncomfortably so.
Alena moved her hands up to the next square, gently stroking the gauzy blue-teal material. “I remember this as well. The role made her a star in Kirov Academy here in United States.”
“The Sea Princess costume,” Sophia recalled.
“From The Little Humpbacked Horse. She was just twelve, but just like in Mother Russia, she stunned everyone with her dance maturity.” Alena shook her head. “She did not dance, MIlaya Moyna, she floated. Everyone say so.”
“What was she like? As a young girl, I mean.” Mamochka had shared a lot of her youth and life, but Sophia hadn’t an idea of what she was really like. As a person.
“She was dancer. Beautiful. Graceful.”
“No, I mean what was she like as a person, not a dancer.”
Alena’s brows scrunched. “Dancer is who she was.”
“What kind of books did she like as a girl? What did she like to do? What kind of music did she like?”
“What kind of questions are these? She liked to dance. She listened to ballet scores. She read Dance Magazine.”
Had she not been allowed to be a person, too? Only a dancer? If so, no wonder Mamochka hadn’t talked much about her childhood.
“Oh, I remember this ballet.” Alena touched the gold and white bodice. “Raymonda. She was only seventeen. With her new company.”
“New York City Ballet.”
“Da. She was so beautiful. Everyone say so. Especially Dimitri. I always say he fall in love with her during this ballet.”
“Dimitri?” Sophia’s curiosity was piqued. She’d heard her mother mention the name a few times, but always with a scowl or frown attached to the comment.
“He loved her so. Broke his heart, she did.”
“Whatever happened to him?” She didn’t understand why she was curious, but she was.
“He continued to dance after my Nina, mostly with Nadia. He and Nadia were a couple for a while. After she was gone, he became financial supporter of ballet company. His family has money, always did. Another reason I thought she should stay with Dimitri.”
“What about now?”
“I do not know. After my Nina stopped dancing, I did not follow the ballet. It hurt too much.”
Sophia swallowed the retort burning her tongue to be released.
Forgive. Forgive.
“Mamochka told me this was one of her favorite ballets.” Sophia changed the subject, pointing to a square on the side closer to her, the satiny, deep red material. “Nikiya in The Temple Dancer. Do you remember it?”
Alena nodded. “The name of the ballet was actually Petipa’s La Bayadère. Nina loved the ballet because of this costume. Pants.” She shook her head, smiling. “I was shocked when I saw the costume, but as soon as she was on stage, I knew it was as perfect as she was. Stunning. Drew attention from everyone. Even Nadia, her friend and competition, said Nina was Nikiya.”
“Nadia. I don’t think I ever heard Mamochka mention her, but you say she was her best friend?”
“Da. Da. They met in New York company. Both new. Both good dancers, but Nina better. Nina knew it. So did Nadia. But Nadia has ties to Mother Russia, too, so they get friends. They go to studio together. To rehearsals together. They giggle together at home.”
Sophia couldn’t imagine why she’d never heard her mother mention Nadia’s name once. “I’ve never heard of her. What’s her last name?”
“Paley. Nadia Paley. You must have just forgot hearing Nina talk about her.”
“No, I’m quite positive Mamochka never mentioned her. She never mentioned any friends from her ballet company.”
“Really? But she make Nadia last costume the centerpiece of this quilt.” Alena pointed to the Sugar Plum Fairy full front of the costume in the center of the quilt.
Sophia shook her head. “No, that’s Mamochka’s.”
Alena shook her head, more vehemently. “No, it is Nadia’s. Nina would never have danced a role as low as a sugar plum fairy . . . she was Clara.”
Sophia opened her mouth to argue, then clamped it shut. She racked her memories. Every time she and her mother had worked on the quilt, or Mamochka had told her stories, she’d always pointed out the centerpiece was the Sugar Plum Fairy costume from the Nutcracker ballet, but she’d never actually said she’d danced the part. Was it possible what Alena said was true and Mamochka had used her best friend’s costume as the centerpiece as some sort of way of honoring her?
Alena had, as far as Sophia knew, never lied to her. Been blunt and hurtful, but honest.
Unlike Mamochka, so Sophia now knew.
“What happened to Nadia? Is she still performing?” Her mother had continued to follow the ballet industry news, even though she refused to take Sophia to a real ballet, only allowing Sophia to attend her own dance studio’s recitals and productions.
“Ne. She died some time ago, MIlaya Moyna.”
Even younger than Mamochka. Too young to die. “What happened?”
“She murdered. Backstage at ballet.” Alena nodded at the Sugar Plum Fairy costume. “That ballet.”
* * *
“I bet I know who was your fake doctor,” Brody announced as his way of greeting early Tuesday morning.
“Do tell,” Julian said, turning from the open case file on the computer.
Brody tossed the morning paper down on his desk. “Seems a reporter received a tip from an unnamed source that newly named Olympic gymnastics team member, Sophia Montgomery, was attacked in her mother’s home last week and is recovering in the hospital, following an early-morning emergency surgery.”
Julian actually felt the blood drain from his face. “No.”
Brody nodded. “It gets worse. He reports she’s unable to speak and barely walking. Two nationals picked it up not even fifteen minutes ago.”
“We have to get to the hospital. Now.” Julian jumped to his feet and snatched the paper from the desk. “I’ll call Charlie now and have her meet us there.”
“I’ll drive so you can read and get caught up.” Brody led the way. “I already called the hospital and gave the word there is to be no confirmation given. I told our officer at her door to be ready.” He started the car and squealed out of the station’s lot, then drove in silence while Julian read.
“I want to question this . . . this .
. .” he squinted to read the byline. “Carl Oxford.”
“Already have the uniforms bringing him in for questioning.” Brody steered the car into the hospital’s parking lot.
“At least he doesn’t know her mother died.”
“She’s not the story.” Brody shut the door and hit the button on the remote to lock. “An Olympic team member attacked and the rest is the story.”
Julian balled his hands into tight fists at his side as they entered the hospital. A throng of people filled the lobby, most of them with cameras and microphones.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t bring your equipment in here,” the poor woman in a suit tried to address them. Security officers blocked the elevators. “You’ll have to wait outside. This is private property. If you don’t leave the premises, I’ll call the police.”
“But we know Sophia Montgomery is here.”
“Just tell us what floor she’s on.”
“Can you give us an update on her condition?”
Julian ground his teeth.
“Please. You must leave.”
Nodding at Brody, Julian pulled his badge and held it up. “Police. You heard the lady, get out of the building.”
Brody did the same on his side of the room. “Come on, move out.”
Within minutes, the press had been escorted from the hospital.
“Thank you,” the woman said.
“Ma’am, we’re calling in a few uniformed officers to keep an eye on the front door, but you need to alert your security department and have more stationed at elevators and stairways,” Julian told her even as Brody called in the request.
“Oh, yes. We will.”
They stepped in the elevator, Julian clenched his hands, then unclenched them. “I can’t wait to hear how the reporter heard about her being here.”
“We’ll find out soon enough. But him getting into her room yesterday, he got his own confirmation.” Brody stopped to talk to the officer stationed outside her door.
Julian couldn’t wait. He knocked on the door, then stepped inside.
Sophia’s eyes were puffier and bloodshot, clearly having been crying. Charlie sat beside her, patting her shoulder. No more than a few years separated the two ladies, but Charlie definitely wore a lioness’s protective face.
Her doctor, the one Julian had seen many times, made notations in her chart.
“We had to unplug the phone.” Charlie hurled it at him like an accusation.
Sophia looked up at him with such a helpless expression and such pain rimmed in her swollen eyes. It took every ounce of his strength not to forget himself and just pull her into his arms.
“My coach called. He yelled. Screamed. Said I should have called him as soon as I could. Said I’d deliberately tried to sabotage the team just because I couldn’t compete.” Tears filled her eyes, then spilled over, running down her cheeks.
Even with her beaten face, she cried more beautifully and gracefully than anyone he’d ever seen before. If it didn’t nearly rip his heart out through his chest, he’d think it artful the way she cried.
Charlie glared at him. “I hung up on her coach. And the gazillion reporters who won’t stop calling. I told the nurses not to put calls through, but they keep calling. They kept upsetting Sophia, so I unplugged the phone entirely.”
“Totally understand.” He stared at Sophia. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how the information got out.”
“My coach is furious, and rightfully so. I knew I should have contacted him.”
“Shh. You couldn’t. You couldn’t talk, and we wouldn’t let you.” He moved closer and started to stroke her hair, but jammed his hand into his pocket to stop himself.
She just continued to cry. Silently.
It ripped him apart. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand to watch her go through this after everything she’d already endured.
“Hey, you were right. He is a weasel.” He flashed her a smile he hoped reassured her.
“What?”
“The guy who you said looked like a weasel, who came in yesterday posing as a doctor? We’re pretty certain he’s the reporter.”
“Can’t you charge him with impersonating a doctor or something?” Charlie asked, because Sophia never moved her lips.
“Did he actually tell you he was a doctor?”
Charlie looked at Sophia, who shook her head.
“Well, we’re bringing him in for questioning anyway.” And Julian had quite a bit he planned to say to the man.
“So what now?” Sophia mouthed and Charlie asked.
“Now we figure out where to move you to keep you the safest. It’s a fair bet to say this hospital is no longer secure enough. Too many people, too many ways in and out for us to be able to monitor.” Julian turned to the doctor. “Is she okay to be moved?”
“Well, we’d like to keep her, of course, but considering the circumstances . . . I’ll put a call in to her surgeon and make sure, but I think it will be okay to discharge her to outpatient.” Dr. Rhoads headed out of the room, clutching her chart.
“I can’t go back there. Not to my mother’s home.” Sophia’s eyes were wide.
“No, of course not. We’d never expect you to.” Julian shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“I’m basically homeless. I’d released my apartment when I made the team, knowing I wouldn’t be there for many months.”
Julian had never felt more helpless. He’d offer his place in a heartbeat, but knew he couldn’t. And he shouldn’t—for more than one reason. He looked at Charlie.
“Well, I would say you could stay with me, but my brother’s visiting and camping out on my couch.”
No, he definitely didn’t want Sophia around Scott, who was not only handsome, but a nice guy to boot. Before he could analyze the thought, Brody walked in. “Sorry to have eavesdropped. We’ll find you a safe house. One where we can give you twenty-four hour, seven-days-a-week protection. It’ll just take us a couple of days to get it set up.”
“Nonsense.” Alena Borin marched into the room and right to Sophia’s bedside. “I am her Babushka. Of course, she will stay with me.”
His cell rang. “Excuse me,” he said, stepping out into the hall as he answered. “Detective Julian Frazier.”
“Detective, this is dispatch. Captain Pittman said to notify you of a fire. At the residence of Nina Montgomery. Fire department arrived and put out the fire, but they report a total loss.”
And now Sophia’s childhood home was gone. She truly was homeless.
13
Sophia didn’t know how to react. Right now, her emotions were in such bunches that she couldn’t think. All she could hear in her head was Coach Douglas yelling over the phone.
Had she been subconsciously trying to sabotage the team by accepting the police’s instructions that she couldn’t tell her coach she would be unable to compete with the team? Was she, deep down, so shallow?
Lord, please help me. I don’t want to be petty and shallow, but I can’t help the way I feel. Right now, I don’t even know what to do. Help me.
“You will stay with me, MIlaya Moyna. I will nurse you back to health.” Alena smiled softly at Sophia. “I will not let anyone harm you.”
She’d only just met her grandmother, but Sophia believed Alena.
“I’ll get Scott to a hotel. Or, he can stay with Julian. Then you can just stay with me until they find you a safe house.” Charlie nodded at Julian as he returned to the room. “Right, Julian?”
“Um. I don’t know how to tell you this, Sophia.”
“What is it?”
“I just got a report that your mother’s house has burned down.”
“H-How?”
“I don’t know more than that yet. We’ll get a report later.”
What else, Lord?
“It’s decided then. You’ll come home with me,” Charlie announced.
“No,” Sophia mouthed. She couldn’t let Charlie dislocate her brother. It was absur
d, even if her mother’s place had burned down.
“It’s fine. Scott can hang out at your place, huh, Julian?” Charlie asked.
“Sure.” He nodded, but Sophia could see he wasn’t 100 percent sure it was the best idea. Or maybe he was just concerned about the fire. Surely, it meant evidence at the house had been destroyed. Did that hurt the case?
She shook her head at Charlie. “No.”
“Come on, Sophia. It’ll be fun.”
As much as she wanted to say yes, she couldn’t. She could not put out these people who she’d only known for days, but already felt such a kinship with. “No. I’ll stay with Alena.”
Charlie shook her head.
“Yes. It’s best.”
“We’ll have fun.”
“Yes, we would. But I need to be with someone who knew my mother. Someone I can grieve with.”
Charlie hesitated, then nodded.
“What?” Julian asked.
“She wants to stay with Alena.”
“If it’s okay,” Sophia mouthed and Charlie spoke.
“Of course, my child. We should be together. To mourn my Nina, your mamochka. We can share memories.”
And there was another reason she wanted to stay with Alena. There was much about her mother she didn’t know, and she wanted to know all she could. Sad it was now . . . too late, but it would help her keep her memories of her mother alive in her heart.
“Mrs. Borin, we’ll need to come to your house and make sure it’s secure. You live in Hot Springs, correct?”
She nodded. “My house is safe. You do not have to come see it.”
“Ma’am, actually, we do. It’s our job to make sure your granddaughter is safe.” Brody smiled at Alena, who nodded.
The charge nurse from last night entered, holding Sophia’s chart to her chest.
Brody took a step toward Alena. “Why don’t I go with you to make sure everything’s okay? I’m sure the doctors will take their sweet time discharging Sophia. I know you want everything to be just right to make her feel comfortable.”
“Da.” Alena turned to Sophia. “I will see you soon, MIlaya Moyna.” She let Brody lead her out of the room.
“Dr. Rhoads has contacted Dr. Davies and we’ll be releasing you soon,” the nurse said. “I’ll be bringing you the post-operative and discharge instructions in a few minutes. We’ll go over the details until you’re sure of what you need to do. Okay?”