Flying Home

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  Then we took you to the orphanage. Mother said it was the only way and I believed her. It was a terrible, snowy day in the middle of winter, and we traveled a long way because Mother said she had heard it was the best orphanage. That day the cold lodged in my heart, and it has never left since; a part of me died when I handed you over to the orphanage workers. I cried and you screamed—a scream I will remember forever. I had prayed all the way there that you would get a better life, that you would find a family to adopt you. Then I went home and prayed to die. Without you there was no love or life left in our tiny apartment. But it was Mother who died, and I was left alone in the world. I have lived with our neighbor ever since. She is a stern, unsmiling woman, but she has taught me many things. She has books that she lets me read after I come home from my new job at the factory. I work very hard. I want you to know that I am trying to put away money for school. If I survive, I will come looking for you one day. I will never stop until I die or until I learn that you have died.

  I do not excuse what we did. We should not have given you up, but please understand that there was no other choice. You were so tiny—we could not stand to see you die for want of food, die before our very eyes. We wanted you to have a better life—I believe that you will. I have since heard that many children in the orphanages also die, alone and afraid, but I pray every day that this will not happen to you. Mother said it was the best orphanage, and I must believe her. She loved you as much as I did.

  Oh, Meka! Please stay alive and be happy. Only then will my soul finally obtain rest from the guilt that tortures me. Only then will my broken heart be mended.

  Your loving sister,

  Halyna Shevchenko

  CHAPTER 29

  Diary of Karyn Olsen Schrader

  Monday, March 10, 1980

  After months of having no luck officially adopting Liana through the U.S. Embassy, we have decided to let authorities think she is Lara. Since Lara died in Germany, not many outside our close circle of friends are aware of her death. I know it’s dishonest, but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how an official in his right mind could send her back to Ukraine, but the fear remains like a lump of rock in my stomach. I simply can’t lose another precious daughter! Most people we haven’t seen in a while honestly believe Liana is Lara anyway, and we don’t tell them any differently.

  The problem is that we have been calling her Liana (my best friend in grade school was Juliana, and I’ve always loved the name). I simply can’t bring myself to call her Lara, though I love her every bit as much as I did Lara, maybe more. That name belongs to my first child and is hers alone. I guess for now we’ll say Liana is her nickname. I’m not sure how we’ll explain this to Liana later. Hopefully, she will be able to understand why we did what we did, or perhaps it will be possible in the future to correct her name officially.

  I showed Mamata where I keep my sister’s address and Lara’s birth certificate. I told her if something ever happened to us that she was to send Liana to Clarissa in the States with Lara’s birth certificate. I also told Dr. Raji at Charity Medical to make sure Liana was sent to Clarissa, but I did not tell him about the birth certificate. Strange how the love of a child can change you. I never thought much about my own death before, but now I have someone who depends on me for her care. It is only responsible to have a backup plan.

  Of course nothing bad is going to happen. We are going to have a long life together, Guenter, Liana, and me. I’ve even thought about adopting more children in a year or so. There are many available here, and Liana could use a brother or sister.

  A sound behind her came from the back door of the house, and Liana lifted her eyes from Karyn’s journal, her eyes and cheeks wet with tears. As she had suspected since seeing the grave in India, Guenter and Karyn Schrader had not been her birth parents, but they had loved her deeply all the same. Deeply enough to risk imprisonment for smuggling her out of a Soviet-ruled country, deeply enough to let her use their beloved birth daughter’s name to come to America. Reading of their love made the wound in her heart less painful, if not smaller. Christian would have loved to know this, she thought, and the now-familiar agony of missing him rose up within her breast. But this time other memories—of her first adoptive parents, of growing up with Christian and Bret—began to fill the void Christian had left.

  “Like some lemon tea?” Mercedes touched Liana’s shoulder.

  Liana nodded and tried to wipe away the tears. Mercedes set the tea tray down on the metal and glass patio table and handed her a napkin. “Thanks,” Liana said, mopping her face. Beneath the chair, Jellybean shifted his weight against her feet, eyeing her hopefully for a treat. He had been her almost constant companion since she arrived at the farm the day before, and Liana was grateful for his silent presence.

  Mercedes sat in the chair next to Liana, surveying the dark clouds billowing in the sky above the barn and the fields. “Good thing Wayne and Austin put a roof on this deck,” she said. “I’m not fond of getting too wet, but I love the rain. Especially the smell. Can you smell it—the coming rain? Can you feel the heaviness in the air?”

  Liana sniffed and found Mercedes was right. There was a different smell, and the air around them did seem to be moist and heavy.

  “My favorite place to be in the rain is out by the swimming hole,” Mercedes continued. “Suddenly all the birds and other animals go silent as they hide in their homes. Then come the drops, beating down on the earth and the water. Yet that old tree is so big and the leaves so thick that you can sit on that wide limb and never get wet. Then I take a deep breath. I love the rich smell of the earth as it soaks up the rain.”

  Liana looked at Mercedes, whose face was tilted toward the dark sky, her eyes closed.

  Slowly, Mercedes opened her eyes and turned toward Liana. She motioned to the journal. “Are you okay?”

  Liana realized then that Mercedes had been giving her time to recover from her tears. “I discovered that I’m adopted. Not only the once I knew about but twice.” She shook her head. “It’s a very odd story.”

  Mercedes smiled. “This is an odd world. But the really strange thing is that sometimes the world’s very oddness is what makes it so beautiful.” She pointed at a rainbow that showed in the distance behind the clouds.

  “It’s raining over there?” Liana asked.

  Mercedes nodded. “It’ll be here soon.”

  “Have you seen Austin? When I woke up, everyone was gone.”

  Mercedes grinned. “I made him go to church with us—you were out pretty heavily, so we didn’t wake you. On the way home Austin and Wayne stopped off with the boys to make sure the cattle had enough water. Not that they’ll need it now.”

  The rain began to fall, softly hitting the roof of the deck and running off the sides. A mild breeze blew toward them, making Liana glad for the jacket Austin had lent her. She sipped the hot tea Mercedes had brought and nibbled on a piece of delicious banana bread.

  “I’m glad we have this moment,” Mercedes said. “Austin and I’ve been talking, and we’d like you to work full-time for HeartReach. We think you could take over some of our part-time employee positions as well as the finances, fundraising, and so forth. Your ideas could really breathe new life into the whole charity. Of course, it wouldn’t only be accounting. That’s the catch. You’d have to work with all aspects of the charity until we grow enough to hire others. That would require a lot of working with people and organizing. Do you think that’s something you’d like to try? We wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

  Liana was stunned. She could see that it made perfect sense from their point of view—she was good at finances, where they seriously needed help, and the fact that she needed a job would make hiring her a logical proposition. But it wasn’t an option she’d ever considered. She would have to work with people, maybe even visit orphanages. The irony of working with Ukrainian orphans did not escape her.

  “I’ve shocked you, haven’t I?” Mercedes made a s
ound in her throat. “Sorry. I should have led up to it, I guess. But it just seems the perfect solution. You have a lot of talents besides numbers—anyone can see that.”

  “I just didn’t expect . . .” Liana blinked. They could have no idea, of course, of her true heritage. Austin believed the docu ments she’d brought from India were in Russian, but he couldn’t know that the job he offered would be so close to home. Was that fate? Or was it a signal for her to run fast and far?

  “I think Austin was afraid you’d say no,” Mercedes went on, ignoring her silence.

  “And you’re not?”

  Mercedes grinned. “Not really. I think it’s a great opportunity. You need a challenge.” She said it in a way that was not condescending or arrogant. Just one friend speaking to another.

  How could Liana say no? The urge to refuse weighed heavily upon her, and yet at the same time, she understood this was a chance to change lives. Lives that like her own had been devastated by poverty and neglect. A chance to give back. To make a difference. She could accept and reach out . . . or walk away.

  “Austin’s great to work for,” Mercedes was saying. “You can trust him.” The words held an unspoken double meaning.

  “There’s no telling the future,” Liana said. “A person can want to always be there, to do what they’ve promised, but something can stop them. Look at my parents—my first adoptive parents. And my brother. They’re gone, yet they wouldn’t have chosen to die.” She tucked her feet tighter against Jellybean.

  “I can’t imagine losing a brother.” Mercedes held her hand to her heart. “Growing up, Austin was all I had. If I had lost him then, my world would have ended.”

  “That’s how I feel,” Liana admitted. Yet it wasn’t quite true. She still had Bret and Travis and Clarissa. And the memory of Karyn and Guenter. Both sets of adoptive parents had given her a good home, full of security and love—though until now she had not recognized it as such. There had been no abuse in her life that she could remember, no indifferent caretakers since the orphanage. And now she had Austin . . . and Mercedes as well. Or could have.

  “I do know what it is like to lose someone you love.” Mercedes’ black eyes were grave. “I wonder, would you rather not have loved him at all? I mean, to save yourself the pain.”

  “No.” Liana blinked back tears, but it was hopeless. They came as though of their own will. She refused to give up loving Christian, just as she would not give up the chance of loving Austin.

  “My mother was not a good mom,” Mercedes said, “and yet I find I would not trade her for any other.” She twisted her lips in a wry smile. “That’s what love is, I guess. A risk. Not a guarantee of happily ever after. But it is worth it—even when it’s followed by tragedy.” Mercedes was gazing out again past the barn in the direction of the trees and the small family cemetery Liana had only seen from a distance. Liana wondered how many others Mercedes had lost besides her mother and grandmother. Suddenly she wanted to know everything; she wanted to be as close to Mercedes as a real sister should be.

  “Austin and I,” Liana began and stopped. She tried again. “I care for him—more than I want to. The truth is I’ve never had a relationship that lasted longer than a month. But Austin’s different. He wouldn’t be satisfied with a month. I knew that when he brought me here.”

  “That’s why he did it, I think.”

  “Maybe.” Liana gave a short laugh that surprised her. How could she laugh without Christian?

  “This farm brings out a side of him he doesn’t ordinarily show people,” Mercedes said. “You’re the first woman he’s ever brought to meet me. That’s how I knew it was serious.”

  Liana cupped her hand around her tea, letting the ceramic mug warm her fingers. “I didn’t know.”

  “I don’t think he did, either.” Mercedes leaned over and put her arm around Liana’s shoulders in a brief hug. “I’m glad he brought you. I really am.”

  “So am I.”

  * * *

  “Hello, M—Mom?” Liana gripped the receiver tightly.

  “Liana!” came the rushed response. “Are you all right?”

  Mercedes nodded at her encouragingly before leaving the kitchen. “Yes,” Liana said, “but I’m in Wyoming.”

  “I know. Austin called yesterday.”

  “Good. I’m glad you’re not worrying.”

  “When are you coming back?”

  “In a few days. I’ll call.”

  “Is everything—can I do anything?”

  “No.” Liana fought tears. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

  “Thank you? For what?”

  “For taking me in. For loving me. And I’m sorry we haven’t been as close as we should have been. It’s my fault. I guess I was so afraid it would be over again, that I’d lose you, too.”

  Clarissa was silent for a long moment. “I think I knew that. I was glad you always had Christian.”

  “He promised never to leave me.” Liana was sobbing hard now. It hurt so badly.

  “He didn’t want to leave. He loved you very much! Like I love you.”

  The words spread warmth tingling through Liana’s heart. “I know. I really do. Look, I’m sending you a copy of the journal tomorrow. I should have given you one before, but I just . . . I needed to find out first.”

  “But it’s okay now?”

  “Yes.” Liana wished she could hug her mother. “I’ll come over the minute I get home,” she promised. “But I won’t be alone.”

  “Austin?”

  “Well, yeah, but that’s not who I was talking about. The name’s Jellybean. Mercedes is letting me keep him for a while—maybe permanently, if I can find a place where he’ll be happy.”

  “Who is he?”

  “You’ll see. It’s a surprise.” Liana smiled through her tears. There was no way Clarissa could help falling in love with Jellybean once she met him. “I’ll see you soon, Mom. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Liana.”

  And Liana knew she did.

  * * *

  Liana looked up from the translation that had come through on Austin’s computer. It was from Olya Kovalevsky, the employee she had seen in the orphanage video. Her face came clearly to mind—the blue eyes, heavy makeup, pinched face that bore the mark of hardship. Her translations confirmed Liana’s discovery in the journal that she had been born Meka Shevchenko, placed in an orphanage by her single mother. One of the pages turned out to be the original letter from Liana’s sister, and the contents had shaken Olya to the point where Austin was concerned.

  “I think you should read what she says about the letter,” he said, arrowing down to another e-mail.

  Liana felt reluctant to read his personal e-mail from the woman, but if she accepted his offer to run HeartReach, she would probably have to get used to doing so. Then again, she hadn’t accepted yet. She could still say no.

  “It’s about her sister.” Austin’s eyes were on her, kind and warm. “I know this is difficult for you.” “I’m fine.” She looked away before he could read the fear in her eyes.

  Dear Mr. Walker:

  I have been touched to a great degree by the copy of the letter in the e-mail attachment that you sent to me last week. Though circumstances with my sister were somewhat different, so much is similar that this letter could have been written from my own heart. My tears at the orphanage were unending, and my father had to carry me from the place. I ache with this woman who wrote the letter and wonder where she is now. I have found no leads to her. So many died during those years, and I suspect your friend’s sister did not make it into adulthood as I did. I hope that my Sveta was as fortunate as your friend to be adopted by a loving family. I have come to realize that it is possible I will never discover the truth about her. I must go on in my life without knowing. I have only the wish that I could believe she forgives me.

  Please do not judge me unfit because of this emotion. I am pleased more than I can express for the opportunity to help the children, and
I will do my best for as long as you permit.

  Sincerely,

  Olya Kovalevsky

  As Liana read, her fear vanished, replaced by the sorrow Olya expressed. But it’s okay, Liana thought. It isn’t her fault.

  A flash of memory came: the child crying silent tears in her dream while a woman consoled her, the other woman also crying, the unending scream. All along she had assumed the child in the dream was herself, but now she understood the child had been Halyna, who like Olya had mourned the loss of a baby sister. Halyna who had not wanted to give Liana up. Halyna who had tended her and loved her. And the crying, saddened woman had been her mother. Only the scream had been Liana’s, as the orphanage workers had taken her away.

  How comforting it had been for Liana to read the letter from her sister in Karyn’s journal, to know that she had been loved but that like so many other women at the time, her birth mother had had no other choice. She didn’t blame her—how could she? She was alive and well and happy. Even without Christian, the future stretched out before her with more promise than she’d ever thought possible. Too bad she couldn’t give some of that comfort to Olya.

  Or maybe she could.

  With her heart thumping, she copied the e-mail address and began a new e-mail.

  Dear Olya:

  You don’t know me, but I am Liana (or Meka Shevchenko in the documents Austin Walker sent you). I have been offered a job with HeartReach, and I have decided to accept. Likely we will be working together in the future—at least through e-mail. But this is not why I am writing you today. The real reason is that Austin has told me about your search for your sister. I want you to know that your family did the right thing. If my sister and mother had not taken me to the orphanage, I would have died of starvation. I would never have had the opportunity to be where I am today, to have had parents who took care of me as every child should have. It is difficult for me to tell you this, as I am not accustomed to talking about personal matters, but I hope some day we will meet so I can put my arms around you and tell you that your sister was grateful for your love, as I am for that of my sister. Your love went deep into her heart and never, ever left, regardless of what happened around her. There is no blame; there is only where we go from here. I am pleased to be able to work with you and hope that together we can make many lives better.