Granny Dan

by Danielle Steel

It was an unforgettable night for Madame Markova, of sorrow and despair, and also fever, delirium, and terror for Danina. And finally, by morning, Danina seemed almost to have left them. Madame Markova was sitting at her bedside, looking lifeless herself, exhausted, but not daring to leave her even for an instant, when the doctor returned at five the next morning.

  “Thank you for coming so early,” she whispered in the dismal room. The atmosphere was already one of loss and mourning. It seemed, even to her, impossible to win the fight now. Danina had not regained consciousness since the previous morning.

  “I was worried about her all night,” the doctor admitted, looking troubled. He could see from the older woman's face how the night had gone, and Danina was barely breathing. He checked her pulse and took her temperature, and was surprised to find her temperature a little lower, but her pulse was thin and thready. “She is putting up a good fight. We're lucky she is young and strong.” But even the young had been dying in shocking numbers in Moscow, particularly children. “Has she taken any water?”

  “Not in several hours,” Madame Markova admitted. “I can't seem to get her to swallow, and I was afraid to choke her.” He nodded. There was truly nothing they could do now, but he had arranged to stay for several hours. His senior colleague, Dr. Botkin, had improved sufficiently to be able to attend to the Czarevitch if he had to. Dr. Obrajensky wanted to be with Danina if she died, if only to offer comfort to her mentor.

  They sat quietly side by side for hours, on hard chairs in the barren room, speaking little, and checking her from time to time. He suggested that Madame Markova try and get some rest while he was there, but she refused to leave her beloved ballerina.

  It was noon when Danina finally made an anguished sound, and stirred uncomfortably. She sounded as though she was in pain, but as the doctor checked her again, he found nothing new or different in her condition. He could only marvel that she had hung on this long. It was a real tribute to her youth, her strength, and her physical condition. And remarkably, thus far, no one else in the ballet had caught it. Only Danina.

  At four o'clock that afternoon, Dr. Obrajensky was still there, not wanting to abandon them before the end. Madame Markova had dozed off in her chair, and the doctor saw Danina become restless. She was moaning again, and stirring uncomfortably, but Madame Markova was too exhausted to hear her. The doctor examined her, and found her heart weak and irregular when he checked her. He was sure it was a sign that the end was near. Her pulse was rough as well, and she began having trouble breathing, all signs that he had been expecting. He would have liked to ease the end for her, but there was nothing he could do, except be there. He took her hand in his own, after taking her pulse again, and just stroked it gently, watching her, seeing the lovely young face so ill and so tormented. It hurt him to see it, and to be of so little use to her. It was like wrestling with demons, trying to win her. He wanted to will her back to life, to health. And he gently touched her forehead with his hand. She stirred again and said something. She sounded as though she were saying something to a friend, or one of her brothers. And then she said a single word and opened her eyes and looked at him. He had seen it a hundred times, it was a last surge of life before the end. Her eyes were wide open then, as she spoke clearly and said, “Mama, I see you.”

  “It's all right, Danina, I'm here,” he said soothingly. “Everything is going to be all right now.” Very soon, it would be over.

  “Who are you?” she said in a hoarse, ragged voice, as though she could see him clearly, but he knew she couldn't. She was seeing someone in her delirium, but it was unlikely it was the doctor she was seeing.

  “I'm your doctor,” he said quietly. “I came here to help you.”

  “Oh,” she said, and closed her eyes again, laying her head back against the pillow. “I'm going to see my mother.” He remembered then what Madame Markova had said about her only having a father and brothers, and he understood what she meant, but he wouldn't let her continue.

  “I don't want you to do that,” he said firmly. “I want you to stay here with me. We need you, Danina.”

  “No, I must go …” she said with her eyes closed, turning her head away from him. “I'll be late for class, and Madame Markova will be angry at me.” It was the most she had said in two days, and it was clear that she wanted to leave them, or knew she had to.

  “You must stay for class here, Danina … or Madame Markova and I will both be very angry. Open your eyes, Danina … open your eyes and see me.” And much to his surprise, she did, and looked right at him with enormous eyes in the small, pale face that seemed to have shrunk with the fever.

  “Who are you?” she said again, this time in a voice that sounded as ravaged as she felt, as damaged as she had been, and this time he knew she could see him. He touched her forehead gently, and for the first time in two days, it was markedly cooler.

  “I am Nikolai Obrajensky, mademoiselle. I am your doctor. The Czarina sent me.”

  She nodded then and closed her eyes again for a moment, and then opened them again to say something to him in a whisper. “I saw you with Alexei last summer … in Livadia….” She remembered. She had returned. She still had a long way to go, but incredible as it seemed, perhaps finally the spell had been broken. He wanted to shout with excitement, but he didn't want to celebrate too soon. It could still be the burst of energy before the end. He did not yet trust what he was seeing.

  “I will teach you how to swim this summer if you stay here,” he teased gently, remembering the fun they'd all had when Alexei tried to teach her. She almost smiled, but she still felt far too ill to be able to do more than look at him weakly.

  “I have to dance,” she said, sounding worried. “I don't have time to swim. …”

  “Yes, you do. You are going to have to rest for a while now.” She opened her eyes wide as he said it, and he felt encouraged again. She was entirely cognizant of what he was saying.

  “I have to go to class tomorrow.”

  “I think you should go this afternoon,” he teased her, and this time she smiled, though it was barely more than a rictus. “You're being very lazy.” He was smiling at her now, feeling as though he had won the battle of a lifetime. He had had no hope at all for this one. An hour before, she had been all but gone, and now she was awake and talking to him.

  “I think you're being very silly,” she whispered. “I can't go to class today.”

  “Why not?”

  “No legs,” she said, looking worried. “Fell off, I think, can't feel them.” He looked worried then, and reached under the covers to touch her legs, and he asked her what she felt when he touched her. She felt everything, she was just too weak to move them.

  “You're just weak, Danina,” he reassured her. “You are going to be fine now.” But he also knew that if in fact she did survive, and it looked at least remotely possible, though she was not yet out of the woods completely, her recovery would take months, and she would have to be carefully and expertly nursed, if she was to recover completely. “You're going to have to be very good, and sleep a great deal, and eat and drink,” and as though to prove it to her, he offered her a sip of water, and this time she took it. She only took one sip, but it was a vast improvement. And as he set the glass down on the table next to her, Madame Markova woke with a start, afraid that something terrible had happened while she was sleeping. But instead, she saw Danina looking weak but alive again, smiling wanly up at the doctor.

  “My God, it's a miracle,” she said, fighting back tears of relief and exhaustion. She looked almost as bad as Danina, but she had no fever and was not ill. She was simply devastated by the terror of nearly losing Danina. “Child, are you feeling better?”

  “A little.” Danina nodded, and then glanced up again at the doctor. “I think you saved me.”

  “No, I didn't. I wish I could take credit for it, but I'm afraid I've been quite useless. All I did was sit here. Madame Markova did a great deal more for you than I did.”

 
“God did it,” Madame Markova said firmly, “and your own strength.” She wanted desperately to ask the doctor if she'd be all right now, but she knew she couldn't ask him in front of the patient. But Danina certainly seemed much better. She seemed alert, and stronger, and as though she had turned the corner. They had come so close to losing her that Madame Markova was still shaking.

  “How soon can I dance again?” she asked him, and both the doctor and Madame Markova laughed. She was indeed feeling better.

  “Not next week, I can promise you that, my friend.” He smiled as he said it. Not for months, but he knew it was too soon to say it to her. He could sense easily that if he told her the truth, she would grow frantic with guilt and worry. “Soon. If you're a good girl, and do everything I tell you to, you'll be up on your feet again in no time.”

  “I have an important rehearsal tomorrow,” she insisted.

  “I think there's a good chance you might miss it. No legs, remember?”

  “What was that?” Madame Markova looked worried by his comment, but he was quick to explain it.

  “She couldn't feel her legs a minute ago, but they're fine. She'sjust very weak from the fever.” And a moment later when they tried to sit her up for another drink, they found she couldn't even do that much. She could barely get her head up off the pillow.

  “I feel like a piece of string,” she said eloquently, and he laughed softly at her.

  “You look a bit better than that. Much better, in fact, I think I might go back to my other patients before they forget what I look like.” It was after six o'clock, and he had been with her for thirteen hours, but he promised to return again the next morning. And as they walked to the front door, Madame Markova thanked him profusely and asked what to expect now.

  “A long, long recovery,” he said honestly. “She must spend at least a month in bed, or she will risk getting sick again, and the next time she may not be as lucky.” The mere thought of it filled Madame Markova with horror. “It will be many months before she can dance again. Three, maybe four. Perhaps longer.”

  “We'll tie her down if we have to. You heard what she's like. She'll be begging to dance by tomorrow morning.”

  “She'll be surprised herself by how weak she is. She'll have to be patient, it will take time now.”

  “I understand,” Madame Markova said gratefully, and thanked him again before he left. And after she closed the door behind him, she walked slowly back to Danina's room, thinking how devastating it would have been if she had died, and how lucky they had all been not to lose her. She was infinitely grateful to the Czarina, too, for sending them her doctor. There had been little he could do, but just having him there had been an enormous comfort. And he had been remarkably dedicated, staying as long as he had with Danina.

  And as Madame Markova walked back into Danina's room, she looked at the young woman she loved so much, and smiled. Danina lay in her bed, looking like a child. There was a small smile on her lips, and she was sleeping.

  Chapter 2

  True to his word, Dr. Obrajensky came to see Danina again the next day, but this time he did not come until the afternoon because he knew she was out of danger. And he was pleased to see, when he returned, that she was eating and drinking. She still barely had the strength to lift her head off the pillow, but she smiled as soon as he entered the room. She was obviously happy to see him.

  “How is Alexei?” she asked the moment she saw him.

  “Very well indeed. Far better than you now. He was playing cards and beating his sister soundly at it when I saw him this morning. He said to tell you he hopes you feel better soon, as did all the Grand Duchesses, and the Czarina.”

  In fact, she had sent a note to Madame Mar-kova, and Dr. Obrajensky knew what was in it. The Czarina had asked his advice in the matter.

  Madame Markova was still in the sickroom with her, but even she was looking considerably more rested. And when she read the note from the Czarina, her eyes widened and she looked startled. She looked up at him in surprise, and he nodded. It had been his suggestion. The Czarina had invited Danina to come and stay in one of their guest cottages for her convalescence. She could be well cared for there, and make the long recovery she would need, without tormenting herself by being right in the midst of the ballet. Being in Tsarskoe Selo would be restful for her, she could be well supervised, and well nursed, and convalesce in just the way she needed, to make a full recovery and return to the ballet.

  After they left Danina's room that afternoon, the doctor asked Madame Markova what she thought of the Czarina's invitation. She was still more than a little startled. It was an extremely flattering invitation, but she had no idea how Danina would feel about accepting. She was so tightly woven into the ballet, Madame Markova couldn't imagine her wanting to leave it for a minute, even if she could not dance now. Though admittedly, being there and watching them, and not being able to dance with them for months, would eventually drive her crazy.

  “It might be very good for her to get away,” Madame Markova admitted, “but I'm not sure we can convince her of that. Even if she can't dance, I suspect she will want to stay. She hasn't left us in twelve years, except last summer for her visit to Livadia.”

  “But she liked that, didn't she? This would be more of the same. And besides, I can keep an eye on her there. It's hard for me to get away as often and for as long as I have in the last few days. I have my responsibilities to the Czarevitch.”

  “You've been very kind to her,” Madame Markova admitted freely. “I don't know what we'd have done without you.”

  “I did absolutely nothing to help her,” he said modestly, “except pray, just as you did. She has been very lucky.” As much in the support of the Imperial family as in the attentions of their doctor. “I think the Czarina, and the children, will be very disappointed if she doesn't come.” And then he reminded Madame Markova gently of what she already knew. “It is a very unusual invitation. I think Danina would really enjoy it.”

  “Who wouldn't?” Madame Markova laughed honestly. “I have at least a dozen ballerinas, if not more, who would be more than happy to take her place at Tsarskoe Selo. The problem is, Danina is different. She never wants to leave here, she's afraid she might miss something. She never goes to shops, or out for walks, or to the theater. She dances, and she dances … and she dances, and then she watches the others dance, and dances some more. Besides, she is very attached to me. Probably because she has no mother.” And it was obvious that Madame Markova genuinely loved her.

  “How long has she been here?” he asked with interest. He was fascinated by her, she was like a rare, delicate bird who had landed at his feet with a broken wing, and now he wanted to do everything he could to help her. Even intercede on her behalf with the Czar and Czarina. But it was not a difficult task, they also admired and liked her. It was impossible not to admire someone with so vast a talent.

  “She has been here for twelve years,” Madame Markova answered his question. “Since she was seven. She is nineteen now, nearly twenty.”

  “Perhaps a little holiday will do her good.” He was being very firm about it. He thought it was important for her.

  “I agree. The problem is convincing her. I'll talk to her about it when she's a little stronger.”

  He came every day after that, and a few days later, Madame Markova broached the subject with her. Danina was startled at first at the invitation from the Imperial family, and pleased, but she had no intention of accepting. “I can't leave you,” she said simply to Madame Markova. She herself was unnerved by her brush with death, and the ballet was home to her. She didn't want to recuperate among strangers, even royal ones. “You won't make me go, will you?” she asked, looking worried.

  But as soon as they tried to get her up, she realized the full impact of her illness, as did Madame Markova. She couldn't even sit in a chair without nearly fainting and being held there for her own safety. And she had to be carried to the bathroom.

  “You need constant
nursing,” the doctor explained to her on one of his visits, “and you will for a while, Danina. It will be a tremendous burden for the people here. They are all really much too busy to help you.” She knew it was the truth, and what a burden she'd been to everyone already, especially Madame Markova. But she still didn't want to leave them. This was her home, and they were her family. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving, and she cried that night when she and Madame Markova talked about it.

  “Why can't you go for a little while?” Madame Markova suggested. “Just until you're a bit stronger. It is such a kind invitation, and you really might enjoy it.”

  “It frightens me,” she said simply. But the next morning Madame Markova insisted that Danina accept the offer. Aside from thinking it would do Danina good, she was afraid to offend the Czarina by not accepting her generous invitation. It was rare, if not unheard of, to be invited to convalesce at Tsarskoe Selo, and she was very grateful to Dr. Obrajensky for having arranged it. He had proven to be not only kind, but inordinately thoughtful, and genuinely concerned with Danina. And his daily visits had done wonders to cheer her. Spiritually at least, she was nearly herself now. It was her body that was not willing, or able, to bounce back as quickly.

  “I think you should go,” Madame Markova said firmly. And then finally, by the end of the week, she and the doctor came to an agreement. Danina must be sent, whether or not she wanted to go. It was for her own good. Without proper nursing, she might never recover completely, and never be able to dance again. And finally, Madame Markova said as much to Danina. “What if your stubbornness costs you the ballet forever?” she said sternly.

  “Do you think that might happen?” Danina's eyes were filled with terror.

  “It could,” Madame Markova said, looking worried. “You were very, very ill, my dear. You must not tempt fate now by being stubborn or foolish.” They had invited her to stay indefinitely, until she was well and able to return to the ballet again. It was an extraordinary invitation, and even Danina knew it. She was being childish, and didn't want to leave the security of familiar surroundings and the people she knew there.