by Risk, Mona
Paul shook hands with the officers. “Nice to meet you, General Fedorin but do you guys realize that, with our hugging and kissing, we’re holding the rest of the passengers inside the plane.”
They proceeded along the ramp and reached the infamous escalator. Fedorin ordered, “Gentlemen, watch your steps. We haven’t gathered the funds to fix it yet.”
Nicouvitch went first. The general grabbed Cecile’s tote bag and briefcase in one hand and slid the other under her elbow to help her down the escalator. She held on tightly to the railing. He smiled ruefully. “Don’t worry.”
Hanging on her general’s arm, Cecile progressed on the love escalator, as she spontaneously named it. “With you I never worry,” she murmured. A blazing heat radiated from her arm to her waist and spread all over her body. “How come you came to the airport?”
“The airport is almost deserted at dawn. No one would question our motive for receiving the American delegation after a very trying trip.”
At the bottom of the escalator, Sergei left her and preceded them to passport control. In a record five minutes, the four passports were checked and stamped under the watchful eyes of the two officers.
Cecile laughed, the stress of the past days forgotten. “You see, John, the benefit of being received by a general. Last time, we waited for an hour.”
They crossed customs control even faster. Sergei insisted on carrying her suitcases himself. The colonel helped tuck the luggage in the military Jeep.
At five in the morning, the icy sidewalk shimmered under the flickering streetlights but beyond the airport, the blackness of the night still enfolded the surroundings. Paul and Jeffrey joined Tania in the van.
Sergei helped Cecile into the backseat of the military Jeep and slid beside her. John settled in the front next to Nicolai and the colonel drove away. Cuddled next to her general, Cecile compared this arrival in Belarus to her first trip. She had a comfortable sense of déjà vu with the added bonus of Sergei’s hands enfolding hers.
He raised her palm to his lips and trailed a warm path over each of her fingers. She leaned against the back of the seat and closed her eyes, happy to be with him. His arm slipped behind her back bringing her closer. “Dr. Lornier, tell us about your trip. What has caused such a delay in your arrival?”
She jolted up, stunned by his official voice and the casual wording and twisted her head toward him. He winked and blew her a kiss, then raised a finger pointing at a little bulb in the Jeep’s roof. She remembered the damned KGB and its blasted bugging system.
Adopting the same worldly tone, she narrated the whole trip peppering her monologue with as many formal appellations and ceremonious expressions as she could fit in. She lifted her chin toward the spying bulb and concluded pompously, “Major General Fedorin, in the name of the American delegation, I can’t thank you enough for taking the trouble to come and receive us in the middle of the night. I will be forever grateful for this courteous gesture that reflects the Belarusian spirit.”
She placed a hand over her mouth to avoid giggling as she saw him bite his lips and gesture to cut it out. “The EAL Lab has analyzed the soil and water samples collected from the surroundings of Minsk,” she added more seriously. “We did identify several carcinogens at a concentration above the maximum allowable limit. The radiation level was also high enough to cause concern. I will present the results to Dr. Kadelov.” Talking business was the last thing on her mind at the moment but the samples analysis was a top priority for him.
“According to the analysis and your professional experience, can we assume that these carcinogens and the radiation are responsible for the high rate of cancer that has plagued our citizens?”
“Based on the numbers I have seen, I’m convinced of that fact.”
“Is there any way you could be wrong, Dr. Lornier?”
“General Fedorin, the quality control and quality assurance that we perform leave no doubt about the accuracy of the results. You have to accept the fact that Minsk is heavily contaminated.” Although she understood his need to be certain, she was shocked that he questioned her professional capability.
“Thank you for the analysis, Dr. Lornier. We’ll talk about it later.”
Sergei remained quiet, his silence indicating that he was trying to digest the meaning of the analytical results. Was he thinking about his wife? She’d died of cancer caused by these same carcinogens EAL lab identified in the Minsk’s soil. Had Cecile convinced him that he was not responsible for his wife’s death? Could he finally throw away the guilt that had burdened him for years? Cecile hoped the analytical results would bring an end to his nightmare and a new beginning she could share.
His hand moved along her jaw and caressed her cheek. He couldn’t say sweet words in the official Jeep with Nicolai and John in the front seat. She didn’t need words. She melted against him, happy and secure in his arms, her true home.
The car entered downtown Minsk. They both straightened up in the seat and edged away assuming a more decent posture as the pale rays of the early morning sun bathed the city and flickered in the car.
When they arrived at the hotel, the Jeep lined up against the curb behind the van and stopped. Nicolai jumped out and opened the door on her side. The general pressed her hand. “Dr. Lornier, we won’t have any meeting today. Your delegation needs some time to recover from the ordeal of the trip. I will see you tomorrow at the Hall of Officers.”
He followed her outside, out of earshot. “Cecile, can Nicolai bring you to my flat this afternoon, at five?”
She nodded and spun around to collect her luggage, and Sergei reentered the car.
* * * * *
General Fedorin looked at his watch for the hundredth time. What could have happened to delay them?
He dusted the furniture, aired the kitchen, boiled the potatoes and marinated the steaks. He was sure Cecile wouldn’t mind a repeat performance of her first dinner—besides he didn’t know how to cook anything else. This time, the bouquet adorning the center of the table consisted of three blooming roses with a penetrating fragrance.
It was already six o’clock. He’d been waiting for an hour, whiling away the time with several vodka toasts and soft Russian music. Too restless to sit, he paced the little living room feeling like a lion in a cage. For the tenth time, he repeated the same question, “Where is Cecile? Why isn’t she here yet?”
The absence of a telephone enraged him. He’d disconnected and removed the existing telephone right after Sofya’s death. He hardly came to this place. He glanced at his watch. Six-fifteen. And there was no way to communicate from the claustrophobic flat.
Unable to cope with more helpless suspense, Sergei yanked his coat off the hanger and shoved a chapka on his head. He would go to the nearest grocery store and call the colonel.
Before he could leave his flat, the expected knock banged at long last. Sergei sighed with relief and opened the door with a big smile that instantly faded when he saw Nicouvitch alone.
The colonel entered and kicked the door closed behind him. “She’s sick. She couldn’t come. I’ve waited for half an hour at the street corner outside the hotel. I finally went to call her from the grocery store. Her voice was so weak.”
Sergei couldn’t believe his ears. Cecile sick? Cecilya who exuded energy and good health? So sick that she would miss coming to a date with him, after such a long separation. Anxiety gripped at his throat.
“Sick with what?”
“She said, as soon as she checked in her room she went to sleep. Then she woke up after an hour with terrible cramps. She threw up several times. May be food poisoning or a virus. You should have heard her, my Generalle. She kept apologizing. She said she spent some time sitting on the floor of the bathroom unable to walk back to the bed.”
“Does she need a doctor? Can we take her to a clinic? Or get her some medicine?” He was thinking fast trying to find a solution to cure her.
“I told her I would bring her a doctor but she immediat
ely squeaked and said, ‘No doctor please.’ Their Department of Defense had warned them never to go to a doctor in a foreign country.” Nicouvitch shook his head. “I think she doesn’t trust our doctors,” he said with a tilt to his head and an expression of naïve disbelief.
“Can you blame her?” Sergei raised a brow sarcastically.
“Well, I had in mind a good physician, from the old communist regime. Not an arrogant puppy fresh out of medical school.”
“So she is sick and all alone in her room.”
“No, my Generalle. I called John. Tania came to help her. They are all around her now.”
Sergei slammed his fist on the table. “They are all around her. All but me. I should be the one taking care of her when she needs me. I’m going to the hotel.”
“No, you’re not.” Nicolai grabbed him by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Sergei. We, your officers, trust you and support you as our future president. Only you have enough dedication and loyalty to save Belarus from total collapse. Don’t jeopardize your position for a woman.”
Sergei scowled. “She’s not just a woman, remember that.”
“Don’t let me rue the day I helped your relationship,” the colonel exploded. “Does she mean more to you than your country, than your officers, or your dead wife?”
Sergei closed his eyes and dropped his head backward. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he wanted her. But could she really mean more than Belarus?
No, nobody—not even his wife—had come before his country. He heaved a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Nicolai. I forgot my duty and my patriotism.” He threw a gloomy glance at Nicouvitch. The colonel leveled a sympathetic gaze on him, understanding his inner struggle.
“Go see her on my behalf. Take the flowers for her. Tell her I wish I could visit.”
Nicouvitch clasped his arm. “Thank you, Sergei, for coming back to your senses. I will officially visit the American Program Manager on behalf of the Major Generalle. It’s the least we can do after all she did for our country. But the Major Generalle cannot be seen in her room.”
“The Major Generalle of Belarus will never be allowed a private life.” Feeling dejected and guilty, Sergei let his brooding voice reflect his inner bitterness.
“I’ll keep you posted and as soon as she feels better I’ll bring her to you.” Nicouvitch touched his heart. “I promise.”
“Cancel the Hall of Officers meeting and postpone the trip to the airport. The equipment can wait a few more days,” he ordered briskly. “Nicolai, take the steaks for your family.”
“Yes, my Generalle, thank you.” Nicouvitch left with a bag containing the food and the vase of roses wrapped in a newspaper.
* * * * *
Cozily tucked in her bed, under comforters and blankets, Cecile dozed intermittently. Tania stayed with her while the men dined at the hotel restaurant. They had stopped by her room and checked on her, each one bringing whatever medicine he’d found in his safety kit. Preferring to let her stomach rest, she’d refused to swallow anything.
Right now, the vomiting had subsided but her missed date with the general hurt more than the pain in her stomach. She knew Sergei would make it up to her. Still their days and hours together were numbered. It was pathetic to be stuck in this bed when she could have been enjoying his bed and his company.
A knock on the door surprised her. The men had hardly started their dinner. Tania went to open the door and her exclamation reached Cecile. Her acting nurse came back to announce, “The colonel is here to see you. Can you receive him?”
Of course she would receive him. She wanted to hear news about Sergei. She raised herself on the pillows and asked Tania to hand her a sweater to wear in lieu of a robe. The room was warm enough with the heating now allowed in Belarus but Cecile needed something to cover her pajamas.
“We hope you feel better. For you, from the Major Generalle who wishes you a speedy recovery.”
Nicouvitch presented her a vase of gorgeous red roses. Delighted, she took the vase and stuck her nose in the flowers. “They smell divine.”
Poor Sergei, she imagined his disappointment. There was no way he could visit her in the hotel but he sent her the expensive flowers to cheer her up. “Please, tell the general I love the flowers. Thank him for me.”
She deposited the vase on the night table and twisted on the pillows to face it.
To her surprise, Nicouvitch unscrewed a bottle of vodka, filled a shot glass and handed it to her. Befuddled, she gasped. “Are you kidding? I can’t swallow anything.”
“Trust me, Cecile, vodka is the best thing to cure you. It will cleanse your system. You’ll be back to normal faster than you can count to ten.”
She grimaced. “I know it’s almost pure alcohol but be real. There’s no way I’m drinking this stuff in the shape I am.”
“Cecile, you treat your American ailments with your medication. In Belarus, vodka is the safest medicine. My mother used to stuff a spoon of vodka in our mouth when we were sick. Sure enough it would stop our cough.” He brought the glass to her lips. “A few drinks will kill all your germs.”
“I must be crazy to listen to you.” She sighed and sipped from a shot glass until she emptied it. She felt warm and relaxed.
“Go ahead, a second one,” Nicouvitch coaxed as he gave her another drink.
“I’ll be drunk soon.” She giggled as she emptied the next one. “How many am I supposed to down according to your prescription?”
“Two or three more until you sleep.”
In fact two shot glasses later, she couldn’t raise her head from the pillow. Tania helped her slide down into the bed. The last thing Cecile heard was Nicouvitch’s distant voice. “She’ll sleep until tomorrow. We should leave her now.”
Chapter Fourteen
Things never changed. His duty to his country continued to detain him from the women he cherished at the very time they needed him.
In his flat, General Fedorin opened the window allowing the icy wind to cool his head. He stared absentmindedly at the surrounding buildings. Cecile was here, in Minsk, several blocks away, sleeping or suffering in her room and he was forced to stay away.
So often, he had wished Cecile would need him. Sofya had been a delicate angel he protected and nurtured but Cecilya was a strong woman with a character of her own, intelligent, self-confident and assertive. She never asked for protection. All she wanted was love—although she’d never mentioned the word—and she was ready to accept whatever he gave her on his own terms. She had called him her general, her hero. His heart filled with tenderness…and with guilt.
He slammed the window shut and took the potato pot to the table, eating directly from it, hoping that Nicolai’s kids would enjoy the steaks. Surviving in Belarus on a colonel’s wages required much deprivation. He knew for a fact that most of his officers couldn’t afford meat more than once a week. Life in his country was difficult. He had made it his mission to try to improve it.
Sergei sighed, wondering if the pampered Dr. Lornier could adjust to their way of living, the subzero winter weather, the lack of heating during the cold months of the fall and the harsh details of their daily routine. He downed a shot of vodka while pondering the next question. Could she ever love him enough to give up her career and come to live in Minsk?
For a crazy minute, he fantasized, imagining her lying in his big bed, waking up at his side in the morning after a night of thorough lovemaking. Maybe fixing him breakfast or dinner.
No, he chuckled, Dr. Lornier was not much of a cook.
Who cared about food? He hungered for her body and her presence.
What if she agreed to stay with him?
“Be real, you fool.” He snorted and slammed his fist on the table. “You have nothing to offer, nothing but tenderness and love.”
He swallowed a second shot of vodka.
What if she craved these things? After all, she already possessed everything else, money and whatever it could buy and
a successful career and its sterile glory.
If he asked her to marry him and stay in Belarus, they wouldn’t have to hide like teenagers on their first date. She would share his mission and help him—of that he was sure. Cecile was a thoroughly active person and a generous woman. She would become a real Belarusian lady. His officers would overlook the fact she was a foreigner when they’d discover her dedication to his cause.
Marry? Had he said that he wanted to marry her?
He closed his eyes and raised the bottle of vodka to his lips.
What happened to his promise of offering her only nights of happiness? How was he already jumping to marriage? Deep down, he struggled with the naked truth that he refused to acknowledge. He had fallen in love with her. She represented everything he wanted to find in a woman.
He emptied the bottle of vodka and smashed it against the wall. The glass shattered on the tile floor, broken in a thousand pieces like his dreams of love.
Major General of Belarus, you can only love your country. The rest is pure utopia. Wake up to your duty.
* * * * *
Cecile lifted heavy eyelids and closed them again. The bright light invading her room shocked her as much as the pounding that banged on her temples. Automatically, she retrieved the blanket over her head and willed the tapping to stop, to no avail. Muddled images from the previous day floated in and out of her memory. The long trip, Sergei’s cheerful greeting, the pleasant ride in the Jeep, followed by the stomach pain and misery.
Her tummy grumbled, loud and clear, bringing back the picture of an officer handing shots of vodka. Had she really drunk that much?
She patted her belly, didn’t feel any pain there and chuckled. The vodka had knocked her out. His medication worked wonders. While she slept her body had recovered. Nicouvitch’s treatment had to be commended but the pain in her head was still acute. No wonder, after six shots, she was suffering from a severe hangover.
She carefully raised her head and braved the light to squint at her watch, three-twenty.
Three o’clock in the afternoon!
She bolted out of her bed and held her head with both hands unable to believe she’d slept almost twenty hours in a row. The banging continued. Oh damn it. It was coming from the door. Approaching slowly in order not to lose her balance, she asked, “Yes?”