Fire and Agate

by Andrew Grey

  “It’s about time,” Nanna said as he opened the door. She unlocked the one on the inside, clearly waiting for them. “Terrible day, but I have munchies all set.”

  “This is Pavle,” Chris introduced.

  “It nice meet you.” Pavle gave her a little bow.

  “Nanna, Pavle is Serbian,” Chris explained.

  Her eyes widened, and when she spoke to him, Pavle’s eyes lit up. He followed her inside, and Nanna led him to the sofa, where they both sat. Questions and answers—Chris had little idea what they were speaking about, but Pavle talked for a long time, his hands waving as he got more and more excited and animated.

  Nanna patted his hand, and after a while, she stood, finally turning to Chris. “He is a good boy,” she pronounced. “I need to make lunch, but I won’t be long.” She then spoke with Pavle once more, smiling at him. “You stay here with him.”

  “I will.” Chris watched as Pavle’s gaze followed Nanna until she disappeared.

  “She very good lady,” Pavle said before eyeing the cookies and tea on the table.

  Chris handed him the plate and cup, and Pavle ate a cookie, and then a second.

  The scent of rich spices and sausage drifted in from the kitchen—the scent of his childhood, bringing back days when he used to stay with Nanna, playing on this living room floor while she cooked. He wondered what sort of memories this conjured up for Pavle. He hoped they were good ones from before his life had changed so dramatically.

  “Boys, come into the kitchen,” she called, and Chris guided Pavle inside.

  “Like Mama,” Pavle whispered as tears ran down his cheeks.

  Nanna hurried over, talking to him softly and then hugging him closely, whispering comfort. Chris didn’t have to speak the language to know that tone. She was the comforter-in-chief of the family, be that with food, hugs, or understanding. That was his nanna. A hundred pounds of love all wrapped in a gray-haired, petite, sometimes snappy and demanding package that he wouldn’t trade for the world.

  “Sit,” she said, and brought Pavle a plate with sausages, tomatoes, and some onions.

  Pavle stared at it, still crying as he took the first bite. “Is so good….” He gulped and ate a few more bites. Once again, Pavle had taken Chris by complete surprise. He should have anticipated the intense reaction to Nanna’s food and the way he almost seemed overwhelmed by it.

  She spoke to him softly, and Pavle reached out to hold her hand. Chris’s body actually tingled as the skin around Pavle’s eyes smoothed out and his mouth lost some of its rigidity. He was relaxing, but not like he was putting his feet up. Instead, it seemed like Nanna was the first person he’d met in four years who truly understood him.

  “Nanna,” Chris said as he ate. “There are some things I need to talk over with Pavle, but I think it would be best if you were with us to help make sure he understands.”

  She nodded. “You know I’ll help any way I can.” She gestured to Pavle. “There are things he doesn’t want to talk about.”

  “I know, and I promised I wouldn’t force him.” Chris nodded to Pavle. “You can tell Nanna whatever you want. It’s okay. She will understand.”

  “Pavle,” Nanna said as she finally brought over her own plate. She always served herself last, and sometimes Chris wondered if she ever got a hot meal. Once she sat, she turned to Pavle and began to talk. Chris wished he understood what she was saying. Pavle listened with rapt attention, even putting his hand over his mouth at one point. Then he nodded slowly and took her hand, comforting her.

  “What are you talking about?” Chris asked once their conversation seemed to have come to a break.

  “I told him about how Vladimir and I left Yugoslavia. I told him what happened to me and how we got out. We were children and stupid, too young to know better, but we knew we wanted out. I told him what happened to me and what I did in order to make sure we could be free.”

  “What don’t I know?”

  “That I traded my virtue for our freedom. Vladimir and I were about to be caught. So I gave myself up. The guard who found us was a sloppy and lazy man. I pretended that I liked him and ensured his attention was elsewhere so Vladimir could cross the border. Then, when his pants were down and he was vulnerable, I knocked him out and hurried to join Vladimir. He and I crossed the rough terrain through Macedonia and into Greece. From there we made it to the US, as you know.” She looked back at Pavle as Chris digested this little bit of new information, completely aghast at what she had been through.

  “Did the guard know you were pregnant?” Chris asked.

  She turned back to him. “No. We didn’t exactly talk about our lives. It was fast, and I did what I had to do. Vladimir was unhappy with me, but he and I were out and had the chance at a better life. That was all that mattered.” She paused. “I did what I had to do, and Vladimir knew that.”

  Chris blinked and wanted to kill the man who had hurt his nanna. He’d always known she was strong, but the steel in her spine blew him away. Chris went back to his lunch, still digesting what his grandmother had told him. When he was done, he carried his plate to the sink, nearly dropping it in his preoccupation. Pavle had finished as well, and Chris took care of his dishes, feeling a bit like an outsider as they talked.

  “Chris, I’m going to need the air conditioner in a few weeks. Could you get the cover off it and make sure everything is working right?” She smiled, and he knew he was being dismissed. They needed to talk, and that was part of why he’d brought Pavle over here.

  Thankfully the rain had let up. He grabbed an umbrella from where Nanna kept them by the back door, then went out in the drippy afternoon. He wasn’t in a hurry, so he took care of the air conditioner cover and put it in the garage. Then he picked up sticks in the yard and swept off her covered outdoor patio before returning inside. He checked that the air-conditioning was working and that it blew cool air before shutting the system down again.

  Pavle and Nanna talked nonstop and showed no signs of slowing down, with Pavle doing a lot of the speaking. Chris tried to cut in a few times, but failed and waited for Nanna.

  “Chris, sweetheart,” Nanna said eventually. “What is it that you want to talk to Pavle about?”

  The two of them sat together on her sofa, and Chris took the nearby chair, leaning forward. “Can you translate for me? This needs to be clear, and please don’t ask any questions of your own. It’s important that I know he understands what happened and why it’s happening. Okay?”

  “Of course.” She rolled her eyes, but Chris knew his nanna.

  “Yesterday, the safe house that Pavle was staying at had a fire,” he said, then waited for her to explain. “One of the women is in the hospital and is being cared for. The others are fine.”

  She talked briefly with Pavle. “Which one is hurt?” Nanna asked, falling into the role of translator pretty well.

  “I don’t know her name, but Marie will be able to answer the questions when she visits, if she’s allowed. Marie is the social worker who has been working with Pavle.” He waited while Nanna spoke. “The thing is, the fire was not an accident. It was set deliberately, and they were targeting Pavle.” He figured the direct approach was best, watching Pavle closely as she conveyed what he’d said.

  Pavle blinked and sat very still. “I hurt her. It… me. I do this.”

  “No. You didn’t do this.” He turned to Nanna. “Please tell him that this is not his fault. We are working to find out who is leaking information and shouldn’t be. It’s not his fault at all.”

  Nanna nodded and smiled quickly before relaying the message, shaking her head and then taking Pavle’s hands in hers before talking once again.

  “It’s not your fault,” Chris repeated.

  “Pavle says he knows that, but he feels like it is. All this is happening because of him. I told him it was because of the men who are doing this. He is not responsible for them.” She seemed as concerned as Chris was. “He has been gaslighted. I saw that movie you know, ve
ry disturbing.”

  It was shocking that she knew what that was. “Yeah, he has.”

  “Then this guilt is going to take some time for him to deal with.” She continued holding Pavle’s hand. “You are a good boy, you know, and Serbian grandmothers don’t lie.” She smiled at Pavle, and thankfully he smiled back. “You are welcome here any time.” She squeezed Pavle’s hand. “Come visit whenever you want to.”

  And at that moment, as if to prove the weatherman wrong, the skies lightened up and the sun did its best to try to shine through the window.

  “Can we plant flowers?” Pavle asked, turning to look out the window.

  “Young man, I’m sure my grandson will let you do whatever you want.” She winked at him, and Chris groaned softly. Damn it all, Nanna was matchmaking. It ran in the family, or at least Nanna said it did, and she was working what she thought was her mojo.

  “Why don’t we wait for it to dry out a little so we don’t end up with mud up to our ears? And Nanna, please be good.” He flashed her a mock glare. He had never been able to stay angry with her for more than a few seconds.

  “She good,” Pavle said.

  “He’s teasing me,” Nanna told him with a gentle smile. “Chris is always nice to his nanna.” There was an “or else” gleam in her eye that Chris couldn’t argue with. “Now, I have cookies and some tea for dessert.” She stood and got steady on her feet before heading to the kitchen.

  “Are you okay?” Chris asked Pavle.

  “Yes. I okay. Nanna is nice. She remind me of my nanna.” A dark sadness washed across his face. “She died before I came here.”

  Chris shifted to sit next to Pavle. “Then you can think of my nanna as your nanna.” He patted him on the shoulder. “How much did you tell her?”

  Pavle swallowed. “All. She understand.”

  “Yes. Nanna understands a lot, and not many things surprise her. I’m glad you could talk to her.” Chris turned so he was facing Pavle, and as he watched, Pavle crumpled in front of him, throwing his arms around Chris’s waist, burying his face in his shoulder, the tears coming hard. Chris held him, trying his best to keep the wetness out of his own eyes and failing.

  Nanna briefly appeared in the doorway carrying a tray and turned back, leaving the two of them alone.

  “It’s okay. You’re allowed to feel bad. You were used,” Chris said. Pavle had part of his life ripped away from him, and now he was trying to put his life back together, only Chris figured he had no idea what the finished puzzle was going to look like, so none of the pieces seemed to fit.

  “They took me. They lied.” The tears continued to fall. “They took my everything… my papers….”

  “I know. Marie is working to see if she can find them.” Chris was well aware that the chances of anyone finding Pavle’s original passport and documents were pretty slim. Still, once they found the man who’d been holding him, they could get lucky. Chris sure hoped so.

  Nanna came in, and Pavle jumped back, wiping his face. He slunk back on the sofa, like he wanted to disappear. “I sorry.”

  “Pish,” Nanna said, and set down the tray, talking to Pavle, who let go of some of his tension.

  “There are some questions I need answers to. Do you think you can help me?” Chris asked.

  “Yes. But not today.” She handed Pavle a cup and then passed one to Chris before taking her teacup. She sat slowly and sipped, pinkie out as was proper.

  “Then come to lunch tomorrow,” Chris offered. She was probably right. Pavle needed a chance to digest everything that had happened.

  They ate cookies, and Pavle sat silently. Chris could almost feel him pulling away again.

  “Go ahead and take him home. He’s been through a lot. I’ll come over for lunch, and maybe you could see if this Marie person could join us. We have a lot to talk about.” She extended her hand, and Pavle reached out to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She switched to Serbian for a bit.

  Chris finished his tea and took the dishes to the kitchen. Then he said goodbye and kissed her on the cheek. “Do you want me to pick you up?”

  “No, I can drive.” That was about the scariest thing Chris had heard in the last few days. Just the thought of Nanna on the road was enough to send a wave of cold fear racing up his spine for every single other driver. “Don’t start with me or you’ll be on my shit list, right alongside your mother. I’m a perfectly capable driver, and she knows it.” She glared at the phone for a second as though it had offended her. “I’ll come to your house and see what you have to eat.” In other words, she was going to take over his kitchen and make enough food to feed both him and Pavle for a month.

  God, he loved his nanna.

  Chris headed for the door, and Pavle said goodbye to Nanna. She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek before hugging him again. Pavle returned her embrace, and a stab of jealousy shot to Chris’s gut. He knew he was being stupid, but he wanted to be the one Pavle was holding that way. “You are good,” she stage-whispered, releasing Pavle. Then she saw them to the door, and Chris motioned for Pavle to go in front of him as they headed to the car. He’d hoped Nanna would be able to break through Pavle’s shell. He hadn’t expected her to do it so well.

  “I like her. She….” Pavle seemed to search for the word. “Special.”

  Yeah, that was his nanna in a word.

  Chapter 4

  “WHAT DO you do all day?” Briggs asked during Chris’s daily call to the station. Once Briggs had informed him that guarding Pavle was his assignment, he called in at least daily and had been able to stop worrying over how to look after Pavle when he was on shift. Over the past five days, Chris had been able to avoid talking to the sheriff directly and went through Briggs. “It has to be boring as heck sitting around there with nothing to do.”

  The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Chris. He glanced to where Pavle sat at the table in the back room, drawing and looking out the window. He’d spent a lot of time with that sketch pad and those pencils, but so far he hadn’t shown Chris or anyone else what he was doing.

  “We garden and watch television. Pavle isn’t a prisoner, so we go to the store, but limit our time away in case he’s spotted.”

  “Good. We’ve had indications that there are people looking for him. At least that’s the word on the street.” Though Briggs usually called from outside the station so they could talk freely, he spoke quietly. “But I’m a little concerned. My gut is telling me that someone is feeding them information. If it’s within the sheriff’s department, it isn’t going to take too long before they wonder why you aren’t at the station, and then they’re going to come looking.”

  “I’m not sure what to do either. I have the house locked down, and I’ve been napping during the day so I can stay up part of the night in case there’s trouble. I stopped the social worker from coming to the house—we meet at her office now, just in case.” He didn’t want to have to move Pavle. They had gotten into a routine. Pavle appeared to know more about what to expect and he seemed happier, with some of the stress of the unknown coming at him from every direction lessening each day.

  “I told people in the station that there was a family emergency and that you were out of town. The sheriff agreed to the story, so at least we’ve bought some time. I hope.” That was good news. “What’s the next step?”

  “Pavle has an appointment with the FBI today. They want to ask him questions. Marie is coming along as well. I hope they take into account his fragile state and are good to him. He’s a witness, a victim—not a suspect.” Anger and a deep need to protect Pavle raised Chris’s hackles.

  “They aren’t going to be dicks. They need the information from Pavle, and they want to make sure he’s a reliable witness. Just relax.” Briggs added, “Don’t get yourself buried too deep into this. Your job is to protect the witness, not get personally involved with him.”

  “I know,” Chris said. That was the problem. It was hard not to get involved with Pavle. At heart, he was a gentle soul who�
�d managed to survive four-plus years in hell. That said a great deal about the kind of man he was, and that strength was attractive. “I want to help him.”

  “You are. Keeping him safe is protecting him.” Briggs cleared his throat and groaned. “Himster is headed my way, and it looks like he’s looking for me.” Chris could almost see Briggs roll his eyes. “I hate the little toady.”

  “I know, but what are you going to do?” Chris shrugged. Himster was one of the men the new sheriff had brought in with him, and no one trusted him.

  “Briggs, you jawing on the phone or getting some work done?” Himster said. He must have been right in Briggs’s space for him to come through that clearly.

  “I get more done than you ever will,” Briggs retorted calmly. “Talk later.” He ended the call, and Chris wondered if all this internal animosity and politics were going to rip the department apart.

  There were now two definite camps. Thankfully, Briggs’s camp was bigger and had most of the department, but the sheriff’s had the sheriff and the power of his position to back it up. With time, the sheriff would whittle down the ones against him and the balance would shift. But first he needed to get elected. Chris had hoped that Briggs would run, but if he did and lost, it was likely the end of his job. Not that Chris could do anything about it now, though, and he had a job to do.

  He slipped his phone into his pocket and returned to the back sitting room. Pavle looked up when he came in. “We need to leave in about an hour.” He sat down next to him. “We are going to meet with the FBI, the federal police. They want to know what happened to you.”

  “Marie say… said they talk to me.” Pavle had been doing a lot of self-correction in his speech. Chris hadn’t wanted to correct him, but he made sure to speak carefully and clearly to be helpful. He also suspected that television helped… or hurt, as the case might be.

  “Yes. And after they are done, you and I will have lunch. Do you want to eat at a restaurant?”