Her hand shaking, she wiped her hair from her face and realized she no longer wore her uniform. Instead, she was dressed in a long gray skirt, mended in places, and a faded pink blouse beneath a threadbare cardigan. Glancing around the clean and orderly room, she couldn’t see her own clothes anywhere, not even her boots.
There was a wooden cabinet containing mismatched dishes, laundry hanging from a rail suspended from the ceiling, and a hutch with canisters labeled Coffee and Sugar—although Natasha knew without checking they would be empty. In the middle of the room stood a table, scrubbed spotless, with three chairs.
“Good,” a voice said from a doorway that led further into the house. “You are awake.”
A middle-aged woman, drawn and gaunt, entered the room and crossed straight to the cot. Natasha stiffened as a hand came out to press against her forehead.
“Your fever has broken.” The woman continued to speak Lithuanian with a nervous smile. “This is good news. I’ll get you some soup.” She turned toward the wood-burning stove, which had a battered old pot sitting on top of it. She lifted the lid and stirred its contents with a wooden spoon.
“Toilet?” Natasha asked in rusty Lithuanian through a dry throat.
The woman put down the spoon and hurried back to her. “It’s outside. Here, let me help.”
Given that being upright made her head swim, Natasha wasn’t about to try walking without aid. “Thank you.”
She wrapped an arm around the smaller woman’s shoulders, and together they slowly made their way through the kitchen door. Once outside, Natasha couldn’t help but look around. All she saw was a variation on the same thing she’d seen since the war began: rubble, with discarded belongings strewn among it, and smoke rising from smoldering piles of ash.
Her carer’s house was one of only three still standing in the street, and even then, it was clear they’d all taken damage.
The outhouse had lost its roof and part of the wall that faced a tree. The toilet was still there, and a bucket containing some dirty water sat beside the seat, waiting for her to finish and empty it into the toilet. Small scraps of faded newspaper hung from a nail on the wall.
After doing her business, Natasha tipped water down the toilet and opened the door to her savior.
“I’m sorry,” she said, as she didn’t know what else to say. She was a burden, a danger to anyone who sheltered her. “I’ll leave as soon as I can.” She had to find her squadron and hope they didn’t hand her over to Stalin’s interrogators instead of welcoming her back into the fold. It was well known that anyone who fell behind enemy lines, or was captured, was considered a traitor. Rumors out of Russia said they ended up dead or in the Gulag, which was as good as dead.
“There’s nowhere to go, child,” the woman whispered as she helped Natasha back to the house. “If you wander out there, they’ll get you.” She spat on the ground in disgust. “Nazis.” The word was a hiss of breath. “And there’s nothing to be sorry about. You fight for us.” Her eyes welling, she slapped a hand to her chest. “You fight for us when we’ve been abandoned. We’ve lost so many, seen too much, and then…your planes…” The woman blinked rapidly. “Your people have moved on. My neighbor saw them fly away. You can’t go after them now.”
Natasha said nothing as the woman helped her sit at the old table. A bowl was placed in front of her.
“I’m sorry, it isn’t very warm. I can’t heat the stove during the day…the smoke…” The woman’s face reddened.
“I understand.” Natasha’s hand shook as she lifted the spoon and took a sip. It tasted tangy and slightly of spinach. Green pieces floated in the cloudy liquid, and it had an earthy undertone. “Thank you.”
“It’s nettles,” the woman said. “We have a couple of potatoes for this evening’s meal, and my neighbor will hunt in the woods tonight. He might find something to fill our bellies tomorrow. Last week, he caught a rabbit.” Her brow furrowed. “It’s too dangerous to hunt in the daytime. The Germans are picking up anyone they can get their hands on to help with the fight. Even the elderly aren’t safe now.”
“This is good,” Natasha assured her. “Just what I needed.” She swallowed another spoonful. “I’m Natasha. What’s your name?”
“Lina Juska.” She looked around as though a little lost. “We came here for a better life. We were afraid when Stalin came to power. There were rumors about him wanting to take back everything lost in the revolution—including Lithuania. We lived in Vilnius. My father was a doctor and very smart. He saw the future coming and knew life would become harder in our home country. So, we moved to Poland, and that’s where I met my husband. He was German, so we moved here.” Lina wiped at her eyes as she turned her back to Natasha. “My husband disappeared when he criticized Hitler. This was before the war—when we still thought we had a voice. When we thought we could have a say who led us.”
Natasha placed a hand on Lina’s arm. “I’m so sorry.” How many times had she said that since the war started? How many more times would she have to say it before it ended?
“It was a long time ago now.” Lina lifted the apron tied around her waist and wiped at her face. “We might get some meat tonight,” she repeated. “Pieter will go hunting once it’s dark. We had rabbit last week…or maybe the week before….”
Natasha’s throat became too tight to swallow, but she forced down the last few spoonfuls of soup. Food was not to be wasted.
“My clothes?” she asked as Lina carried her bowl over to the sink.
In a basin with a small amount of water in the bottom, Lina cleaned the bowl before drying it and returning it to the shelf. “I burned them.” She spoke quietly, hesitantly, as though afraid of Natasha’s reaction.
“That’s good,” Natasha reassured her. “We’d both die if they found a Soviet uniform in your house.”
Lina peered through a crack in the boarded-up window. “If anyone asks, you must say you’re Lithuanian. My cousin. The neighbors won’t tell anyone anything different. There’s no love for the Nazis around here.” She looked back over her shoulder at Natasha. “You’ve always lived here but have been away at school in Poland. You can keep your given name, but you must call yourself Juska now.”
Seeing fear in Lina’s eyes, Natasha didn’t object—she knew they’d both be in danger if it was discovered Lina had rescued a Russian pilot. “Once I’m stronger, I’ll try to find my squadron.”
Lina’s eyes darkened. “If you want to live, you can’t go back. You know that.”
She swallowed hard. “The Soviet Union is my home.”
“If you go back, Stalin will kill you. If you try to find your squadron, the Nazis will kill you.” Bleak eyes held Natasha’s gaze. “None of us have a home anymore. The war took them from us. All we can do is survive, day by day, praying the fighting will end and that we might somehow know what to do next.” Lina turned to Natasha and forced a smile. “We might get meat tonight. Pieter is hunting. Last week, we had rabbit.”
“Rabbit would be good,” Natasha said gently.
“Then it’s settled.” Lina nodded. “Cousin Natasha wants rabbit too. I must tell Pieter he has to find us a nice plump one.” She took Natasha’s arm and helped her back to the cot. “Rest and get better. I’ll return soon.”
The door closed softly behind Lina as she left to tell her neighbor to hunt for a rabbit.
That was the last time Natasha saw her.
And in the weeks spent in Lina’s tiny house, she never met a Pieter among the people hiding within the town’s ruins.
9
Katya texted Denise and Stephen to meet her at her land, then she drove straight there to offload the plane. Only, when she arrived, she didn’t find her helpers. Instead, she found a whole lot of workmen. Builders, to be precise. And if she wasn’t mistaken, they were marking out foundation boundaries to prepare for digging. Tiny little posts, some with bright orange string stretched between them, made up a grid on the ground.
Bloody Brodie still
planned to build his house.
On her land.
Without permission.
Oh, hell no!
There was no need for the bolt cutters she’d picked up at her parents’ house on the way over because the gate stood open. Katya drove the truck through and parked right in front of the other vehicles—so they couldn’t miss her arrival—and was pleased to note that all work stopped at the sight of her.
She climbed out of the truck, slammed the door, and stalked toward the men, easily identifying who was in charge because it was another MacGregor. Of course. And the coward had his phone in his hand, no doubt texting the back-stabbing moron she’d married to snitch that she was on site.
“Pack it up,” Katya called out to Bain, one of Brodie’s older brothers, as she stalked toward him.
His smile oozed MacGregor charm. “Good to see you too, Katya. You look well. I like the long hair—it suits you.”
“Don’t try to charm me, Bain MacGregor. Unlike every other woman in Scotland, I won’t fall for it. To me, you’ll always be the boy who actually enjoyed eating worms.”
His lips twitched. “You’d be surprised how good they taste with curry sauce.”
Hands on hips, feet apart, she glared at him. “I’m serious. You guys don’t have permission to build on my land, so you can pack everything up and go on back to the office.”
At under six foot, Bain was one of the shorter MacGregors, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in muscle and attitude. Those muscles flexed now as he folded his arms across his blue T-shirt. “Well, here’s the thing. I have a brother who would argue that we don’t need your permission to build his house on his land.”
“You know full well Brodie and I own this land together. He can’t do anything without me signing off on it first. And I didn’t sign off on this.” Katya waved a hand to indicate the lines marked out on the grass. “He shouldn’t even have started. What the hell was he thinking?”
“That it would be more convenient to ask forgiveness than permission?”
Was Bain trying to wind her up? “Please tell me you don’t find this situation funny.”
All humor was wiped from his face. “The alternative is to get pissed. And when it comes right down to it, I like you, Katya, always have. But you walked out on my brother, leaving him devastated, and now, just when he’s got his life back on track, you turn up, ready to screw with him all over again. So, seeing as I don’t find any of that funny, I’m looking for humor where I can find it.”
“I didn’t screw with Brodie before I left, and I have no intention of starting now. I want you and your work crew off our land.”
“We’ll go this time, Katya, but you need to know we have his back. The brothers aren’t going to let you pull any crap this time.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “And how exactly would you stop me?”
“A lot has changed since you left. We have skills and resources we never had last time. It would be unwise to mess with us.”
“Did you get that line from an action movie? For the record, I’m unimpressed with the threat. The last time one of you lot intimidated me, I was still in nappies.” She turned to the work crew, put her finger and thumb to her mouth, and blew a shrill whistle. “Pack it up, boys. There won’t be any building today or any other day. I own this land too. If anyone needs further clarification, they can contact my lawyers. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to explain.”
To her disgust, the men still looked to Bain for permission before they cleared out.
As they slunk off, Bain eyed her with open curiosity. “Why are you back, really?”
Katya pointed at the plane with a “duh” look on her face.
“No.” He shook his head. “Why did you come back here? You could have set up your tourist business in a place that actually attracts tourists. They’re not exactly queuing up in Invertary looking for something to fill their downtime. So why here? Your great-gran was Russian. Shouldn’t you be over there reminding them of what she did for them? Or even East Germany or Poland, where I’m sure people would be grateful to know all about her. But you’re not. You’re here. In Nowhere, Scotland. That makes a man wonder.”
“Give me a break.” Katya rolled her eyes. “All you wonder about is who you can bed next.”
“People change.”
She stared at him.
“Fine, not me, but other people. Now tell me why you’re back here.”
“Because this is where Natasha lived for the majority of her life. It’s where she had a family and a home, which makes it the best place to commemorate everything she did.”
Bain clearly didn’t believe her. “Aye, right. And I suppose snatching the land out from under Brodie’s nose is just the icing. Why else would you be here?”
“You’re forgetting that Invertary’s my home too.”
“Not for the past ten years, it hasn’t been. While you’ve been off gallivanting, Brodie’s been here, living his life, making friends, and helping to build the town up. He has more right to this land, to his dream, than you.”
His words were an arrow that hit true. “We all have the right to our dreams, Bain.”
He closed the distance between them until he stood beside her and turned his face to stare at her. “Let him be, Kat. He’s finally over you. If you still care about him, even a little, let him get on with his life in peace. Doesn’t he deserve that much?”
“That and more,” she answered honestly.
Bain’s smile was the one she remembered from when they’d hung out together as a family; it made her feel like she belonged. “You’re looking good, Kat.”
With that, he sauntered across the field to his pickup truck and climbed inside.
As Katya sighed, her gaze came to rest on the pegs in the ground, and a sense of recognition made her spine tingle. Before she could question her reasoning, she found herself walking the perimeter of the house, gauging the rooms, assessing the layout.
The more she visualized it in her mind’s eye, the more her heart raced. This wasn’t any old house. This was the house she’d planned with Brodie. The one with a spacious living room that had angled windows overlooking the town to the loch. The one with the curving staircase and a TV room located in the back corner, where a fireplace would roar.
Everything they’d discussed as they sat in the exact same spot where these pegs were laid out was marked on the ground. This wasn’t Brodie’s house. It was their house.
The bastard had stolen their house and claimed it as his own.
Brodie jumped at a knock on his car window. He looked up to see a grim-faced Bain glaring down at him.
He lowered the window. “What?”
“Didn’t you get my text? Your wife closed down your build.”
“Ex-wife. And no, my phone’s off.”
“Aye, let’s focus on whether I call her your wife or your ex. That’s the most important part of what I just said.” Bain shook his head in clear disgust. “Did you hear me? You’ve been cockblocked over your house.”
“Cockblocked?”
“That house has been your main romantic interest since Katya left.” His brother studied him. “You don’t seem all that upset over the news your build’s been postponed.”
“I was expecting it.” Brodie pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I won’t let her set up an airport, she sure as hell won’t let me build my house. Only problem is, we now have a crew who’re expecting work and wages.”
“Don’t worry; they’re covered. As of this morning, the Patel build is a go, which means we can move the crew over to their site until you get your crap sorted with your ex-wife.”
Brodie frowned at his brother. “You know that Katya coming back has made everything more complicated for me, don’t you? You could be a little more understanding.”
“Aye. I could.” Bain grinned. “But where’s the fun in that? Anyway, what are you doing sitting out here instead of working in the office—where you should be? You hiding f
rom Darach?”
“No.” There were times when he wondered what went on in Bain’s head.
His brother shrugged. “It’s a reasonable question. I hide from him all the time. A man can only take so many lists and deadlines before he needs some peace.”
“How did you know I was out at the lookout point anyway?”
“It’s on your top ten list of places to come when you mope. I figured Katya coming back would be reason to mope, and here I am.”
Brodie stared at him. “You’re seriously weird.”
“I know. Now, are you going to tell me what you’re doing out here then, or do I have to guess?”
The last thing he wanted was to endure Bain’s favorite game of twenty guesses. Instead, he handed over the sheet of paper he’d just read.
“What’s this?” Bain looked unimpressed.
“Kitty Baxter says it’s the reason she hates the Savages.”
“A marriage certificate?” Bain paused as he read. “Well, damn, I did not see that coming. So, Natasha was married to Ben too? The Savages won’t like this.”
Bain MacGregor—master of understatement.
“No kidding. From the date, I suspect this marriage happened shortly before Natasha married Tom Savage. But if that’s the case, why didn’t Kitty hand over the divorce papers too?”
“You think she was married to both of them at the same time?” Bain grinned. “I like this girl.”
Brodie gave him the photo he’d found in the envelope. “This was with it.”
“Two best friends with the woman they both loved. It’s a romance novel.” His brother’s eyes went wide. “Or a porn movie. Holy crap, do you think it was one of those poly relationships?”
“I don’t know what to think.” Brodie reached out the window and took the items back before Bain could drool all over them. “I also can’t figure out why this would explain the Baxters’ hatred for the Savages. Is it because Tom stole Natasha from Ben? Or because she broke his heart when she left him and ended their marriage? Or was it because she was a bigamist?”
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