Sold To The Russian

by Isabella Laase

  “Don’t worry, Zoya,” said Slavic seriously. “If it was dangerous, they would have evacuated us. They did that last year, and we all went to Staten Island and stayed at Aunt Linda’s house.”

  “She made a chocolate cake,” said Yuri, still wrapped around Pavel’s leg. “It was delicious.”

  “More delicious than my medok?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

  “Be careful how you answer that, son,” said Pavel with a grin, letting Anton slip from his grasp to retrieve his bunny. “She can hold a mean grudge. Yuri, take Anton and go play with your Legos or build a fort or something. You guys need to get out of my hair so I can watch the football game, and we’ll do something fun later.”

  “Why do I have to play with him?” asked Yuri with a frown. “It’s Slavic’s turn.”

  “You’re going to play with him because I told you to,” said Pavel, raising his eyebrow. “And no is not the correct answer when I tell you to do something.”

  “And I told you,” whispered Zoya. “He’s a Petruskenkov. See how far that stand gets you.”

  “Fine,” grumbled Yuri, grabbing Anton’s arm and forcing him to drop his bunny. “Come on, stupid.”

  With his tiny face furrowed in anger, Anton pulled Yuri’s arm to his mouth and bit, hard. Yuri yelped, pushing Anton to the floor, but the four-year-old got to his feet and barreled into Yuri’s sturdy frame. Pavel moved toward the tumbling little boys, but Zoya got there first. “Anton!” she shouted as both boys froze at the unexpected scolding. “We’ve had this conversation many times, and you promised Pavel that you wouldn’t bite any more. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “He called me stupid,” said Anton with a glower. “I’m not stupid.”

  “You can go to your room, Anton,” said Pavel sternly. “I will let you know when you can come back.”

  Anton glared at him, revealing the dark, unrelenting furor that defined his mood, but he stormed up the stairs, dragging his bunny by the ears. “Honestly,” admitted Pavel, “he’s a little scary when he does that.”

  Yuri shrugged, wandering back to the kitchen with the abandoned box of cookies. “Try getting bitten by him. Slavic’s right. We should have just gotten a dog.”

  Anton fell asleep within ten minutes of solitary confinement, and it was an easy decision to let him rest. The afternoon remained quiet, but the chill in the air couldn’t be denied as the growing dark clouds swirled off the ocean to spur a strong wind with blowing sand. While she made their dinner, she sent a reluctant Yuri to check on Anton, and both times he came back quickly to report that he was still asleep.

  Changed into a pair of flannel pajamas and an oversized sweatshirt, she cooked a pot of apples down to a sugary thick sauce to go with the ham covered in a tangy mustard glaze. Her first attempt at a chocolate cake cooled on the kitchen counter, and she easily dismissed the jealous competition with Linda as a necessary evil. By four o’clock, it had started to rain, slowly at first, but soon the driving sheets attacked with a fury, beating against the desolate beach and rolling, angry waves.

  “Pavel,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. “If Anton sleeps any longer, he’s never going to go to bed tonight.”

  Half asleep in front of the television, Pavel roused himself and went to the stairs, but too quickly, she heard him call out, returning within minutes without him. “He’s not upstairs,” he said with a frown. “Yuri, are you sure that you saw him?”

  The guilty eight-year-old couldn’t look at his father. “Yuri,” he repeated sternly. “Did you see Anton sleeping when you went upstairs?”

  “I… I did the first time,” he insisted, “but I didn’t see any reason to check on him a second time, so I stopped at the stairs.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Zoya anxiously. “Are you saying that nobody has seen him…?” She looked at the clock. “My God, Pavel, it’s been over an hour.”

  “He can’t have gotten far,” said Pavel. “He’s got to be in the house. Yuri, Slavic, spread out. Start looking under the beds and in the closets. We’ll find him.”

  But Zoya went directly to the master bedroom balcony to find the sliding glass door had been left open by a few inches, explaining the cold draft that they’d all ignored. “Pavel!” she shouted. “The balcony! He went outside through the balcony!”

  With Pavel yelling for her to stop, she ran down the outdoor staircase to the lower deck, frantically calling his name. Burning her skin with a painful persistency, the rain blew hard enough to send the flags snapping with a crisp, sharp attack. Pavel had long since stored the deck furniture in the garage, leaving their warm-weather retreat as desolate and abandoned as the beach, but she ran onto the sand, her bare feet numbing with the cold. She scanned the horizon for any signs of the little boy, too terrified to even look at the churning surf.

  Pavel spoke calmly as he jogged to catch up to her. “Let’s get organized. I’ll call a few of my men in, and we’ll start searching. He can’t have gone far.”

  When she continued to walk away, he turned her by the elbow to face him. “But I shouted at him,” she whispered, any hint of stoic resolve crumbling as the rain drenched both of them. He attempted to bring her into his embrace, but she frantically punched his shoulder. “I’ve never done that before, and I should have checked on him hours ago. He… He doesn’t understand that coming from me.”

  Despite her resistance, Pavel pulled her into his arms, and she gave into his demands, collapsing into his chest. “I…” she whispered. “I never should have brought them here. I have no business taking care of children. Linda was right.”

  “Hush,” he said. “We’re going to find him. The water’s cold and he didn’t even like it in the summer. He’d never go toward it. You won’t be any use in this search if you panic, so you need to take deep breaths.”

  He was right, but it took everything in her power to calm herself. “Look!” shouted Yuri with his child’s sharp eyes, pointing across the sand. She squinted, but didn’t see anything until he ran to the spot and came back with Anton’s bunny. “He was out here! I saw him take this to bed with him!”

  “Pavel…” she started. “What if he was taken?”

  Pavel was already on the phone to organize the search, calling over his shoulder, “Slavic, you and Yuri go back inside. Zoya, go with them.”

  “You don’t seriously expect me to do that?” she asked incredulously. “What… what if they took him, Pavel? What if the Turgenevs have him as—”

  “You’re making up trouble,” he interrupted sternly. “There are no threats.” When she continued to babble, he took her firmly by the shoulders. “Trust me. Get the other two inside and dried off. I need an adult to monitor the situation from a central location. Send the first man who comes to walk the beach to the north, then spread them out from there. Get each man’s cell phone number so you can check in with them. “

  Slavic spoke up. “He’s been talking about going to the toy store on the boardwalk. I think he went that way, but let me come look for him. Yuri and I can be helpful.”

  “Not this time,” he said, pointing to the house. “It’s not safe with the wind blowing everything around. Go inside with Zoya and get dried off. I’ll follow the water toward the boardwalk and come back along the street. I have my cell, so call me as my men arrive, but I’ll stop back here before I go up the other way.”

  He was gone, leaving her on the deck with Slavic and Yuri huddled under each arm. She dully got the boys into dry clothes and directed them to the television set, but they both came to the table to sit with her, still shivering from the wet clothes and abject fear.

  “Don’t cry, Zoya,” Slavic said softly, taking her hand. “Papa will find him, but you need to put on dry clothes, too, before you get sick.” With a smile, she did as he asked to ease his fears. When she was done, they sat with her at the table, her two tiny guards watching her every move.

  Forty-five minutes later, she’d sent four different men in four directions, bu
t Pavel returned first, alone. Soaked and filthy, he stood on the front porch. “I even crawled through that pipe down the street in case he was trying to get out of the rain, but there was no sign. I’m going to check in with—”

  “Papa! There he is!” shouted Slavic, pointing down the street.

  A huge linebacker of a man in black rain gear was walking down the sidewalk and carrying a very wet and dirty Anton. With a cry, Zoya ran to him, pulling him into her arms, and Pavel was close behind, wrapping himself around both of them before Slavic and Yuri pushed into their huddle, everything that she’d ever needed centered in a single spot in the pouring rain.

  “He did know his way home,” said the big man in flawless Russian. “You must be dadja. I thought I’d have my first hurricane tour all to myself and was a little surprised to find him wandering the streets, but he assured me that he wasn’t lost.”

  Wiping the water from his drenched brow, Pavel shook his hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. My name is Pavel Petruskenkov. Thank you for what you’ve done for us. This little guy means a great deal to this family.”

  “I was glad to help, Mr. Petruskenkov,” he said with a quiet nod and gently tapping Anton on his nose. “I just left my nieces and nephews when I emigrated last week. I miss them, and I know how challenging the independent ones can be. He’s a bright little guy.”

  “Come into the house and get dried off,” said Pavel. “The least we can do is feed you a meal.”

  “Thanks, but I’m staying with Abel Aaronson a few blocks from here. He’s my mother’s cousin and actually, he told me that I should contact you for a job, but I wasn’t planning on meeting you this way.”

  “Of course,” said Pavel. “Come see me first thing on Monday morning, Mr.…”

  “Stepanov. Vadik Stepanov. And I’ll see you then.”

  As he walked down the street, Zoya carried Anton into the house. She directed all of them into another round of dry clothes, giving Anton a warm bath while Pavel started a fire in the fireplace. After they’d eaten, she left the dishes on the table and curled in the rocking chair, pulling Anton into her lap and covering both of them with a blanket. He grew sleepy, sticking his thumb in his mouth, and Yuri brought him his still wet bunny, gently patting his little cousin on the shoulder to comfort him.

  “You must never do that again, Anton,” she said seriously, snuggling him even closer. “We were very scared when we couldn’t find you, and somebody could have hurt you. You need to be safe and always be with a grownup.”

  “I’m very disappointed, Anton,” said Pavel seriously, pulling up a chair from the kitchen to sit next to them. “You knew that you were being sneaky by going out the upstairs door.”

  Anton sighed, putting his head on Zoya’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, dadja. I was just sad and everybody was yelling at me. I woke up from a bad dream and just wanted a little private space.”

  Pavel fought a smile. “Well, in the future, when you need a little private space, your options are your bedroom or, I don’t know, under the dining room table. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, dadja,” he said seriously, holding out the rabbit. “And you can have my bunny. It’s okay.”

  Pavel tucked the toy back into Anton’s arms. “You’ve had a long day, but tomorrow we’ll have another serious conversation about the dangers of running away from a grownup. You could have been hurt very badly.”

  “Like Mama?” he asked. “I could have been dead?” He held out the bunny a second time. “I didn’t want to share him before, but it’s part of her plan. Just don’t give it to Dadja Damir. He’s bad, and the bunny is the secret.”

  “Anton,” sighed Pavel. “You can keep—”

  “Wait,” interrupted Zoya, leaning the little boy away from her. “Listen to him. What plan, Anton?”

  “My mama’s plan.” He spoke patiently, hitting the bunny against the table leg. “The plan for Dadja Pavel so Dadja Damir didn’t get us. The bunny was the plan.”

  “Pavel,” she said slowly. “Think about it. Every time we’ve seen his temper truly explode, it’s involved the bunny.”

  “The bunny?” asked Pavel, taking the rabbit that a smiling Anton held out to him with a little shake of encouragement. “It’s just a toy…” Turning it over in his hand, he looked a little closer, running his hand across the worn fabric. “Zoya, the seam has been repaired, look. That one is hand sewn, and the rest of this was done by a machine. Slavic, get me a pair of scissors—”

  “Wait,” interrupted Zoya, setting Anton on the floor. “I have a seam ripper in the laundry room. It won’t do nearly as much damage.”

  The three boys huddled around his chair, Slavic and Yuri bursting with curiosity, but despite the fact that they were disemboweling his toy, Anton remained satisfied as though he’d completed a great deed. When Pavel had fully slit open the back of the bunny, he turned it over, dropping into his hand the emerald necklace from Caroline’s picture. Over the boys’ heads, Zoya and Pavel met each other’s gaze in disbelief, but Anton sighed. “Now that you have your stupid necklace, can I have my bunny back?”

  Chapter 21

  “I’m glad Anton’s not dead,” said Yuri seriously. He took the necklace from Pavel. “Isn’t this the same necklace in the picture?”

  “Me too,” said Pavel, still trying to put all of the pieces together. “And yes, it most certainly is.”

  “I am so confused,” said Zoya. “I thought you said that Damir had it? How did Anton get it?”

  “I guess Damir and I never actually talked about it,” he admitted. “My mother was living in the townhouse when she died, and it certainly would have been within his right to keep it. The last time I saw it, I’m guessing…” He stopped to think for a few seconds. “It was probably Katya’s wedding. My mother wore it, but it wasn’t something that came out of the safe every day.”

  “Do you think Katya stole it?” Zoya asked. “How else would she get it?”

  With a huge smile, Anton rubbed his hands over the necklace. “She didn’t steal it, silly. It’s Mama’s pretty necklace. I told you that she was the most important girl in the family.”

  “Unless that’s what they were fighting about in the parking lot,” Zoya summarized, offering the little boy an agreeable smile.

  Processing all of the information he had, he spoke slowly. “My mother was unhappy that Damir pushed Katya into marriage, and she could easily have given it to her as some sort of compensation, but Katya was also the only one of us who had access to my mother’s personal safe. Except for that necklace, and a piece or two to Ana, most of my mother’s jewelry was willed to Katya, but everything happened very quickly after my mother passed. She was relatively young and in good health, so it was unexpected. The real question is how could we not realize that thing was in the bunny? That toy was a lot heavier than it should have been. Am I really that much of an idiot?”

  “Honestly, I just figured that they used some type of cheap stuffing. Who gives a four-year-old a multimillion-dollar necklace? In a bunny?”

  “Now that Anton is fine,” drawled Slavic, “can we get a dog? He would have been able to sniff out Anton and find him much faster than we did.”

  “Son,” said Pavel with a sigh. “You must have the worst timing in the world.”

  “I don’t know,” said Zoya with a grin, pulling Slavic in for a hug. “I think we should get a nice little poodle or a Maltese. She could keep me company during the day.”

  “If we get a dog,” grumbled Pavel without thinking, “it’s not going to be some fruity little thing. A pit bull or a German Shepherd would keep all of you safe around here.”

  “Did you hear that, Yuri?” yelled Slavic, grabbing his brother by the arm and forcing Pavel to grab the fragile necklace before Yuri dropped it to the floor. “Papa says we can get a dog!”

  “Wait,” shouted Pavel, as the three boys ran into the dining room, screaming gleefully. “I didn’t say that… Did I?” He turned to Zoya in disbelief. “We’re not gett
ing a dog.”

  “Sure,” she said as the boys returned to the room to jump on the couch and turn on the television at an ear-piercing decibel. “Keep telling yourself that if it helps you to sleep at night.”

  Still holding the necklace, Pavel took her hand to drag her to the stairs. “I’m going to talk to Zoya,” he shouted over his shoulder. “If I hear a sound out of any of you, I’m coming back to knock a few heads together.” Like zombies, the three boys stared at a cartoon without speaking. Pavel muttered as they continued up the stairs, “If I’d known it was that easy to shut them up, I’d have bought a second television a long time ago.”

  In the bedroom, he closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. “Blessed silence. My God, they are so… busy. All the time.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I never should have taken them from Linda. I should have checked on him myself hours before we realized that he was missing.”

  “First,” he scolded sternly, “all of this was a result of Anton’s poor judgement, not yours, and second, I was just as responsible for him as you were, but why aren’t you blaming me? That’s the problem, Zoya. You have this overwhelming need to make all of these decisions for yourself, and you’re losing track of what it means to have a partner.”

  “Don’t start that again,” she pleaded, walking toward the balcony. “Besides, you didn’t want a partner. You wanted a robot who did everything you said. We’ve finally reached a point of peace, so just let it go.”

  “I never wanted a robot, and you know it. I expect obedience, yes, but I’ve never told you what to buy or wear. I’ve never locked you in this house or demanded that you cook my meals and clean my toilets. We can hire all of that help, and if you want to get a job, you can even come work for me full time.”