The storm in his gray eyes was still raging, and yet he finally nodded, reaching up to smooth the wrinkles in his shirt. “Fine. So what is your plan?”
The one I’d been considering seemed to be just out of reach. I knew it had a good basis, but I felt as if some vital part was missing.
“We need reinforcements,” I said, walking toward the door. “And I know where to find them. Come on.”
As we walked out of the theater we’d both worked so hard with our mother to build, we both looked back. Seeing Yuri’s eyes reflecting the same concern I knew dwelled in mine, I slapped his shoulder. “We’ve come a long way together and, I promise you, I’ll do everything within my power to make sure we make our parents proud.”
He turned to look at me and nodded once again. “You may be an asshole, but I know you will.”
I chuckled, relieved to see he was more his normal self. A surly younger brother I could handle.
A half hour later I watched as Yuri fell head over heels in love — with an older woman. Olga had over half a century on him, but as the saying goes, age is only a number. The moment Yuri set his eyes on Clara’s babushka, he was hooked and, when she took his hands and pulled him into a hug, telling him how much he reminded her of our father but had our mother’s eyes, he swallowed the bait. When she thanked him for making her granddaughter smile again, Yuri blushed and looked at me, sincere remorse evident in his eyes.
“Clara is why we’re here, Babka,” I said.
Olga’s eyes closed briefly, her head nodding. “So you know.”
“We do,” I concurred, watching as my brother took my role, sliding his arm around her tiny waist and helping her to her chair. Once she was seated, Yuri and I took a seat on the small couch, both sitting on the edge of the cushions, our arms braced on our thighs.
“Clara thinks she is fooling me, but I’m not blind. I don’t have to see that man to know he has his hooks in her again. She stopped smiling and though she would tell me how hard you worked everyone,” she said, turning her head toward Yuri, “never did she come home limping or have to cover up bruises with makeup. She won’t even discuss it with me, simply states she knows what she is doing and she won’t allow him to pull her too deep this time.” Her eyes flashed as twisted fingers slapped down on the arm of her chair. “Blin! She’s already in over her head.”
I nodded and reached forward to take her hand in mine, gently massaging as I tried not to grin. Even in anger, Olga was still a true lady… just like my mother had been. She’d used a curse word even small children in Russia were allowed to say instead of the far ruder word, blyat.
“She is, but this time she isn’t alone,” I said, seeing Yuri’s nod from the corner of my eye. “That’s why we’re here. I’ve got a plan but need you to think back and fill in some blanks if at all possible.”
Her head bobbed eagerly as her other hand reached to clasp mine so she could squeeze my fingers. “I can do that. I’ve got arthritis, but my mind is still as sharp as a tack. What do you need to know?”
I was about to tell both her and Yuri what I’d been thinking when the doorbell rang. Olga’s eyes widened, her head swiveling toward the sound, and I wondered if she’d been this frightened when I’d rung the bell a bit earlier.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” I assured her as I nodded at Yuri who stood and went out into the hall. “I was going to take you out to dinner but figured you might still be recovering from the hospital—”
“Don’t make me change my mind about you, young man,” Olga said, cutting me off with a huff. “You were worried that man might decide to make an example of me in order to keep Clara in line. Don’t you coddle me, either, Alek Volkov! I’ve seen more evil and watched more people suffer at the hands of the devil than you, your brother, and Clara combined.”
I now understood where Clara had gotten her strength. It came from this woman. “I apologize,” I said. “You’re right. It is easier for me to keep you safe here than out in some restaurant—”
“But I don’t think you’ll have any reason to complain,” Yuri cut in as he returned, several bags hanging from his hands. “Not if this tastes anywhere near as good as it smells.”
I spent the next hour filling them both in on my plan, rearranging and shifting things about as Olga corrected me or provided me with facts I’d not yet discovered in all the years since my father’s death. I’d never felt free to ask my mother as I saw the pain in her eyes any time I dared advance a question once I was old enough to begin to have doubts about the stories I’d been told as a younger boy.