13
EMERSYN
The weeks passed and the snow fell more frequently.
Deep drifts made doing anything outside a hassle, combined with the way the cold seeped through every layer I put on, it made going outside miserable.
We kept to the cabin more, although Sacha did head out for a few hours each day to check the trap lines and to ice fish, while I spent time in the mornings chopping and piling wood.
If I’d been worried I’d grow bored staying inside all winter, that notion was quickly squashed because Sacha was endless in his ideas on how to keep me busy.
He changed up my workouts—which weren’t as fun indoors, but I made do.
It was the same with the indoor gun range—everything was too loud—but I still practiced relentlessly and enjoyed it more each day.
Sacha also implemented a classroom time, where we sat at the kitchen table or in front of the fire for hours and discussed tactical scenarios, strategy, and laid the foundation for the sniper training I would go through in the spring.
In the evenings, we sat in front of the fire and read from his library.
It was nothing compared to the one I was held captive in, but he still managed to have a few titles I hadn’t read before—in both English and Russian.
On other occasions, he’d have me practice my Russian by reading aloud, or he’d make me speak it for the entire day.
I always knew if it was a Russian day by how he addressed me in the mornings.
If it was in Russian, he wouldn’t acknowledge anything I said in English.
At first, it was frustrating because my vocabulary was limited and I couldn’t remember how to conjugate verbs, but with his grumbled corrections, I soon overcame those shortcomings.
Tonight, it happened to be one of those evenings. I’d spoken Russian all day and chosen a book in Russian. There was a scene about Christmas that made me realize I didn’t have a clue what the date was. It had to be close to Christmas. I looked up from my book.
“What’s the date today?” I asked him in Russian.
Sacha peered at me from over the top of his own book, his brow furrowed in thought.
“December 20th.”
My eyes widened. “You mean it’s almost Christmas and you didn’t tell me?”
Sacha frowned. I had switched to English, the Russian forgotten in my excitement.
“Can I decorate a tree? Please? Nothing too big, I promise.”
I tried to dampen my fervor but Christmas had always been my favorite holiday. Cole would help me find the biggest tree and then my Dad would chop it down. We’d take it home and my Mom would make hot chocolate while we all—
My face fell as the memories assaulted me. They hit so hard I couldn’t breathe. I looked back down at my book. Sacha’s silence probably meant I couldn’t have a tree. I told myself I had to be okay with that.
“We’ll go in the morning.”
I looked up in shock, but he’d already gone back to reading. The smile that took over my face had him scowling at the pages, but I knew it was all for show. I said “thank you” in Russian and went back to my book, but my smile didn’t go away—even when I went to bed that night.
The next morning, I bolted out of bed and threw on clothes as quickly as I could. Sacha was in the kitchen, sipping his morning coffee. He watched me pull on boots and hover near the door, where I bounced on the balls of my feet impatiently.
“If we go now, the wood still needs to be chopped, and your workout done before you decorate it. Understood?”
I nodded frantically, willing to agree to just about anything with how excited I was. Sacha pulled his boots on and tossed me a hat and scarf. Once outside, he pulled a sled behind us and pointed off across the meadow.
“There’s a stand of trees out that way.”
I led the way with Fang as he bounded through the drifts and showered snow in his enthusiasm. Despite the forest being shades of white, grey and muted greens I thought it was the most beautiful I’d ever seen it.
We reached the stand of trees and I carefully inspected each one. Sacha stood patiently by the sled as I rejected tree after tree. After he watched me frown at the sixth one, he cleared his throat to draw my attention.
“What’s the matter?”
I turned away from him and pretended to inspect another one, but really it was to hide the tears that abruptly choked me. Sacha’s footsteps crunched through the snow as he walked over and stood next to me. When I looked up, he didn’t need to speak, I saw the question in his eyes.
“Cole would always help me,” I said quietly.
Sacha shoved his hands into his pockets. “Cole?” He asked carefully.
“My twin.”
Sacha’s face was deliberately expressionless, which oddly gave me the strength to continue.
“We used to pick out the tree together.” I rubbed a nearby branch through my fingers to avoid looking at him. “He always had to make sure it was symmetrical.” I smiled sadly. “I only cared about the side we decorated but he was—very particular.” My vision blurred. “I miss him,” I whispered.
I turned away, not wanting to cry in front of Sacha.
It felt good to say Cole’s name out loud though.
Ever since I’d had my breakdown while Sacha was gone, I’d slowly allowed myself room to remember the good times.
I didn’t want to forget about the people I loved, and the only way to do that was by feeling everything those memories evoked.
Besides, when I spoke his name out loud, it felt like I was validating that he existed. That felt important.
I dashed a gloved hand across my face and composed myself. I didn’t want to ruin this or make Sacha regret agreeing to help me. I walked over to one of the trees I’d previously inspected.
“That one,” I declared firmly, hiding the emotion in my voice.
I turned to grab the ax, convinced Sacha would make me cut it down, but he stepped past me with it in hand. Sacha easily chopped down the tree and I helped him load it onto the sled.
We got back to the house and together wrestled the tree inside and into the corner by the bookshelf.
I stood back. The tree dripped melted snow onto the floor and the only stand we had was a bucket, but I thought it was perfect.
Sacha disappeared upstairs and returned with a box he set down at my feet.
I saw the glitter of ornaments and looked at him in surprise.
“Go workout,” he said gruffly. “I’ll take care of the wood pile.”
I’d never rushed through a workout so fast in my life.
Once I’d showered and changed, I dug through the box of ornaments.
It wasn’t much—they were obviously very old, and there weren’t even any lights, but I didn’t care.
I used every single one. When I was done I stood back to admire my work and accidentally hit the box with my foot.
I looked down and saw an old metal tree topper in the shape of a star.
I picked it up and as I turned it over in my hands, my thoughts once more went to Cole.
We’d always fought over who got to put the star on top.
If you were here, I’d let you do it.
Grief swamped me. There would be no more family Christmases—no more baking Christmas cookies with my mom or putting up the lights with my Dad.
Cole would never pick out another Christmas tree and we would never fight over the ornaments while drinking hot chocolate with those mini marshmallows we both loved.
Those days were over—it was just me, alone.
I heard the scrape of wood across the floor and turned to see Sacha drag a chair over.
Well, maybe not completely alone.
I stepped up on the chair, while Sacha held the back of it steady and I placed the star on top. Despite my sadness over the past, a small smile took over my face. Cole would be mad if he saw me frowning at a Christmas tree.
I glanced at Sacha out of the corner of my eye and saw him staring at the star too, a similar far away look of grief on his face. It hit me then that maybe he also had lost people he loved.
I stepped down from the chair and touched a branch. I crushed it between my fingers and let the pine scent engulf me while I whispered a quiet Merry Christmas to everyone we’d left behind, and an equally quiet thank you that maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought.