Chapter 31 Fyodor
FYODOR
"Higher, Papa. She won't be able to see them if they're too low."
I adjust the string of lights along the top of the window frame while Sasha watches from below, his head tilted to one side as he evaluates my work with a critical eye.
He's been directing this whole operation for the past three hours, and I've learned not to argue with him about aesthetic decisions.
The boy has opinions and he's not afraid to share them.
"Better?"
"Better." He nods with satisfaction and moves on to inspect the table, straightening a fork that was already perfectly straight and adjusting a napkin that didn't need adjustment. "Do you think she'll like the flowers?"
I look at the arrangements we picked out together this morning from the florist down the street, roses and lilies in soft pinks and whites because Sasha said those were the most romantic colors.
There are candles on every flat surface, waiting to be lit, and Noemi's favorite wine is chilling in a silver bucket by the window.
Soft music is already playing from the speaker in the corner, something classical that Sasha picked out because he said it was pretty.
The whole dining room looks like something out of a story book, which is apparently what happens when you let a ten-year-old with strong preferences take charge.
"I think she'll love them, Sasha."
"Good." He fidgets with his shirt collar, smoothing it down even though it's already smooth. "Papa, what if she says no?"
I crouch down so we're at eye level. I think I'm getting better at this. "Then we'll be sad for a while, and then we'll figure out what to do. But I don't think she's going to say no, Sasha."
"How do you know?"
"Because she loves us. And when someone loves you like that, they don't want to leave."
His head cocks at an angle for a second before he shrugs and says, "Okay, can we light the candles now?"
"Sure," I say, but before he gets the chance, we hear noise in the front room. Lazar has returned and I know he's brought Noemi back home after her day out.
"Go," I tell him, "Bring her in." And Sasha runs out of the dining room.
I hear his voice in the hallway, as he chants cheerfully. "Noemi! Come see! We made something for you!"
I'm beginning to get used to this nervous energy I'm feeling swirl in my chest. Noemi's opinion really matters to me for some reason, and making her happy is the only thing on my mind lately. More than anything I want to please her and make her dreams come true.
"What did you make? Sasha, what's going on?" I hear from down the hall as their voices grow louder.
"Just come. You have to see."
I stand by the table and wait, with my heart pounding.
This isn't just a room I've decorated to try to please her.
Today may very well decide whether Noemi and I have a chance at a real relationship.
I've let her spend the day being pampered at the spa, and now I'm going to do something I never thought this life would ever give me the chance to do.
Noemi appears in the doorway with Sasha pulling her by the hand, and she stops dead when she sees the room. Her other hand comes up to cover her mouth and her eyes tear up as she takes in the flowers and the candles and the table set for three with her favorite foods.
"What's this?"
"Dinner," Sasha says proudly. "We made it for you. Well, Papa ordered it, but I helped him with the candles and flowers."
"I can tell." Her voice is thick with emotion as she glances down at him and then up at me. "Sasha, this is beautiful."
"Come sit," he urges, maybe a little too insistently. Children don't realize how fragile moments like this can be, but I can't bear to correct him. "Papa, pour her some wine."
I pour the wine while Sasha pulls out Noemi's chair for her like the little gentleman he's become lately.
She sits down, blinking back tears, and I can only smile at how beautiful she is.
She's always this radiant, but her day at the spa has helped her to relax, and the peacefulness in her eyes is all the more attractive.
I want to bring this conversation up slowly, but we never get a chance to take the first bite before Sasha is running ahead like a bull in a China shop. He's so eager to discuss what he and I have been planning all day that he's not even worried about timing or mood setting.
"Noemi," he blurts out and plops into the chair next to her. "I want to ask you something."
"What is it?" Again Noemi glances at me but her smile is tense.
She looks like she's not really prepared to be put on the spot like this.
I feel like maybe I've crossed a line for a moment. I never stopped to think if she was the type to revel in flowers and romantic dinners. I just sort of planned this with one thought in mind. Now I’m rethinking everything.
He takes a deep breath like he's jumping off a high dive, and then he says, "Will you be my new mother?"
Noemi's face crumples. Tears spill down her cheeks and she reaches for Sasha's hand across the table but his face immediately drops and his head hangs. But I watch her face morph from overwhelm to compassion to love. Her eyes are fountains as she covers her mouth again and shakes her head.
"Sasha…"
"You don't have to if you don't want to," he adds quickly.
"Please don't leave us, though. Even if you don't want to be my mother, you can still stay.
" Noemi is crying openly now, not even trying to stop it, and I reach over to put my hand on her arm.
"I mean, Papa's house is big and there are lots of rooms too.
" He sounds sad now because his young mind doesn't realize how the adult brain works. Noemi isn't rejecting him.
"A boy only gets one real mother," I say softly, and as I do, I kneel beside her.
"But that doesn't mean he doesn't need a woman in his life to care for him.
" I reach into my pocket and pull out the thin gold wedding band my father gave my mother the day they got married, left to me years ago when he passed on, and I hold it in my palm and meet her gaze, though her eyes still overflow with tears.
"Will you accept both of us?" I ask her, not exactly sure how to phrase it.
"It was my idea," Sasha says. "So you can marry me too… And you'll be my new mamochka and you'll be Papa's…" He scrunches his face up and looks up at me with a question in his eyes.
"Wife," I supply, and Sasha grins.
"You'll be Papa's wife then." But when he looks at her, his lip trembles like he's afraid, not happy.
Noemi laughs through her tears, wiping at her face with her free hand. "You wonderful boy. Of course I want you too. I've wanted you since the day I met you."
She pushes back from the table and turns to Sasha, pulling him into a hug that he returns fiercely, his arms wrapped around her neck and his face buried in her shoulder. I watch them hold each other and my chest tightens as I clear my throat of the emotion welling up.
Noemi looks at me with her wet, shining eyes, and I know it's my turn as she pulls away from him.
"I'm not good at this," I tell her. "I don't know the right words to say or the right way to say them. But I know that I love you, and I know that my life is better with you in it. So I'm asking you, Noemi Dragunova, will you marry me?"
She's crying again, or maybe she never stopped, and she's nodding before I even finish the question.
"Yes. Yes, of course, yes," she sobs as she dives into my arms. I stand up and pull her up with me and kiss her so deep, it makes Sasha fake a gagging noise that breaks us apart laughing.
I turn to look at him gripping his neck with both hands as if choking himself.
This kid has such a personality, and I love that I'm getting to know him so well.
"Can I leave now? I want to go to Yuri's house and read books." Sasha is on his feet again, and I don't blame him. Who wants to stand around watching their parents kiss?
"Yes, go to the front and wait for Inessa," I answer, and he's off like a flash.
"She's coming now?" Noemi asks, turning to me with eyebrows high.
"I arranged it," I admit. "I thought we might want some time alone after…"
She raises an eyebrow at me but she's smiling. "Very presumptuous."
"I prefer optimistic."
Somewhere in the front of the house, the doorbell rings and I hear the low rumble of Lazar's voice and Sasha's cheers, and I pull Noemi back in for another kiss as the song shifts from the classical overture that was playing to something softer and more soothing.
"Dance with me," she says, pulling me into the center of the room, positioning my arms around her waist and resting her head against my chest. We sway together, not really dancing, just moving to the music and holding each other.
"He's going to be the real romantic of this family," she murmurs against my shirt. "You could learn a lot from that boy."
"I already have." She lifts her head and looks up at me, and all I see is love in her eyes. "I love you," I tell her, because I can now. The words don't stick in my throat anymore.
"I love you too," she breathes and then pulls my face down to hers and kisses me.
The food is forgotten, as are the candles and music, and Noemi is all I can think about again.
When I walked into that school and took her from her classroom, I never imagined I'd fall so hard so fast. But now as winter turns to spring and new life is blooming out of the earth outside, new things are blossoming inside this house too.
I have a son who is bright and funny and kind, and soon, I'll have a wife who is every bit as charming and compassionate as I could ever dream of.
And now I know what life is supposed to be about.
I'll never take that for granted again.