24. Finn #2
“Sweetheart…” I crouch beside her and squeeze her hand, mindful of getting too close to Katya. “Those people out there searching for your sister… They’re the experts. They know what they’re doing. They know exactly what to look for.”
“It’s unprecedented to carry out a search of this scale at night,” Andrej adds. “I’ve called in just about every favor ever owed to our family.”
Her dark eyes hop back and forth between us as if the movement is costing her the last of her energy. It’s only a matter of time before she goes into shock and her system starts shutting down to block out the trauma. When that happens, I’ll have no choice but to intervene.
“But they don’t know Ivana,” she murmurs.
“Ivana.” The whisper catches us all off-guard. Katya is watching Tamara closely, her body curled into a peanut shape, making herself as small as possible.
“Ivana,” Tamara repeats, eyes twitching. “My sister. Did you see her?”
The child nods. Ivana must have told the child her real name when they were trapped inside the container together.
“Was she…” Tamara begins and then switches to Russian to complete the question.
I’m the outsider listening to a conversation I can’t follow, but I see the effect it has on Tamara, the tears filling her eyes, and the muscle working in her jaw, and I stand up.
I look to Andrej for answers.
“Ivana was alive when Petrov dragged her out of the container,” he says. “That was the last time the child saw her.”
Thank fuck for that. I lean over Tamara and kiss the top of her head. It isn’t enough, but like the Steadfast Tin Soldier, I’m not going anywhere.
Katya is still speaking in a low raspy whisper.
“Ivana warned her to play dead,” Tamara says. “She saved her life.”
“You both saved her life,” I say. “She’s one of the lucky ones.”
We fall silent and wait. Andrej monitoring the screens and answering calls. Tamara rocking the little girl in her arms back and forth. Me, the silent protector.
The minutes stretch into hours. Outside the building, the sky lightens from midnight black to dull gray.
Leonid comes, shares a brief conversation with his brother, and goes.
No ships sail into the harbor. No trucks approach the quayside to pick up consignments.
It’s as if the entire area has been locked down by the Ivanovs, and I can’t even begin to imagine what it will cost them in lost trade when the Port of Chicago demands payment.
I make coffee for Tamara and fill a plastic cup with chilled water for Katya.
Tamara doesn’t touch her drink, but instead, raises the cup of water to the child’s lips and encourages her to sip slowly.
An ambulance lingers on the quayside, and I make a mental note to thank Sal personally when this is over.
Then, finally, when the sky is turning a muted shade of dusky pink beyond the water, Andrej gets the call we’ve all been waiting for and dreading simultaneously.
He glances at Tamara and then faces away from us to answer the call.
I wait, pulse racing, for his body language to give something away, for an indication of good news, because bad news will send us on a course that I’ve no idea how to navigate.
But his shoulders remain tense, and his responses snappy and in Russian.
I glance at Tamara whose eyes are fixated on his back as if she might be able to follow the conversation if she blocks out the rest of the world.
Andrej ends the call and turns back to face us.
“The Coast Guard has picked her up. She’s alive,” he quickly adds. “Barely.”
Tamara is already on her feet, hugging Katya to her chest. “When can I see her?”
“They’re bringing her into Lake Michigan. Tamara, she’s in a bad way. She’s suffering from hypothermia and—”
“I don’t care, Andrej. She needs me. I promised I would be there for her, and I wasn’t, so you can’t stop me from going to her now.”
A sob makes her shoulders shudder, and I pull her into my arms, squeezing Katya between us. “I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
Andrej catches my eye and shakes his head.
My eyes flare a warning straight back at him. “Tamara is right. Ivana will need her, and I’m not standing in the way.”
I help Tamara onto her feet. She’s wobbly, and I instinctively take the child from her arms without thinking of the consequences.
When I realize what I’ve done, I half-expect Katya to push me away and reach out to Tamara, but she puts her arms around my neck and rests her head against my chest like she has known me all her life.
My chest swells with pride, and I can’t find any words to express how I feel.
“I’ll take you there.” Andrej must realize he has lost the battle.
I carry Katya outside and into the waiting vehicle.
She clings to my neck, and I don’t have the heart to move her from my lap, so I buckle the safety belt around us both.
She has suffered more in her short life than most people experience in an entire lifetime, and I’ll defy any cop who dares to book me for not putting her in a child seat.
We don’t speak in the car.
I don’t know what to expect, but I can give it my best guess. I only hope, for Tamara’s sake, that Ivana hangs on long enough to know that her sister is there.