Chapter 11 Alexsei
ALEXSEI
Imade sure to time our flight so that we would arrive at the large cabin—more like a chalet—in the daytime.
It wasn’t a long journey to reach the upstate area, anyway.
Common sense told me that she would be more scared to be flown somewhere and arrive in the darkness, when she wouldn’t be able to see with her own eyes that she was in a peaceful setting.
I was trying to take every reasonable step to make her feel comfortable that I could.
What I wasn’t prepared for was her masked reaction when we got there.
She was still quiet. That didn’t change.
Still not speaking.
Still slow to react or give nonverbal communication.
The soundtrack of my son’s voice as he amicably chatted on and on about nothing specific during the flight had done wonders, though. It was too soon to claim that Kalina was calm after her fear of flying for the first time, but she was visibly steady while Misha chatted away.
We arrived at the cabin, and I couldn’t help but admire the change in her eyes.
The shift on her face. It seemed like she had never been out in the open like this before, a wholly new experience for her to stand still with her cautious gaze slowly roving over the snowy landscape.
Her expression, though guarded and muted, hinted at something like raw awe. Marvel. Incredulity.
While Misha and I got our things out of the SUV I’d rented to get us here, she stood there and just took it all in. Like that was a blessing and reward in itself.
No buildings blocked her view for as far as the eye could see. No traffic bustling nearby and making noise. Newly fallen snow blanketed the ground, easily giving the impression that we were stepping out in a brand-new blank canvas. The quiet of nature was soothing, perhaps even for her.
I was proud to be able to present her with a break from whatever setting she’d been stuck in. For however long she’d been trapped with her brother and his sadistic friend.
Inside the cabin, I gave her a tour of it all so she would be informed of what was where and what was possible here.
Like a list of resources. Or for her to make a mental map.
Whatever would help her know she had free rein in here.
Some of that nervousness came back to her eyes, but with Misha also adding his bits of a rundown about this place we’d vacationed in before, she didn’t flinch or have hitched breaths of panic.
I pointed out the bathroom and kitchen. All the guest rooms. The lounge. Letting her have a setup seemed like a common courtesy. Anytime anyone took a guest somewhere, the first step was a preliminary welcome for a stranger so they could be familiar and comfortable in a different place.
She wasn’t just a guest, though.
And I harbored doubts that she’d ever be comfortable again.
Based on her ignorance when using a seatbelt, I had a hunch she wouldn’t be able to know how to use many kitchen appliances.
The primitive confusion she showed suggested that she would need help.
I had to tread a fine line of offering her assistance when she wanted it while not trampling on her recovery.
Her healing process of adjusting after trauma would be complex.
But I was well aware of how I had to be considerate of her establishing her independence.
If she’d even ask for help.
That first night, I was glad to have Misha with us. He was observant, like me. Within the first few minutes after showing Kaliana the layout of the big cabin, he picked up on how lost she seemed.
How she just stood there, unsure what to do or where to position herself. Or like she was terrified to assume she could make a choice of her own.
“How about you sit over there?” my son asked her, gesturing at the bay window where a plush set of cushions made up a loveseat.
I was so damn proud of him for not telling her, but asking her. A question could be far less intimidating than an order.
“I really like the view over here because you can look down the valley. I normally sit there and read, but you can have this spot and I’ll sit closer to the fireplace.” He looked at me. “Are you going to start a fire soon?”
“Sure can.” I set about doing it as he gestured for Kalina to sit, going so far as to offer her a throw, putting it next to her and letting her choose if she wanted it.
With a fire soon roaring in the fireplace, crackling and popping and making the cabin toastier, Kalina sat on the loveseat and stared out the window. Misha sat near her and read from one of the books in his favorite series.
Much like how his voice had calmed her when he was just talking to me on the flight, the sound of him reading aloud filled the quiet that might’ve otherwise been awkward and tense.
Later, at dinner, when she kept her head down and waited for me or Misha to give her food on her plate or bowl, she still didn’t eat much. Like she wasn’t sure if she should.
Misha demonstrated how he liked to butter his cornbread, which was a mess. And when he burned his tongue on the stew I’d made, right before I burned my tongue too, we both laughed.
That night, I didn’t tell Kalina when to go to bed. I only told her that I was going to my room. Misha did the same. We both bade her goodnight, and I hoped that the freedom she had to explore or decide when to go to her bed wasn’t too much pressure on her.
It felt like a test. Hell, bringing her here felt like a big experiment.
In the morning, it was more of the same thing.
Mute. Nervous.
She wasn’t eating much, either, but I could’ve sworn she ate a couple of corn muffins after Misha and I went to bed.
Her reserved and nervous nature had me suspecting that she had been emotionally conditioned for many years. Such a long spell of torture like that would take time to correct and move on past.
But how long?
Maybe she had been so damaged that I was unqualified to help her.
While I hated the possibility that I could’ve made a mistake to bring her out here, alone with my son, I didn’t regret my guess that she would like the remoteness of this area. I was determined to give her as much time as she might need.
The next day, while Misha read to Kalina as she sat looking out the window, I took a call in my room. Emil had called and I’d missed it, so I replied now with a video call.
Both he and Sadie showed on the screen.
“How’s it going?” Emil asked.
“Is she warming up to you at all?” Sadie asked.
I didn’t lie. I told them how things were here. Neither of them seemed surprised. I doubted anyone would magically snap out of her shell and shock the second she got here.
“I do think it is a good move, though,” I told them. “She seems to like the view.”
“Maybe she was never allowed to be outside much,” Emil said.
“I still wonder if she would benefit from psychiatrist’s help. Therapy. Things she’d be able to get here in the city,” Sadie said.
She wasn’t pushing the issue, but I knew she said it out of the kindness of her heart. As the professional she used to be as an agent. And I wasn’t so closed-minded to argue that Kalina wouldn’t benefit from help she could obtain if she wasn’t out here in the wilderness upstate.
“It’s been one day,” I said slowly.
“Yeah, I don’t think rushing anything will help,” Emil said. “Even Raisa understands that.”
“A little more time,” Sadie agreed.
“Besides, there isn’t any chatter about Erik or Yusef looking for her,” my cousin added.
That was a good sign, indeed. I promised to check in often with them, and they wished me luck.
The three of us settled into something like a routine, and I hoped that keeping things on a slight schedule would be a way for her not to have to worry about unpredictable surprises.
I made breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Misha would read or do puzzles. I’d check in with my cousins and Simon on my phone.
And Kalina would sit there at the window, staring out, but aware of my son near her.
Every night, also like clockwork, Kalina would cry out in her sleep.
I had deliberately chosen to have her room next to mine but for Misha’s room to be across the cabin. Because from the footage I’d viewed when she was at Luka’s mansion, I knew she had a habit of waking in the middle of the night. Every night.
Startled, scared, and panicky.
I didn’t want to subject my son to that and make him worry, too.
Or get scared.
Each time that Kalina woke and cried out, whether it was a sob, shriek, or a shout of an incoherent burst of words that I couldn’t follow, it yanked me out of sleep.
That was how attuned I was to her. It was like having a new, feral being in the house, too skittish and prone to making sudden noises.
I’d rush out of bed to help her. Conscious of the need for distance, though, I wouldn’t enter her room. All I would do was open the door that was always cracked ajar a bit. I’d stand there, just so she could see that I was there. So she could witness that she wasn’t alone.
I meant it when I told her that I would watch over her. It seemed that letting her view me was comfort enough because she always calmed back down. No words needed to be said. If I were to step further into her room, it would probably do more damage.
It was, however, part of the routine. I was prepared to rush to her door every time as a tangible reminder that she was protected here. I hoped it was a solid step forward.
The following night, when she woke with a cry, I blinked my eyes open and swung my legs over the edge of my bed.
The rush of footsteps outside my room had me pausing. I, too, left my door cracked open. In case Misha needed me. In case of an emergency. Anything.
I furrowed my brow at the sound of Misha rushing toward Kalina’s room.
Dammit.
I didn’t want him scared about her crying out. I had to protect his innocence the best that I could.
Yet, I waited it out. I stood, quietly, and listened.
He’d beat me to it, hurrying to her room, but he didn’t stop at the door. It sounded like he’d gone all the way inside.
“It’s okay, Miss Kalina,” he told her. The concern in his voice made me so proud. He wasn’t afraid to help. He was brave to be a friend, compassionate to care.
“I get bad dreams too.”
Leaning against the doorframe, I crossed my arms and listened. Misha used to have bad dreams, but he seemed to have outgrown them.
“I sit up like this.” Squeaks sounded, as if he were sitting on the bed. The sounds of her panting hadn’t faded yet. “Then I rub my arms like this. Like giving myself a hug.”
I raised my brows. I never taught him that.
“My uncle told me how to do that. He heard me having a nightmare one time and he comforted me.”
Luka?
I blinked, surprised. Luka Dubinin was one of the world’s most fearsome Mafia bosses. Yet, he truly did have a soft spot for my son. All of the children in the family now.
“Want me to sit with you until you fall back asleep?” he offered a moment later.
“Me and Lev do that when Andre is fussy sometimes.”
I smiled. Those two boys were so good with that rascal of a toddler.
It seemed that Kalina gave him a reply. Maybe a nod, because Misha didn’t leave the room. More squeaks sounded and I guessed that he was scooting up to sit next to her.
“Oh, man. Your bed sucks,” he complained. “The mattress is so hard.”
I bit my lip not to laugh.
“No? You don’t think so?” he asked. Kalina must have shook her head.
“Well, it sucks. It’s too hard. Wanna come to my bed? It’s way softer. And you can see my stuffed animals. I only brought three, but you could hold Rennedy. He’s a St. Bernard dog that Emil gave me for my birthday.”
Oh, my God…
Staying in the darkness of my room, I peered around the edge of the doorframe and watched as Misha led Kalina to his room across the cabin. All the while, he talked to her and chatted about how he wasn’t too old for stuffed animals yet. Yawns cut his words off, but they both ended up in his room.
“Is that good?” Misha asked after some shuffling. He, too, was leaving his door open. Perhaps because he guessed Kalina might prefer it. “Do you have enough room on that side of the bed?”
She must have nodded again because Misha didn’t speak any further.
I sighed, so proud of him to help like this, to have such a caring personality.
But that was the last word.
Until a moment later when I determined they were settled and I could go back to my bed.
Kalina spoke with a quiet and soft reply. “Thank you.”
I froze mid-step, stunned.
He’d gotten through to her.
He made her crack.
My son had finally gotten her to speak.
With a big smile crossing over my face, I returned to bed with the confident optimism that it was a step in the right direction.