Chapter 5 #2
“Uh-huh.” His eyes remained fixed on her. “You’re pretty, Meri.”
She smiled at the little flirt. “Thank you. Where can we find ice?”
He pointed toward the door then directed her through a large dining room and finally into a kitchen where Mrs. Warner was stirring a pot. “What happened?” she asked with only mild interest.
“This young man hit his head,” Meredith explained. “I think he could use an icepack.”
“Kat pushed me,” the boy said as Meredith helped him into a kitchen chair.
“There.” Mrs. Warner pointed at the oversized fridge and freezer. “I keep an icepack on hand.”
Meredith poked around in the freezer, finally spotting a blue bag of ice. “Does this happen a lot?”
“The children, as you may have just seen, are prone to fighting. Poor Mishka usually gets the brunt of it.”
“Mishka?” Meredith was confused. “I thought his name was George.”
“Mishka is a nickname,” Mrs. Warner explained.
Meredith turned her attention back to the boy. “Let’s put this on your head. You may need to lie down.”
“I’m okay.” He beamed up at her. “I have a hard head. But it’s not made of stone like Kat said.”
“No, of course not, uh, George.”
“You can call me Mishka,” he said brightly.
“Mishka. That’s an interesting name.”
“It means bear in Russian,” he proclaimed, standing a bit taller.
“I like it.”
“That’s what Mama called me.” His smile faded a bit, and Meredith wondered why he used the past tense. She glanced at Mrs. Warner, but the woman was occupied with the stove.
“I’m okay, Meri.” He slid out of the chair to his feet then took her hand.
“Are you sure?” This time her inquiring glance was answered with a shrug.
“Looks all right to me,” Mrs. Warner told Meredith, smiling at the boy. “Mishka, why don’t you show Miss Meredith around. She just got here, you know. Help her to feel at home.”
“Okay.” Still holding her hand, he led her out of the kitchen. “This is the dining room,” he explained. “But you probably know that.”
“I sort of figured that one out.” She smiled at him.
“Want to see my favorite room?”
“Sure. Is it the playroom?”
“No, that’s a baby room. My favorite room is the library.
” He led her past the playroom door, which was now closed, then past the foyer to the other section of the house until he finally opened sliding wood doors to reveal a large and well-stocked library.
“See?” he proudly proclaimed. “These are my books.”
“Your books?” she hid her amusement at him claiming all these impressive titles. “Do you read them?”
“Some of them. Before I’m old, I will read all of them.” He went over to a large desk where several volumes of nature books were spread out, some opened. “I am studying these ones now.”
“Do you read the words or just look at the photos?”
“I read the words, of course.”
“How old are you?”
“Eight.” He picked up a book with a photo of a lion and began to read. Quite well, in fact.
“You are a good reader.” She came over to see if he was actually reading or simply making it up to impress her, but he was reading the words. “That’s excellent, Mishka.”
He looked up at her and smiled. “You remembered my name.”
“Of course.”
“I like you, Meri.” His dark eyes gleamed. “And you are pretty.”
“Well, thank you, Mishka. I like you too.” She glanced at the open door, wondering what his sister was up to…and how much she should say. “I was sad to see you and your sister fighting like that.”
“Her name is Katerina, but I call her Kat. She’s like this.” He pointed to the lion. “A wild cat that preys on smaller animals.”
“Why do you think she does that?”
“Because she is mean. Mean, mean, mean. And ugly. She is ugly, isn’t she? Don’t you think so?”
“No, I don’t think she is ugly.”
He looked skeptical. “Kat thinks she’s ugly. She says it all the time. But when I agree with her, she gets mad.”
Meredith slowly shook her head. “No one wants to be called ugly, Mishka.”
“I don’t care if she calls me ugly.” He closed the lion book.
Meredith considered another approach. “What if she called you a name?” She glanced around the boy’s beloved library and books. “What if she called you stupid? Would that bother you?”
He seemed to consider this. “No. That would be a lie. I’m not stupid. I can read as well as Kat. Maybe even better. She hates reading. I love it.”
“Oh?” Meredith was beginning to get the picture. “What does Kat love? I mean to do. What does she enjoy doing? What is she good at?”
“Nothing. She hates everything and everyone. She’s just mean, mean, mean.”
“I’m sure it must seem like that to you, Mishka. But she must love something.”
He shrugged then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, your library is quite superb.” She decided to change routes. “Now what about my tour? Will you show me the rest of your home?”
He reached for her hand again. “Let’s go.”
Mishka gave her the full tour of the first floor including a large living room, smaller parlor, and a guest room.
He then pointed out, but didn’t go into, the rooms used by the Warners.
He even took her down to the dark musty basement that, besides storage of a lot of old furnishings, contained a wine cellar and a dusty billiards room.
“No one likes to come down here,” he explained as he led her back to the stairs. “It’s haunted.”
“Haunted?” She tipped her head to one side.
“Ghosts live down here.”
“You don’t seem frightened.” She glanced around the dimly lit basement. It was a little spooky.
“I’m not. I like ghosts.” He headed up the stairs.
“Really?” She followed him. What a strange little guy.
He paused halfway up the stairs then turned to look at her. “My mama is a ghost,” he said quietly.
She stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“When she died, she became a ghost.” His tone was matter-of-fact.
“Your mother…died?” She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, staring into his face. Was he toying with her? Perhaps not. His expression remained somber as he mumbled yeah.
“I’m sorry, Mishka.” She sighed. “I know that’s hard. My mother died when I was a girl.”
Back on the first floor where cheerful light was flooding through the foyer windows, Meredith was still pondering the news of a deceased mother. She hadn’t expected this. But it made sense—a troubled preadolescent girl bullying her bright little brother, the nannies who didn’t want to remain here…
She said a silent prayer for this mysterious little family as she was led upstairs for the next part of her tour. Maybe she could be of some help to them.