Worlds Collide, page 18
“I’m holding you to that.”
“Deal.”
Artyom sorted through his sweaters and sweatshirts that bore his country’s logos on them, debating which one to wear on the plane tomorrow and which ones to pack. During his time in Canada, he would be a representative of the Soviet Union, and as such, he needed to dress appropriately. He added dress shirts and ties to the mix along with the coordinating trousers. Folding each item carefully, he loaded his clothing into his suitcase.
The telephone rang, and he abandoned his packing to pick up the phone from where it sat on the small table beside his couch. “Hello?”
“Mr. Belsky, this is Varvara from Gorodskaya Mariinskaya Bol’nitsa.”
The hospital? “Is everything all right?”
“I’m afraid it’s your grandmother. Polina Belsky passed away this morning from complications from pneumonia.”
“What?” Artyom’s hand tightened on the phone receiver, his knuckles turning white. “I visited her only a few days ago.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Belsky. She was admitted yesterday, but there was nothing we could do.”
His grandmother was gone? Artyom dropped onto the couch, the voice of the woman on the phone buzzing in his ear. The details she shared barely registered until she mentioned something about burial services.
“I am to leave the country tomorrow for three weeks.”
“Is there another family member you would prefer me to work with?”
“No.” Artyom lifted his free hand and rubbed it over his face. “I’m the only family she has.” The only family she had. The words repeated in his mind. Artyom was now truly alone.
“I’m afraid we cannot hold the body that long. I can put in the request to have her buried. You will be notified of her location by mail.”
“But—” Artyom started to protest but stopped himself. He had a choice—stay home to bury his grandmother or go to Canada and get a glimpse of life outside the Soviet Union.
His grandmother’s words echoed through his mind. There’s always a choice.
What choice would she have him make?
He hated the idea of his grandmother being buried without him there, but she wouldn’t want him to stop living. Quite the opposite. She wanted him to experience life.
“Mr. Belsky?”
“Please arrange for my grandmother’s burial.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Artyom hung up the phone, his fingers numb from gripping the handle so tightly. He stared blankly at his modest apartment. His position had granted him some improvement in his situation in life, the one-bedroom unit a vast improvement over his grandmother’s drafty apartment that was only half the size of his. Maybe she would still be alive if he had been granted enough space to have her live with him.
He shook that thought away. She hadn’t wanted to lose her independence any more than he’d wanted to sacrifice his privacy. He moved back to the bedroom and stared at the half-packed suitcase. Tomorrow he would get on a plane bound for Canada. But he had one stop to make before he could start that journey. His grandmother may not have had much, but he didn’t want to leave her wedding ring sitting in her apartment while he was gone. For all he knew, her apartment would be cleaned out long before he returned.
He grabbed his keys and his wallet. Grief shot through him as he headed for the door. Time for a trip down memory lane.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Viktor handed the keys to Ursula as they stood at the airport surrounded by athletes, coaches, and KGB agents. His heart raced, but he wasn’t sure if it was fear coursing through him or excitement.
“You be safe.” Ursula kissed him before turning to her children. “Josef, be a help for your papa. And, Sonya, skate your best.”
“I will, Mama.” Sonya hugged her, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I wish you could come too.”
Ursula blinked back her own tears. “I know, milaya.”
Viktor took Ursula’s hand, needing to feel the connection while he could. “We’ll see you soon.”
Ursula pressed her lips together and nodded. Then Josef tugged at Viktor’s sleeve. “It’s time.”
Viktor pulled his hand free of Ursula’s, and soon he was walking across the tarmac to a set of stairs on wheels.
Sonya tucked her hand through his arm. “Can you believe we’re going to Canada?”
“No, milaya. It is quite a miracle.”
They boarded the plane, Josef looking wide-eyed as he entered the plane.
Viktor understood the sensation. Only once before had he been on a plane, when he had accompanied Sonya to the European Championships in Budapest.
Sonya led the way to their seats, claiming the window for herself.
Viktor motioned to Josef. “Take the seat beside your sister so you can see out the window too.”
“I don’t know if I want to see out the window.”
“Come. Sit.” Sonya set her purse beneath the seat in front of her and tugged on Josef’s arm. “It’s not scary. I promise.”
Josef complied, but the tension in his body indicated he was far from ready for this part of their journey.
Viktor sat beside his son and patted his arm. “It’s safe. We’ll be fine.”
Josef gave a curt nod.
“Fasten your seat belt.” Sonya demonstrated how to clip the two pieces of the seat belt together. Josef mimicked the action until his seat belt was securely around him.
Within minutes, a voice came over the intercom, instructing them on how to fasten their seat belts as well as where to find the emergency exits. As the safety instruction continued, the tension in Josef’s body increased steadily.
Sonya reached into the seat pocket in front of her and pulled out a folded bag and handed it to her brother.
“What is this?” Josef asked.
“It’s for if you get sick.” She gave him a haughty look. “I don’t want you to throw up on me.”
“I’m not going to get sick.”
“You will if you don’t relax,” Sonya said. “Breathe.”
Josef sucked in a breath. An instant later, the plane started to move. Josef dropped the bag Sonya had given him and gripped both arm rests.
Sonya leaned forward to look at Viktor. “You’d better give Josef your bag too.”
A sense of nostalgia washed over Katerina when she stepped off the plane in Toronto. Canada had been the first country she had ever visited outside of the Soviet Union, and it would always have a special place in her heart. English and bits of French blended together as their group made their way through the terminal. She could speak both now, but for her first years with Robert, French had been their common language.
She glanced behind her at Amaliya, who had embraced all her heritage—American, French Canadian, and Russian. If only Katerina could have traveled with her daughter to the Soviet Union and visited the country of her birth.
She pushed that thought aside. This was her life now. She was free to do what she chose—except return to her homeland.
Robert laid his hand on her waist. “Baggage claim is this way.” They made the walk through the terminal to the baggage claim. As soon as they reached the carousel, Robert turned to Gordon. “Can you and Tyler grab the bags? I’m going to pick up our rental car.”
“That’s fine.” Gordon motioned toward the exit. “We’ll meet you out front.”
Forty-five minutes later, they were all loaded into the large sedan, the backpacks and small suitcases that wouldn’t fit in the trunk resting on their laps.
“Katerina, you may have gotten a little carried away with bringing things for your brother,” Robert said.
“There are so many more things I wish I could have bought for him.” Katerina glanced over her shoulder at Amaliya. “Maybe we can do more shopping while we’re here.”
“Oh, no.” Gordon shook his head. “These two need to focus on their skating.”
“Linda will be here tomorrow. Maybe she can help.” Katerina pursed her lips as she debated what else she could send home with Viktor. “Amaliya, what do you think they could need that I haven’t already bought?”
“Blankets,” Tyler answered for her. “Warm blankets.”
Amaliya nodded. “He’s right. That woodstove in the living room doesn’t keep their house very warm.”
“Let’s focus on finding Viktor before we buy any more stuff for him,” Robert suggested.
“Fine.” Katerina looked down at her watch.
“Any idea what time the Soviet team arrives?” Tyler asked.
“Linda checked with her travel agent to find out what time flights were arriving in Toronto from the Soviet Union,” Katerina said. “There are a couple of possibilities since all of the flights stop somewhere along the way, but the travel agent seemed to think they would get here around ten tonight.”
“Seven hours from now.” Amaliya looked from Katerina to Robert. “I know one of you is going to stay up and watch for Viktor. Who’s it going to be?”
“Me.” Robert glanced sideways at her. “I don’t want you anywhere near the lobby when the Soviets arrive.”
As much as she hated sitting around and waiting, Katerina couldn’t deny that Robert’s protective streak was warranted.
“Maybe I should be the one to watch for them,” Gordon said. “I know what Viktor looks like.”
“By the time they get here from the airport, it will be after eleven.”
“That’s okay. I can take a nap after dinner.” Gordon glanced sideways at his skaters. “Assuming you can keep the kids out of trouble.”
“We can do that on our own,” Tyler said.
“I don’t think he trusts us.” Amaliya lowered her voice into a mock whisper. “There must be desserts in the hotel restaurant.”
Katerina’s smile bloomed on her face. “Pretty amazing desserts, if I remember correctly.”
Robert glanced at Gordon in the rearview mirror. “Maybe I should wait downstairs with you. You can point Viktor out to me, and it will look more natural to have two of us sitting in the lobby talking rather than one person waiting alone.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Gordon nodded.
“I wish I could be the one waiting,” Katerina said.
“I know,” Robert said. “I’d take the Polaroid down there and take a photo for you, but I’m afraid that might look a bit too suspicious.”
“You’re probably right.”
Robert kissed Katerina on the forehead. “Don’t worry. If all goes well, it won’t be long before you’ll get to see him for yourself.”
“Let’s hope.”
Amaliya lugged her skating bag and the smaller of her two suitcases into the hotel lobby.
“You could have left that out in the car,” her dad said. “We can have a steward bring our luggage up to our rooms.”
“Thanks, Papa, but Gordon doesn’t like us to leave our skates and costumes in anyone else’s hands.”
“I have you trained.” Gordon reached out and took Amaliya’s suitcase. “You can trust me not to lose anything though.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll get us checked in.” Her papa crossed through the quaint lobby, past the sofa and chairs that created a conversation area. Several more chairs were clustered beside a fireplace on the far side of the room, along with potted plants and occasional tables.
When her papa reached the hotel clerk, he spoke in a low voice before reaching into his pocket and slipping a bill free. Amaliya couldn’t tell what denomination it was, but the clerk pocketed it and quickly proceeded to retrieve their room keys.
When her papa returned, he handed each of them their keys. Amaliya noted that she and Tyler were as far apart as possible. “Let’s carry what we have up to our rooms now. Gordon and I can come back for the rest.”
They all made their way to the elevator, and as soon as the doors slid closed, Amaliya asked, “Papa, why were you tipping the clerk?”
“I was hoping to improve our chances of seeing your uncle.”
“How?”
“Our friend at the front desk confirmed the Soviets will be on the fifth floor,” her papa said. “Our rooms are spread out on the fourth.”
“How will that help us?” Amaliya asked.
“It may not, but having our balconies right below the Soviets could prove useful,” her dad said.
Tyler stopped when he reached his room. “Want me to meet you back at the elevator to help with the luggage?”
“Sure.” Gordon stopped at the next room. “Robert, we’ll see you in a minute. Amaliya, I want you to stretch when you get to your room.”
“Yes, Coach.” Amaliya continued onward.
When her parents stopped at their room, her mama asked, “What room are you in?”
“Four seventeen.”
“Wait a minute and I’ll walk you to your room,” her dad said.
“Papa, I’m fine going into my room alone.”
“Indulge me. It never hurts to be careful.” Her dad unlocked the door to his and Mama’s room, which was located a few doors away from the stairwell. He opened it and escorted her mom inside.
Even though she knew her father was being overprotective, Amaliya followed her parents into their room. A kitchenette lined one wall, and a small table was situated by the sliding-glass door across the room. From where she stood, the bed wasn’t visible, but there was a seating area with a couch, a chair, and a desk that filled the open space before her.
Her dad did a quick check of the room, including the bathroom and closet. “Okay, I’ll walk you down now.”
Amaliya led the way into the hall. “I know we talked about being careful, but the Soviets aren’t even here yet. Don’t you think you’re being a bit paranoid?”
“We can’t be sure there weren’t some security people who came early.” Her dad put his hand on her back. “Your mom risked a lot to stay with me. I’m not going to risk her safety now.”
Despite her father’s serious tone, Amaliya smiled. She really was lucky to have parents who still adored each other. They walked past several hotel rooms until they reached Amaliya’s door. She slid the key into the lock and opened the door.
Her dad escorted her inside and crossed the simple room. He opened the balcony door and stepped outside. “I was afraid of this.”
“What?”
“Your balcony adjoins the two on either side.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t like the idea of you having strangers with access to your back door.” His brow furrowed. “Maybe I should see if we can get you into the room next to mine.”
“Papa, it’s not like some handsome stranger is going to sweep in and steal me away. I’m already engaged.” Amaliya reached the balcony and looked out. The skyline of Toronto lay directly in front of her, a wrought-iron railing separating her small balcony from the ones on either side. “Besides, I know how to lock my door.” She turned and looked back at her modest room. “And I’ll be sure to keep my curtains closed at night.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Papa, I’m a grown woman. I’m engaged to be married.” Amaliya held up her left hand. “Maybe you need to trust me to take care of myself.”
He scowled, a battle clearly waging within him. Finally, he huffed out a breath. “If you end up with a neighbor you don’t feel comfortable with, I want to know right away.”
“I promise.”
He moved back inside, and Amaliya followed. When he reached the door leading into the hall, he pointed back at the balcony. “Keep that door locked.”
Feeling like she had won a small victory, she smiled. “Yes, Papa.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
White tablecloths, low lights, muted classical music. Katerina took in the elegant surroundings of the French restaurant and breathed in the scents of freshly baked bread, rich sauces, and cooked meat.
“This place is something,” Gordon said as they followed the maître d’ through the main part of the dining room to a table in a private alcove.
“This is the last time Katerina will be able to leave the hotel for the next few days,” Robert said. “I wanted to make sure she enjoyed it.”
Amaliya grinned. “We don’t mind.”
Robert pulled out a chair for Katerina, waiting for her to sit before he claimed the spot beside her. She couldn’t help but smile when Tyler followed the same ritual with Amaliya.
The maître d’ passed out their menus, and Gordon opened his, but instead of focusing on the contents, he looked at Amaliya and Tyler. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that you can’t order just anything off the menu. You compete in four days.”
“I’m sure we can find something we can agree on,” Amaliya said.
“I doubt there’s anything here we wouldn’t like,” Tyler agreed.
“It smells heavenly.” Katerina scanned the menu, taking her time to read the descriptions before making her decision and setting her menu aside. She took in the lovely atmosphere again, appreciating these last moments of freedom. Nearly twenty-four years of freedom, yet with her decision to stay in the same hotel as the Soviets, she would once again be a prisoner.
She pushed that thought aside, determined to enjoy the moment.
As soon as the waiter took their orders, Robert said, “I have an idea of where we can have Katerina and Viktor meet.”
“Where?” Katerina asked.
“We have a couple of options. Both our suite and Gordon’s room have adjoining rooms. If we can somehow pass a key and room number to Viktor, he would be able to let himself into the connecting room and meet with you.”
