* * *
33
Nikolai
Nikolai sat on the front porch of the Lebedev house, feeling miserable. He knew he should get up and leave before he risked annoying Nadia any further. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, fearing that if he left here now, he might never see her again.
He went back and forth between the two impulses for a long time, until finally he decided he really must go.
Just as he was about to stand up, he heard the startling sound of the front door being torn open, and a figure came hurtling out.
Nadia tripped over Nikolai, and almost went tumbling down the stairs.
Luckily his reflexes were quicker than hers. He snatched her up in his arms, setting her back on her feet. However, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of her entirely. She fit so perfectly in his arms, and her hair, right below his chin, smelled so fresh and lovely.
Reluctantly, he released her, taking a step back.
“Are you alright?” he said.
“Nikolai!” she gasped, “Did you know our parents were in love?”
This sentence was so unexpected that it made no sense to him at all. He just stared at her, confused.
“Come again?” he said.
“My mother and your father,” she said, breathing rapidly with a flush of bright color in her cheeks. “They loved each other. Your father is Ivan, from the journal!”
Again, he just stared at her.
But slowly he began to understand.
“My father is Ivan?” he said.
“That’s right! My mother sent him the Crimson Heart—it had a message in it, look.”
She dug in her pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, which Nikolai took from her and read two times over.
You have my heart, now and forever.
—S.
“There was a letter, too,” Nadia said. She was speaking so rapidly he could hardly keep up with her. “But Zavier never got it! So, he thought that she’d abandoned him, and she thought the same. And they were both so angry with each other. My mother went to Paris. She got married, and so did your dad. And by the time they figured it out, it was too late. Or,” she paused. “Maybe your father never knew the truth. Maybe that’s why he still hates my family.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Nikolai said automatically. But thinking back on it now, he realized that it made a certain kind of sense. His father’s strange insistence that Nikolai should seduce Nadia and steal her from Maxim Oleksei—he must have seen it as revenge for Samara being taken from him by Petya Turgenev.
“My god,” Nikolai said, “I think you’re right.”
“I am right!” Nadia said triumphantly. “Aunt Rashel admitted it. She never delivered the letter to your father. She thought Samara was destroying their family and leaving her behind. And I think she was a bit jealous of my mom, though she won’t admit that part.”
“You figured it all out,” Nikolai said in wonder. “That’s what you came here to do. And you did it.”
His voice trailed off slightly at the end. It was all the more reason for her to go home, now that she’d solved the mystery of her mother’s journal.
But Nadia was looking up at him, her eyes bright and expressive, and not only from the excitement of what she’d discovered.
“Nik,” she said. “Our parents lost their chance at happiness because of a stupid mistake. If they’d only called each other, or written again...but they didn’t, because they were angry and stubborn. I’m not going to let that happen to us. I’m not going to let one mistake ruin the rest of our lives. I’d rather be happy than proud.”
Nikolai felt such a surge of joy at her words that he swept her up in his arms once more and kissed her until she could hardly breathe.
