Eventually Pavel found some tin foil and they chatted as they packed up the pizza and climbed the steps to the large suite at the top of the stairs, one of five bedrooms on the second floor. Pavel’s new room was an homage to lavish taste, with crimson damask walls and heavy ebony wood furniture that looked like it was either antique or had been commissioned to look like it belonged in a home owned by Russian nobility. It was way too much for a boy Pavel’s age. Even Back Up seemed intimidated, sniffing suspiciously at what looked like a hand knotted red-and-gold Aubusson rug as Sam tucked Pavel into the room’s California king-sized bed.
Yet Pavel seemed perfectly at peace as she smoothed the heavy down comforter over him, like he didn’t have a care in the world, even though a man had come after him with a gun just a few hours earlier.
“Do you want to talk about what happened today?” she asked, taking a seat at the side of his bed. “If you’re afraid, you can come sleep with me.”
Her temporary room, Sam suspected, had probably originally been intended for live-in help. It also had damask wallpaper and a comforter she suspected might cost more than most people’s rents. But it was on a much smaller scale since the room was maybe 100 square feet, 200 at most. Just large enough for a full-sized bed, a closet, and an overly intricate chest of drawers.
However, Pavel just shook his head, like Sam was being silly to think he might be afraid to sleep alone tonight.
“I’m not scared. Uncle Nik will make sure nobody tries to hurt us again. He said so.”
Wow. Sam silently whistled inside her head. It must be nice to truly believe your sports heroes are gods. But if believing Uncle Nik was his ultimate protector was what got him through, who was she to argue?
“Okay, well, if you need anything, I’ll be right across the hallway,” she told him.
“May Back Up sleep in bed with me, please?” he asked in that overly polite way of his.
“No, honey, we’ve talked about this. Back Up isn’t exactly going to help you get a good night’s sleep. That’s why we put her doggie bed downstairs.”
As usual, Pavel didn’t argue with her and she wondered what his life had been like that he didn’t seem to have a child’s natural inclination to whine or keep asking for things over and over again.
Instead, he just turned over and asked, “Will you rub my back until I fall asleep, Mama?”
This request she could grant. She rubbed his back in a circular motion for a little while before bringing up a tough subject.
“Pavel, I know this is difficult for you, because both of your parents have been taken away in really cruel ways. But you know I’m not your mother, right? I’m your friend and I’ll always be your friend. I’m going to do my best to stay here and help you as long as Nikolai lets me, because I’m your friend. But I’m not your mother.”
Pavel looked over his shoulder at her, a frown very much like Nikolai’s on his face. “Uncle is going to let you stay forever. You don’t have to worry about that.” He sounded so sure of this that she stopped rubbing his back.
“Pavel I think we should have a conversation about managing expectations—”
Pavel turned all the way back over and squeezed his eyes shut. “Thank you very much for rubbing my back until I fall asleep, Mama,” he said.
Sam sighed, more than a little worried about the secret thrill that went through her every time Pavel called her mama. Obviously she needed to take her own advice about managing expectations. One court order for custody, and Nikolai would be able to kick her out of his ridiculous house, no questions asked.
But she and Pavel were together now. Pavel was safe—and she had enough time to teach him some mindfulness strategies for navigating his emotions and also get him started on a regular morning yoga routine. Kids were resilient and not easily broken. The little time they had left together might be enough to set Pavel firmly on a path towards healing. She hoped.
As promised, Sam rubbed his back until he fell into a heavy sleep.
Then she whistled for Back Up who’d also fallen asleep while waiting for her. Apparently the fancy carpet wasn’t so intimidating that Back Up couldn’t use it to get in a quick nap.
Sam escorted her bullie downstairs before retiring to her own room, where she unpacked her clothes into the dresser drawer and changed into an Indiana U t-shirt. Then with a shake of her head, she turned to face the room’s absurd bed. As if to make up for the room’s small size, the small bed was even more sumptuous than Pavel’s. A four-poster number, covered in shimmering gold pillows and a crimson comforter. Both the head and foot boards were intricately carved and overlaid with gold paint, and the whole spectacle was surrounded by red gauze curtains that made words like “sheik” and “harem” come to mind.
Feeling like a country mouse who’d somehow ended up in the lap of ostentatious luxury, she pushed through the gauze barrier and climbed into the bed, which seemed like it was more suited to a tsarina than little ol’ Sam McKinley from Detroit. But maybe some of Pavel’s newfound inner peace had rubbed off on her, because soon after laying her head down on the golden silk pillow, she fell fast asleep.
Or maybe she was just in denial. Because today she’d come uncomfortably close to losing someone she couldn’t keep herself from loving. Someone who felt like family, even if they had no blood connection.
And she should have known her stepfather would be paying her a visit.
Sam woke only a few hours later to the sound of Pavel’s terrified voice.
“Mama! Mama!” he cried. “The bad guy got me. Mama, please help me!”
She’d jolted awake immediately, sitting up fully when she saw her stepfather, standing at the foot of the ornate bed. His eyes were gleaming with madness, and he held a switchblade in his hand. The gleaming edge dripping with her mother’s red blood. And he was holding it to a terrified Pavel’s neck.
“Mama! Mama! Please help me!” Pavel cried again.
“Let him go,” Sam screamed at the mad man at the end of her bed, the one who’d already killed her mother and was now threatening the boy she’d taken into her heart.
But her stepfather just grinned at her. Like she was a long lost friend. “Hey, Samantha, girl,” he said. “I sure did you miss you.”
13
Thirty years ago
“Remember, son, before you kill someone, you must always know why you are doing it.”
Sergei said these words to Nikolai, voice calm, eyes flat, as if dragging the man beside him, the one thrashing underneath Sergei’s death grip, struggling to get out of the duct tape Sergei had wrapped around his wrists, caused him no exertion whatsoever. Nikolai’s father barely even registered the desperate man’s muffled screams behind the duct tape placed over his mouth.