Page 120 of Crowned

Elyah:That reminds me. I want to ask my sisters to come and visit. I have not seen them in so long.

Lilia:That’s a wonderful idea. Look at us and our functional family relationships. Suddenly we have so many we can enjoy in this house.

Elyah:Haha. Maybe. You have not met my bossy sisters.

I getto work making the house ready for our guests and the annex ready forBabulya. Thankfully, it’s a large house because Elyah’s three sisters, two of their husbands, and all of their children are coming to stay for two weeks, which makes fourteen extra people under this roof.

The annex needs renovating as it’s been used for storage for decades. There’s enough room for a one-bedroom unit with a kitchen, living room, and ensuite bathroom. The builders install large windows in the living room and bedroom so thatBabulyahas plenty of natural light and can look out onto the beautiful garden. She’s always loved flowers and watching the birds.

In the meantime, Elyah’s sisters arrive with their families. They are all tiny compared to their brother and yet they ruffle his hair and talk to him with the affectionate bossiness of older sisters.

None of Elyah’s family speaks much English, but my Russian is coming along well enough that I can make out most of what they are saying to me if they use simple words. Elyah is there to translate if I get lost.

All his sisters are delighted by our children, but they are particularly taken with Kira.

“She is adorable, like her papa,” one of his sisters coos.

“Oh, what a cute little baby he was,” another says, reaching out to pinch Elyah’s cheek. He bats her hand away. “White-blond hair and big blue eyes. Always so serious, though he rarely cried.”

“Spoiled,” adds another sister with a grin.

“But so protective. Five years old and he threw himself in front of a dog that was barking at me. The dog was twice as big as he was.”

They tell me all the stories I could hope for about Elyah as a child, many of them funny, and I get the sense that he was a handful as a little boy and a teenager.

“You are all worried about having daughters,” I tell him with a grin. “Now I wonder how we will all cope when I start having sons.”

Elyah passes on my comment about more children to Konstantin and Kirill, and they’re all keen to get started on trying for another one. I tell them they’ll have to wait until Kira is older, as I want to enjoy all the baby months with her that I can. They grow up so fast.

Viktoria and Mila love playing with their cousins as much as I enjoy getting to know my sisters-in-law and the house is alive with running, yelling, singing children. I never got to have this as a kid and it makes me so happy that my daughters get to experience it.

Elyah’s family goes back to Russia, with promises to return soon, andBabulyaarrives not long after that.

Babulyais stately as Konstantin helps her out of the car, glaring fiercely around at the house, my husbands. She has a fringed shawl draped around her bony shoulders and she’s wearing a black dress, black stockings, and sturdy black shoes. The sense of the old country clings to her like strong perfume, and I wonder if she’s done this on purpose to remind my husbands what they are dealing with.

I have Viktoria in my arms as we step forward to greetBabulya, and for a moment I’m worried that she’s going to be terrified of this formidable woman and hide her face.

“I want to be just likeBabulyawhen I grow up.”

I laugh and kiss Viktoria’s cheek. “And so you will, my love.”

Once we’re seated in the lounge, I serve tea in Russian tea glasses along with slightly wonky jam tarts that Viktoria and I baked together.Babulyais delighted by her great-granddaughters and tells them what good and beautiful girls they are, and I remember with a lump in my throat that there was a time when the only smiles in my life were hers.

“What’s news back home?” I askBabulya, because I know she has friends there and she will be keeping up with them.

Konstantin, Elyah, and Kirill listen with interest toBabulya’sstories about the Russian community in that part of America, especially Elyah because he knows some of the same people.

Elyah sits forward and offers the plate of jam tarts toBabulya, whose hands stay in her lap.

“You are too handsome,” she accuses. Elyah freezes and looks confused. “I like you already and it is because you have a pretty face.”

I purse my lips and try not to laugh. “Babulya, he can’t help his face. I love his face. I love everything about him.”

He sits back down, and says carefully, “I meant what I said in your house all those years ago. I would rather cut off my hands than hurt Lilia again.”

Viktoria is unaware of what the adults are talking about. She gets up from her place next toBabulya, crosses to the other sofa, and clambers up beside Elyah.

“She is not your daughter, but she trusts you.”

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