Page 74 of 10 Days to Surrender

I swipe sweat from my brow. “Care to elaborate?”

Kosti shoulders past with a rifle case. “Care to mind your business,koukla?”

I frown. “Really, though. Where are you two gallivanting off to?”

Kosti and Sasha look at each other, then both shrug in unison. “Elsewhere,” they chorus together.

With perfect comedic timing, Jas and I roll our eyes in unison, too. “You guys are spending too much time together,” I mutter with a scowl. “It’s… unsettling.”

“Ish,” adds Jas.

“We’ll be back soon, my lovely nieces,” Uncle Kosti chirps. “Have no fear.”

Then, whistling, he turns and saunters toward the rental car. Sasha follows him, though not with one long, hard look back at me.

“What’s gotten into them?” I ponder when the car disappears down the drive. The former rosebush—now more of a thorn-bush—that I’m murdering takes another hit. “They’re being weird.”

Jas tosses me a canteen. “Stop being dramatic. Drink some water and pass the shears.”

I take a long chug as I watch dust settle where the Peugeot vanished.

By sunset, blisters outnumber regrets. We stand and admire our battlefield—rows of turned earth, the skeletal remains of an old trellis we dug up, and the distinct absence of the rat snakes about which I was warned.

Jasmine inspects a blistered palm. “Not bad for day one.”

“Day one ofwhat,precisely?” I ask.

“It’s been a dream of mine since I was a little girl to have a garden,” she explains fondly. “New life pushing up through the earth, fresh produce. Sounds dreamy, right? Have you ever had a carrot right out of the ground?”

“How poetic,” I say with a laugh. “And no, I have not. Nor have you. We grew up in Brighton Beach, Jas.”

“Exactly. I bet it tastes like candy.”

“I bet it tastes like carrot.”

She splashes me with the last of the lukewarm backwash in the canteen. I laugh in outrage, then throw a clot of dirt that explodes in spectacular fashion against her turned back. From there, things dissolve into dirt flying back and forth until we’re both cackling and absolutely filthy from head to toe.

Eventually, the sweat overcomes the giggles. But it doesn’t stop Jasmine from pulling me into a hug and planting a sloppy kiss on top of my head. “I love you, Ari. Never forget that. Whatever you’re going through is what I’m going through, too.”

“I love you, too.”

We both look up when the sound of a distant engine starts to grow louder. A minute later, the Peugeot crests the hill and comes to a sighing stop in front of the villa.

“Ah, the conquering heroes return,” I tease as Sasha and Uncle Kosti clamber out of the vehicle. “All hail. Has the world been saved? Have the secrets been buried?”

My sarcasm dies mid-bite when he yanks open the backseat.

Sunlight catches on pearls first—the double strand Mama never takes off. Then the sundress, butter-yellow and rumpled from travel. Her chignon is flawless.

When she’s out, she pauses and looks at us. “My girls,” Mama breathes, hands fluttering over her mouth.

My shovel clatters to the gravel.

While I’m still mid-processing, Zoya unfolds herself from the other side, all no-nonsense linen and shrewd eyes. “Try not to faint, Belle. You already cried the whole flight.”

“You—” I’m six years old again, skinned knees and messy braids, as I gaze stupidly at my mother, then at Sasha. “You brought herhere?”

Sasha leans against the Peugeot, arms crossed. He shrugs and says nothing.

---