Page 21 of Conquer
I bite my lip. Disparaging Vadim as some kind of deadbeat, absentee father too busy for social connections could help in the long run when I later tell them that I’m co-parenting Magda and separated from him. But…
I can’t lie about his character, not even as angry as I am.
“He’s busy, but if I ask, I’m sure he’ll make the time,” I say, conceding the point to her.
She nods and savors her victory by topping up her glass of wine yet again. “Well, I’ll run off and find Gwendolyn so that she can prepare a guest bedroom. I wish you would have informed us sooner. We could have prepared toys or something… Honestly, it’s as if you enjoy taunting me. I know I’ve been asking for a grandchild, but I’d prefer a teensy bit of notice.” She sniffs, takes another sip, and all is forgiven. With a wave of her hand, she clears the air. “I’ll see you at dinner, dear. Though if you want to rest, I can excuse you this once.” She hesitates and reaches out, fingering a lock of my hair. “You look exhausted, darling. Have you been moisturizing? Your skin is—”
“I’m just tired from the flight,” I say with a forced smile. “Thanks for accommodating us on such short notice.”
“Anything for you, dear.” She saunters off to find Gwen, our maid who’s been with the family for over a decade. In her absence, I stand and creep back to the screen partition separating this space from the outside. Magda and my father have taken a break from flowering, it seems. They sit back to back on a decorative stone stool, each tearing into a fresh orange picked from one of the trees scattered throughout the yard.
Squaring my shoulders, I step out and join them.
“Ah, Tiffy, just in time!” Daddy rises to his feet, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I need to go get some fertilizer from the shed. You can keep the little miss company, and both of you can prepare to get your hands dirty.” He winks and takes off in the direction of the tennis courts where the garden shed is.
Sighing, I claim his spot on the stool and watch Magda gingerly peel her orange and take a tentative bite.
“Good, huh?” I ask as her nose wrinkles in pleasure. “I used to love mornings here. We’d always have fresh juice for breakfast.”
Something in my tone must make her frown, the orange paused midway to her mouth. Setting the fruit on her lap, she crosses her legs, her eyes downcast. “Are you never coming back?” I barely recognize the small voice as belonging to the same bold girl I’ve gotten to know these past few days. “Back home?”
I stiffen, my lips parting as I fight to find the right words. In the end, all I can say is, “What makes you ask that?”
She shoots me a funny look, her eyebrow raised defiantly. “I’m not a baby,” she declares, her tone its usual haughty cadence. “I heard you fighting.”
“Ah…” I lean back, nudging her shoulder. “Eavesdropper. What did you hear?”
“I know you’re angry with Vadim,” she says, resuming her inspection of the orange. “I know he made you sign legal papers, even though you didn’t want to.”
Damn.I grit my teeth, my cheeks flaming. “So, you weren’t sleeping then, either.”
She makes a small noise in her throat and meets my gaze. “He made you say you’ll take care of me,” she says, a childish summary of what really transpired. Still, the hurt in her voice reveals that she understood as much all the same. “You didn’t want to?”
“Oh, no. Honey…” I turn around and grab her shoulders, forcing her to face me. “It’s not you. I will always be there for you, got it?”
She nods, swayed by the conviction in my voice—almost as much as I am.
“What’s happening between Vadim and me… It’s grown-up stuff, and you know better than anyone that grown-ups are stupid.”
She cocks her head, seeming to mull it over. Then she nods and takes a bite from her orange. “Stupid,” she agrees with her mouth full.
I chuckle and tug a lock of her hair, but her revelation as a grade-A spy leads to far more questions. The main one revolving around the fuzzy, white bear resting on the ground between her legs. I let her go and lift It by his battered body. Vadim did a careful, precise job re-stuffing him. A loving job, betraying so much care for its owner, my heart throbs in the face of it.
“You knew who Vadim was to you before you went to the Robinsons, didn’t you?” I ask as my fingers trace the nearly invisible row of stitches hiding beneath It’s new scarf.
Magda takes her time peeling a fresh section of orange and takes a bite. Then she nods. “Last time I was sick…” She trails off, her nose wrinkling, and I suspect those memories aren’t ones she likes to relive. Much like her father, she compartmentalizes her emotions, preferring to maintain control over them in lieu of expressing too much. “When I woke up, one of the nurses asked me if I like the bear my Daddy left me—” she nods to It. “She had been on vacation, I think. She later came back and told me she’d made a mistake, and it had been donated, but I knew she was lying.”
And she knew that her father had vanished after that point, leaving her alone in foster care. I can’t resist stroking my hand along one of her pigtails. Surprisingly she doesn’t cringe from the contact. “I’m so sorry, honey,” I tell her.
I can’t imagine the pain she must have felt being so young, trying to process such conflicting emotions. But if she remembers Vadim, I have to wonder if she remembers anyone else.
“Can I ask you another question?”
She nods, her expression guarded.
“Do you know anything about your mother? Your birth mother?” I’m trying my damned hardest to keep any hint of jealousy or emotion from my voice. But I must fail because she goes rigid, her tiny shoulders stiff. Frowning, I add, “Anything before you went to the—”
“No! I don’t remember.” She turns away, crossing her arms. The reaction is so out of character for her, I’m taken aback.
