Page 80 of Savage Beauty

“So now we know.” He catches my eye. “Did you mean what you said before when we discussed baby names? Because if you did, I want to be the first to say it.”

I nod. “Of course I meant it. Go ahead. I love you.

He kisses me deeply. “Thank you,moya zhena. I love you too.” He puts his hand over my belly. “And we love youmost, Rocco.”

Epilogue

The following Christmas Eve….

Sasha

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Josie says into her cell. It’s the third time she’s called Morgana in an hour. “We don’t need to hurry back? Okay. Well, we won’t be long anyway. See ya.” She hangs up. “Apparently, Rocco is still asleep.”

“Zolotse, he’s not yet four months old. All he does is sleep, eat, and look adorable. And the other thing, but I usually run away from that.” I take the gift bags from her. “Morgana and Dulcie, versus two babies? They’ll be just fine.”

“One of those babies is your niece,” she reminds me. “And she’s a force to be reckoned with.”

It’s true. At almost a year old, little Stefania is precocious, to say the least. She’s been able to toddle around for a few weeks now, and every Christmas tree in the house has come under fire, but apart from a few ill-gotten candy canes, there have been no confirmed casualties.

We’re getting around in style today. I borrowed a limousine and driver from the pool system we have going now—it’s one of Vlad’s many innovations since he took leadership of thekomissiya. It became clear that our anointed overseers spent most of their time drinking and pontificating instead of doing their jobs. Vlad’s ascension really shook them up for the better. As a result of my brother’s bright ideas, I don’t have to drive, but I’m honored to carry my wife’s Christmas shopping.

We dump the parcels and bags in the trunk of the car. It’s starting to snow, so luckily, we won’t be out much longer, but our last stop of the day is the most important of all.

* * *

The small library is packed. Every chair is taken, and people stand around, making space as others shuffle in. All they need is Josie.

Josie’s mom insists I call her Barb. She’s already here, helping keep the younger kids occupied with songs. They’re finishing an out-of-tune rendition of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer when Josie sits beside her mom.

The kids are from orphanages and foster placements all over the city. This is the eighth session Josie and her mom have held here in the last month, and it will be the last before the charity restarts its literacy program in the New Year. It took a lot of work to get the community on board, but Josie’s background in the care system goes a long way to help these youngsters relate to her, and once again, she’s doing what she loves: bringing the wonderful escapism of books to children in need.

Josie does the kindergarten teacher’s finger-on-lips move, and the kids fall into line. She smiles as the room quietens, and I see the peace in her eyes.

This makes my wife happy, so it makesmehappy, too.

Barb hands Josie a copy of a familiar book.

“Ready?” she asks the room. The kids nod, and Josie opens the book to the first page.

“Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot...” she begins. “But the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville,” she pauses for dramatic effect, “Did NOT!”

The kids giggle, and I feel warm inside. My mother read that book to me when I was young. Vlad didn’t care for it, but I loved the lilting, comforting rhymes, and Mama and I would laugh over the illustrations and do silly voices.

I blocked that out for so long, not wanting to remember the good times for fear of stoking the flames of my grief. Now, I can sit with sadness and be glad I had her in my life.

Grief cannot hurt without love. I appreciate both, and I’m thankful for what I have.

Josie and Barb take turns to read, getting the kids involved, and a few stories and songs later, we’re ready to call it a day. The kids get a gift bag, each with candy and a book token, paid for by the charity’s fund. They plan to scale up to a national scheme, and Josie is hustling hard to get politicians and policymakers on board. I’m proud of her, and I tell her every day.

Josie appears at my side. She’s full of the exhilaration and joy that her work gives her, and it gives me great pleasure to see her so happy.

“Okay!” she says. “All good. Let’s go to the Kislev homestead and settle in before the snow strands us here! Although,” she adds, a twinkle of mischief in her eye, “it wouldn’t be the end of the world. I’ve had a lot of fun in libraries.”

* * *

Predictably, the house is mayhem. Vlad has given up trying to keep order, and I find him in the kitchen, trying to keep Signora G out of the panettone.

“But I like it!” she says, cutting a slice. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

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