Avrora
Leif drives down the country road at a medium pace, keeping his gaze ahead but still looking around the woodland area.
Anatoli and I are in the back seat of the car. He’s holding my hand in his lap the way he has been since we left Boston yesterday afternoon.
We stayed at a beautiful hotel in L. A. last night I would have loved to enjoy. But the ominous feeling in my heart forbade me.
We’re on Highway 74. The route that will lead us to the lake house. One of the holiday homes owned by the Butyrskayas, and the first on Leif’s list to visit. We drove onto this road about half an hour ago, and I think we’re close to our destination. We’re meeting Lucca Dyshekov there. He owns the property now, and Leif says he still uses the grounds to train his falcons.
My stomach is in knots of anxiety and fear. Anatoli’s touch is the only thing anchoring me to this world, keeping me sane.
“We’re nearly there.” Leif looks back at us and returns his gaze to the road. “We’re probably about five minutes away.”
“I’m not sure what to do when I get there,” I say.
“Just look around. Have a good look around the place and see if anything triggers a memory.”
“Okay. I’ll do that.”
If nothing happens, I’ll feel terrible for dragging them across the country for nothing. But if it does…
Well, I don’t know. I have no idea what I’ll remember. Or if I can. I fear that part of my brain is damaged beyond repair.
If that’s the case, I’ll have to move on. But something in my heart tells me to keep holding on. The nightmares were gone for years before they returned. As if they’d never left. That has to count for something.
Anatoli runs his thumb over my wrist and smiles.
“Just stay calm.” His voice is gentle. He leans forward and kisses me, then continues to stroke my wrist. “This is only an idea we’re testing out. Don’t put any pressure on yourself.”
I nod, but it’s too late. The pressure is on, and I can’t remember how to be calm.
If these people are my family, I want to remember them, and I want to know what happened to them.
Within exactly five minutes, we approach the meadow. My lungs clench at the sight of the lush green grass speckled with buttercups and daisies.
As I stare and stare and stare, that feeling from the other day when I stood before the wall worms its way into me. That feeling of familiarity. Of knowing you’ve been somewhere before. Even if you can’t remember.
That’s what I feel, and it calls to me. It screams to me the way I think it used to when I was little.
“Stop the car, Leif.” My voice echoes my desperation.
“What is it? Did you see something?”
“I feel something.”
Leif stops the car, and Anatoli releases my hand so I can get out.
The moment I step out of the car and the air fills my lungs, the familiarity deepens. I move, walking slowly at first, then faster and faster until I’m running through the meadow.
Anatoli follows me.
We stop in the middle of the field, and it feels so good to feel like I fit somewhere.
Anatoli stares at me with curious eyes.
“Avrora…”
“This is the meadow, Anatoli. This is the place.” I whirl around, and then I see the house way down at the bottom of the hill with the lake beside it and the woods behind.
“Oh my God. The house… it feels familiar, too.”
“Come on, let’s go there and see what happens.”
He takes my hand and leads me back to the car. Leif then drives the rest of the way along a winding road that takes us right on to the drive in front of the two-story home.
We all get out of the car. I look over the house, hoping to remember because it’s beautiful and exactly the kind of place I could imagine myself relaxing and roaming around in.
The front door opens, and a man with shoulder-length hair walks out.
He looks to be in his mid-thirties and moves with that air of authority I’ve seen with most Bratva leaders. When he gets a little closer, I spot Russian tattoos on his hands, and I guess he must be Lucca, the Pakhan of the Yurkov. I’ve never seen a Pakhan so young before, but I know there are at least three in the alliance.
“Morning,” he greets us.
“Lucca Dyshekov, you look more and more like your father every time I see you,” Leif says with a warm smile.
They hug instead of shaking hands, and Lucca smiles.
“I take that as a massive compliment, Leif Scarfoni. Your presence is most welcome.”
“Thank you.” Leif turns to Anatoli and me and points to us. “This is my nephew, Anatoli, and his wife, Avrora.”
Lucca dips his head.
“Thank you for accommodating us,” Anatoli says with a curt nod, too.
“That’s not a problem. It’s good to meet you both.”
“And you.”
I attempt a smile when Lucca looks at me. I notice the way he takes me in. I’m sure Leif must have filled him in on what’s happening, so when he walks toward me, I’m not surprised by the wealth of concern in his eyes.
“Please feel free to go wherever you need to, inside and outside the house.” He gives me a polite smile.
“Thank you. Do you live here?”
“No. I have a custodian who does. I come here most weekends to train my birds. When the Butyrskayas lived in the U. S, they used this home for breaks. I remember them from when I was a boy. They were one of the families who always provided my father with business because they loved his birds.”
“When was the last time you saw them?”
“About twenty years ago, just before they left the U. S.”
“Oh.” I was hoping he might have seen them later than that.
“But I was told they came here several times a year. Have a look around.”
“Thank you.”
Anatoli taps my arm. “Do you want me to come with you?”
I nod. “Yes. I need you.”
“Then I’m here.”
He ushers me away, and we go inside the house first.