Into the Flame (6 page)
‘‘Here. I was ready for this.’’ Miss Joyce turned on a flashlight, resting it on the night table. ‘‘It’s okay.’’ She smiled at Zorana, but in the weird light, her teeth were too white, her nose a wrinkled blob, her eyes dark caverns.
And from somewhere, a tiny wail pierced the air.
That sound. Zorana would know it anywhere. In a panic, she rose onto her elbows. ‘‘I can already hear my baby crying.’’
‘‘It’s the doctor,’’ Miss Joyce corrected her. ‘‘He’s pathetic.’’
‘‘No, that’s a newborn.’’
‘‘It’s the drugs. You’re hallucinating. Now pay attention!’’ Miss Joyce bent over Zorana.
Zorana pushed. Pushed as hard as she could, and felt the infant slip from her body.
She collapsed against the pillows, drained from the effort, soaked with sweat.
The baby screamed, his lungs strong.
Zorana smiled as she listened.
Then her smile faded.
Two cries . . . ? Two babies?
She was going insane.
She lifted her head and saw Miss Joyce holding the bloody infant under her arm as she cut the cord.
Zorana blinked, fighting the effects of the drugs, the ones that urged her to collapse. She needed to see her son before she slept, to assure herself he was all right.
Miss Joyce reached toward the flashlight—and somehow, it flickered out.
In a panic, Zorana struggled to sit up. ‘‘Can you clean him? Can you wrap him up? Don’t let him get cold!’’
‘‘I’ll take care of it.’’
A single flash of lightning illuminated every corner of the world, and for a second, Zorana clearly saw her son, his wrinkled face, his long body.
He was beautiful. Healthy. Perfect. A boy child. Her son. Another son for Konstantine.
‘‘All right,’’ she muttered. ‘‘All right.’’ Her formidable will gave way beneath the twin assaults of drugs and exhaustion.
She slept.
‘‘Let me see. Let me see!’’
Adrik’s high, young voice woke Zorana, but she kept her eyes closed and smiled as she heard the other boys, and Konstantine, vigorously shush him.
Adrik was the youngest, and perhaps a little spoiled. Certainly he paid no heed to the demands for quiet. ‘‘I want to hold it!’’ he insisted.
‘‘It’s not an it, stupid. It’s a baby.’’ Rurik’s voice was scornful, the experienced middle child.
‘‘A very special baby.’’ Konstantine’s deep rumble warmed Zorana right down to her soul.
She peeked under her eyelashes.
It was morning. The sun shone through the windows. She was clean. She’d been changed, as had the sheets. All the evidence of childbirth was gone.
Most important, her three boys were gathered around the bassinet, staring at their little miracle.
But Konstantine was staring at her. Staring at her with such love and pleasure, her heart wanted to burst from joy.
Quietly he leaned over her. He brushed her hair back off her forehead, away from her cheeks. And in the soft voice he saved only for her, he said, ‘‘Thank you,
liubov maya
, for this great gift you have given me.’’
liubov maya
, for this great gift you have given me.’’
He had tears in his eyes, this big barbarian she called her own, and her ready tears sprang up and ran down her cheeks. ‘‘Thank you, my love, for all the gifts you have given me.’’
He wiped her tears, then turned to his sons. ‘‘My boys, your mama is awake at last. Shall we let her hold the baby?’’
‘‘Mama!’’ Adrik jumped onto the bed, bouncing until she winced.
Konstantine lifted him off the mattress and stood him on the floor. ‘‘Gently, my boy.’’ He went to the bassinet.
Jasha slung his arm around his younger brother’s shoulders.‘‘You’re the big kid now. Like me and Rurik.’’ He shot a meaningful look at Rurik.
Rurik slung his arm around them both.
Adrik wasn’t stupid. He knew he was being played, but the lure of being one of the big boys was too much. He smirked and wiggled.
Konstantine exchanged a smile with Zorana; then he brought her her brand-new son.
Carefully she embraced her baby, looked at the red, wrinkled face, wondered how this tiny being could have caused her so much agony. ‘‘So much smaller than the other boys.’’
‘‘Well, of course. I have been thinking of a name.’’ Konstantine puffed up his chest. ‘‘It has to be the right name, one with meaning. I believe it should be Firebird.’’
‘‘Like a car, Dad? Like the
Pontiac
?’’ Jasha looked as if his father had gone crazy.
Pontiac
?’’ Jasha looked as if his father had gone crazy.
Konstantine laughed, a big rumble in his chest. ‘‘Like the Russian legend. Firebird Maryushka. It is perfect.’’
Zorana blinked. ‘‘But . . . that’s a girl’s name.’’
‘‘Exactly. The firebird symbolizes change, and its plumage symbolizes light. Maryushka is the name of the seamstress who was transformed into a firebird, so it is a good name for this child. Yes?’’
He was babbling. He must be babbling. ‘‘Why would we want to name our son for a bird and a woman?’’
‘‘Our son?’’ Konstantine gave a bellow of laughter. ‘‘Did no one tell you? This is not a son. This is a daughter!’’ He slid his arm under her, embracing both her and the newborn child. ‘‘This is our daughter!’’
‘‘That’s impossible.’’
‘‘When the doctor told me, I said the same thing. No girl born for a thousand years. But this is a girl. Our daughter.’’ He hugged Zorana tighter. ‘‘We have made a miracle!’’
‘‘No.’’ She pulled away and stared into Konstantine’s eyes. ‘‘I saw him. I saw our son.’’
‘‘The drugs they gave you . . . You were seeing things. Dreaming.’’ Konstantine fetched a diaper and changed the infant with the brisk efficiency of a man familiar with a baby’s waterworks. ‘‘When I came in last night, you were so hard asleep, I couldn’t wake you to feed the child. I had to give her a bottle.’’
‘‘Yes, they drugged me, but I saw him. We have a son.’’
Konstantine frowned with concern. ‘‘She is a daughter.’’
Zorana shoved Konstantine away. Sitting up, she unwrapped the baby from the blanket that swaddled her, unzipped the sack, peeled off the diaper.
The boys peered from one side of the mattress. Konstantine peered from the other.
Adrik spoke first, and he sounded glum. ‘‘That’s for sure a girl, Mama.’’
‘‘This is the only baby we have, Mama.’’ Jasha tried to sound reassuring, but it was obvious his mother had him worried. ‘‘Look. She’s pretty.’’
‘‘No, she’s not!’’ Adrik said.
Rurik stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Jasha. ‘‘And we love her.’’
‘‘No, we don’t!’’ Adrik said.
‘‘Where’s Miss Joyce?’’ Zorana asked. ‘‘She’ll tell you it was a boy!’’
‘‘As soon as the flood subsided, she left,’’ Konstantine said. ‘‘But she congratulated me on a daughter.’’
Panic rose in Zorana’s throat. ‘‘What about the doctor?’’
‘‘Miss Joyce took him with her,’’ Jasha said. ‘‘He hit his head. He had a big bruise on his forehead.’’
‘‘I gave birth to a son.’’ She
had
. But her certainty was fading.
had
. But her certainty was fading.
Konstantine looked scared. ‘‘You had a lot of drugs,’’ he insisted.
Zorana looked down at the baby.
The little one opened her eyes. Babies didn’t focus. They couldn’t see anything but blurred images. But this baby looked at Zorana—and saw her.
She was so tiny. So perfect. Her toes . . . and her fingers . . . her soft, sweet-smelling skin . . . the baby fuzz on the top of her head . . .
Zorana
had
had a lot of drugs. Maybe she
had
been hallucinating.
had
had a lot of drugs. Maybe she
had
been hallucinating.
The baby made a mewling noise; then, opening her mouth, she bellowed. Bellowed as loudly as any of Zorana’s boys had ever bellowed.
‘‘Wow.’’ Her sons stared, wide-eyed, at the infant, and backed away.
‘‘We’ve been giving her formula.’’ Konstantine was seldom unsure of himself, but he was unsure now. He fumbled with the words and shuffled his feet. ‘‘I can feed her . . . if you don’t want to.’’
As the baby’s screams blistered their ears, Zorana’s breasts grew full and hard and ached with tension.
‘‘Mama.’’ Adrik’s face twisted with horror as the baby shrieked. ‘‘Do something! Do something now!’’
Konstantine looked miserable.
Most of all, the baby glared right into Zorana’s eyes.
‘‘All right!’’ Zorana unbuttoned her nightgown. ‘‘All right, I’ll feed you.’’ She put the baby to her breast.
The infant needed no coaxing. She clamped onto the nipple and suckled hard.
Zorana jumped; then, as her milk let down, she relaxed.
Adrik stared, wide-eyed and horrified. ‘‘What’re you doing?’’
‘‘She’s feeding her.’’ Jasha stared stoically at the wall over Zorana’s head.
‘‘Euw. That’s gross!’’ Adrik said.
‘‘Yeah.’’ Rurik shoved his little brother toward the hall. ‘‘But that’s how it’s done, so get used to it.’’
In their rush to leave, the two boys got stuck in the doorway; then Jasha caught up with them and shoved them out.
Zorana laughed softly.
Konstantine shut the door behind them and came back to her. ‘‘So it is a fine thing that we have a daughter?’’
Zorana looked down at the baby.
She didn’t remember giving birth to this tiny creature.
But there was no other baby, and this one held her tiny fist against Zorana’s breast and sucked with such strength, love rose in her like a tide. Zorana cupped the soft head nestled against her arm. ‘‘Firebird Maryushka, did you say?’’
‘‘Do you like the name?’’ Konstantine sat on the mattress beside her.
‘‘I like it very much.’’
Chapter Four
Hostility, pain, and bitterness mixed like poison in Firebird’s soul. ‘‘Is that
really
what happened?’’
really
what happened?’’
Zorana’s remembering smile faded, and she turned her gaze away.
‘‘Firebird! Don’t talk to Mama that way,’’ Jasha rebuked in that familiar big-brother tone.
But he
wasn’t
her big brother, and she didn’t have to put up with his patronizing ways. ‘‘Why not?’’ She looked right at him. ‘‘She lied to me before. She always told me this dramatic story of the storm and the drunk doctor and how he fell over and how Miss Joyce saved the day and delivered me. . . . Now it sounds as if Miss Joyce didn’t deliver
me
at all.’’
wasn’t
her big brother, and she didn’t have to put up with his patronizing ways. ‘‘Why not?’’ She looked right at him. ‘‘She lied to me before. She always told me this dramatic story of the storm and the drunk doctor and how he fell over and how Miss Joyce saved the day and delivered me. . . . Now it sounds as if Miss Joyce didn’t deliver
me
at all.’’
‘‘Excuse me.’’ Zorana stood, fled toward the bathroom, and locked the door.
The silence that followed would have oppressed Firebird . . . if she were a part of this family. Which she wasn’t.
‘‘If you want to abuse someone, daughter of mine, abuse me. Your mother told me the truth. I did not believe her. I believed it was the drugs.’’ Konstantine’s voice was low and steady, quite unlike his usual bellowing.
Other books
Kill the Shogun by Dale Furutani
Adelaide Piper by Beth Webb Hart
Hot in Here by Lori Foster
The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice
Linc by Aliyah Burke
TS01 Time Station London by David Evans
A Case Of Murder (Kendall Book 6) by John Holt
Dig Too Deep by Amy Allgeyer
Slave Girl by Sarah Forsyth
Blues for Mister Charlie by James Baldwin
