Fires of Kiev Read online

  Meredith knew that Kiev was a becoming a center for outsourcing computer work, so his major was not surprising. “Programming? Engineering? Software?”

  “Engineering. But I have classes in programming, too.” His answers were concise, but she believed it was due more to his developing English skills than to clipped conversation. He glanced again in her direction, seemingly amused by her interest. Even in the dim light of the truck’s cab his eyes soaked up the light, and her image was reflected in them. Meredith couldn’t breathe until Kostya looked back to the road.

  Kostya awkwardly ran his hand through his hair, and set it back down, nearly brushing her knee. Her stomach fluttered at his closeness, and the possibility of his hand touching hers danced through her mind. She forced herself to focus on their conversation. “What do you want to do when you graduate?”

  He pressed his lips together. “It is not so much what I want to do, but what I find to do.” He grabbed the wheel with both hands as the car jolted over a pothole in the road. “Here, choices are still controlled by the country, but there is hope for more freedom.”

  In her preparation to go to the Ukraine, she had studied the political clash between westerners who wanted to join the European Union and those in the east who wanted to align with Russia. This conflict was the basis for fighting all over the country. Interested in his ideas, and hoping to impress him a little with knowledge of his homeland, Meredith asked, “Do you think joining the European Union will help?”

  He laughed and glanced at her as they hit another bump. “I think getting road workers to fix the roads will help.” When he smiled the corners of his eyes crinkled.

  “I guess that’s true.” Meredith blushed, realizing her question was somewhat controversial. Leave it to a politician’s daughter to make it all about politics. She watched his hand as it returned to the seat beside her, his fingers thrumming nervously. Coyly, she wove her own fingers around her folded leg, bringing her knee close to her body. Kostya’s lips twitched, and he returned his hand to the steering wheel. They sat silently, and uncomfortably she glanced around hoping for inspiration to keep the conversation going.

  “When I was in the Spetnaz, we worked with the E.U. countries’ military forces,” he said, breaking the lull. She sensed hesitation in his words, but was grateful he had offered them, easing the awkwardness she felt.

  “What is Spetnaz? Is it the military?”

  Kostya nodded. “Army. Spetsnaz is Special Forces,” he said. “I was Spetsnaz-Alfa until a few years ago.” He pointed to a military-style patch hanging from the rear-view mirror. She leaned forward and reached to touch it and get a better look. It was black with a gold sword in the center. At the base of the sword was a blue cross with a pair of wings that unfurled along the sides of the shield-shaped badge. A letter “A” marked the top part of the cross.

  “Special Forces. That must be hard work.”

  “It is.”

  “Why did you leave?” she ventured, hoping she wasn’t being too pushy.

  “Sometimes soldiers want power more than honor.” Kostya shrugged. He turned, his eyes resting on her for a moment, and then returning to the road. “I believe in honor and doing what is right.” His focus seemed to drift away for a moment, but he quickly shook off whatever thoughts he was having and smiled at her. “Besides, my family needed my help to keep the farm.”

  Meredith returned his expression, but sat silently for the next several moments, allowing his confession to settle. When he spoke about honor, his deep voice was full of conviction. He’d returned home for honor and family. She’d sensed something in him earlier, so perhaps this depth of character was what she felt when she chose to trust him.

  Turning on a dirt road marked only with a reflector post at the corner, Kostya gestured to her door. “Now it will be dirty, so your window is better up.” She rolled up the glass as Kostya navigated across a narrow wooden bridge taking them over the main irrigation ditch. The dirt road inclined to the crest of a small hill, and from the top she could see lights and shadows from a group of buildings in the small valley.

  “This is our farm. It is Dychenko land for five hundred years,” Kostya explained proudly.

  “It’s beautiful,” Meredith said. “I can’t wait to see it all in daylight.”

  “My parents expected me from Kiev earlier,” Kostya said. “I hope I haven’t kept everyone awake.”

  Meredith felt her stomach knot, unsure if her presence would be as welcome as Kostya promised. “Who is here?”

  “My two brothers, Anatoli and Bohdan, and Bohdan’s family, a couple aunts and uncles, and, of course, my parents.”

  Meredith snorted. “Is that all?” she mumbled to herself. Taking a deep breath, she studied the simple home they approached.

  They pulled up to the largest building, a house with a stone foundation, walls made of a straw and mud adobe-like material, and a roof covered in thick thatch. Bright lights shined on the outside dirt lot where several cars were parked, and the front porch was lit to welcome their arrival. Every part of the house except for the roof had been whitewashed recently, giving it a clean, homey feeling that contrasted with the dark browns of the roof and the rich black soil. The porch was small, but yellow and purple flowers had been planted in colorful terracotta containers placed on the steps and beside the door. The effect was rustic and charming.

  As soon as they pulled up, the front door opened and the family rushed to Kostya. Meredith smiled as Kostya embraced and laughed and teased and praised his family. She didn’t want to intrude, so she stepped back, planning to observe. Kostya, however, grasped her hand and quietly said, “Sliduy za mnoyu, Meri. Come with me.” Bringing her to the center of the group, he stood before his mother. He put her hand into his mother’s and placed his hand over both while talking to his mother softly in Ukrainian. His mother grasped Meredith’s hand with fingers swollen with arthritis and smiled, showing lines at her deep blue eyes similar to those Meredith had noticed on her son.

  “Laskavo prosymo, Meri,” she proclaimed, and held Meredith’s hand to her heart. Kostya quickly translated, “Welcome,” as the family surrounded her with traditional hugs and light kisses on her cheeks. As an American, the physically close greetings were awkward at first, but feelings of warmth and welcome surrounded Meredith as Kostya’s family embraced her.

  Meredith was both comforted by Kostya’s presence and distracted by him. As they swirled through the family, she found her eyes searching for and finding his gaze over and over again. With each look, she felt more light-headed and giddy, like a love-struck teenager shadowing her upper-classman crush after the Homecoming game. At the same time, she was anxious about making an impulsive connection with Kostya, who had been a stranger just a short time ago. She needed to focus on the real world. Reality was a broken-down car and acquiring medications to transport from Kiev, not dreaming of a way-too-handsome man rescuing her, sweeping her into his arms, and embracing her in the moonlight.

  Jeez, I need to cut back on the romance novels I read.

  As the family moved inside, Kostya led her to the car to get their things. He carried both of their bags inside and tiptoed into the house. The Dychenkos’ home was humble but clean and comfortable. Lavender, which must have been growing nearby, was fragrant in the air that circulated in the space. The ceilings were lifted by square wooden beams that were darkly stained making the otherwise cramped space seem more spacious. Rustic wood floors ran the length of the house, where the others were disappearing into a couple of small rooms that shared a washroom between.

  The main room took up nearly half the house. One side of the room served as the kitchen with a stove that had a chimney running up to the ceiling. A large wooden table with benches was pushed up against the side wall, ready to be pulled out for meals. On the other side of the main room was a seating area with a sofa and several chairs.

  As they approached, Kostya gestured for Meredith to be quiet and whispered, “It is late and the childr
en are sleeping.” A few children were bundled in blankets rolled out onto the floor. “It is not much, but Mama felt you could stay here with the children.” Twinkling in the dim lights, his eyes held her breathlessly for a moment then dropped tentatively as he ran his hand through his hair, pushing the curls off his forehead.

  “This will be perfect. Thank you, Kostya,” Meredith said. “I am so grateful to your family for helping me.”

  “My brothers, Bohdan and Anatoli, and I will go tomorrow morning and tow your car.” He raised his gaze to hers again. “We will be back to dress and eat before mass.”

  “Where are you sleeping, Kostya?” Meredith looked around at the small home.

  “Anatoli and I will sleep with the boys in the hay loft.” He grinned. “It will remind me of the summers I spent there as a boy.”

  Meredith couldn’t help but return his smile, his energy contagious. They stood quietly, eyes locked for a moment more than was comfortable. But all at once she realized how much she liked the awkwardness and discomfort of Kostya looking at her. It made her cheeks flush and her hands shake, but she couldn’t stop smiling if she tried. She wondered if he kissed her if his lips would be soft against hers, or a little rough like his work-calloused hands were. Would he sweep her into his arms or cup her face in his hands?

  As Kostya turned to leave, Meredith hastily added, “Good night, Kostya. Thank you for saving me today.” She gave a friendly smile, a difficult thing to do with his imagined kiss replaying in her mind.

  He’d definitely be a sweep-me-into-his-arms type.

  Kostya hesitated and looked at his boots for just a moment. Then, as if he heard her thoughts, he decisively stepped forward. For a moment Meredith braced for it. He drew closer, almost touching her.

  “Dyadʹko! Dyadʹko Kostya!”

  Startled by the eager voice beside them, they peered down at a child with a pair of chocolate brown eyes outlined with curls, clapping her hands and jumping in excitement. He laughed. “My niece, Daria.”

  Kostya picked up the little one with one arm and groaned, pretending she was too heavy, only to be met with giggles and hugs when he did lift her. Flipping her up in his arms, he kissed her liberally on both cheeks and carried her back to her place on the floor. Meredith watched as he whispered back and forth with the youngster and smiled when they both looked over at her and talked some more. He tucked blankets in around her, kissed her again, and after a few words wishing a good night, came to Meredith, leaving contentment on the little girl’s face.

  “She’s very fond of you,” Meredith observed.

  “And I of her. She is Bohdan’s daughter.” He grinned and teased, “She wanted to know if you were a princess.”

  “A princess? Why would she think that?”

  “She was impressed by your golden hair.” Kostya fingered a curl on her shoulder and stepped closer. “And she said you are very beautiful.” Meredith could feel her face warm as Kostya raised his hand and gently brushed the bump on her forehead. “Does it still hurt?”

  She shook her head no, and he dropped his hand. “We must sleep, dushen’ka.”

  “Yes, we should.” Meredith exhaled a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. He stepped back, and taking her hand, he kissed it quickly. “Good night,” he whispered, and he pivoted toward the door and out.

  She stayed in place for a moment, enjoying the bubbles of intoxication that were racing through her body. Putting the hand that he just kissed to her cheek, she leaned up against the wall. Was this even possible? She slowly surveyed the room, enchanted by every detail: the copper teapot on the stove, the colorful plates decorating the wall, the table and benches that were scratched and dented and loved by a close-knit family. She contemplated the three children snuggled in blankets on the floor. Even so small they knew they had a place in this world and in this family. They were so free to welcome me, too.

  Ever since she reached the Ukraine, she’d felt alone. At the clinic she was flotsam and jetsam, useless debris that floated around and got in the way. Only here an hour and she knew she had a place. How could they have known that she needed to belong?

  Then there was Kostya, a man she met just hours ago. She had always been so careful with her relationships with men, never taking emotional or physical risks, avoiding anything that would cause a scandal or tarnish her father’s name. Tonight, with Kostya, she felt reckless and impulsive, and she had never felt more alive.

  Just thinking about Kostya’s endless blue eyes and his roguish smile made her blush. I think he wanted to kiss me, and I would have let him! The confession was liberating, especially since nothing would ever come of it. Their existences were too different from one another, their lives half-a-world apart. But fate had thrown them together, and Meredith looked forward to the strange possibilities that a broken-down car, a foreign land, and a handsome rescuer offered.

  Chapter 2

  Meredith woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of women working in the kitchen. She quickly grabbed her clothes and toiletries out of her bag and dashed into the washroom. She washed and put on the only dress she had with her: a knit wrap in navy blue fabric. Aware that others needed the room, she went into the front room to quickly apply some mascara and lipstick then headed to the kitchen.

  The women were talking and laughing as they prepared recipe after recipe together, with no cookbook in sight. They expertly passed ingredients back and forth, well practiced in their craft, each taking charge of their own space on the counter. Meredith shyly entered, watching for an opening to jump in and help. A cutting board with a colander of apples next to it seemed to be unclaimed, so she made her move. Holding up an apple and a paring knife, she asked the women, “Would you like slices?”

  The women all stopped and scrutinized her, waiting for something. Meredith grimaced, hoping she hadn’t offended someone or been misunderstood. Then Kostya’s mother, her head covered in an embroidered scarf, sidled over to her. Speaking in Ukrainian, she took the apple and the knife from Meredith’s hands and demonstrated peeling and then slicing it into thin slices. When she was done, she looked up at Meredith and placed the knife into her hands. Meredith nodded and picked up another fruit, cutting it just the way she had been shown.

  The banter between the ladies started again, and although she could not understand a word, Meredith felt the love and connection that preparing meals together created. At home, the house staff prepared their meals. Here, the camaraderie she felt was exciting. She worked to the rhythm of the women’s voices until a call brought their attention to the front drive. Meredith wiped her hands on a towel and followed the others, positioning herself to see out the window. The farm truck, parked on the side of the yard, towed her car. Kostya climbed out from the driver’s seat of the truck and began calling instructions to his brothers as they lowered the little car to the ground.

  Meredith wasn’t prepared for her reaction to seeing him again. Her heart jumped when he emerged from the truck, and she suddenly felt nervous as she watched him from the window. Kostya was wearing the same green jacket and boots as the previous night, but in the light she could see that his dark brown hair shown gold in the sunlight, and his chin, still unshaven, was dark and rough with whiskers—whiskers that would brush against her skin if he kissed her.

  Lost in thoughts of Kostya, she reddened when she realized the ladies were tittering about her. One of the ladies winked at her and questioned, “Kostya?”

  Meredith shrugged, gave a smile and returned to the apples.

  A few minutes later, Kostya’s mother had just finished showing Meredith how to arrange the slices of apple on a pastry round, when the men came inside. If the kitchen had been lively before, now it was crazy. The men came in, picking at whatever goodies they could find, while the women scolded them and chased them to the table where they were served bowls of porridge, sausages, fresh bread, and fruits. The women, as they finished their current tasks, served themselves and sat down across from the men. Meredith finishe
d arranging and glazing the tart, and set it aside to join in breakfast.

  “I see you keep busy.” Kostya welcomed her to sit across from him at the table.

  “I like to help if I can.” She blushed. “But if the apple tart isn’t any good, don’t tell anyone it was me.”

  Kostya chuckled and tucked into his breakfast. “The car needs a hose. It sprayed the water and caused the steam. It will be an easy fix.”

  Meredith sighed in relief. “How long do you think it will take?”

  “Not long. We will finish after church and the celebration. You can leave us tomorrow morning.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.” She glanced around at the group.

  “It is nothing,” he murmured. But his eyes locked onto Meredith’s. The sparks that flew last night weren’t gone, and her stomach bubbled with anticipation of more. Just as quickly as he gazed at her, his focus shifted as he spoke to one of his brothers across the table.

  Meredith finished her breakfast and helped with dishes while the others got themselves and the children ready for church. She slipped on her sandals and put half her hair up in a barrette. She was ready to go as the rest of the family marched out the door to church.

  The local church was close by so it was decided that they would walk. Meredith slipped out of the house, following the group but walking alone. Soon, Kostya came behind her and nudged her arm, his hand brushing against hers as he slowed to walk alongside her. “Meri, you should wait for me.”

  Kostya’s hand hung by hers for an extra moment. She could have effortlessly reached out and held it, but doubts about the previous night were germinating in her mind. What if she had misunderstood, and he had been avoiding a kiss? Maybe he was just being kind, and she was interpreting more because she was so attracted to him. She crossed the hand closest to Kostya across her body and grasped her other arm. Politely she asked, “So, as godfather you will participate in the ceremony, won’t you?”

  “Yes, I will be almost as important as the Priest.” He grinned.