(no subject)
Chapter twenty-three
Los Angeles
Sydney's scream woke Jack from sleep. He grabbed his gun from his bedside drawer, and thumbed it off safety as he rushed downstairs. In the few seconds that it took him to reach the living room, his mind conjured up all sorts of awful possibilities. If anything happened to Sydney . . .
He found Sydney kneeling on the rug, the small postbox in front of her.
"Sweetheart?"
She turned her tearstained face to Jack. "Someone stole Mommy's letters."
Jack had given much thought to how he would explain the disappearance of Sydney's letters to Irina, but he hadn't come up with anything and had been hoping for a little more time to think. He sat next to Sydney. "No one stole them, sweetheart."
"But they're not here."
"Sweetheart . . ." Jack wished he could tell her the truth, but knew that was impossible. Especially since Irina had told him to let her go. "No one stole them. I, uh, put them in a safe place. The postbox was getting full and there was no space for more letters."
Sydney just stared at him, and he had the horrible feeling that she was about to ask to see the safe place. Instead she said, "Daddy, why do you have a gun?"
Jack glanced down at the gun that was still in his hand, and quickly flicked the safety back on. "Uh, well, I have it to protect us. When I heard you scream, I thought someone was hurting you."
"Oh." Sydney frowned and Jack imagined that he could see her mind at work. "You should have told me you moved the letters."
Jack nodded, hiding his amusement at the grown up tone she had adopted. "I'm sorry."
"You promise they're safe?"
"I promise." He thought of how Irina had held each piece of paper as if it was something precious and fragile. He wished he could have given her more than the letters, and it was with a touch of bitterness that he remembered her letter to him. He understood her reasons - on some level he could accept them - but it killed him to think that she was willing to let go of hope for their future.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Why are you crying?"
With shock, Jack realized that there were tears running down his cheeks. He wiped his face with his shirtsleeve.
Sydney put her arms around his neck and kissed each of his cheeks. "I miss Mommy too."
"Oh, honey, I wish I could give her back to you." It was the most honest Jack could be right now.
"It's okay, Daddy. Aunt Emily says Mommy's waiting for us in heaven, and one day we'll be together again."
Jack couldn't keep talking about Irina, not without giving in and telling Sydney the truth. "Did you have a good time with Aunt Emily?"
"Mm-hmm. Uncle Arvin had to work, so me and Aunt Emily planted roses in the garden." Sydney held up her hands for Jack to see. "Aunt Emily says I have green fingers."
Jack smiled.
"Daddy, I didn't want to ask Aunt Emily, but why'd she say my fingers are green? I looked and looked, but I can't see any green."
Jack felt his bad mood lift. "She didn't mean that your fingers were green; she meant that you're good at working in the garden."
"Did you have a good trip, Daddy?" Sydney's smile turned coy. "Did you bring me a present?"
"Wait here a minute." Jack returned upstairs and put his gun back in the drawer before picking up the book Irina had picked for Sydney. He saw Irina in the market, the uncertainty on her face as she asked his opinion on the book. He couldn't stay angry with her, and wondered what it had cost her to write that letter. If he was in her position, he wouldn't have had the strength to do it.
"Daddy!" Sydney's voice carried from downstairs. "It's been hours!"
Jack went back down, the book tucked under his arm. "This is a very special book," he said. "You have to promise me that you'll take very good care of it."
Sydney nodded. "I promise."
Jack sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. When Sydney had joined him, he laid the book on his lap so she could see the cover.
"Sw - swa - swa-" Sydney sounded out the letters, then looked to Jack for help. "I don't know this word, Daddy."
"Swan."
"Swan. Swan Lake and other stories."
"Good."
She grinned. "My teacher says I'm the best reader in the class."
"That's wonderful, sweetheart, but you mustn't brag." He brushed her bangs out of her face and kissed her forehead. "Now, would you like me to read to you?"
Sydney nodded, then immediately shook her head.
"Yes or no, sweetheart?"
"Daddy, I heard Aunt Emily and Uncle Arvin talking about you. I was s'posed to be asleep but I was thirsty and I know I'm not s'posed to listen to other people talking in private but I heard your name so . . ." She trailed off and bit her lower lip, breaking eye contact with Jack.
"It's okay, sweetheart." Jack was curious to know what had been said about him, but he remembered his argument with Irina over Project Christmas, and his promise that he would not program Sydney to be a spy. He opened the book. "Which story would you like to hear first?"
Sydney placed her hand over his to keep from turning the page. Her expression serious, there was a slight quaver in her voice as she said, "Aunt Emily said she thinks you should get married again."
"Oh, sweetheart-"
"I don't want a new mommy."
Jack set the book aside and pulled Sydney onto his lap. "I want you to listen to me, Sydney. Remember that day at the carousel, when I told you how much I still loved Mommy?"
Sydney nodded.
"Good. People don't just stop loving each other, sweetheart. Even though Mommy's not with us now, it doesn't mean that I don't love her anymore. No one else can take Mommy's place in my heart, or in your heart."
* * *
Cape Town
The first few mornings after Jack left were the hardest Irina had faced in a long time. Every time she woke up, she expected to see him lying next to her, and once she remembered why they weren't together, she rolled onto his side of the bed, burying her face in his pillow. She lay like that for a long time before she could bring herself to get out of bed and face the day.
Yet, somehow, the days were easier now. Jack's visit had lifted the cloud of depression that had been covering her since the escape from Kashmir. She felt more alive now than at any point over the last year.
"It's nice to see that smile again," Andrei commented over dinner one night. "I was beginning to wonder if the old Irina was ever going to come back."
"I'm not the same person I was when we were kids."
Andrei studied her for a moment, then shrugged. "People don't change their basic selves. When I see you smile like this, I remember the girl who threw snowballs at me in Gorky Park."
"Maybe." Irina took a sip of wine, ignoring Andrei's frown. "Maybe not."
"You were happy with him, your American." He held up his hand to stem Irina's protest. "I'm glad. I like him. I think your father would have approved."
Irina's smile faded at the mention of her father. She could never forgive herself for not being with him in his last days.
"Jack must love you very much," Andrei continued, "to fly halfway around the world to see you."
Irina nodded.
"Will he be back?"
"No." Her appetite suddenly nonexistent, Irina stood. "Excuse me."
"Ira, wait-"
She picked up the bottle of wine and went to her room. Halfway there, she paused and looked down at the item in her hand. The idea of drinking any more of it gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not wanting to return to the dining room and face Andrei, she just left it on the table in the hall.
She was not an alcoholic, she told herself. She did not have a problem.
She could move on without Jack and Sydney.
But as she lay on her bed, Jack's pillow clutched to her chest, her thoughts were half a world away with her husband and her child.
Los Angeles
Sydney's scream woke Jack from sleep. He grabbed his gun from his bedside drawer, and thumbed it off safety as he rushed downstairs. In the few seconds that it took him to reach the living room, his mind conjured up all sorts of awful possibilities. If anything happened to Sydney . . .
He found Sydney kneeling on the rug, the small postbox in front of her.
"Sweetheart?"
She turned her tearstained face to Jack. "Someone stole Mommy's letters."
Jack had given much thought to how he would explain the disappearance of Sydney's letters to Irina, but he hadn't come up with anything and had been hoping for a little more time to think. He sat next to Sydney. "No one stole them, sweetheart."
"But they're not here."
"Sweetheart . . ." Jack wished he could tell her the truth, but knew that was impossible. Especially since Irina had told him to let her go. "No one stole them. I, uh, put them in a safe place. The postbox was getting full and there was no space for more letters."
Sydney just stared at him, and he had the horrible feeling that she was about to ask to see the safe place. Instead she said, "Daddy, why do you have a gun?"
Jack glanced down at the gun that was still in his hand, and quickly flicked the safety back on. "Uh, well, I have it to protect us. When I heard you scream, I thought someone was hurting you."
"Oh." Sydney frowned and Jack imagined that he could see her mind at work. "You should have told me you moved the letters."
Jack nodded, hiding his amusement at the grown up tone she had adopted. "I'm sorry."
"You promise they're safe?"
"I promise." He thought of how Irina had held each piece of paper as if it was something precious and fragile. He wished he could have given her more than the letters, and it was with a touch of bitterness that he remembered her letter to him. He understood her reasons - on some level he could accept them - but it killed him to think that she was willing to let go of hope for their future.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Why are you crying?"
With shock, Jack realized that there were tears running down his cheeks. He wiped his face with his shirtsleeve.
Sydney put her arms around his neck and kissed each of his cheeks. "I miss Mommy too."
"Oh, honey, I wish I could give her back to you." It was the most honest Jack could be right now.
"It's okay, Daddy. Aunt Emily says Mommy's waiting for us in heaven, and one day we'll be together again."
Jack couldn't keep talking about Irina, not without giving in and telling Sydney the truth. "Did you have a good time with Aunt Emily?"
"Mm-hmm. Uncle Arvin had to work, so me and Aunt Emily planted roses in the garden." Sydney held up her hands for Jack to see. "Aunt Emily says I have green fingers."
Jack smiled.
"Daddy, I didn't want to ask Aunt Emily, but why'd she say my fingers are green? I looked and looked, but I can't see any green."
Jack felt his bad mood lift. "She didn't mean that your fingers were green; she meant that you're good at working in the garden."
"Did you have a good trip, Daddy?" Sydney's smile turned coy. "Did you bring me a present?"
"Wait here a minute." Jack returned upstairs and put his gun back in the drawer before picking up the book Irina had picked for Sydney. He saw Irina in the market, the uncertainty on her face as she asked his opinion on the book. He couldn't stay angry with her, and wondered what it had cost her to write that letter. If he was in her position, he wouldn't have had the strength to do it.
"Daddy!" Sydney's voice carried from downstairs. "It's been hours!"
Jack went back down, the book tucked under his arm. "This is a very special book," he said. "You have to promise me that you'll take very good care of it."
Sydney nodded. "I promise."
Jack sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. When Sydney had joined him, he laid the book on his lap so she could see the cover.
"Sw - swa - swa-" Sydney sounded out the letters, then looked to Jack for help. "I don't know this word, Daddy."
"Swan."
"Swan. Swan Lake and other stories."
"Good."
She grinned. "My teacher says I'm the best reader in the class."
"That's wonderful, sweetheart, but you mustn't brag." He brushed her bangs out of her face and kissed her forehead. "Now, would you like me to read to you?"
Sydney nodded, then immediately shook her head.
"Yes or no, sweetheart?"
"Daddy, I heard Aunt Emily and Uncle Arvin talking about you. I was s'posed to be asleep but I was thirsty and I know I'm not s'posed to listen to other people talking in private but I heard your name so . . ." She trailed off and bit her lower lip, breaking eye contact with Jack.
"It's okay, sweetheart." Jack was curious to know what had been said about him, but he remembered his argument with Irina over Project Christmas, and his promise that he would not program Sydney to be a spy. He opened the book. "Which story would you like to hear first?"
Sydney placed her hand over his to keep from turning the page. Her expression serious, there was a slight quaver in her voice as she said, "Aunt Emily said she thinks you should get married again."
"Oh, sweetheart-"
"I don't want a new mommy."
Jack set the book aside and pulled Sydney onto his lap. "I want you to listen to me, Sydney. Remember that day at the carousel, when I told you how much I still loved Mommy?"
Sydney nodded.
"Good. People don't just stop loving each other, sweetheart. Even though Mommy's not with us now, it doesn't mean that I don't love her anymore. No one else can take Mommy's place in my heart, or in your heart."
* * *
Cape Town
The first few mornings after Jack left were the hardest Irina had faced in a long time. Every time she woke up, she expected to see him lying next to her, and once she remembered why they weren't together, she rolled onto his side of the bed, burying her face in his pillow. She lay like that for a long time before she could bring herself to get out of bed and face the day.
Yet, somehow, the days were easier now. Jack's visit had lifted the cloud of depression that had been covering her since the escape from Kashmir. She felt more alive now than at any point over the last year.
"It's nice to see that smile again," Andrei commented over dinner one night. "I was beginning to wonder if the old Irina was ever going to come back."
"I'm not the same person I was when we were kids."
Andrei studied her for a moment, then shrugged. "People don't change their basic selves. When I see you smile like this, I remember the girl who threw snowballs at me in Gorky Park."
"Maybe." Irina took a sip of wine, ignoring Andrei's frown. "Maybe not."
"You were happy with him, your American." He held up his hand to stem Irina's protest. "I'm glad. I like him. I think your father would have approved."
Irina's smile faded at the mention of her father. She could never forgive herself for not being with him in his last days.
"Jack must love you very much," Andrei continued, "to fly halfway around the world to see you."
Irina nodded.
"Will he be back?"
"No." Her appetite suddenly nonexistent, Irina stood. "Excuse me."
"Ira, wait-"
She picked up the bottle of wine and went to her room. Halfway there, she paused and looked down at the item in her hand. The idea of drinking any more of it gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not wanting to return to the dining room and face Andrei, she just left it on the table in the hall.
She was not an alcoholic, she told herself. She did not have a problem.
She could move on without Jack and Sydney.
But as she lay on her bed, Jack's pillow clutched to her chest, her thoughts were half a world away with her husband and her child.