“They died a year ago,” he said abruptly. His eyes were suddenly like cold stones. Flat and utterly dead.
I thought about the little one’s drawing and my heart ached for her. I lost my mother when I was six, so I knew how painful losing even one parent could be. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
He nodded distantly, but his fingers were gripping the stem of the glass hard enough to break it.
I could see he didn’t want to talk about it, but I had to know as much as possible if I were to understand what was going on with Yulia. “How did she take it? Did she comprehend that they were gone forever?”
He sighed. “She’s never once asked for either of them from the moment I told her about their passing. She’s a child but sometimes she seems as aware as an adult.”
I nodded in agreement. “I sensed that while spending time with her today too. She chose the questions she wanted to answer.”
“She wasn’t always like that. Once she was very close to me. She used to wait for me to come to her house and take her in my car. I would draw back the sunroof and let her stand on the seat. She loved it.”
“She doesn’t do that anymore?” I asked.
“No. She’s only interested in solitary activities now. Reading, drawing, playing games on her own.”
“Right. Her parents died a year ago, but Yulia stopped talking six months ago?”
He frowned. “Yes. It happened while I was away on a business trip for four days. When I left she was talking normally, but by the time I returned, she had completely stopped talking.”
“Did something happen while you were away?”
He shook his head. “Not according to my staff. They claim, and I believe them, nothing extraordinary happened while I was away. Yulia just woke up one morning and had either lost her ability to speak, or decided for whatever reason she no longer wanted to. I’d thought she was playing at first, but as time went on…”
“And it’s not anything physical?”
“It was the first thing I checked out. All the necessary tests have been done. It’s not her hearing or anything physical. All of that’s perfect. Her psychologist called it delayed trauma, which if she wasn’t the best in her profession I would suspected was something she made up on the fly.”
He paused, creases in his forehead.
“I guess that analysis would have made sense if Yulia hadn’t had a grieving period. That isn’t the case. She cried and it took many months for her to come out of her shell, but she did. She was improving day by day, and moving towards a place of acceptance and all of sudden, boom, she turned silent. I’ve tried enticements, including a trip to Disney World, but nothing I offered made any difference. She refuses to engage in any meaningful way. Sometimes, she gives me the impression she is waiting for something to happen.”
“Her parents…was it an accident?
Again, his face became a hard mask. “I don’t think that matters. Bringing it up will only cause her more pain.”
The curtness of his reply both surprised and stung me. I tried not to take it personally. As my employer he had simply reserved the right to withhold information as he deemed fit, but by his unwillingness to talk about the issue made me certain their deaths was in some way connected to Yulia’s condition.
Orlov and another waiter arrived at the entrance of the room carrying dishes. A shallow bowl of cream soup with a thin garlic bread baked in the shape of a net placed on top of it was put in front of me.
I thanked the waiter and picked up my spoon.
“Good?” Yuri asked.
“Yes, it’s very tasty,” I lied. The soup felt like warm mush in my mouth.
For a while, no words were exchanged between us, just the low chink of our spoons against the bowls.
“I hear you took Yulia to eat lunch in the room next to the kitchen,” he said.
“That’s right, I did.”
“Why?”
“I thought this room a bit intimidating for a child and I wanted her to relax.”
“I see, but she will have to eat here when she eats with me.”
“Or you could eat in the kitchen.”
“Indeed, I could, but then, Margot would know all my secrets.”
“As if she doesn’t already,” I shot back.
Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Touché.”
Before I could answer, Orlov arrived with the second course. Duck with raspberry sauce, buttered samphire and red potatoes. I must have relaxed a bit because I could actually taste the food and it was the most delicious thing I’d eaten. “What about school?” I asked. “Do you intend to send her? The interaction with other children could be valuable.”
He folded his arms across his chest. The strain of his perfectly sculpted biceps against the white shirt instantly dissolved my train of thought and I had to refocus to listen to his answer.