I smiled, not denying that hearing my grandmother address me as dorogoy, which meant “my dear child” always made me feel special… loved.
“You’re good with her,” I said, placing a zinnia in the vase. “I really am sorry about your mother. I would have loved to meet her.”
“And she would have loved to meet you,” Alek said softly. “Treasure every moment you have with your grandmother, Clara. You never know how long you’ll have with her. Cancer took my mother away when she was way too young, but she knew she was very much loved by both her sons.”
I noticed he hadn’t mentioned his father, but didn’t say anything. Instead, I nodded. “I will.” Placing the last piece of baby’s breath into the vase, I said, “Speaking of which, we’d better get back in there before she manages to get herself out of her chair again.”
He smiled, bent down, and chastely kissed my cheek before picking up the wine glasses. “After you,” he said, gesturing with the solo one held in his left hand. “I love watching you coming, but I also really enjoy watching you going.”
Instant heat flooded my face as I considered how that could be taken in so many ways. “You’re incorrigible,” I said with a smile, picking up the vase and turning to walk from the kitchen, never as aware of every move of my body as I was now, knowing his eyes were on me.
My goal had been to allow my more feminine side to show tonight, wanting Alek to see that part of me. Since most of my days were spent in leotards, baggy sweatshirts and a ponytail, I’d actually allowed my hair to flow past my shoulders and chosen a dress that clung to what few curves I had. I even took extra care with my makeup, applying it with a far more gentle hand than stage makeup required, but brushing on mascara and a bit of blush though he was totally capable of making my skin flush with nothing more than a look or a few words.
“I thought perhaps you two had snuck out the back door,” my grandmother said as we entered the room.
“And have you follow?” I asked, shaking my head as I set the vase down on the table by her side.
“Here you are, Mrs. Simyoneva,” Alek said, holding out a glass.
I noticed he didn’t let go of its stem until he was sure that she had a secure hold on it. Just that simple act had my heart filling.
This was a good man.
“You may call me Olga,” she said and then smiled. “But I’d much prefer Babka.” I smiled at hearing the address. It wasn’t as intimate as Baba but was another shortened form of babushka and showed my grandmother approved of Alek.
“It will be an honor,” Alek said, passing me a glass before lifting his. “Krepkoye zdorov’ye.”
If he hadn’t already charmed the pants off my grandmother, toasting to her good health in her native language sealed the deal. She was beaming like the spotlight I stood in on center stage. Nodding, she clinked her glass against his and took a sip and then a longer one before lowering her glass.
“Go on now,” she said as if she were the tzarina dismissing us from her court.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” I asked, suddenly a bit unsure about going out.
“I’ll be fine. I’ve got my phone right here and this rather ugly necklace you insist I wear,” she said, reaching to pull the medical alert button she wore that she could use to summon help if she needed it. When I still hesitated, she narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t treat me like a child, Clara. It might take me longer to do things, but I am still perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“All right,” I said, giving in before I truly upset her. Setting my glass, which was still half full, down beside the vase of flowers, I bent to kiss her wrinkled cheek. “We won’t be late.”
“Don’t hurry home because of me,” she said, reaching up to pat my cheek again. “But feel free to bring me dessert.”
“Baba,” I said, shaking my head and pulling the afghan from the back of the loveseat and tucking it in around her legs.
“We’ll do that,” Alek assured her, returning from the kitchen which I hadn’t even noticed he’d ducked into. He topped off her wine, filled my discarded one as well so she wouldn’t have to lift the far heavier bottle, and said, “If there’s anything else you need us to bring you, don’t hesitate to call.”
“I won’t, young man. Oh, if you’d hand me the remote first?” she asked, nodding toward the shelf.
Alek moved to the shelf where she’d nodded but instead of picking up the remote, ran his fingers over the surface of an item next to it. “My mother collected matryoshkas,” he said, a tone in his voice of fond nostalgia and a bit of sadness. “May I?”