with him on the balcony.”
“I will, after I’ve explored future.” I strolled down the stairs. “Where is he by the way?”
Boris followed me. “Kazimir is in the gym boxing with King David and Pavel.”
“I don’t think you have to call that guy King David.”
“I like to. I respect him and it’s a cool name.”
“Why?”
“King David was one of my favorite characters from the bible.”
“You’re a Christian?”
“I try to be.”
I smiled. “Why do you like King David from the Bible?”
“There’s so many stories. First he started as a young shepherd and musician. Next, David slays the champion Goliath. Much later, he’s anointed as King.”
“For some reason, I never connected that the David that beat Goliath was also King David. I thought it was two Davids, but I didn’t grow up in the church.”
“Oh yes. Same David. But my favorite stories are when David is King.”
“Why?”
“I loved his love affair with Bathsheba. It was the most interesting story, while sitting during boring church service.”
“Your mother took you a lot.”
“All the time.”
When we hit the bottom of the stairs, he guided me toward Kazimir’s office, passed that door, and stopped us right at another room. “She has her place here.”
“Interesting.” I looked at Boris. “Kazimir put Baba next to his office?”
“I heard he did it last night. The staff are gossiping about how the lion is consulting with a witch. Some are scared to go in her bedroom or new office.”
“And this is her new office?”
Boris nodded.
“Really interesting.” I knocked.
The old woman’s voice sounded from the other side. “Come in, mouse.”
“Wow.” I widened my eyes. “She’s good.”
“No,” she said from the other side. “I can hear you talking outside. The door is thin.”
I laughed as Boris opened the door for me.
On the inside, Baba sat behind a desk that looked to be constructed from birch trees. Images of birds, leaves, and insects had been carved into the wood. A brass dragonfly rested on the left corner of the desk. On the right, a crystal crucifix stood—a glittering Jesus nailed to the cross. And next to that an apple made of crimson red glass.
Large boxes scattered all around the room. Labels had been scribbled on them in English, Russian, and French. I read the few that had English words.
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme.
Shelves covered three walls. A large window was behind her.
“Excuse the mess.” Baba lifted her cup and took a sip of tea. “I am still organizing everything.”
“You had the shelves put in here? They look new.”
“They are.”
“You like books?”
“No. I am not a fan of books.” She set the cup of tea on the desk. “My Baba had an old way of thinking, when she raised me. She said that writing stories down kills them. I never could get that out of my head.”
I leaned my head to the side. “I never heard that books could kill stories?”
“She argued that words are not meant to be stiff and unchanging things. Stories are meant to come from lips not pages. They’re supposed to tickle your ear drums.” She shrugged. “Again, my own Baba had old thinking. She also could not read so there was some bias.”
“She raised you?”
“Sadly, it is my family. For some reason, mothers tend to skip a generation somehow. It is an old curse. I raised my grandson David.”
I turned my attention to her. “An old curse?”
“That is a story that you did not come to hear. You finally want your reading?”
“I do. I also wanted to tell you thank you for the tea.”
“The baby loves it.” She took a sip of her own. “Promise me that you will tell him that he had a twin. If you do not, then he will forever be confused not understanding why he feels so alone.”
I stiffened. “That sounds sad.”
“It won’t be, if you tell him right in the beginning. Then he won’t search for something that is not there. Twins are different. Ones who have lost their other halves, even in the womb, can suffer throughout their lives, not even knowing why. If he’s prepared, then he’ll be fine.”
“But. . .would my baby even realize it?”
“Imagine lying less than an inch apart from another human being in a snug, enclosed space, four, six, or even seven weeks. If they were identical twins, then it is the same egg. The same sperm. The same genetic material. How could this not be the most profound experience of anyone's life?”
“Okay.” I swallowed. “I’ll tell my child about the lost twin.”
“Good. It would be the right