Waking Anastasia (29 page)

“The scan is perfectly safe for any single patient through the course of their treatments, Jerry, but we do so many of these that over our careers, the effects would accumulate. Don’t your dentist and his staff step behind a shielded wall, too?”

“I suppose.”

“Same thing here. Ana’s welcome to come back with us. She’ll be able to watch everything on the monitors. See? You’re on camera, there . . . there . . . and there.” Gemma pointed to three cameras positioned to keep an eye on Jerry at all times.

IT TOOK THIRTY
-six minutes, according to the clock on the wall that Ana could see, and every time the mechanical couch moved Jerry back in through the hole, she clenched her fists. Everything
looked
safe, but she didn’t understand most of what was happening and so she worried. When it was all over, she followed Gemma and the staff back into the scanning room where they helped Jerry to sit up and handed him a glass of water.

Gemma wheeled over an elevated metal tray like a dentist’s.

“The marks I made earlier will wash off, so I’m going to tattoo three tiny, permanent marks. They’ll be no bigger than small freckles.” She picked a tool off the tray and quickly did her work. She helped him off the couch and back onto the floor. His steps were a bit unsteady, so Ana guided him to a chair and put his shoes on for him.

“How are you feeling, Love?”

He twisted his neck slightly, to loosen a kink. “Stiff, but okay. A strange experience, that’s for sure. How did it look on the monitors?”

“I was worried. I am not one hundred percent certain what this ‘radiation’ is and it frightens me.”

“Yeah, well, if you knew what it was it would probably still scare the crap out of you.” He took a couple steps, with Gemma close at hand and Ana holding his elbow. “I’m fine, thanks. Ready to go home and relax, maybe watch a movie.”

Gemma smiled and handed him a small appointment card. “That’s terrific, Jerry. I’ve booked you in for your first treatment on January 30
th
, that’s three weeks from tomorrow. With a scan this complicated, it will take that long for the computer to plan your treatments; but if you have any questions between now and then, please call or email me. The information is on the back of the card. Or you can contact your Palliative Care Specialist, Elizabeth. That goes for you, too, Ana. Don’t be afraid to ask us any questions at all. We want you to fully understand this process. Jerry’s illness is serious, but there’s nothing about the radiation treatments that you need to be afraid of.”

“Thank you, Miss Gemma.”

“Yeah, thanks, Gemma. I guess we’ll see you in three weeks.”

Ana led him out and with every step he became steadier.

“That whole thing was so painless and simple that just maybe radiation will do the trick.”

“That is what I pray for.”

“Prayers are always welcome.”

“Home, my prince?”

“Home sounds perfect, my Imperial Shvibzik.”

Three taxis waited in a queue in the front driveway, so they were back in the loft in less than fifteen minutes. Jerry swung his feet up on the couch while Ana went in search of a second blanket.

“Jerry, something is amiss.”

“You mean other than you,
Miss
Romanova?”

“Yes, smarty.”

“How so?”

She returned with the blanket that was usually draped over the chair next to the bed. “Before we departed the flat this morning, I made up the bed, emptied the washer of dishes, and closed the kitchen up.”

“I know. Thank you.” He accepted the blanket from her and spread it over himself and the spot he was saving for her next to him. Ana went into the kitchen.

“You misunderstand me, Love. I tell you this not to boast nor to receive accolades, but to point out that the bed is now unmade, three of the kitchen cupboards are open, and most of your dry goods are arrayed on the counter top.”

“I’m guessing that’s not how you left it.”

She put boxes away and closed the cupboard doors.

“Not at all. Were you by any chance searching for something before we departed?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. Like you once said, I can’t remember what I don’t remember. I have no memory of it, but obviously I was. Sorry about that. Just leave the mess and I’ll clean it up later.”

Ana returned to the couch. “Do not be silly. It is all done, except the bed, which can wait.” She wiggled her way under the blanket and cuddled up to him. “Now, if this fair residence is run as a democracy, I wish to put forth a motion that we watch a movie.”

“Seconded. All in favour?”

“Aye.” She giggled.

“Aye. Motion passed. Do you have a preference?” Jerry handed Ana the remote. “Just flip through and find something that looks interesting.” He closed his eyes and leaned back.

ANA FOUND A
movie she was both horrified and fascinated by. Jerry must have dozed off because he was startled by her gasp. He turned his head and opened one eye to see the opening titles rolling for
Anastasia
, starring Ingrid Bergman. “Oh, shit.” He struggled to sit up. “Are you sure you want to watch this?”

“Mr. Powell, that must be the silliest question you have
ever
asked me.” She frowned at him. “It was one thing to listen to that offensive disco song about Grigori, but now I have found a movie about me, or someone pretending to me.”

“Of course. Silly me. I’ve never actually seen it, myself.”

“Then let me light a fire in the hearth, dim the lights, pour you a smoothie, and we will enjoy this little fiction together.”

Jerry paused the film. “Sold. Since I can’t see the screen too well, if I drift off again, just make sure I’m awake in time to Skype Isis.” He settled under the afghan, but was unfortunately sound asleep before Ana returned to the couch with the smoothie.

Ana put the smoothie back in the refrigerator and once again slipped under the afghan and blanket with her love.

“ISIS, I’D LIKE
you to meet Ana.” Jerry spoke as he signed, so that Ana knew what he was saying to Isis.

“Hi, Ana!” Isis signed and waved. She spoke aloud, too, out of politeness.

Ana waved back. “Hello, Isis. It is indeed a pleasure to meet you.” Although Isis could read lips, Jerry wasn’t sure that she’d be able to read Ana’s, due to the less-than-perfect resolution of the Skype link through the internet. He signed Ana’s words for her.

“Jerry and Ana, this is Chad . . .” A slender, freckle-faced teen with bangs nearly over his eyes and a faint, blond, starter-moustache, slid into sight and waved. Isis let them all wave at each other before she dropped what she thought was a bombshell. “Chad is . . . my boyfriend.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. He blushed and Jerry did his best not to laugh out loud. Chad was just like he was at that age—wary of public displays of affection, especially in front of strangers.

Ana leaned in. “Congratulations, Isis and Chad! I am Jerry’s girlfriend. I think.” She winked at them.

“Yes, of course you are, Shvibzik.”

Isis held her arm up for them to see. “Jerry, I’m wearing your sweater.”

“I noticed that. It looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

“You’re silly. Do you want it back, now that we’ve both moved on?” Her frown told him everything he needed to know.

“Now who’s being silly? That was a gift between two dear friends. Just because we have a new boyfriend or girlfriend doesn’t mean that we stop being important to each other. It’s yours forever. It’s not like I need it, anyway.”

“What do you mean? I thought you had snow out there.”

“We did. It was unexpected and beautiful.” Kind of like Ana, he thought.

“Then why don’t you need a sweater?”

Shit. This was the entire reason for the call, but it didn’t mean he was happy about it. “Isis, sweetie, I have some news. Are your Mom and Dad there, like I asked?”

“Of course. I’ll get them.” She turned in her chair and shouted over her shoulder. “MOM! DAD! Jerry wants to say hi! He has some news!”

Isis’ parents, Teresa and Scott, slipped into the frame. “Hey, Jerr.”

“Hi, Jerry.”

“Hey, Teri, Scott. Good to see you.”

Teresa looked closer at the screen. “Jerry, have you lost weight? Too much salmon and not enough good Ontario beef?”

“Not exactly, although Pacific salmon is incredible.”

Isis waved to get his attention. “Hello!
News!
You can talk about the menu later! Holy crap, people. Priorities!”

A weak laugh escaped from Jerry, in spite of the bombshell on the tip of his own tongue. “Isis is right. If I don’t tell you now, I might chicken out.” He took a deep breath and Ana squeezed his arm. He rushed ahead. “Those headaches I was having . . . it turns out I have brain cancer. It’s really far along, it’s inoperable, it’s terminal, and I start radiation in a few weeks. We have our fingers crossed and our hopes up, but, the truth of the matter is, I’m dying.”

Isis sobbed, jabbed her finger at her keyboard and the connection was broken before anyone could say a thing. The last thing Jerry saw before Skype told him what he already knew about the connection was Isis’ face looking like he’d stabbed her in the heart.

“Um, that didn’t go so well. I guess I’d better work on my delivery before I tell my family.” He sagged into the couch, cheeks wet with tears. Ana simply hugged him, having no words of her own to add.

They sat like that for a while before Ana kissed away his tears, extricated herself from his arms, and stood up. “You, my Love, must eat. Mika and Danveer will be over after dinner, but first you must eat.”

“I really don’t have the energy.”

“You are giving up? Letting this disease defeat you already?”

“That’s not fair. The whole thing is finally starting to sink in. I just told people I love that I’m dying.”

“Yes, you did, and my heart breaks with yours, Love; but although I saw the damage that stubbornness can wreak when Father stood by some of his less popular and ineffective decisions, stubbornness is
exactly
what you need to face this cancer disease.” She moved around the kitchen, retrieving what she needed to make dinner. “You face overwhelming odds, you are not expected to live a long life, and the doctors cannot do very much for you. Does this sound familiar? Like anyone I have spoken to you about, many times?”

“Your little brother.”

“
Da
, precisely. Alexei. You two have much in common, but do not forget the one thing that is greater than all of the darkness you are facing now, and he faced back then. You both have love.
My
love. I may be a silly ghost with nothing but the dress and boots I died in and the book I am trapped in, but I love you. I will not let you face this foe alone, but I cannot fight this battle
for
you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do not be sorry, be
stubborn
. And go wash your hands before dinner. You are starting with a fruit salad and then those potato puffs you love so much, with asparagus and chicken pot pie, although the pie is in a tin foil plate and not a pot.”

He pushed himself up and started toward the bathroom. “Just in case I haven’t told you in a while, you are my favourite Shvibzik.”

“I am your
only
Shvibzik, Mister Powell, now, less talking and more washing. Let Mademoiselle le Chef do her job.” She blew him a kiss and turned away to fetch down a clean plate.

“Women . . .” He let the thought trail off, knowing that she was perfectly correct.

“I ASSURE YOU
, the book was not in the apartment.” Petrov couldn’t stop his hands from shaking and nearly dropped the phone. “I searched high and low, Doctor Professor.” It wasn’t the first time he’d broken into a place to acquire an object for a buyer, but it was the first time he’d failed, and the mainland academic’s voice was an animalistic growl in his ear.

“You’re an idiot.
Blya razocharovaniye
. If, as you insist, he has no idea of its value, he’s not going to be carrying the damned thing around with him. It was there, you just couldn’t see it, old man.”

“
Dah
. It must be my old eyes. I am sorry, Doctor Professor.”

“I don’t give a shit. This
kid
has one of the most incredible pieces of Romanov history and I will have it in my collection.”

He hated what he was going to say, but Petrov knew he had to make the offer. “I will try again.”

“No. You’ll stay the hell away from them. I didn’t get the impression that neither the radio DJ nor his dance partner are stupid. The last thing I need is them twigging to what they have and then sticking it out of reach in a safe deposit box.
I
will take care of it, and once I have this little gem in my hands, you and I will discuss your future.” The call was disconnected abruptly.

The elderly antique dealer was so relieved at not having to make a second attempt that he nearly missed the threat. Petrov had never personally been the target of Gervaise’s wrath, but there were more than enough rumours to frighten him. He knew that the Doctor Professor taught anthropology at Vancouver University, and he wore a delicate French surname, but there was a Bolshevik hiding behind those dark, soulless eyes. His hands started to shake in earnest and lowered himself into his chair.
I’m too old for this crap.