To Sing Frogs Chapter 29a

Chapter 29

 

Those Who Served

 

“Hey Gorgeous.”

“It’s so good to hear you!”

“Looks like you made it home. How was the trip?”

It was 8:00 A.M. in Moscow and 1:00 A.M. in Michigan. Amy and Sarah had arrived home less than a half-hour earlier.

Amy sighed. It was good to be home. My heart was warmed as she told me about Dyehdushka Bill and Sarah. He had entertained her all the way back. He pointed out the Statue of Liberty to the little world-traveler as they flew into JFK. Of course she didn’t know it was the symbol of her new country, but Amy’s voice faltered with emotion when she described their conversation. “Sarah, eta America.”

“Ameríka... Ameríka! Ameríka! Ameríka!” The land far, far away. It was all poor Grandpa could do to get her back in the seat for landing.

Of course Sarah received a warm welcome as soon as Amy helped her out of the SUV. “Sabawchka Dasha!” Dasha the doggy. The little girl tried to hug her newest friend more than the dog was licking her face. That would have been impossible.

“Lashotka?”

“Patóm Sarah. Patóm.” Later.

Even Amy wasn’t going to try to make the dream of riding horses come true before bedtime.

The others had tried to keep Jack awake for Sarah’s arrival. It was no use. He was in bed, asleep. David and Rachael drove away minutes before I called and the older boys were now showing Sarah around the house. It was just like in the soft-books!

Sarah had already chosen which of the identical beds on opposites sides of a symmetrical room would be hers. “She loved the butterflies all over the walls and ceiling,” Amy told me with a tone of great accomplishment.

I should have congratulated her. I couldn’t. I stared out at a gloomy and rain soaked Russia wondering if I would ever be able to walk into the butterfly bedroom again.

“How’s Celeste?” Amy asked.

“We had a long day yesterday. She’s okay though. She’s still asleep but really she’s why I called. I want her to know you’re not gone for good. Could you talk to her for a minute?”

“I’d love to.”

Celeste was grumpy when I woke her while picking her up. At first she looked around as if she was trying to figure out whether or not the day before had all been a bad dream. Then she whined, closed her eyes, and laid her head on my shoulder.

“Mama,” I said while holding the phone up to her ear. “Mama.”

Celeste ignored me until she heard the voice. Then she immediately became awake. She jerked the phone from my grasp and held it to her ear. “Mama!... Mama!... Mama!...”

I could hear the faint sound of Amy’s voice asking her about Papa, her toys, food, and beautiful clothes. “Mama!... Mama!... Mama!...” Then the voice began to sing. It was a lullaby from the cassette recording Celeste had played to death between our visits. “Mama!... Mama!... Mama!...” It really was her mama! She was not gone after all!

 

 

I smiled as I stepped into the rain and opened the Marriott loaner umbrella. Celeste was bundled up in her coat and sitting on my arm. The food at the hotel was great but I wanted a change. We walked up the sidewalk planning to enter the first small restaurant we came to. It was closed. So was the next one. And the next one. And the next. The streets were deserted. So were the shops. Not so with rooms lining the street. It would be months after I got home when I learned that snipers had been posted in rooms to guard the arteries to Red Square. I had no idea my daughter and I were being watched through crosshairs. I thought the entire city was empty. I hadn’t seen a soul since the two women behind the counter back at the hotel.

Though it was V-day it was as if the entire city was hidden away in the subways waiting for the next blitzkrieg.

Lightning flashed above. Seconds later, thunder rumbled. I smiled again. If the government’s ridiculous rules and regulations could rain on our trip home then I would be happy to see Mother Nature rain on President Putin’s parade. I carried Celeste back to the all-but abandoned hotel restaurant, smiling all the way.

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