What Happened in Strasbourg

Chapter thirty two: The photo album

As we stepped from my old room, I was startled to hear footsteps. I turned around and saw a woman with short, greying hair and bright eyes walking towards us. The house was so large I thought we had been alone, but something told me I was supposed to recognize her.

She started talking fast in Russian, and with no idea what she was saying I looked towards Irina.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know--"

Irina motioned towards the woman. "This is Vera Golubeva. She has been housekeeper here for as long as my life. She lived here alone while I was on yacht in England."

Vera, realizing I could no longer speak Russian, switched into tentative English. "Liza? Is it really you, yes? You are tall, I hardly know you!" There were happy tears in her eyes. "When Irina emailed, she was coming with you, I -- I couldn't believe it. I had always believed you died with Vitaly and Katya in Strasbourg."

She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight. "Liza, I missed you. How did she find you after so long?"

"That is long story," Irina said. "But I will tell you soon. After Liza is settled in."

"You aren't like she was, are you?" Vera said with a mischievous smile, glancing from me to Irina. "She may not look like it, but your aunt was rebel when she was younger, in rock band with her friends at boarding school she went to in England."

"My father was disappointed in me," Irina said. "This is not to mention that me having girlfriend in England made him angry when he found out. He disowned me completely. "

"That's terrible," I said.

"Yes, it was," Irina said. "But I did not let him make me feel like I had done something wrong."

I thought back on the guilt I had felt back in Grays, when I first started to realize Acheron's faults, and couldn't stop questioning myself. Now I wished I could've been more like Irina. Rebellion didn't usually come naturally to me, and if it did shame always came along too. What if I hadn't gotten Trench or found the report? I would never have left Scott and Amanda, and put them, and myself, in danger. I probably would've gone on to work at Acheron and live an uneventful life. But even if that might've been happier -- it wouldn't have been right.

"Liza might not look like a rebel," Irina said. "But I have heard her stories. You must be brave to install Trench. Even that scared me the first time."

. . .

After I unpacked in my room, I took a bath in a giant tub that seemed to have more settings than my phone. With the film of airplane grime washed off, I changed into fresh clothes and went to look for Irina and Vera. I found them sitting on a long wooden table beneath the dappled light of an elk antler chandelier.

"I made dinner," Vera said to me. "A breakfast dinner." She pointed towards a plate of thin, golden-brown pancakes with chopped fruit and whipped cream on the side. "I remember you telling me when you were little, how blinis were your favorite food -- it changed week to week," she laughed. "But when I last saw you... it was blinis."

I started to say I couldn't remember hearing what blinis were, but stopped myself. I loved it here already, but I felt new in a place that should have been my home. Why did this have to happen to me? I thought, I know less about myself than everyone else -- all because of Acheron.

I took a plate of blinis, and took a bite. Maybe they were really my favorite food.

. . .

That night I lay down to sleep on my old bed even though it was so small for me that my legs hung off the end. I wrapped myself up in my old blanket to keep out the chilly air. It was monogrammed with my initials in Russian "ЛM" and made of soft, lavender fleece -- which was still my favorite color. Everything about the room, from the books to the colors, seemed so familiar and oddly similar to the tastes I had now. "Liza Morozova" and "Gracie Howard" weren't such different people after all.