I gingerly brush her hair and arrange her curls behind a red headband. Then I take her hand and lead her downstairs for a quick snack before we step out onto the terrace. It’s a relatively beautiful day, though the sun is hiding behind a screen of overcast. Still, it’s warm enough out, and a gentle breeze enhances the natural beauty of the property.
“Do you want to swim?” I ask, pointing to the pool.
Magda shakes her head, her wall still in place. She doesn’t even show interest when I take her past the partially done playground and suggest she try out the jungle gym. It’s only when we near the water’s rocky edge—where a grunting Ena is adjusting the docked rowboats—that any semblance of curiosity shapes her otherwise flat expression.
Like a shark sensing blood, I latch onto the potential diversion. “Would you like to see if we can go out onto the water?”
After a second, she nods, and I nearly drag her over to Ena.
Forcing what I hope passes for a charming smile, I try to meet his gaze as he wrestles with a length of rope, securing it to a post on the dock.
“Mr. Vadim gone,” he says gruffly before I can say a word. “All day.”
“Do you think you could take us out?” I ask. I have to physically stop myself from batting my eyelashes in the hopes of cajoling a yes.
His lips part to deliver what I suspect is an automatic no. But then he makes the mistake of looking at Magda and something in his surly expression cracks.
“Okay.” He sets his rope aside and lumbers into the boathouse, returning with two orange life vests. “You put on.” He shoves the preserver at me but stoops into a crouch and takes his time assisting Magda. She stiffens, but gradually submits to his surprisingly gentle instruction.
The moment we’re sufficiently dressed, Ena steps into one of the boats and helps us down from the dock. Taking up both oars, he sets us off while I settle in beside Magda.
That logical, nagging part of my brain picks up again, warning me against letting her sit too close—I don’t move. But I should pull away when she nestles into me, shivering against the cooler air over the water. I shift an inch, putting space between us only to put my arm around her a heartbeat later. That little act of rebellion is the gateway drug to crossing even more boundaries. I smooth back her fluttering curls and stroke away one of the final tears as her expression brightens.
Even Ena seems to fall under her spell, and he keeps his pace steady, steering farther out into the bay. Eventually, her blank mask cracks, revealing genuine excitement beneath as she scans the shores and gentle roving waves.
She sits forward so suddenly the boat jolts beneath us. “Look!” She points to a spot along the left-hand beach. There, up on a ridge, appears a little white pony with a flowing mane. Riding him is a small girl with blond hair streaming from an ebony riding helmet. Spotting us, she waves, and to my surprise, Magda offers up a tentative one in return.
“It looks like you might have a friend to play with after all,” I blurt. Only to feel the color drain from my face as a woman appears beside the girl, holding the pony’s reins. She’s slender, with long brunette hair, but even from this distance, I recognize her instantly.
Maxim’s fiancée.
Ena too must sense the property he’s unintentionally strayed into. Grunting with the effort, he immediately begins to turn the boat around.
“Can I play with her?” Magda tugs on my arm, and I can tell from her surly expression that she doesn’t like to beg. Because that’s what she’s doing—begging. “Huh? Do you know where she lives? I bet I can find it!” She starts counting on her fingers, her lips moving wordlessly.
“Oh, honey…” I tuck a curl behind her ear, wrestling with indecision. In the end, my feelings match Ena’s. “Let’s go get some lunch, huh?”
Magda’s frown returns, lasting the entire trip back to the house. When we enter the kitchen, I do my best to feign supreme excitement in finding something to eat amongst Ena’s prepared meals. “How about some pizza, hmm?”
I fish out the meal and pop it in the oven while she watches me from the counter.
“Can I go wait upstairs until it’s ready?” she asks.
I nod, relieved to leave the topic of our possible neighbors behind. “Go ahead. I’ll get you when it’s ready.”
She scampers off while I set the table and fish some fresh orange juice from the fridge. Ena must stock it regularly, maintaining a methodical sense of order with just a few bare things he needs to keep Vadim, and now Magdalene, alive. It’s such a contrast from my old fridge in the home I shared with Jim, when I had it stuffed with failed attempts at baking and cooking. All because he insisted I play the role of the perfect housewife.
He’d scoff in disgust if I ever had the nerve to serve him a previously frozen meal. The thought makes me frown. It’s been at least a few days since I’ve thought of him. Why now? In an effort to distract myself, I rearrange one of the cupboards, moving around Vadim’s already neatly composed collection of glass dishes. Then I grab the food from the oven and head upstairs to get Magda.
“Come and eat, it smells divine…” I push open her door only to find her room empty. So is her bathroom and the closet, and she isn’t in the hallway. “Magda?” I check the master bedroom but don’t find her there either. Returning downstairs, I scan the kitchen
