"Won't be going back to my group," he says. "I'll be working as a spokesman. Recruiting in inner cities and shit."
"Right up your alley. You're great with people. We all miss your stories."
"I was a little disappointed," he admits. "I understand you can't send a one-legged Green Beret into combat. I get to stay in the military and do something worthwhile. This is a happy medium, I think, until I tell Katya I'll be recruiting for the war effort."
"You may be surprised," I say quietly. "Katya loves you. Even if she doesn't agree with the war, she knows people like you fight it."
"True."
I settle back and close my eyes.
I don't notice that I doze off, until the car comes to a stop. Rousing myself, I take in their home. It's a legitimate castle, a mansion made of stone. I've seen it twice before, but I still find myself mystified why someone who lives here would be in the military when he had a clean, solid out.
We get out of the car. The house is quiet and dark, and he takes me in the back. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised to see a kitchen staff already at work in the large space. People who own a house like this don't cook their own food.
Probably why Katya's cookies are so awful.
We go up a service stairwell to the third floor. Wide hallways are well lit, the thick planks of wood flooring covered by a plush runner. Wrought iron chandeliers hang far overhead from wooden beams.
The interior is how I imagine a ski lodge. This kind of wealth is so beyond me …
I shake my head. It's a mistake to be here. There's no way Katya could be interested in someone like me.
The fleeting thought doesn't stick.
Petr stops and points to the room across the hallway. "My room. Katya's is one down."
I glance the direction he indicates, my heart quickening. It's almost four in the morning. I'm not about to knock and wake the dragon.
Petr opens the door to a chamber much larger than any I've stayed in. The massive sleigh bed faces a cozy living room with its own burning hearth. Large windows overlook the back lawn. The furniture is heavy wood, the rug deep blue and the trophy case opposite the door filled with everything from red ribbons to military mementos.
My gaze settles on the hearth once more. I love a fire and have never lived anywhere with one. The triangular, wooden case holding a flag above the hearth makes me pause three steps into the comfortable room.