"Not another mistake!" Lara wailed.  She grabbed the rag and wiped the wooden nesting egg fervently.  "I hate making mistakes!"

"You make mistakes because you go too fast.  You have to have patience with something like this."  Mikhail steadily painted two enormous blue eyes on the largest Matrushka Doll.  "Just take it slowly and keep your hand still."

"It's not fair that I have YOU as a teacher.  You've been doing art since you were three!  I can't keep up!"

Mikhail peeked at her from the corners of his dark eyes.  They were laying side by side on the guest room floor, rolled on their stomachs, 'taking an art lesson' as Lara called it.  Mikhail taught her something new everyday now, practicing anything and everything from palekh to the Russian tradition of painting wooden bowls and spoons.  Today they were completing a set of Nesting Eggs Lara had smuggled in by a maid.  Mikhail had sketched the design on a sheet of paper, then made markings on some of the smaller dolls for Lara to work with.  He, in the meantime, would complete the large ones.

"I keep drawing the eyes wrong.  Yours look so alive, like they're about to start talking.  Mine look like a beginner's paint job!"

"It IS a beginner's paint job," Mikhail reminded her.  "You aren't a dolphin just by jumping in the water."

"Thanks, Socrates.  Now I have some words of wisdom to go along with a healthy dose of frustration!"

Mikhail laughed at her aggravation.  "Come on, don't let it bother you that much.  It's just some nesting eggs."

Lara crawled to her knees to try and get a view of the doll in better light.  "I want these to be perfect.  Absolutely perfect!"

"Why?" Mikhail dipped his brush in the tin of water and watched it turn a cobalt blue shade.

"Because...it's...um...something to enjoy looking at!" she said quickly.  The truth was it was something to remember Mikhail by, as was all of the other art projects they had completed.  She wanted as many souvenirs of his visit as possible.

Mikhail was painting intricate curls around the heart shaped smiling face of the largest doll now, then thick and wistful eyelashes.  "My first matrushkas came out awful.  My mother had a lot of patience, though."

"Let's not forget that YOUR first nesting eggs were when you were seven!"

"Eight," he corrected her.

Lara rolled her eyes.  "It's the same thing!  Although I doubt your mother could have anymore patience then you do with me."

Mikhail smiled.  "She was great.  She taught me how to do everything.  We'd get up every morning before my brother and father woke and draw something new.  She called it working for my breakfast.  She'd let me eat even if I didn't draw of course, she was just a huge tease."

"Kind of like you?" Lara laughed.

Mikhail's sigh was full of nostalgic hope, remembering the early morning fun.  "Sometimes we'd spend whole days in gardens and parks drawing."

"Did you ever go to museums?"

Lara watched him blush and shake his head no quickly.  "We weren't allowed inside."

"I'm confused.  How did you live in a fairly good district of Moscow yet you...you were..."

"Jews?  Because my father had a way of paying off whoever need be.  He was a master of a different art then my mother -- the art of 'blat'."

She watched Mikhail swing his legs while he laid on his stomach, adding another childlike influence to him.  Lara wondered how he could be such a mix of sturdy and freespirited bohemian with innocent and lost little boy.

"Blat?  He had connections, hmm?"

"Oh yeah.  Hundreds.  Maybe thousands for all I know.  His favorite saying was 'ne podmazhesh, ne poyedesh': if you don't oil, you can't start your journey."

Lara placed her unfinished doll aside and leaned on her side to see him better.  "So he kept you out of the slums by having the right connections?"

"Until he threatened to divorce Mama." Mikhail squinted his eyes a little as he made a green paint from blue and yellow.  "Then it was hell.  I left home a few months after."

"Why would he want to divorce her?  She sounded wonderful!"

"Because he was going to convert to Russian Orthodox.  Do you mind if we change the topic?" Mikhail shifted uneasily, trying to concentrate on cleaning the brush, and not his memories.

Lara ruffled his hair.  "So have you ever been in love?"

She was surprised by the forceful outburst of laughter she got in response.

"Love? Oh come on, Lara!  Miss Romantic!"

"It was just a question!  You seem like zee romantic type!" she said in a heavy French accent, turning his face to look at hers. "Mr. Bohemia!  Ohhh you are, az Emilie zays, zooo romantic!"

"Thank you, Mademoiselle, from zee deepest spot of my heart!"  He jumped up, pulling her to the balcony with him, and dipped her romantically.

"Oh!" Lara laughed and gripped his hands tighter.  "Be careful, Monsieur, I'm about to fall off!"

"Non, non!  I would not let a beautiful woman zuch as yourself fall, my little tart of love!"  He pulled her upward, enjoying how she threw her arms around his neck as her sweet laughter filled his heart.

"Don't ever let me forget this moment," Lara said between laughs.  "I don't care how old we get."

Mikhail smiled. "I'll try my best."

Lara took his face in her hands.  "And don't you forget it either!"

"I won't." He laughed and grabbed her around the waist, leaning their faces closer until their foreheads were resting together.  "Come on, you doubt me that much?"

"Who knows how many women you've swept off your feet, Monsieur," she teased.  "One?  Five?  Ten?"

"Fifteen."

"Mikhail!"

"Justttt kidding!"

Lara placed her hand behind his head to brace herself.  "For such a ladies man you hardly know how to understand a woman's hints!"

Mikhail chuckled.  "Ohhhh, and what hints am I not catching on too?"

"Let's see.  Romantic balcony, a sun setting -- don't you laugh, just forget that it's midnight, Mikhail --  a beautiful girl smiling at you...oh yes, you're missing quite a few hints."

"Maybe I'm just fooling you so I can surprise you one day."

"I don't believe that.  You're the one who's reckless whilst I'm the one with the plan.  You wouldn't have a premeditated idea like that!"

Mikhail laughed. "Unfortunately you're right."

Lara smiled.  "But it doesn't matter, because I'm also someone who doesn't just wait around for you to get yourself together!"

Mikky squeezed her hands a little more.  "All true."

"Thus, I've decided that you're too slow and I have to take matters into my own hands.  Which is why -- Oh no, there's Vlad!!"  Lara yanked Mikhail back inside the guest room, then slammed the French doors shut.  "He was snooping right underneath us!  Why would he be out this late??"

"He could have heard." Mikhail was already throwing things into his bag.  "He might be ringing the police as we speak!  I have to get out of here!"

"He wouldn't do that without checking first!" Lara grabbed his arm.  "Don't go!  Please, I PROMISE he wouldn't!"

"This isn't YOUR life in danger!" Mikhail slammed the bag shut.  "You don't understand what they'd do!"

"Mikhail!"  Lara grabbed his hands and turned him to look at her.  "You don't have to be so scared!  Even if Vlad did hear us he'd come up right away and talk to us both.  He wouldn't turn you in!"  She placed her hands on his cheeks, trying to comfort him, her only thoughts to take the wild fear out of his eyes and replace it with the jaunty adventurer.  "Don't run from something that's not even going to happen!"

Mikhail unsteadily sat down, gripping the edge of the bedspread.  "Are you sure?  You don't understand, this goes farther then just being caught as a Jew..."

"I promise!" she reassured him.  "Vlad isn't like that.  He doesn't just jump off the handle like Mother."  She wrapped her arms around his chest.  "Come on, trust me.  I wouldn't put you in danger like that."

Mikhail slowly relaxed.  "If I was caught..."

"You won't be," she cooed softly.  "I'll make sure of it."

He looked over at her with a new countenance now -- not fear, not love, but guilt.  "I don't think you understand.  I...I have..."

She placed her fingers over his lips gently.  "Forget everything.  It's all right."

"Lara, listen --"

"I don't care," she said firmly.  "Just relax."

There was a knock from the door.  Lara blushed and quickly scooted Mikhail under the bed with his bag.  "Who is it?"

"There's a visitor to see you, Mademoiselle."

She peeked under the bed frame and smiled at Mikhail.  "Told you Vlad didn't notice," she whispered.  "I'll be right back."  She picked up a candle on it's holder and made her way downstairs.

She hurried to the parlor, not knowing what to expect.  Who would want to visit at this time of night?  The White Nights kept things light, yes, but it was after midnight!  Only she and Mikhail stayed up this late to do things they wouldn't be able too in the day.  The sun had already set!

She wrapped the robe around herself tighter before entering the room.  Mother, Father, and Vlad were all sitting in their nightclothes, illuminated by  a few lamps lit.

She raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"What's going on?  Why is everyone awake?"

Two men stepped from the corner, making ghastly shadows on the walls that danced together in the flames.  She shivered, holding the candle out a little more to see them clearer.  She felt Vlad step to her side.

"These two men are with the local authorities," he explained.  "They think you might have some information on someone they're looking for."

"Information?" she laughed nervously.  "What information could I have on anyone?  I barely leave the estate."

"That's exactly what I told them," Vlad said.  "But they want to see you, and we can't refuse."

One of the men, tall and grizzly, stared at her with dull and unbelieving eyes as he spoke first.  "We caught a thief at the edge of Rybinsk yesterday.  He gave us some information on some of the more recent attack they've made.  One involved a girl that was almost identical to you."

Lara's eyes widened.  "Excuse me?"

"Not many people have red hair in this area of Russia.  It would be highly unusual to find another like you within a five mile radius."

Lara gripped the edge of her robe.  "If I was attacked, what does it mean?  I will admit, I was out riding late one night, without my parents permission, and was attacked yet escaped.  But what does it matter now?"

"He described a man with you who fits the description of a wanted fugitive that was last seen in these parts."

Lara's heart increased it's beating rapidly.  Think, think, think!  She'd have to use all of her ingenuity to protect Mikhail.  His life, his safety, depended on it.

Not just his life, she realized.  Hers as well.  She would die if something happened to him.

"There was a man," she revealed slowly.  "He was walking along the road and came to my aid.  I dropped him off near the town where he asked to be.  I didn't learn his name, but owe my life to him.  What could his crime possibly be?"

The men looked at each other, then back at her.  Lara had a smug smirk on her face, knowing Mikhail had no crime.  Let them be caught in their own trap now!

"Murder.  Of his own father."
~*~
"I don't understand why you're so sick," Vlad said softly as he carefully moved Lara's hair from her forehead.  "Food poisoning?"

Lara continued to cry into Vlad's robe, sobbing as she alternated between tears and relieving herself into the sick pan.

"He murdered his father..."

"It's hard to believe someone would be that cruel, I know, but it happens often.  Mother, Father, and I have often tried to shield you from the world, but these things do happen.  You're growing up, and it's hard to understand criminal minds..."

"Oh Vlad!!  He murdered someone!!" Lara sobbed again, her body wracked with feelings of betrayal, of lost hope, and shame.  She had trusted him!

"I know he saved your life, but you must understand that their sanity comes and goes, my dear.  You wouldn't believe how those people think..."

Those people.  He was one of THOSE people.  She crawled under her covers and curled into a small ball.

Vlad's eyes watered.  It hurt to see his sister in this much pain.  If he could take it on himself, he would.  First Kosma, their darling little brother's, death from tuberculosis, now this.  Would his family ever be normal again?

"Please leave me," she whispered.

"Lara, let me help you..."

"Vlad." Lara lifted her eyes to the edge of the coverlet.  "Please."

She watched his head bow sadly, but he obeyed, quietly standing and leaving her behind.

She raised herself from the bed and opened the door to the bathroom.  As she expected, Mikhail had the other side to the guest room open, waiting for her to appear.

They stood, looking at one another for several moments.  He reached out to touch her but she pulled back quickly and pulled her arms to herself.

Mikhail's heart broke.  For her to shirk away from him was the end of his world.

"I heard you crying," he whispered.  "You...found out."

"Of course I found out.  Did you think you could keep it a secret?!"

"You got the wrong story, Lara.  They told you that I murdered him during a heated argument when I was fifteen, didn't they?"

"You liar," she hissed.  "You had me believe that you were honest and strong and funny and -- I hate you!!"

Each word stung at Mikhail like an arrow.  It tore at him until with every sound she said, each letter she uttered, a piece of him cried out in pain.

"Lara, please!"

"Don't beg to me for forgiveness!" she shrieked.  "You lying, filthy scum!  I took you in!  I trusted you!  Do you know everything I did for you?!  What I FELT for you?!"

"If you would just listen and let me explain!"

"I don't want to hear your explanations!!"  She was crying openly now, her vision blurred.  "Get out of this house!  I'll turn you into the bounty hunter!"

"DO IT!" he begged.  "Call them!"

"Excuse me?" She looked at him in disbelief.  "What trick is this?!"

"It's not a trick!  Please, turn me in!" Mikhail was visible upset.  "I don't want to run anymore and I don't want to hurt anyone else!"

Lara's heart tugged once, wanting to reach out and smooth the tears from his face and hold him.

Forget it, Lara.  He's a thief.  A liar.  A wanted man.  A murderer.  Of his own father.  The words rang in her head.  Murder.  Of his own father.  Murder.  Murder.  Murder!

"MURDER!" she screamed.  "You committed MURDER, Mikhail!"

"Lara!"

"Why did you do it?  What did he do to you?  No one ASKS to be murdered!"

"I didn't do it!"

"Was it because he wasn't going to be a pious Jew like you anymore?" She pushed him back.  "Was that it??  Was being a Russian Orthodox like me not good enough for you?!"

"Religion has no part in this, Lara, and I thought you of all people would know that!"

"I don't know ANYTHING, obviously, because I believed you!  I believed YOU!  How stupid I was!" she spat.  "How idiotic!"

Mikhail's eyes mirrored her own now.  Filled with pain, confusion, and anxiety, they were on equal footing.

Lara felt more anger than ever before -- towards herself.  She was not only embarrassed, ashamed, hurt, and everything else.  Oh no, that wasn't enough for her, she thought resentfully.  She was feeling SORRY for him.  She wanted to run and hug him!

"I hate you!" She flew at him, trying to injure him again, trying to hurt him as much as he hurt her.

He grabbed her fists, trying to steady her.  "Lara!"  He wrapped her in his arms, encompassing her with him.  She found herself sobbing into his chest, pulling at his shirt with all of her might in an effort to calm herself.  He remained steadfast, holding her against him, quietly stroking her hair and back, and leaning his wet cheek against hers.

"Why did you do it?" she whispered.  "Why did you do this?"  She looked up into his eyes.  "Please tell me."

"My...my mother and father were in a fight," he started unsteadily.  "I was fifteen.  I was walking down the stairs when I saw him lunge at her.  The fight started then.  I got between them, to try and fend him off of her.  He was drunk, of course.  There was nothing different about that."

"And?" she whispered.  "Did you kill him then?"

Mikhail blushed.  "He threw me to the ground, then went after Mama again.  I tackled him, but I was no match for a forty-five year old man who was athletic.  Who would be at fifteen?

"I was knocked out.  When I woke up..." Mikhail's eyes watered again.  "When I woke up, the floor was covered in blood.  He was dead."

Lara gasped.  "You mean...you didn't kill him?"

He shook his head firmly. "Mama did.  But you can't blame her.  He was coming after her, after all of us!  Nataniel -- my brother -- was upstairs sleeping.  He was older than me, but even he couldn't have taken Papa on.  I'm not sure he'd even want too."

Lara sat down on the floor, shaken with shock at the revelation.  Mikhail quickly dropped to her side.

"My mother would have been put to death, Lara.  I couldn't let that happen.  I took the blame and left town, left Russia, as quickly as I could.  Please don't tell them the truth!  I'll turn myself in!"

She looked over at Mikky slowly, still registering his story.  "Why did you come back to Russia?"

"Nataniel had to leave Moscow for some stupid reason, and he wanted to leave by that Wednesday.  I was going to take Mama to France or England.  She can't live alone.  I don't know if he left her behind or not."

Lara quietly turned to him.  "How can I trust your story?"

Mikhail's eyes lowered.  "You really can't.  You can't trust me at all.  You have no reason too.  I guess...I guess you just have to go with your heart."  He looked back at her, their eyes meeting for a beautiful moment.

Lara smiled softly, her blue eyes glittering underneath the tears.  "I trust you.  You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

Mikhail's mouth opened in shock to respond, but Lara quickly shook her head.  No words need be exchanged now.

Their lips met, sharing a perfect kiss, gentle and romantic, yet laced with the urgency of youth, of finally discovering the one that you're meant to love in the world.  The one that you had searched for in every face you'd seen for all of your life, that you had dreamed of yet so often woken only to forget.  Your soulmate.

It was a time frozen, an instant of flawless bliss.  Two hearts, searching for answers, found them -- in each other.

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© 1999 - 2000 AnyaCI@aol.com