Dark Eyes (35 page)

“I can’t believe it,” Claire said, beaming. “I never thought this could come true. We’re all here.
Moyi dyetki …”
My babies.

“Mama. …” Wally was barely able to speak, tears spilling down her face.

“No, baby,” Claire said. “I’m so happy.”

With all the energy she had left, Claire began to sing softly, in Russian. As she sang, she cast her eyes back and forth between Wally and Tiger.
“Puskai prïdet pora prosit’sia, drug druga dolgo ne vidat. …”

Wally began to join in, singing quietly along with Claire,
“No serditse s serdtsem, slovno ptitsy, konechno, vstretiatsia opiat …
”

Claire smiled as she heard the words of the song from Wally’s lips. “I sang the song the day I left you, Valentina. Do you remember what the words mean?”

“No.”

Claire looked from Wally to Tiger. “Your brother will tell you,” Claire said confidently, and then she began to sing the song again, one line at a time,
“Puskai prïdet pora prosit’sia …”

Tiger sat motionless and quiet for a moment, overwhelmed. Claire waited.

“How swift the hour comes for our parting,” Tiger translated, the words barely more than a whisper as his eyes met Claire’s as she sang on.

“Drug druga dolgo ne vidat?”

“No more to meet—or who knows when?”

“No serditse s serdtsem, slovno ptitsy …”

“But heart with heart must come together.”

“Konechno, vstretiatsia opiat …”

“And someday surely meet again.”

It was there now in Claire’s eyes, a look cast lovingly between her two children that told them who they were and where they belonged; they were hers and she was theirs, all together finally. Reflected in her mother’s gaze, Wally saw herself, as if for the first time.

And then Claire was gone. Wally dropped her head to Claire’s chest and wailed, grasping her dead mother in her arms desperately, as if struggling to pull her back into life. She stirred from her grief only when she became aware of the sirens in the near distance and then the approaching thunder of the medevac helicopter that flew low beneath the clouds overhead. Wally lifted her head, her eyes red from crying, her shirt stained and wet with Claire’s blood. Tiger stood frozen in place, overwhelmed and feeling every kind of pain at once. Wally looked Tiger in the eye with desperate urgency.

“My brother …”

“Sestryichka,”
he answered. Little sister.

“Run,” she said.

With those words, Tiger’s awareness of his surroundings—and his situation—came rushing back, and reality took hold again. Tiger stuffed his gun under his belt and, with one last glance to his sister, bolted into the woods. Within seconds he was out of sight, disappearing under the dense curtain of snow that continued to fall.

THIRTY-FIVE

Wally stayed home
alone at the 84th Street apartment for three days. She slept a lot, ate almost nothing, and cried her share. In between, when she felt strong enough, Wally went slowly through her mother’s private things, looking for any information about the woman she had known as Claire Stoneman. As Wally reflected on the last eleven years of her life, she assumed there must have been clues that Claire was not who she claimed to be but also—in the great irony of Wally’s young life—
exactly
who she had always claimed to be: Wally’s mother. But there were no clues. Yalena Mayakova’s transformation into Claire Stoneman had been complete, leaving no traces at all.

At four o’clock in the afternoon, on her third day alone, the house phone rang and Wally picked up, surprising herself.

“Yeah.”

“Miss Stoneman—”

“Stop it, Raoul. I’m still just Wally.”

“Okay. Wally, someone named Natalie Stehn is here.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

Wally didn’t feel like company, really, but she was grateful to Natalie—her mother’s and now Wally’s lawyer—for all the things she had done and was still doing on Wally’s behalf. After the incident on Shelter Island, Wally had been questioned by both local and federal authorities for over twelve hours, with a Social Services caseworker waiting in the wings to take Wally into custody. Natalie Stehn had shown up and bulled her way into the interview room, armed with a document that declared her to be Wally’s legal guardian, signed and notarized several years earlier by Claire Stoneman. Once her custodianship had been established, Natalie had demanded Wally’s release and had brought her home to 84th Street. Natalie had offered to stay with Wally, but Wally had insisted on being alone.

The doorbell rang and Wally opened the door for Natalie, a smallish woman but very forceful and direct. She gave Wally her own version of a sympathetic smile, but touchy-feely was not Natalie’s style.

“How are you, Wally?”

“I’m okay. Come on in, Natalie.” They sat on the soft couch in the living room, Wally tucking her legs up under her robe, Natalie sitting squarely upright. “I want to thank you again for the other day,” Wally said. “I’d be in juvie right now if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Just my job, but you’re welcome. Is there anything you need right now? Money? You still have the credit card, right? You can get cash with that?”

“I’m good.”

“Okay,” Natalie said, and pulled a file from her valise. “Any order you want this stuff?”

“Johanna.”

“Right,” Natalie said, and leafed through the file. “The doctors still have her in a medically induced coma while she recovers from massive trauma. As I said before, the staff say it’s a miracle she’s still alive, but at this point they’re fairly optimistic about a recovery.”

“When can I visit her?”

“They’re going to wake her up in two days—probably—depending on her progress.”

“Okay. I want to be there when that happens.”

“Right, I’ll keep you posted as I keep in touch with the medical staff.”

“Jake and Ella?”

“My guy found them.” Natalie leafed further into her reports. “It looks like things went pretty much the way you hoped, the two of them together at that residential facility, Neversink Farm.”

“Good,” Wally said. “And the place is okay?”

“Yeah, my guy says it checks out. Nice clean farm, animals, a lake. Here’s a random detail: apparently they’ve already put Jake in charge of a pig named Titan, a massive boar, and the kid seems happy about it. Ella is learning to cook.”

Wally was pleased with this outcome. She figured these were perfect assignments, a recalcitrant beast to match Jake’s own aggressive nature and Ella in a kitchen with lots of food.

“It sounds like a good situation,” Natalie continued. “I think my guy halfway wanted to live there himself. So, how would you like to proceed, as relates to those two?”

Wally had given this a lot of thought. “Jake and Ella deserve a chance to make their own way,” she said. “That’s what I want to happen. And we can be, like …”

“A safety net?”

“Yeah, a safety net. I like that.” Wally smiled, imagining Ella and Jake on a flying trapeze, Jake hurling Ella up in the air and catching her again.
She’s watching over you.
… That’s what Ella had said about Wally’s Russian mother, and she had been totally right about that. Magical Ella.

Natalie turned a page in her file and sighed. “Tevin.”

“Tevin.” Wally nodded, her smile evaporating.

“My guy has looked everywhere, and the only relative he’s found for Tevin is an aunt whose last known residence was in Nashville. No current address for her yet. Tevin’s remains are still in the city morgue, but the coroner has released them to be claimed.”

“We can claim them?”

“We can get a court order for that. My suggestion? I can make arrangements to have his remains cremated, and you can take custody of him. That way, over time, you can decide how you want to memorialize him. Maybe at some point with your friends Jake and Ella, maybe with Tevin’s aunt when we find her …”

“That sounds right, Natalie. Let’s do that.”

“Good. Now, we haven’t talked about this yet, but on a hunch I set the wheels in motion for you to petition for emancipated minor status.”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I thought. So we’ll set aside the estate issues until after you’re emancipated; that’ll make things simpler. As executor of your mother’s estate, I’ve done some preliminary work with an accountant. I can tell you that your mother was a very successful woman, as you know. Once everything is settled, you’ll assume ownership of this apartment—it’s paid for in full—and of various assets, both onshore and off. Claire was a shrewd businesswoman. Money will not be a problem for you, Wallis, unless of course you go
meshugeh
, which, once you’re emancipated, will be entirely up to you. Good?”

“Yeah, good. Thanks, Natalie.”

“So, I know this is a difficult subject for you. I had a fairly long conversation with your father.” There was an awkward pause. “Jason, I mean. Obviously.”

“Okay.” Wally’s heart hardened at the mention of his name.

“You know he’s been here in town since he heard about everything. You haven’t returned his calls.”

Jason had called the apartment dozens of times, but Wally had ignored the messages. He had also shown up at the apartment building, but Wally had told the doormen to turn him away.

“It’s up to you, Wally,” Natalie said. “You’re a big girl. But … for all his flaws and transgressions, I do believe Jason cares about you very much. He did let you down, but also remember that Claire’s secrets were kept from Jason as well as you. With no trust in the marriage, the cards were stacked against him. Anyway, as I say, it’s up to you. He wants to come to Claire’s service, but he’ll stay away if you say he’s not welcome.”

Wally considered this. She wondered if there was still any room in her jaded heart for trust, for faith.

“Let him come,” she said.

Natalie could not suppress a hopeful smile.

“Way to go, Wally.” Natalie gathered her things and stood to go. “I’m going to head out and give you some time.”

“Thanks. Sorry to be so—”

“Are you kidding? Wally, I would give anything to be as strong as you are. Truly.”

Wally nodded her thanks.

Natalie hovered for a moment, looking anxious, as if debating something in her own head. Wally could see the woman struggling.

“What is it, Natalie?”

“I just couldn’t figure out if I should wait on this or what. Your first few days, you were pretty raw. You still are, I know.”

Wally tensed again. “God, Natalie,” she said. “What next?”

Natalie pulled out a letter-size envelope and passed it to Wally.
For Wally
was written on the front, in Claire’s hand. The envelope was sealed.

“Your mother wrote a new note to you every six months or so and asked me to hold it … you know, just in case. I have the old ones in a file back at my office, if you ever want them.”

Holding the letter in her hand, Wally almost laughed.

“The real thing,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Wally said. “Thanks again for everything. I’ll see you at the service on Saturday?”

“Of course,” Natalie said. “I’ll see you Saturday, but no doubt we’ll talk on the phone before then.”

“Thanks again, Natalie.”

Natalie gathered up her things and showed herself out of the apartment, leaving Wally alone, the envelope from Claire sitting unopened on the coffee table in front of her.

Wally found Atley Greer
at Pier 63 in Chelsea, his left arm in a sling, struggling mightily to wrap a tarp around some sort of boat, a long and sleek craft that barely looked big enough to float a full-size man.

“What the hell is that thing?”

“It’s an outrigger canoe,” Atley said. “It’s taken apart right now, but the hull, right there, and the float connect together. Then you’ve got a helluva boat.”

“This is the end of your season?”

Atley nodded. “I’ve been so busy chasing miscreants around the city, I never had my last paddle.” He looked out over the water of the Hudson, sparkling in the bright midday sun. The current was slack and the wind gentle. “Damn. Look at that water. Today would have been it, but not with my busted wing.” He held up his broken arm, worthless for paddling as long as the cast was on.

“Nice water to look at, though.”

Atley gave her a look and shrugged. “You gonna help me with this, or what?”

Wally pitched in and the job went much faster. They zipped the canvas tarp around the boat and its elements to make a long narrow package, then carried it together to a boat rack, where they locked it down.

“I got your invitation for the service on Saturday,” Atley said. “Thank you.”

“You’ll be there?”

Atley nodded.

“I was wondering—”

“About your brother.”

“Yes.”

“Long gone. He left a blood trail that disappeared at the Hatches’ house, and after that … we got nothing. Every local and federal agency on the eastern seaboard is looking for him. Three days and not one sign.”

Good
, Wally thought. She didn’t say it out loud, of course, but Atley caught the look on her face and knew.

“And my mother. Is anyone trying to put together her story? I guess the details don’t matter much now, but … you know. I’m thinking about her a lot, everything she went through.”

Atley nodded his understanding. “The FBI is piecing her timeline together. A friend of mine is heading up that side. They’ve got a good handle on her, I think.”

“All the way back to Russia?”

“To when she was a kid, yeah. Your grandmother worked in the dean’s office of the Emerson School for over twenty years. Yalena attended the school for free and pretty much grew up with American kids.”

Wally considered this. “That’s why the good American English. I don’t remember ever hearing an accent in her voice.”

“Not just the language,” Atley said. “Seems like she learned most everything about American culture. That’s gotta be the main reason the transition to her American identity was possible.”

“My grandmother … the one who worked at the Emerson School?”