Keeping Thyme (Thyme Trilogy) (12 page)

I hold Tench’s hand and follow slightly behind him to the hotel’s dinning area to meet with Luka. I still have no clue what to do once I get to the bookstore that Luka’s about to whisk me away to. I just hope Simon and Liz are monitoring and realise someone is coming with me. They should know this about Tench by now
, though. He’s not going to leave me unattended very often. He never does, so why would he be any different in another country where I can’t even speak the language?

Luka gets up from his seat to greet our arrival at
his table. The muscles in his arm ripple underneath his white long-sleeved shirt as he stretches out to shake Tench’s hand. His dress sense makes him look hotter, if that was even possible. His tight white V-neck T-shirt highlights his strong body underneath, and his jeans look worn and fashionable. Why did I have to get stuck with baby-blue-eyes for the day? Is Tench trying to test my loyalty? Here’s hoping Luka isn’t very bright so I can just fish for some information while I’m with him.

“I took the chance to order breakfast for you
, cousin. I know you’re probably in a rush, but I think you should eat.” Luka’s deep accented voice could melt underwear away within a sentence.

“You’re right
, Luka. I’m always in a rush, so I’ll stay for breakfast. Besides, who could say no to more of this?” He runs his thumb along my jawline. “Miranda, you will love the crepes, or
blini
, that they do here. They’re almost as sweet as you.”

I grin through my teeth, ready to ignite inside at any given moment.

The thin
blini
crepes with lemon, sour cream and dark cherry jam were as delicious as Tench had suggested. Still, they weren’t enough to keep him here for longer than the time his fork hit the table. The moment Tench finishes his meal, he leaves me with Luka, and now I’m staring at my empty plate while he talks on his phone. His phone has been a constant source of conversation in Russian since we first sat down, and I’m already bored of it. Finally he ends his call, and there’s enough of a break in between conversations for him to pay me the slightest ounce of attention.

“Okay
, let’s go. I’ll take you to Dom Knigi now.” he gets out of his seat, “So you like books, eh?”

“What gave that away?” I reply snidely.

The dry Aussie humour was missed completely so he just sees me as a bitch.
Works for me
. Luka pulls out a small stack of Russian roubles and leaves them scattered on the table as he prepares to leave. He picks up his brown leather biker jacket off the back of the chair and wraps it over his arm. We get to the doorway and Luka offers to help put my coat on.

“
Spaseeba
.” I grin.

“
Puzhalsta
,” he coolly replies as he throws his own jacket over his shoulders.

“Okay
, I really need to learn a lot more Russian. I know one word.” I try and change the subject to distract myself from the sight of him looking even better in leather.

Luka places his hand gently across my back as we the exit the hotel
. “I can try teach you some things.” I hear him speak from behind me.

“Thanks.” I try my hardest to ignore his hand on me, but my body is having none of the ignorance
and my nipples tingle under my cashmere.

We walk to
Nevsky Prospect
along the wide footpath of the main drag for another hundred metres. When we get to a huge five-storey corner building, we stop. Luka points to a towering atrium at the top, draped with bronze angels and eagles.

“This is Dom Knigi, House of Books.” He lifts his chin towards the building
, his eyes showing far less interest in the building than me.

I look down
the street to the left and see a spectacular Orthodox church at the far end of the canal.

“Wow. Your country is so beautiful, and rich in histo
ry,” I burst out with wonderment.

Luka, cool as usual
, smiles. “Yes. There is much history in Russia. That church down there is St Petersburg sparkling jewel. The Saviour on the Spilled Blood.”

“It’s like something out of Disneyland
,” I gush. “Even with the slightly gruesome name.”

Luka shakes his head disapprovingly and almost snorts at me
. “You Aussies really have no idea about heritage, do you? Maybe my cousin needs to teach you about our
Rossiya
.” He almost spits his words at me. He grabs onto my hand. “Come, Miranda. Let me find this book for you.”

His hand feels large and strong around mine. I feel my cheeks threatening to blush at the surprise touch of him. It feels forbidden to even
accidentally have my flesh glance another man's at the moment, a feeling that’s both exhilarating and frightening.

I thought the outside of the building was extraordinary until I stepped inside.
The intricate marble parquetry floor patterns and the brass chandeliers, as well as the thick marble staircase covered by a deep-red carpet, are all brought together by the glittering gold accents that adorn the walls and doors with intricate cherubs and leaf patterns, and my eyes constantly bounce around the room. The space is full of the charm of yesteryear. This is definitely something we lack back in our modern Australia. The whole building is bustling with people young and old, all sinking into books or newspapers. Even in the morning, it’s obvious this store is one of the city’s most popular places to be.

“What book do you want
, Miranda?”

I’m so mesmerised by the beautiful bookstore that it takes me a moment to realise that I’m still holding Luka’s hand. I slip my
fingers away from his and smile when I catch his eyes on me.

“I want all the books!” I clap, and shake the hot guy germs off me
. “This is an amazing store, Luka. I had no idea it was going to be this beautiful. This is exactly how books should be presented.”

He chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair. Within an instant my body wants to drop to the ground in utter sorrow. Nick used to do the same thing when he was nervous.

Where has my life gotten me? Is this all really worth it? What if this could be my life … with Tench, experiencing the world, and being graced with handsome men. What if I could live in this lie forever? Maybe I could just turn my back on the agency?

But I can’t turn my back on my brother.
I can’t turn my back on the hurt. I tried running away from my problems once when my father died, and that didn’t get me very far. I ended up in prostitution. The path of retribution is directing me straight for Tench. I need him gone if I ever want a good life. Tench is evil, so my life with him would just
be
evil.

Maybe I need to travel the world for the rest of my life. That’s not so stupid. It’s probably better than staying in the one place for a long time. No one could catch me that way. I’d just need a bunch of passports and about four million dollars, and I could disappear for the rest of my life.

“Take me to Alexander Pushkin. I want The Bronze Horseman,” I order Luka before I can change my mind and run.

I follow Luka into the heart of the store to find it becomes more and more spectacular the further you dive
in. I start to worry about what the hell will be waiting for me, as I get deeper and deeper into this belly of literature. I notice the writing on the labels and signs around me. There isn’t a single character within the Russian language that looks recognisable or translatable into English in any of the Russian words surrounding me. I would’ve been in a lot of trouble trying to find this book if Luka wasn’t with me, so it must mean I’m not actually meeting up with my brother and Liz. Could I be meeting with Mei-Mei by herself? She assured me Liz and my brother would be here. But she does have a pretty legitimate reason for being in Russia, considering she just landed here with us, so running into her would be easy to explain. Can I trust her? What if it’s a set up? Just as I contemplate my next moves, Luka glances behind him and smiles.

“Here is Alexand
er,” he says as he points towards a door dwarfed by the expansive wall around it.

Next to the door a woman sits at a detailed mahogany desk. Her green eyes leave the pages of the book to greet us. She smiles and speaks beautifully in Russian
—but then, everyone sounds amazing when they speak Russian.

Luka turns to me
. “You need to book in a time to go into this room.”

“But I just want to buy a book.” I screw my nose up.

This is not really something that I want to have to deal with right now. The woman smiles and pushes the book out in front of her and holds the pen towards me. I see an opportunity to see who’s in there while I write my name in the book. I scan down the time slots to see if I recognise anyone down them. On the page next to it, I see that Mei-Mei was in the room first thing this morning. Her name is the only Chinese characters in the book. Both symbols look exactly the same, so it has to say
Mei Mei
right? I write my name alongside the next available time slot and hand the pen back to the woman.

“We have half hour to look around.” Luka smiles.

The building really
is something special, but my mind can’t pull itself away from what’s waiting for me in the Pushkin room. Luka’s phone begins to buzz with a call again and again, but he looks at it and doesn’t answer.

Eventually I look at him
. “You can go and answer it, you know. I can meet you at the Pushkin room if you want?”

“What if you get lost?” His eyes narrow as he contemplates the idea.

“I’ll ask someone for directions. Most people can speak some English, right?”

He finally agrees and nods
. “Okay, I will come to Pushkin room. Or else dis phone does not stop.”

As soon as Luka disappears down the stairs, I search around the surrounding
areas near the Pushkin room to see if I notice anything at all. There’s no one around. I look down at my watch and see it’s time to go into the room, so I make my way back to the young woman at the desk. A man in his fifties in a dark-blue cable-knit jumper stands next to the door and smiles eagerly as I approach.

“Hello. I am Igor. You are Miss Davis? Come into Pushkin room
,” he announces with a broad smile and eager hand shake.

“Hi
, yes. Please, call me Miranda.” I follow Igor through to the room.

The room is more a museum than it is a bookstore. The only difference is the items on display all have a price
-tag attached. I notice Igor is wearing white gloves, and it’s no wonder. These books look older than my own country.

“So
, I’m after a Pushkin book. I’d like to buy his
Bronze Horseman
poem.”

“Yes, your boyfriend rang and bought the book for you to collect. This book has lots of interest for two days now. Another couple
from England wanted this book. They were here yesterday looking at it. Lucky your boyfriend ordered it for you, or else you would miss out, maybe.”

Was it Simon and Liz who came here? Igor makes his way to a counter and pulls out a finely decorated box that looks like a book on the outside. Igor opens it up with his white gloves to show me the contents. The paper inside is well worn and brittle
; they pages are faded and the edges are fraying.

“The complete works of Alexand
er Pushkin.”

“How much did this cost
, if you don’t mind me asking?” I’m too scared to even touch the pages so I just stare at it.

“Not much for foreigners. Russians hold little value for books. This was only fifteen thousand American dollars. We practically give our treasures away
,” he grunts.

“Well
, your treasure will be loved.” I smile.

He nods and grabs a soft piece of cloth and wraps it around the priceless item.

“Do you have this in English at all?” I don’t like my chances.

Igor grins
. “Of course. We have many.” He grabs a book from the shelf behind him. “This is the same as I give to the couple whom wanted your book.”

“Okay
, thanks.” I hope this is what Simon and Liz wanted me to come in here for.

But why would Mei-Mei be in here too?
I want to look through both books to find any hidden messages, so I thank Igor as politely as possible and make my way back out, towards the café just near the entrance when I first came in. I take a table at the far end of the room and watch for Luka arriving at any moment.

I move as quick as I can so that I can see what’s inside the books before Luka finds me here. I unwrap the box of Pushkin’s original works and carefully lift the lid to look through the pages for something. At the bottom of the box, there’s a small
piece of very new looking paper. I take it out and see the number seventy-six is written on it. I hold the paper over the tea-light candle on the table and watch it quickly burn on my side plate.
What does seventy-six mean?
I wrap the box back up and sit back into my seat harshly. How on earth am I meant to work out what that means? I look back down at my two new books on the table. I grab the English translation and flick through to page seventy-six and start reading.