Vanguard (31 page)

“You do not believe they will not talk to the media, do you?”

“Of course they won’t.” The loyalty of their GYL class was unquestionable. “But they have a right to know in advance, in case the media contacts someone. We can send a joint email to everyone. Jesus, this is like announcing an engagement.” He gave her a smoldering gaze above his coffee cup, making her blush.

“We should also let the GYL administrative office know about this,” he said. “They also may be contacted.”

“Good thinking. Oh, Sergei and Sevastian.” Sophie scribbled furiously. “They arrive tomorrow from Kaliningrad. I’ll explain to them the importance of keeping a low profile and not talking to the media.” She paused. “Do you have any family you wish to tell?”

“Just my parents. I would be surprised if my mother has not already sent emails to our extended family in Europe, asking how many could make a summer wedding.” Sophie choked on her coffee. “Most of my family is in Orlisia anyway, and, although they are all accounted for, they are likely not in a position to be reading American newspapers.”

“I know,” she said, touching his hand. “My parents can reach out to our extended family. There aren’t many of us and we’re not close. I’ll send an email to Matthew tonight. All my other real friends are either class or at the Parnaas camp.” She smiled ruefully. “We’re not exactly social butterflies, are we?”

“Perhaps not. But the friends we have are true friends who will not betray us.”

~~ - ~~

They had a brief conversation with Signe and Maxwell that night about what was likely to take place over the next week or so. Maxwell looked resigned to the whole thing, as if he’d anticipated this might happen. Signe, who knew what it was like to be the subject of gossip and media speculation, expressed concern for them.

They drove back to Brooklyn to talk to Jeris and Don Swenda via webcam. It had taken Sophie a long time to get her parents set up on Skype, but now even her father could handle a video call.

“I’d like you to meet Michael Nariovsky-Trent,” she said, after telling them about her return to the US. Michael moved into the frame. Her parents looked at him speculatively for a moment.

“Nariovsky-Trent. Your name is familiar,” said Jeris at last. “Weren’t you in Sophie’s GYL class?”

“Yes, Mrs. Swenda. I apologize that we cannot meet in person, but time does not allow it.”

Sophie’s father looked at Michael sharply, his blue eyes boring through the computer screen. “Are you courting my daughter, young man?”

“Yes, sir, that is my intent. With your approval, of course.” Michael seemed quite comfortable, his dashing, formal style well suited for asking a man’s permission to date his daughter.
His twenty-nine-year-old daughter who does not require her father’s permission to date anyone!
Sophie thought furiously. But this was clearly not a good time to argue. “Sophie means the world to me. My intentions toward her are entirely honorable, sir.”

Don mumbled something about the definition of honorable these days, but seemed to consider Michael’s declaration acceptable. Sophie felt dazed as she explained to her parents what they might see in the media in the days ahead. They promised not to talk to reporters and keep the rest of the family in line.

When they disconnected, she turned to him in shock. “You handled that better than anyone ever should have.”

He laughed and kissed her forehead. “It seemed too early to ask for your hand in marriage. Besides, when the time comes, I will speak to your father in person. That is the appropriate thing to do.” She froze until she saw the teasing glint in his eye. She tried to punch him in the shoulder, but he easily blocked her and kissed her instead.

~~ - ~~

March 2, 2014

On Sunday, just before lunch, Michael and Sophie walked up to the front door of the DeVries estate, loaded down with presents for little Michael. Before they could ring the doorbell, Carter yanked the door open. He looked at Michael and burst into tears. Sophie turned to him in alarm, but she may as well have been a piece of furniture for all the attention he paid her. Michael dropped the gifts and threw his arms around Carter in a crushing embrace.

Sophie stood agog as they hugged each other, pounding one another on the back and spewing obscenities. Eventually they backed off, cursing and punching each other.

“Sophie. Shit, come in.” Carter hugged her tight. She shuffled inside and piled the mountain of presents by the door. Michael and Carter were still whacking at one another, so she peeked around the corner into the den to see Janet holding her son on her lap while she patted him on the back.

“Hi, Sophie,” she said with a tired smile. “Come on in. He’s just finished his lunch.” Sophie slipped into the room and sat down on the couch beside Janet. “This is little Michael. Let me finish burping him so he doesn’t spit up on you. He tends to do that when you least expect it.” She laughed as Sophie’s eyes widened in alarm at the mention of baby vomit.

A few moments later, Janet had coaxed a burp out of the baby. “There we go.” She wrapped him expertly in a blanket. “Now you can meet your Auntie Sophie at last.” She held her son out to Sophie, who sat frozen in terror.

“I’m not good with babies,” she mumbled. “I mean, I delivered one, but that was an extreme situation.”

A set of big hands swooped down from behind her and whisked the swaddled baby away. She watched open-mouthed as Michael wandered across the room with little Michael in his arms, crooning away in Orlisian. When he reached the other side and turned around, he stopped dead, noticing the two women staring at him.

“What?” he said defensively. “I have a large, close family in Orlisia. I have been caring for my younger cousins since I was eight. It is customary in our culture for the older children to look after the younger ones.”

“Sorry.” Sophie slumped down, humiliated. “I didn’t expect you to be so much better at it than I am. I’m a girl, for God’s sake.”

He smiled and sat down beside her with his namesake safely snuggled in his grasp. “You will be fine. You just have not had any practice. Like this, yes, that is lovely.” He gently placed the baby in her arms, showing her how to support the head. “See? You are magnificent.”

He leaned forward so only Sophie could hear him. “You will be the most beautiful mother in the world when you hold our child in your arms.” She looked at him in shock, and he smiled, kissing her lips lingeringly.

“DUDE!” Carter shouted, startling everyone. He stood in the doorway, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Michael and Sophie. “What the fuck was that? You just kissed her!”

“Language in front of the baby!” scolded Janet.

“Fuck language! He’s not even six weeks old!” Carter suddenly got up in Michael’s face. “Don’t even tell me you two are together again. You are
toxic
together. Don’t you remember our year on the road?”

“Carter, get a grip.” Sophie rolled her eyes and sighed. “That was more than ten years ago. I’m not seventeen. I’m not a virgin, and haven’t been for a while. And he,” she pointed at Michael, trying not to drop the baby as she did so, “is the only man I will ever love. So get over it.”

Carter sat down, his face confused.

Janet laughed. “You’ve been told,” she said. “Besides, any man who is that comfortable with babies is a good catch.”

~~ - ~~

March 5, 2014

They stood near the corner newsstand, looking at the piles of the
New York Times
. People walked by on their way to the train, grabbing copies and throwing their money to the vendor. It was like any other workday in New York City, except they could see Michael’s face on the front of the paper.

He edged up to the vendor, flung some money at him, grabbed a paper, and ran back to Sophie. “The article is on the front page. The front page!” he hissed. He grabbed her arm and started hustling her back the way they came. They were on their way to the UNICEF offices downtown.

“Of course it’s on the front page. They told you at the end of yesterday’s interview that this would be a significant story in today’s edition.” She struggled against his grip. “The subway is that way.”

“I am not getting on that train. All those people have the newspaper! They will look at me! We will drive instead.”

“Are you crazy? It’ll cost you a fortune to park! Nobody drives in the city during the day.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he kept walking back to his parents’ house so fast that Sophie had to jog to keep up. While she waited in the car, he ran back into the house to get a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap. She snorted at his drama but said nothing.

They drove through appalling traffic to UNICEF headquarters to meet Joanna Rigby. Sophie started reading the article aloud to Michael, but stopped when she saw the look on his face. The headline in the paper on her lap was clearly visible.

American Discovered in Squalor of Orlisian Refugee Camp

Pressure mounts on UN to move faster upon reports of atrocities

“It’s a fair, accurate article. Their world affairs reporter has a very balanced approach. That’s why we gave him the first interview. You did a terrific job, Joanna told you so.” She gazed at him with concern. “You don’t have to do any more of this if you don’t want to.”

“I do not want to, you know this. But the UN has to move faster. Those in Parnaas need all the help we can give them.” He took a deep breath. “I find this very overwhelming.”

~~ - ~~

Applause rang out as they entered the room that had been set aside for their use.

“A great start today with the
Times
article. Front page, with a picture. You wowed them, Michael.” Joanna handed him a coffee. “Are you up for more interviews today?”

“Yes,” he said shortly.

“Good. Because we have a lot of requests.” Joanna’s eyes flickered up to Sophie’s and then back to his. “A lot.”

~~ - ~~

March 31, 2014

Within a few weeks, Michael’s life became unrecognizable. He spent more time with Joanna than he did with Sophie, and his face had appeared on the cover of most major publications in America, both online and in print. The Soviet-Orlisian war vaulted back into the headlines, and the UN peacekeeping force moved up its timeline for entry into Orlisia. They also sent a team of consultants to join the coalition in Parnaas.

Michael received 157 proposals of marriage from total strangers in a forty-eight-hour time span. Sophie found these amusing. He did not.

They walked into the office on the last day of March and found the PR team clustered around a newspaper on the table. Someone tittered. Everyone looked up when they heard them come in, and the laughter stopped. A guilty silence filled the room.

“What is that?” he demanded.

“Michael, Sophie, let’s sit down now. Everything is fine. We knew this might happen.” Joanna moved to stop him, but he brushed her aside. He snatched the paper out from under the noses of the PR staff and examined it.

“Oh God.”

The
New York Post
. Page Six.
Refugee Hottie Sets Up Camp with Rescuer?

“It was bound to come out sooner or later,” Joanna said. “I don’t think Page Six is an authority in the lives of anyone who matters to you.”

“I know. But still…”

The short article included pictures of both Sophie and Michael. No sources were named. The paper revealed that they had attended GYL together, had recently been spotted around the city together, and were possibly living together.

Michael’s hands trembled with rage. Sophie tried to remove the paper from his hand without success. “Love, don’t worry.” She spoke in Orlisian to grant them some privacy. “We have done nothing wrong. My board of directors has always known that I was searching for you and why. We have accounted for every penny spent by the coalition in our efforts to find you. It has all been covered by the donation.”

“They have implied wrongdoing on your part,” he said through clenched teeth. “And made it sound as if we are having a cheap fling. Please do not tell me I should be comfortable with this.” He stabbed at the paper with his finger, pointing to the last line of ugly speculation:

Did Sophie Swenda’s bosses – and RCI donors – know she went to Orlisia for a booty call with an old flame?

She gasped, her face paling. She took a deep breath and pushed the newspaper away into Joanna’s hands.

“No, I don’t expect you to comfortable with that. Any more than I am. But we cannot allow it to rule us. Let’s get to work.”

~~ - ~~

April 10, 2014

The media storm continued, but now they were both in the eye of the hurricane. And Sophie had a great deal more to lose than Michael did.

Sly innuendo was everywhere. At its kindest, the media portrayed their story as a daring personal rescue. At its worst, they implied that she had abused her responsibility to track down a runaway lover.