I could see the outline of a building that looked like it was surrounded by huge gardens. “What kind of building is that?” I asked.
“It’s a dacha,” he said. “Not very interesting, I’m afraid.”
I moved closer. “May I see?”
He handed the sketchbook to me, though I could tell he was reluctant. “I love our stepfather’s dacha,” I said. “It’s so wonderful with all the big windows and the open rooms and the breezes blowing through. There are wonderful gardens there too, and a fish pond and…” I realized I was talking too much.
Dmitri’s face lit up. “That’s exactly the kind of place I want to build. These buildings in Petrograd are beautiful, but sometimes it feels like we all live in the past or in a museum.”
I’d never seen his face so open and happy, and I was intrigued that architecture was such a passion to him. But once again I was puzzled that Dmitri seemed to be planning to go back to school, as if he could leave the Horse Guard. I wished I knew him well enough to ask him about it.
“Lottie, stop talking and let’s play,” Hap grumbled.
I handed the sketchbook back to Dmitri. “I’d like to look at more of these sometime, if you don’t mind.”
“I would be happy to show you, if you’re sure it won’t be dull.” His eyes held mine. I couldn’t look away.
“Lottie!” Hap’s voice again.
“It won’t,” I said.
I sat down at the piano, trying to clear my head. I had stopped taking lessons when my mother was sick because I couldn’t concentrate on practicing the long classical pieces anymore. Every time I did, thoughts of what I needed to do at the hospital or complaints from Archer about the boys or the twins filled my head until I couldn’t hear the music.
At least the pieces Hap liked were short and easy, and I thought I could manage them. But once we started to play, I fumbled far more than usual. Both Hap and Miles grew exasperated with me until I forced myself to shut down all my other thoughts.
When we’d finished playing all the way through without a mistake, I got up. “Enough for tonight.”
Dmitri had gone back to sketching, or at least holding the pen, but he didn’t seem to be making any marks on the page. I really, really wanted to see what he had drawn. I wasn’t paying attention to the boys’ talk until I heard Stepan say my name.
“Charlotte, Archer says you all should go back to America now,” he said as he moved over to the piano, plinking at one note a few times. “But you won’t go without me, will you?” His voice wobbled.
“What?” My heart clenched at the worry in his voice. “Don’t listen to Archer,” I said, trying not to let my irritation show. “He’s always trying to get rid of us, you know that.”
“He says you should go because the Germans will be here soon and murder us all in our beds.” Stepan didn’t look up from the keyboard.
I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. “Archer told you that?” I wanted to go find the man and demand what he thought he was doing scaring a little boy like that.
“Not to me, exactly. I overheard him telling Zarja that.” Stepan plinked another key.
“It’s not going to happen.” Dmitri shut the sketchbook with a loud thump. “We’ve had some setbacks, but we’ll never stop fighting. Archer has no idea what he’s talking about.”
Stepan looked up at Dmitri. “He says you shouldn’t be here either. He says you should be with your regiment at the front even if you can’t fight because it would be more useful than wasting your time with Miles and Hap because they aren’t worth your time.”
Dmitri went rigid. His eyes narrowed, and I could almost see the anger radiating off him.
I struggled to keep my own anger in check. “Stepan, you know how Archer is. He always thinks the worst is going to happen.”
“I know he’s like that.” Stepan’s voice trembled. “But maybe sometimes the worst does happen.”
I went over to him. “The Germans aren’t going to get here. And you don’t have to worry about it. That’s not your job. Dmitri knows what he’s talking about. Archer doesn’t. We’re all together and we are safe.”
I heard giggling from the hall. The twins. They should have been in bed long ago.
“Hello!” Nika called out as they bounded into the room. “We have a surprise!”
Sophie carried a small tray with a single glass on it full of a pink, cloudy liquid. Some of it sloshed out when she set it on the table next to Dmitri. “We brought a special drink for Dmitri Antonovich to make his leg better.”
“What’s in it?” I asked.
The twins looked at each other. Nika spoke up. “Only milk and jam and a medicine Polina got from her babushka.”
While I didn’t think any of Polina’s medicines were poisonous, I’d be hesitant to consume some of them. Before I could warn him, Dmitri took a sip.
His jaw moved in an odd way and I realize he was trying not to gag.
“It’s … it’s very thoughtful of you,” he said after he managed to swallow. “I’ll sip it slowly as I draw to make it last.”
“Do you feel different?” Nika asked eagerly.
“Um … yes, I feel better,” Dmitri said.
“Don’t you think Lottie is pretty?” Sophie asked.
Miles burst out laughing and Hap made a sputtering sound.
“Sophie!” I was mortified.
“Charlotte Danielovna is very pretty,” Dmitri said solemnly.
I didn’t know where to look or what to say. Luckily, Papa saved me. He walked in and held his arms out as if he wanted to embrace us all.
“Very cozy,” he said. “I like to see all you children together.” He of course didn’t notice that it was very late for Sophie and Nika. “Dmitri, let’s have our talk now. Lottie, why don’t you come in with us. Dmitri Antonovich and I are going to talk about the boys’ lessons now that he’s had a chance to see what they know and what they don’t.”
The “what they don’t know” column was much longer than the “what they know” one. I was curious to hear what Dmitri would say, so I followed them into the library.
Once we were settled, Papa started with Miles. “I know his illness has led to gaps in his knowledge, but if he applies himself, he can catch up, and he’ll be well enough to attend university someday.”
“It’s difficult to convince him to study subjects he’s not interested in.” Dmitri chose his words carefully. “He’s quite occupied with studying American history right now, to the exclusion of everything else. He’s writing a comparison of the American government under British rule to the Russian government.”
“Oh, he’s back to that?” Papa chuckled. “You should have seen him when he was a just a twig of a boy. He’d go around shouting ‘Give me liberty or give me death!’ Something some radical American was famous for saying.”
My breath stopped. It couldn’t be. Just because Miles could quote American revolutionaries didn’t mean he was writing seditious brochures. My mind went into a whirl as I tried to think of all the reasons it couldn’t be him. How could he get them printed? And he couldn’t distribute them. I assumed most of the radicals were from the universities, meeting in secret spots around the city. Surely I’d know if he sneaked out at night.