Chapter Thirty Seven

“Ovechkin?  You’re telling me that the Alex you spent two weeks with in Moscow is Alexander Ovechkin?”  Madison asked incredulously, clicking through the pictures on Zoey’s computer.  After recovering from the discovery of the figurine, Zoey had confessed everything to her friend.  Now two days later, she still repeated his name in disbelief. Zoey, stuck in the car with her for the last three hours, was beginning to get annoyed by it. She almost liked it better when Madison had gotten mad at Zoey for holding out on her.

Madison had talked her into going to Washington to see a game.  It was an exciting idea for Zoey, but she was nervous.  The swans clearly meant he would be thinking of her. But that was five months ago. She couldn’t expect him to still be thinking of her now.   But the chance to see his face again was too much and Zoey had agreed. She’d changed her mind three times on the drive. The last hour, she’d decided she would stay at the hotel and not join Madison at the game. She’d finally found a place where her dreams weren’t filled with him and she should just leave it alone.  Of course, that was before the swans, she reminded herself.  She’d dreamt of him each night since she discovered the treasure.

She gripped the wheel of her Acura TSX a little tighter. The traffic on the I-45 was getting a little heavy.  Zoey hated driving in heavy traffic. In Manhattan, almost everything she needed was within walking distance and if not, there was always the subway. The only time she really had to deal with traffic was when she had to venture outside the city.  Her palms were getting sweaty. She was already nervous enough. She didn’t need traffic.  Madison was chattering non-stop next to her.  She was terribly excited to introduce Zoey to hockey. She’d been so excited about her friend in DC getting her seats at the glass.

“You never get seats at the glass this close to the game. These seats are always gone right away. I can’t believe how lucky we were that Danielle couldn’t use her tickets.  Zoey, you just don’t understand.  The stars must be aligned for something special.  Maybe we’ll see a hat-trick!  How great would that be for your first game?”

Zoey barely heard her.  She registered the hat-trick comment, even someone with her limited knowledge of hockey knew that a hat trick was three goals by the same player in the same game. She also knew that they were very hard to accomplish. Alex had explained it to her. He only has ten of them in his whole career.  Zoey remembered thinking that seemed like a lot, but then she remember that hockey played eighty-two games a year.  Alex had played several hundred games in his career.

“Oh, shit,” she exclaimed, pressing on the brake, as a flashy, brand new Camaro slipped in front of her on its way weaving through traffic. “Dumb ass,” she grumbled under her breath, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

“You want me to drive for a while?” Madison offered.

“Letting you drive would not help my nerves any more than letting Alex drive!”

“Oh, really?  Does he really drive crazy like the tabloids say?” asked Madison. She was so eager to hear any little tidbit about Alex. Zoey understood that it was so exciting for her, but each question brought up a memory that Zoey wasn’t sure she wanted to linger over.

Zoey sighed. “Of course not.  He drives fast, yes. But he is safe.”  

Her mind wandered to the day he drove her to his dacha.  The wind coming in from the open window ruffled his hair. She recalled his mischievous smile as he revved the engine.  Was she falling even then?

She finally had to admit to herself that the fall began the first time she looked into his blue eyes.

Chapter Thirty-six

Madison stepped quickly inside and started shedding her winter accoutrements, chattering a mile a minute when Zoey opened the door to her Tribeca loft.  She was telling Zoey of her blind-date the night before.  Zoey just smiled, knowing her friend would chatter on incessantly until she felt that she had Zoey caught up on everything that had happened since the last time they saw each other. It had been a quite a while since she had spent any real time with Madison. After returning home from Europe, Zoey had been completely immersed in meetings with her publisher and editor. They constantly vacillated between which pictures would be included in the book and what part of the history of each church should be added.  After more time than Zoey had ever thought possible, the book was finally sent to the printers.  Now she could take a few days, turn off her cell phone and relax.  And she intended to do just that.

“And he didn’t even remember my name! It was absolutely the worst date in my entire life!”

Zoey snickered and received a glare from her friend in return. 

“I’m sorry, Maddy. It sounds dreadful,” she grinned. “At least, he didn’t pressure you to come inside.”

The look of horror that passed over Madison’s face completely did her in. She burst out laughing, unable to contain herself. After a short moment, Madison joined her.

“You just wait,” she said. “You’ll get yours soon enough. We’ll find you a real special guy.”

“Oh, no,” Zoey laughed. “We absolutely will not. There’s not a man in Manhattan that I am remotely interested in dating.”

“Aw, come on, I’m sure we can find you someone.  How about that guy…”

“No, no, no!”

“Really, now, Zoey,” her friend’s voice grew serious, “you can’t go on living on memories of this Alex guy.  It’s time you got back out there.”

Zoey’s smile faded. She had told her best friend about the man she met in Moscow.  She had only left out his last name.  Madison actually followed hockey.  She held season tickets for the New York Rangers games here at the Garden.  She would know who he was.  She had surely seen him play. Zoey wasn’t sure why she didn’t tell her really. Perhaps it would make it harder if Madison actually knew the man who broke her heart.  Or perhaps, Madison would hound her even more to go to a hockey game with her. 

“Come on. Are you ready for lunch?” Zoey asked, ignoring her friend.

“Yes, I’m starved!”

Zoey grabbed her coat.

“Oh wait, let me grab that suitcase while I’m here. You know I will forget it if I don’t.”

Zoey led her to the closet in the spare bedroom and retrieved the suitcase. Madison was going on a week long trip to visit her family in North Carolina. She has asked to borrow the luggage to carry gifts for her nieces and nephews.

“Zoey, there is something in here,” Madison said, shaking the suitcase. She opened it and discovered a Nesting Doll.

“You didn’t tell me you got some of these. This one is cute. It’s a bear.” 

Zoey had forgotten that she’d left them in the case.  Madison opened each doll like an excited child and exclaimed as reached the last.

“What’s this? I thought there were just dolls.”

“There are only dolls. The last one doesn’t open.”

Zoey took the tiny velvet bag from her friend, perplexed.  She shook the contents into her open palm.  It was a pair of tiny white swans, a hand-made glass figurine from St. Petersburg.  Madison dropped the doll she was holding as Zoey burst into tears.

Chapter Thirty-five

It was cold in Washington DC. It was a little unseasonable for the end November.  There had been small amount of snow on the ground this morning, left from flurries over night. It disappeared quite quickly when the sun rose.  The last week had been below freezing and the media acted as if the whole city was frozen.  Alex just laughed. Though he has become accustomed to the mild winters in the District, he was still reminded of home when the rare instance of cold occurred.  He looked forward to December when the snow would actually stay on the ground for more than a couple of days. He sipped his coffee and stretched out on his long leather couch. It was an off day for the team.  They were twenty-three games into the eighty-two game season and had just finished an out-of-town stretch of three games over a week in Florida and Texas.  It was nice to be home. And he was more than happy to welcome any cold after experiencing November in the South. To Alex it was still summer down there. There was supposed to be snow in November, not 85 degrees.  They had won in Florida, first against the Panthers and then against the Lightning in overtime. They did not fare so well in Texas, as Dallas sniper Loui Eriksson rifled one in the net with 5 seconds left to put the Stars up 3-2.  Texas left a bad taste in Alex’s mouth.  They only played them once a season. He had been very annoyed at this loss.  The Capitals were 17-6-2 so far in the season.  It was a really good start for them. They were healthy and strong and everything seemed to be going right.  

There was a knock on the door. He sat up and winced.  There was a twinge in his right knee.  It was commonplace for him to have aches and pains. Hockey is a tough sport. He had taken a hard hit yesterday from one of the Stars defensemen. He hadn’t been knocked to the ice, but in bracing himself for the hit, he tweaked the knee slightly.  It had not kept him from finishing the game, but it was slightly swollen today. He made his way to the door. His team mate, Nicklas Backstrom was waiting impatiently on the porch.

“Man, you are not even dressed,” he said annoyed, but not really surprised.

“What? What time it is?”

“It’s 12:30, go get dressed, we have to be there at 1:30. You will make us late.”

Alex smiled at his friend. Nick hated to be late, but he was overreacting. It would not take them more than half an hour to get to the zoo.  They were meeting defensemen John Carlson and Karl Alzner there. Carlson was bringing his niece and nephew which always proved to be an adventure for Alex.  He and Carlson had a brotherly relationship. He was 5 years younger than Alex and had just finished his rookie year with the Capitals. Carlson reminded Alex of himself as a rookie. And John responded to Alex’s child-like enthusiasm with his own.  There were more than a few pranks pulled on each other in the locker room, but that wasn’t limited to Carlson. The whole team was like a band of brothers. They did many things together away from the ice.  Backstrom was a great contrast to Carlson. He was serious, quiet, Swedish. To Alex, Swedish was the only description that was needed.  It summed his friend up perfectly. Swedish meant reserved and respectful. He was also the center, which meant that he used his brain more in the game than anyone else. Centers ran everything, so they had to be more strategic than reactionary. Alex could sometimes imagine the gears working in Nick’s mind as he thought three and four steps ahead. Nick did enjoy having fun with the team, but he was usually the one along for the ride as opposed to the instigator. He was quick to laugh though and Alex considered him his best friend on the team.

“I drive. We will not be late,” Alex assured his friend.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I will not get into a car with you,” Nick laughed.

“Chicken.”

Alex headed upstairs to dress and Nick called after him, “And brush your hair!”

Nick laughed at the Russian expletive that float down to him as Alex disappeared.  He helped himself to a cup of coffee in the kitchen and accidentally knocked some papers off the counter.  He bent down to pick them up and several pictures fell from an envelope at the bottom of the pile. He gathered them up and thumbed through them perplexed.  They were of Alex and a girl that Nick had never met. There were several of them laughing that looked as if Alex were holding the camera up himself to take the picture. There were a few of the girl alone by a lake or pond. She was smiling up at him in one. She looked very happy. They had to be from this summer. Alex looked very much the same in them.  Nick wondered why his friend had not mentioned this girl.

Alex bounded down the steps in jeans and a red Capitals sweatshirt, his hair still unruly. His smile faded a bit when he saw what Nick was holding.

“Who is this?”

“You a nosey Swede, you know?”

“You never mentioned her. Why? Who is she?”

“That is Zoey,” Alex said quietly, taking the pictures from his friend. He smiled slightly, remembering the day at the Summer Garden of Peter the Great.  He had talked Zoey into giving him her camera for a few minutes. He had taken pictures of her and then wrestled with her when she tried to get the camera back. She ended up beneath him on the grass, her laughter turning into that beautiful smile as she looked up at him.  He couldn’t keep from kissing her then. His heart was very full that day.

“Zoey? That doesn’t sound Russian,” Nick said, interrupting the memory.

“It’s not.”

Chapter Thirty four

New York was hot in September.  It was still as loud and crowded as ever, like it was alive. The people moved about like worker ants on their way to whatever queen might be their destination.  The long black limousine pulled up to the Smythe Tribeca.  Alex emerged from it in a graphic black tee and jeans, sporting flip flops.  Viktor Andreev, his media liason, joined him and opened the door to the hotel. A pretty young woman with long blonde hair approached them extending her hand first to Alex and then to Viktor. She led them to the elevator, chattering about the photo shoot.  She led them to the Penthouse and introduced Alex to the photographer du jour, Don Painter.

“Nice to meet you, Alex.  I’m excited to be working with you today. Man, you are a big guy.”

Alex smiled. He’d heard that often enough. It usually meant that the photographer was hoping he’d had big enough clothes, in this case, a suit.  Painter led Alex to the costumer, who didn’t at all seem concerned about Alex’s size.  She handed him three hangers and shoes and sent him off to get dressed.  Alex assumed that the photographer didn’t know that this suit had been tailored to fit him, or perhaps his comment wasn’t about the suit after all.  He was a big guy. It wasn’t like the played tennis. He played hockey, size helped a bit. Alex laid the suit across the bed and pulled his tee off over his head. He deposited his jeans and shirt across the chair next to the bed.  He pulled on the grey pants and burgundy shirt. He actually liked this suit. After being approached by Hugo Boss, Alex had two suits tailored for himself. He liked the way the jacket fit across his broad shoulders. It was not too tight so he didn’t feel too restricted.

Alex emerged from the bedroom and was ushered to the stylist, who would dust with make-up and fix his hair. He didn’t like this part. If he could get away with it, he would always ask for no make-up. He hated it.  Unfortunately, for this photo shoot, he would have to endure it. Hugo Boss was paying him a lot of money to look good in their suit, it was the least he could do. 

Painter had set up his camera in front of a large half-moon couch. He instructed Alex to sit comfortably. Alex did as he was told and the pretty blonde assistant fussed with the collar of his shirt.  She smiled at him.  She clearly appreciated the suit.  She was very thin, too thin for his taste, but she had a long pretty neck and her smile was sweet.  Still, he was relieved when she stepped back and waited for further instruction from Painter.  She had done nothing to make him uncomfortable, but photo shoots in general were hard for him. 

Painter snapped lots of pictures.  Alex thought he was a very different photographer than Zoey.  She found beauty, recognized it and captured it.  Painter fussed with him constantly, seeming to create the beauty he was looking for. It was hard not to think of Zoey while he was here in New York.  This was her home. She might even be here somewhere. He wasn’t sure when her tour of Europe was over.  He missed her more than he expected to. He missed her smile.  He missed the way she looked at him.  

Painter barked out some more instructions and Alex remember what he was supposed to be doing.  The shoot really didn’t last more than two hours, but it just seemed to drag on forever. The pretty girl made it clear she was interested. Had he been a better mood, he would have taken her to lunch maybe, back to his hotel surely, but today he was just irritated by her.  

He made his way out of the Penthouse as quickly as possible when they were done with him. Viktor seemed puzzled by his friend, but as a good friend, he did not question Alex.