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.

Chapter Thirty-three

The next several days went pretty much the same for Zoey.  She traveled to Germany and photographed the Romanesque Cologne Cathedral in Cologne and the Theatiner Church in Munich. In both cities she wandered the streets, taking pictures of whatever struck her fancy.  She sat at a small table in a terrace café in Munich watching the people go by.  She found herself making up stories to fit their appearance. There were several businessmen. One in particular rushed past her in a blue suit and tie. His face was flushed with color and his shirt and tie seemed so tight that it looked as if they were suffocating him.  He was having an animated conversation on his cell phone and Zoey assumed that this call was the real reason for his red face.  Perhaps he was talking to his boss or maybe his wife. Someone on the other end of the line was clearly displeased with him. He crossed the street hurriedly and for a moment she worried that he might be hit by a car as he was so involved in his call.  The car horn did not seem to phase him in the least and Zoey determined that car horns must be commonplace for him.  A young woman with a baby stroller stopped beside her. She checked her watch and Zoey imagined that she was meeting the father, who must be late.  Zoey could see the child nestled in the stroller. He was small, but chubby with very round little cheeks and thin, blond hair.  He was very interested in his fingers at the moment, his baby bottle discarded beside him. Zoey watched him hold his hand up to his face and move his fingers in and out making a fist.  Zoey figured that he couldn’t be more than 6 months old.  She was enjoying watching him when he stopped making a fist and look directly at her.  His eyes were so blue, it surprised her. He smiled at her and made a sound that must be a baby laugh. She was enchanted by him.  His mother fussed with him and handed him his bottle just as Daddy stepped up to them. He greeted his grumpy wife with a peck on the cheek and then took his turn fussing with the chubby baby. Zoey found herself watching them walk away until they rounded the corner and were out of sight. There were several tables occupied at the café now. It was nearly lunch time. Most of them were businessmen and women who Zoey had always been curious about.  She thought it must take a certain kind of person to do the same job day in and day out. Perhaps they were stronger than her, but she had never been able to master that. She had been lucky to always find something that brought great adventure to her life.

“Zoey!”

She looked up from her coffee to see a man approaching her. A smile covered her face and she rose to greet him.

“Hello, Parker. How’s the new daddy?”

He pulled her into a quick embrace.

“Wonderful! I’ve brought pictures!  Bailey Marie can be quite loud when she wants. Can you still see the circles under my eyes? I think perhaps I will actually get some sleep now!” he laughed.

“And how is Elizabeth handling it?”

“Like a pro. She was born to be a mother!” he exclaimed with pride and brought out the baby pictures.  The first ones were of the child at the hospital. She was so tiny and red that Zoey was alarmed at first, but the next pictures were over the next couple of days and Bailey was a more normal color. She had a small amount of very dark hair and large eyes.

“What color are her eyes?”

“Right now they are brown, but they may change. I don’t think it is likely though. Lizzie has brown eyes and so do both her parents.  They will probably stay brown.”

They chatted about the baby for a few more minutes. Zoey learned that Elizabeth’s mother had come to stay while Parker was gone.

“Works better for both of us, really. I will miss being there, but it is only a short time and I will not miss seeing Pamela,” he said with a snicker.

The waiter stopped at their table and they ordered some lunch.

“Do they not have good food in this country? You have gotten so thin, Zoey. Don’t you like European food?”

“I am not skinny,” she said looking over her loose clothing. “The food is fine here. I guess I haven’t had much of an appetite.”

Parker looked at her perplexed. “You must tell me what I’ve missed. I want to see your pictures.  How was Moscow?”

She swallowed a bit of coffee.

“Moscow was beautiful.”

Chapter Thirty-two

Budapest was beautiful, but it was covered in a gloomy haze that lasted two days.  Zoey had hoped to capture the magnificent towers of Matthias Church against a blue sky.  She had waited until dusk today in hopes that the sun might come out, but it never did.  The street was usually a bustle of activity during the day, but the rain had driven people in. The church was shrouded in a mist that added to its Gothic appearance. The sunset put the towers in an ethereal glow that made a good photograph.  Zoey heard soft singing from inside as evening mass was being held. The sound floated and hung in the air making the lonely street all the more desolate.  She put away her camera and started her walk back to the hotel.  The dampness was getting to her. Her clothes were not actually wet, just damp and heavy and cold.  The mist seemed to seep through them and penetrate her skin, leaving her chilled.  She could hear her footsteps eerily echoing against the buildings and her body shook with a chill unrelated to the cold.  There was a scruffy, black dog in the doorway that she just passed.  He didn’t bark. He just sat there barely acknowledging her presence with a lift of the eyes. He just sat, shivering as she passed by. He served to remind her how alone she was.   Parker was to join her soon, but she hated to have him leave the baby.  She was doing her best on her own. But at times like this, she really missed having someone there to make her feel safe.  Her mind started to wander to the day she and Alex strolled down the streets of Moscow, window shopping, she would call it.  Stop it, she told herself.  It didn’t do her any good to think about him. It only made her feel like a crushing weight descending on her chest.  She pulled her camera bag closer to her and quickened her pace. 

The warm light from the hotel dispelled her discomfort.  The hotel had gothic architecture on the outside, but was minimal contemporary on the inside.  It was not the Hotel National, but it was nice and it was quiet.  The people that she came across there were friendly.  She opened the door to her room and secured it behind her.  It was dim in the room with only the overhead light on. She promptly turned on all the lamps in the room.  She had left the curtains open and she crossed the small room to close them.  She stood for a moment trying to see out into the city, but the darkness and the mist made it impossible.  Closing the curtains made the room seem even smaller.  It was comfortable though and clean and nice and it was very quiet. She didn’t expect the luxury of the Hotel National anyway.  She turned on the television to banish the silence and began downloading her pictures and working on edits and emails. She had lots of photos of Budapest.  She had filled the last two days walking the city. Some of the buildings were still a mystery to her, but she liked the looks of them and they made lovely pictures. 

She sat back in the chair and rubbed her eyes. She looked at her watch. She’d been working on the computer for 2 hours.  The chatter from the television was low and Hungarian so it provided a calming noise without being a distraction. But she was still surprised at how much time had passed.  Her back was aching from sitting in the chair.  She stretched herself out on the full sized bed and stared at the people talking on the TV.  It was some game show. The contestants were running a kind of obstacle course.  It was amusing even though she didn’t understand it.  Her eyes began to get heavy.

She felt his hand take hers.  Hers was almost lost inside his large paw.  She looked up at him and smiled.  He grinned back at her bashfully.  The breeze was cool as they walked down the street. There were children playing in a park across the road. Alex pointed at them and laughed.  She loved the sound of his laugh.  Suddenly, he was across the street with them, playing with them.  He had a ball and was tossing it with one of the boys, playing keep away from another.  The second was laughing and jumping up to try to get the ball from him.  Alex tossed the ball again and looked back to her.  He stopped laughing and looked at her with concern.  She had tears falling down her cheeks.  He came back across to street to her and wiped her tears.

“Do not cry, Kroshka.”

“I love you so much Alex,” she said. “Why can’t we be together? Why don’t you love me?”

He brushed the hair away from her face and lifted her chin so that she looked him in the eye.

“I do love you, Kroshka,” he whispered softly, kissing her lips and holding her tight. “I do love you.”

Zoey woke to the small empty room, quiet because the game show had ended.  She rolled over, buried her face in the pillow and wept.

Chapter Thirty-one (translated from Russian)

He was still fighting with himself as he bounded through the doors of the Hotel National.  He headed up the stairs in the foyer when Dmitry called out to him.

“Mr. Ovechkin, is there something wrong?”

Alex considered ignoring him, but hesitated long enough to say, “I need to see Ms. Simmons.”

He started back up the steps and was halted by Dmitry once more.

“But, Sir, she is not there.”

Alex turned back to him, crossing the room quickly, “Where then?”

Dmitry’s face fell. Alexander Ovechkin was a very imposing man and it seemed this news might not be something he wanted to hear. 

“She is gone, Sir,” he said, as matter of fact as he could manage under Mr. Ovechkin’s piercing glare.

“Gone? Where?”

“She has left already for Budapest.”

“Her flight wasn’t until this afternoon. Why has she left already?”  Alex’s voice held a note of panic that was not lost on the concierge.

“Sir, she called down earlier this morning and asked for my help in getting an earlier flight,” he said as gently as he could.

“Earlier? WHY?”

Dmitry hesitated, reflecting on the conversation.  The girl had been quiet sad. She was a very kind woman and despite himself, Dmitry had found himself looking forward to her smile and the kind word that she would have for him each day. She never failed to say good morning to him and call him by name after he had insisted upon it the first day.  She had never demanded anything. When there was something that she had needed, she always asked with gentleness, as if he would be doing a favor for her. She was the kindest American that he had ever come in contact with. When she had asked for his help in getting an earlier flight, he had been happy to help her.  When she had come down, she had thanked him for making her stay so comfortable.

I will miss Moscow very much. It is so beautiful here, she had said and he could see the tears brimming in her eyes.  She had taken a deep breath and waved at him before she stepped into the taxi. He found himself being quite sad for her, knowing that the city was not what she was going to miss most.

“She said she needed to go. She was ready, but her flight was not for hours. She said she wanted to get to Budapest earlier, if possible.”

“When did she leave?” Alex asked, his tone still hopeful.

Dmitry looked at the clock on the wall behind him and sighed.

“Sir, her flight would have left over an hour ago,” he said slowly. “I am sorry.”

Alex let out a defeated sigh.  He walked slowly back out to his car.  The sunshine mocked the gloom inside him. 

She was gone.

Chapter Thirty (translated from Russian)

Alex stood up from Mishka’s couch and threw the Wii controller across the room.

“This stupid game!” he growled angrily.

“Hey, man.  Don’t break it!” Mishka complained, retrieving the controller and inspecting it.

“It already broken. Don’t work right.”

“It is not. What is wrong with you today?”

Alex just sat back down and grumbled.

“Is this about the American?”

“Her name is Zoey,” he said quietly.

“Oh, so good-bye was full of tears, was it?”

“Nyet,” he stated. “Just good-bye.”

“Oh? She made it easy for you then. You should be happy!”

“What do you mean?” Alex questioned him.  He was still in a cross mood and Mishka hesitated before answering him.

“Olga talked to her. She said that Zoey was talking about watching you play hockey.  She seemed to think that this girl really expected the affair to continue,” he said cautiously. 

“Why would Olga think that?” he asked.  He was confused. This did not sound like the girl he said good-bye to this morning.

Mishka hesitated again.  He did not like the way his friend was acting. This American was gone now and things could get back to normal. 

“Sasha, you enjoyed her, now it time to move on. Why does it even matter?” he said, exasperated.

Alex got to his feet again and moved closer to his friend. “What did Olga say to her?”

“Take it easy, man. She told her not to get her hopes up. That it was a summer thing, that you could never choose a girl who wasn’t Russian. Come on, she did you a favor.”

“It none of her business. And not yours either.” Alex brushed past his friend and flung the door open.

“Sasha! She just a girl!”

The BMW roared down the road.  He questioned himself the whole way.  They could not be together for lots of reasons. He lived in a world she knew nothing about. He didn’t know anything about hers either. And she was not Russian. This would never change. Yet, still he found himself rushing back to the hotel. He had to talk to her. He had to know. Did she love him?  Did she put on a good face to save him from feeling guilty?  Did he break her heart?

He didn’t know why it would matter. Everything Mishka said was true except one thing.

She was not just a girl.