«I need a nanny with a degree in psychotherapy to be near my daughter 24 hours a day. I have a well-appointed country house with excellent living conditions. You will be provided with full comfort, but you will not have a single day off during the three-month probationary period. A generous salary will compensate you for these temporary inconveniences.
And the man, who introduced himself as Yaroslav Borisovich, named such a sum for her honorarium that it made Oksana’s legs wobble. Her income per month would be equivalent to her yearly earnings in the hospital with all bonuses and additional payments.
They agreed that she would start her duties in three days. During this time, she would gather all the personal items she needed.
She would then be given the right to compile a list of everything else she might need for her job.
“The car will pick you up at your entrance exactly at 8 o’clock in the morning. The driver’s name is Denis. Send me your home address to this number.”
Yaroslav Borisovich spoke the words sharply and clearly, as if minting coins.
Oksana even thought that every minute of this man’s time, apparently, was very expensive. His business approach was too severe, but she liked it.
At her 26 years old, she firmly knew that time puts everything in its place and imprints on characters who is worth what.
Here she is herself, Oksana Vyacheslavovna, a psychotherapist with a red diploma, the beauty and pride of the faculty, the hope of the department. While her light-hearted school friends fluttered to discos and bars in the upper classes, she was grinding away.
A place at the medical university on a budget was only partially guaranteed by a gold medal. Well-performed final exams were supposed to help. There was no money in the family of plumber Mikhail and his wife Lyudochka, who worked as a baker’s saleswoman, for a serious education.
The population in their village was finally degrading, there was no work, and everyone was moving to the city in droves. Only her father and mother held on for their little house and ten acres of land. But then they gave up. Oksana was fourteen at the time. So with the money from selling the land and the house, they bought a two-room apartment in the secondary market in the city.
The five-story building made of red brick was sturdy, it would stand for a long time. Mikhail was warmly welcomed at the factory. The salary was small, but their family managed to make ends meet. Lyudmila quickly made friends with the neighboring women.
They told her that there was a vacancy in the bakery. An old saleswoman just went on a well-deserved rest. Hardworking Lyuda was well received, they did not mistreat her. Happiness ended abruptly.
Mikhail went to pick up his wife from the bakery in an old «Zhiguli.» An unwieldy bread van clumsily turning in the courtyard crushed the penny, even not noticing at first what happened.
Fate. The driver and the passenger died on the spot.
City life for Oksana began with orphanhood. Before, Oksana rushed to school, as if possessed. She always loved to learn. Books about relationships between people she would devour overnight.
She was interested in who and how the characters would act when they were cornered, faced with a choice. In the orphanage, where she ended up after the tragedy, she was initially disheartened, but then she focused on studying to not think, not remember the dearly departed relatives.
Six months later, she was taken under the guardianship of foster parents, but warm emotional relationships never developed with them. She moved into their two rooms in a communal apartment, after all, it was not an orphanage where everyone dreamed of a family and parents even in their teenage years. But she dreamed of growing up and living alone sooner.
Naive, touching lady Oksana tried to evaluate people’s behavior to herself, guessing who and how would behave, considering nature and character. A kind of homespun psychologist. And she liked even more the thought that a person could be broken, change the line of his behavior, be convinced. In the tenth grade, Oksana disappeared into the scientific library, where she read Freud, Jung, Bekhterev.
Her classmates didn’t even know the names of such people, while she was melting away from her new discoveries. She earned her gold medal in school, sitting day and night on her fifth point over textbooks. In her merits, there were no gifts or offerings to teachers, no one to pay. The talented student was given high marks sincerely and generously.
Her peers didn’t chase the crazy girl; they had long given up on her oddities, though there were good reasons to pay her special attention. Oksana was breathtakingly beautiful, possessing that very feminine magic that turns men into slaves and admirers as soon as they glimpse such a rare example of external perfection.
Her hair, the color of ripe wheat, cascaded in waves down her smooth back. Her green eyes with dark pupils beckoned one to drown in their depth. Her voluptuous figure radiated an aura of sensuality. The elegance of her wrists and ankles hinted at blue blood, charm, aristocracy, and refinement. Nature did not rest on her external appearance.
Only Oksana herself seemed not to notice any of this, as she diligently plowed through the sciences and ignored the languid looks from men of all ages. After receiving her high school diploma, the orphan and top student was pitied by the Medical University.
«It’s a dramatic life for the girl; an exception can be made, find her a place in the budget.»
She passed the entrance exam excellently, without tutors.
She returned to live in her apartment left to her after her parents’ death. It was private property, nothing to write off or take away. Her dress was not fashionable, but modest. Not like a scarecrow, of course, she stuck to strict classics. She didn’t notice men around her at all, so engrossed was she with Madame Psychology.
But one day, she fell for the hook of an experienced womanizer.
Vlad was also good-looking, ironic, daring, unpredictable. It was with these traits that he managed to captivate Oksana. She fell head over heels in love. When he suggested popping over to his place for a glass of wine, she responded enthusiastically, well aware of what would follow. But the guy’s soul was nasty.
Vlad had bet with a rich kid, who had chased after the girl but was turned down, that he would bed her without fuss or muss. He then smugly grinned, «I’ll lay this girl down quietly,» and to his classmate, he said, «Then you’ll follow the well-trodden path, got it, rookie?»
«Don’t teach the learned,» replied the golden child of an important daddy. «Get her compliance for me, and I’ll spit up a hundred grand for you.»
So Vlad tried his best. Oksana figured out the catch at their next meeting after their wild night. Her hot cavalier suddenly became cold as ice. She didn’t faint but chalked up her fling with the charming Vlad to hormonal tricks.
But the confident pretty boy never got his reward. Oksana drew far-reaching conclusions for herself.
She no longer let representatives of the male sex come within a kilometer. Having coffee with pastries in the nearest café between classes, always please, going to a movie premiere with the whole group, why not? Any other advances that resembled courtship were nipped in the bud.
A crowd of hopefuls only hoped in vain. A flat refusal awaited them all.
The young doctor’s troubles didn’t end after finishing the theoretical course. She earned her place in a prestigious psychotherapeutic clinic’s residency program. There she eagerly caught every word of her new idol, the head of the rehabilitation department after serious cognitive disorders.
He taught the resident much. Entrusted her with complex patients. Later, he helped her with a referral to another prestigious place. There, harassment from men continued.
The first suitor, rather an insistent eagle-courter, was one, having professional weight in the clinic.
He didn’t beat around the bush but called the young specialist to his office.
«We need to have dinner together today to discuss your work prospects at our institution. Tell your family you won’t be coming home to sleep.»
That’s exactly how he put it directly, bluntly, that her career was only through his bed.
She sharply and without regret declined the invitation, for which she soon paid. It turned out that before her arrival at this institution with controlled tranquilizers, everything was in order. She appeared, and expensive pills started disappearing by the pack. Whether she was involved or not in the thefts was not investigated.
She was quickly shown the door, threatened with proceedings followed by a «wolf ticket» and a blacklist in the profession. The next case occurred at a specialized emergency station, where she got a job. The teams were of a narrow focus. To sober someone up, deal with aggression leading to a fight, causing injury to relatives in a state of temporary affect.
Their patients were on the edge, balancing between the diagnosis «competent» and «incompetent,» living between bouts of mental disorders and remissions.
Why weren’t they isolated from society? There were many reasons. Somewhere relatives bought back their blood relatives, somewhere the border guards themselves could pray away with money and connections from suspicions of abnormality.
Oksana hadn’t even suspected that such medical services existed in their city. She ended up there by the same call from a professor providing her protection in her residency. Calls to inadequates, as her team called them, ended for her after a month. That time, she ended up on a team with the head of their office.
He too sometimes participated in psychological raids. He said he hadn’t been to the circus in a long time, wanted to have fun. Oksana Vyacheslavovna despised his cynicism, but she had no choice. After a fairly calm shift, the boss offered to drive her home. The institution was located outside the city, the first bus was still an hour away, and everyone was tired after a sleepless night.
Foolishly, the young woman agreed, but the boss didn’t head to the city but took her to the nearest woods.
«Doll, I don’t like ceremonies,» he breathed into her face with the smell of alcohol.
The creep wasn’t afraid of anything when he had already downed half a flat glass flask of brandy in the car. Oksana immediately wanted to leave the car, but he just laughed.
«I can get sanity certificates for half the town when needed; neither the authorities nor the traffic police scare me.»
She couldn’t explain later where she found the strength to slap him hard. The man’s head jerked, and he stared at his colleague in surprise.
«Uncooperative, you say? Well then, go on, little fish, make your way from here. It’s eleven kilometers to the city; you’ll clear your head in the cold while you walk. There’s no place for the untouchables in my team, ask any of our female employees. Now get out.»
Oksana didn’t ask anyone anything. In her next shift, she wrote a resignation letter and left. Again without practice, again without a job.
She stayed at home for a month and a half. No clinic wanted to hire her even as a nurse. Rumors of her unreliability filled the medical community, and everyone decided for themselves how to interpret them.
Psychotherapist Oksana Vyacheslavovna, advanced in issues of various types of aggression, was well aware of such a Western phenomenon as harassment, but she never even remotely imagined that she would become its victim.
She still didn’t know how, as a woman of striking beauty, to set barriers against vile advances that grossly violated her personal space. This was something she would need to think about seriously for the future.
A call from Yaroslav Borisovich, received a day ago, broke her long streak of failures. She would not just take this job. She would crawl to it if necessary. Why she felt simultaneously scared and excited, she could not explain.
The vacancy was ambiguous. A caregiver for a girl suffering from a terminal blood disease, plus Asperger’s syndrome.
The infamous syndrome was little known to ordinary people far from medical terms.
In a nutshell, its effect on patients could be described as an inability, impossibility, or disinclination to interact with the outside world, existing in their own narrow world into which strangers were very rarely admitted. In society, such people are called autists. The medical history of Oksana Vyacheslavovna’s future charge was complicated by a serious autoimmune blood disease.
Inside the unfortunate victim, some cells continually proved to others that they were the main ones here, destroying the body tissues they encountered on their warpath.
The patient’s condition was currently assessed as moderately severe. A prolonged remission gave her father a chance to spend more time with his beloved daughter, but how much longer the cunning disease would behave decently, probably only the Almighty in the heavens knew.
The doctors only sympathetically shrugged their shoulders.
«Yaroslav Borisovich, we are doing everything possible, but only a miracle can help the girl. We live in the real world with the cruel laws of mother nature.»
«I’ve heard all this a thousand times,» the inconsolable father replied. «What do you recommend? How can I brighten her life when she reacts to nothing, is indifferent, inactive, quiet, silent? I’ve never seen her smile. Sixteen years of constant uncertainty. It can drive you mad.»
The renowned specialist in autistic spectrum disorders, sitting in the chair opposite Yaroslav Borisovich, paused for a couple of seconds, then said…
«I have one doctor. She doesn’t fit in at any medical institution, and I can’t get her to explain the reasons for such failures. She was one of the most promising students on my course, eager to bring benefit to people in need, kept up with methods and innovations in our field, but seemed to deflate in clinics.
Unfortunately, I can’t keep track of every brilliant student. I made a couple of recommendations for her, but it didn’t work out. We recently met at a bakery where I was buying a cake for my wife’s birthday. We exchanged contacts.
Invite this girl. She did her residency in my hospital. I can vouch for her almost as much as for myself.»
Yaroslav Borisovich weighed the pros and cons and decided he had nothing to lose. Previous caregivers couldn’t handle Kira; maybe this young woman could?
There were many residents in his large house. His favorite was the cook Glasha, who had been working for him for 30 years.
Her son Victor was a gardener and Glasha’s helper in the household. There was also a maid with the exotic name Gabriela. There would be a place for Oksana Vyacheslavovna. Look, four guest rooms were vacant. He would have to give Gabi an order.
The ice of the experiment, which would change their lives, was breaking. Oksana decided to start radical changes in her life with her appearance. She needed to create a work image that maximally concealed her natural beauty. The last thing she needed was for this heavenly gift, as she considered it, to interfere with her work.
In her wardrobe, she chose loose trousers, baggy dark-colored skirts, oversized sweaters, low-heeled shoes, a couple of pajamas with Cheburashka and bunnies. She loved exquisite lingerie but wore it under loose clothing. Her hair had to be styled into braids, which formed a bun.
The look was completed with plain glass glasses. She had bought them for a masquerade at university. Satisfied with the fitting, Oksana packed everything in a large bag and happily went to gather professional books.
While her patient rested, she would study everything about autists in detail. Treatment couldn’t start haphazardly; a sound approach was needed.
At eight in the morning, a young man rang her doorbell.
«Hello, I’m Denis. Let me carry your things to the car. The boss asked me to carefully check everything for forgotten items. So there won’t be any trips for three months.»
And so, warmed by his words, she thought: we’ll work well together.
«I’ll do everything in my power for this.»
The journey to the new house took just over three hours without traffic.
«The train station is two kilometers from us,» Denis seemed to read her question. «There are six cars in the garage, two drivers. Whatever you need to buy, just tell me.»
Oksana looked around the surroundings of the house with interest, its gentle sandy color with brown decorative elements, balconies, and a terrace.
The house stood surrounded by a park. In the distance, a swimming pool covered with protective material. Alleys were paved with tiles. Coniferous trees, a path with birches, a rose garden under a film. On the other side of the house were utility buildings, resembling greenhouses.
On the porch stood a guard of honor.
«Welcome to our house!» said a tall, hefty woman with a mane of bright red hair. «My name is Glafira Andreevna. To my own, I’m Aunt Glasha. I’m the housekeeper and also the cook,» the woman smiled and extended her hand to Oksana. «This fellow with the rake—my son Victor. He’s handy with everything, but the garden is his favorite,» continued Aunt Glasha. «You’ve already met Denis. The other driver’s name is Sergey. Only the maid Gabriela is left, her mother is Spanish.»
A girl with brown eyes looked at Oksana.
«Well, well,» thought Oksana Vyacheslavovna, just as a man with a noble appearance appeared at the threshold.
«Oksana Vyacheslavovna, I am Yaroslav Borisovich. Now Gabriela will show you your room and give you a tour. Make yourself at home. Glasha will bring you the meal schedule. I’ll expect you in my office in two hours for a chat. If I’m satisfied, I’ll introduce you to my daughter Kira,» he turned and left.
Victor picked up the luggage, and Gabriela invited Oksana to follow her.
«Lunch is at 14:00. The master does not tolerate tardiness. We’ll get acquainted then. Right now, you have more important matters.»
Oksana followed Gabriela, barely listening to her, impressed by her room with a bathroom, garden-view windows, and elegant decor. She didn’t know how life in this house would unfold, but she already wanted to belong and be useful.
Oksana’s relationship with her foster parents was normal, but their interests differed. They met infrequently, communicating through obligatory calls like «Daughter, how are you? All well? Us too.»
Oksana felt stifled in such a framework. They saw each other on birthdays and New Year’s. There was no talk of discussing life’s hardships. She was independent, and her connection with her guardians never really developed. Her parents did not support her career choice but approved of her move. She stopped nagging them about their time in front of the TV. Different destinies, different paths.
In this house, Oksana felt a unity among the household members. It hadn’t been half an hour yet, and she already wanted to stay. Tired of Gabriela’s monologue, she led Oksana to Yaroslav Borisovich’s office door, saying:
«Let’s be informal. I don’t like ceremonies, we’re going to be rubbing shoulders. Knock first with the master, he doesn’t like familiarity,» Oksana nodded in agreement, switching to informal terms and thanking her for the tips.
Gabriela left, and Oksana thought:
«This nymph is really trying. There must be an object of attention in the house. Could she have set her sights on the master? Good thing I took care of looking modest in advance. I won’t catch the eye of the public like Gabriela does. Let them figure it out; I have other tasks.»
Oksana Vyacheslavovna resolutely knocked on the office door and entered after being invited by the master. The office, appealing to the novice practitioner yet strong theorist, caught her fancy at first glance.
Furniture made of expensive wood, shelves with books, figurines, landscapes on the walls. A desk, a music center, a cabinet with discs. She didn’t know Yaroslav Borisovich, but the office screamed: «My owner is no fool, well-read, intelligent, and successful.»
Yaroslav Borisovich invited her to sit in a soft chair at the coffee table. Ringing a bell, he called for Gabriela.
«Make us a couple of cups of coffee, please. Or would you prefer juice or tea?»
Oksana gratefully accepted the coffee. She had been so nervous that morning that she hadn’t even had breakfast at home and now feared her traitorous stomach would betray her with loud growling at the most inappropriate moment.
She was lucky. Along with the coffee, Gabriela brought a bowl of nut cookies, a box of chocolate candies, and a small pitcher of cream.
Anxious, Oksana attacked the treats like a hungry wolf, but saw no judgment in Yaroslav Borisovich’s eyes. He appreciated sincerity and spontaneity in people; he even smiled.
«We’ve hosted you poorly on your first workday; we didn’t even offer tea.»
Oksana, with her mouth full, tried to say that everything was fine, then helplessly smiled in response, wiped crumbs from her lips, and carefully chewed the rest of the cookies.
«Forgive me, my nerves got the better of me. I pounced on the sweets. Thanks for the coffee. Let’s get back to our business.»
Yaroslav Borisovich would never admit to his partners or this young woman that he loved conducting tests based on an old principle. He borrowed this approach to selecting employees from his father, a simple peasant who had spent his life farming and growing cereal crops. Unfortunately, his father could no longer work.
Five years ago, Yaroslav bought a house in a neighboring village where his parents now spent their twilight years. The older generation flatly refused to move into Yarik’s mansions, arguing that the soil in their garden was closer and more interesting to them than the park landscapes of their son’s estate. After introducing them to a good-natured housekeeper, the son stopped trying to convince them to live together.
Now they only visited each other or gathered for family holidays. But his father’s rule that any hired worker should be well-fed first, to see how they manage the meal, and then draw conclusions, he remembered well. If a person eats sincerely, without affectation or false modesty, they are worthwhile; if they claim they are not hungry and take only a couple of crumbs from the table for appearance’s sake, they will work just as lethargically.
Any qualified recruiter would have laughed to death at such a recruitment technique, but Yaroslav Borisovich had long been convinced from personal experience—it worked infallibly. Handing the tray with empty cups to Gabriela, Oksana’s boss began the conversation.
«Your candidacy was recommended to me by a professor who sometimes consults my daughter. Before you start your duties, I would like to briefly tell you our backstory. Not as to a stranger to me but as to a psychotherapist.
Kira is a late child of my wife and me. My wife passed away a week after her birth; her heart couldn’t bear it. I have an older son, Roman, who lives and works in Europe, in our branch in Prague, and visits here sporadically.
Roman was born when we were very young. He is now 33 years old. Our student marriage, made out of great mutual love, turned out to be very strong. We lived heart to heart, and only one thing saddened my wife. After the birth of our robust son Roman, there followed a series of miscarriages. My wife dreamed of a second child, a girl. She even pre-named her after her own mother, to whom my wife was infinitely attached.
At forty-four, my wife became pregnant again. She was infinitely happy, but the doctors were alarmed. Even the usual examination, which all expectant mothers undergo, revealed serious arrhythmia.
Her heart couldn’t cope with the double burden. Problems started with the blood vessels. The doctors feared that the child wasn’t receiving enough necessary nutrients, while my wife, almost always on bed rest in the clinic, just looked at me pleadingly and asked:,,
“Don’t let them terminate this pregnancy. I will take care, follow all their instructions. I must carry this baby.”
Her determination only intensified after an ultrasound revealed she was carrying a girl.
“My wife became utterly obsessed with the thought that the heavens had finally shown us mercy and granted us this last chance. She bravely endured nine months of agonizing wait and an endless series of procedures and injections, and surgical intervention in the form of a cesarean section. The verdict from the neonatologists struck her hard. The girl was immediately suspected of having some abnormalities. Detailed examination showed that she had inherited an extremely rare genetic blood disease, transmitted through the maternal line. People with it do not live long, ten to fifteen years at most. The news broke my wife, twisted everything in her already sick heart.
Arrhythmia attacks began to recur with malicious, relentless persistence. She never returned home from the hospital. Kira was discharged after two months of meticulous observation. At first, I was in despair, resentful of the little one for taking away my beloved wife, leaving me alone in this world. Roman was seventeen at the time.
I am still amazed that he was already wise and mature then. He convinced me that it was all predestined by fate, that he too had lost a mother, but it was her life, her dream, and her choice.
You wouldn’t believe it, but it was he, along with the nanny, who cared for the baby. He quickly learned how to change her diapers and feed her specialized formula.
The second shock was when doctors soon noticed that Kira was… different, not like other children. Her genetic disease had not yet manifested itself, but she drove us mad by not reacting to our presence at six months, a year, or thereafter. Imagine the scene. A child eats, sleeps, but does not react to us, to the multitude of colorful toys around her. Her face was like a frozen mask, no living expressions or gestures. If you sit her down or lay her down, she remains in that position, sometimes for a quite long time. The girl turned out to be pretty, even beautiful, big-eyed, with a lock of light hair, chubby hands, and feet, but behaved like a doll, like an artificial doll.
After some time, she was diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome or autism. Doctors assured us that this type of autistic spectrum disorder promised prospects; her bodily functions would be partially developed, but not fully. I took Kira to Europe. There, doctors managed to perform almost a miracle. They eliminated sleep disturbances, adapted food intake to the necessary regimen, and taught the girl to at least somewhat respond to what was happening. From Germany, I returned almost happy. Kira began to recognize people at home, babbled something in a language unknown to us, sometimes tried to express something with gestures, but still never learned to smile.
On the street, she would turn at the sound during walks, and on a trip to the Black Sea, she pulled up her legs when Roman and I tried to bathe her in it. Later, I sent Roman to study in the United Kingdom. Thankfully, as if in compensation for our troubles, my business grew and strengthened like yeast, bringing me ever new and new revenues.
This house we built together with my wife, it was her idea—to live away from the hustle and bustle of the city, in the calming countryside.
The man paused his narrative briefly. It was evident that the story had stirred old memories…
Looking at the clock, Yaroslav Borisovich became a bit anxious.
«There are only fifteen minutes left until lunch. You will learn most of the information in the course of your work. I will just add the main point. When she was 14, the former merits of the doctors quickly evaporated. It seemed as though the destruction of tissues and cells was putting her brain to sleep.
The few dozen words she used to speak were forgotten. She became indifferent to what was happening around her again. Having enjoyed walks in the air with Aunt Glasha and even swimming in the pool with Victor’s help, the girl forgot all these skills.
Now she no longer allows herself to be lifted from bed, moves only in a wheelchair, eats almost nothing, and is losing weight. I understand, Oksana Vyacheslavovna, that you are neither a magician nor a god. The doctors predicted that the girl has no more than a year left. The process of destruction in her fragile body is progressing.
For myself, I have defined your task as easing her passage to the other world. I know it is impossible, but I still dream that she will smile, looking at our park, at the people around, at the sky and the sun. Perhaps I am asking too much of you.»
Oksana Vyacheslavovna was in shock.
She would do everything she could, apply all her knowledge. The man’s eyes showed such pain and despair. He spoke so bravely about his daughter soon leaving this world that the invited psychotherapist’s blood ran cold.
So much for high fences and a wealthy home, where so many years of sorrow had lived.
The lunch was exquisite. Glafira Andreevna cooked so deliciously that Oksana didn’t even notice how she ate everything offered and reached for a second helping of the unusual salad. To her silent question,,
«Where is Kira?» several people responded.
«Kiryusha is having lunch in her room,» said Yaroslav Borisovich. «We will go meet her after lunch.»
«I’ve already prepared her favorite meatballs and mashed potatoes,» added Aunt Glasha.
«And I picked bright September flowers of all shades behind the house,» added Victor. «I think Kira Yaroslavna is stimulated by their sharp autumn scent.»
Only Gabi—whom Kira’s father had referred to as such just once in the conversation and office, and Oksana immediately mentally adopted the nickname for its brevity and simplicity—ate, focusing intently on her plate. It seemed that Kira’s fate concerned her the least, if at all.
«I will need to keep an eye on this person,» Oksana decided.
«She prepared the room for me perfectly, no complaints. But is there any ill intent towards the patient from her side?»
In working with autism, all methods are valid, and every detail can be significant.
After these words, the conversation shifted back to sweet pastries and compote, while Oksana thought to herself through her sorrowful reflections.
«It’s nice here, heartfelt. The servants dine at the same table with the masters. Everyone prays for the girl as best they can, everyone tries to brighten her life.»
Her musings were interrupted by Yaroslav Borisovich’s voice.
«Oksana Vyacheslavovna, are you ready to go see your patient?»
The woman enthusiastically replied that she was eager to and meant it.
In Kira’s room, the curtains were drawn, creating a gloom and despair of hopelessness. Oksana Vyacheslavovna immediately noted that this needed to change.
«It’s clear that a seriously ill person lives here, but there’s no need to emphasize it with decor.»
The girl did not react to their presence. At that moment, Aunt Glasha brought in a tray with the girl’s favorite dishes.
The psychotherapist decided not to delay her work.
«Yaroslav Borisovich, Glafira Andreevna, please allow me to feed Kira myself, and we can talk at the same time. Leave us alone.»
«Kirochka, this is your new doctor, Oksana Vyacheslavovna. She will be with you almost constantly. You don’t mind if we leave you two alone, do you?»
Again, there was no noticeable reaction. The girl obediently opened her mouth to the food, chewed, and swallowed like a marionette. But Oksana started her monologue.
«I am not just a doctor or a caregiver for you, Kira. I prefer to be a friend. I am here by my own choice, though as a hired employee. I’ll tell you the truth: I would stay with you even for free. I like everything in your house so far. The place, the people, you. Tomorrow we will turn your world upside down. I don’t think it will be bad for your health.»
For a fraction of a second, Oksana thought she saw something flicker in the girl’s eyes, but it quickly faded.
«Or perhaps it was a play of light and shadow in the room?»
The doctor decided to think about this later in her own room.
She dressed Kira in warm clothes and took her in the wheelchair to breathe the autumn air outside.
From that moment, the days in the house proceeded as usual.
In the mornings, Oksana and Kira had breakfast in the girl’s room, there were IVs and injections to combat the disorders. A mandatory walk in the garden, where Victor was always working. Lunch in the big hall with the household, then feeding Kira, therapeutic sleep, a new dose of medicine, dinner with Yaroslav Borisovich, who worked in the office in the evenings. Exhausted by the procedures, the sick girl fell asleep by 10.
Oksana studied works on autism. So far, there had been no progress in her contact with Kira. The condition remained stable. Oksana talked animatedly with Kira. She talked about very important events, about her favorite books, read poems, showed illustrations.
As if Kira was listening to her monologue…
Later, Oksana found information that interaction with animals could help reduce isolation symptoms in autism patients.
There were no pets in Yaroslav Borisovich’s house. After a general meeting, it was decided to get a large breed puppy. Everyone liked a Newfoundland pup. Two days later, Denis brought the fluffy black treasure from the kennel.
The puppy was irresistible. It’s commonly thought that our lesser brethren lack reason. What then prompted Tim, full name Timofey, to understand that he was meant for Kira? Upon entering her room, the puppy went straight to the girl and nudged her hand with his wet nose.
The doctor was certain she saw a reaction in Kira’s eyes, bright and positive.
For the first time, Oksana felt they were on the right path.
By New Year’s and Christmas, everyone in the house was waiting for Roman from Prague. Oksana Vyacheslavovna had not met the young man but remembered Aunt Glasha’s words:
«He’s our golden boy. Kirochka transforms when her older brother visits. She doesn’t know how to smile, but her face seems to light up,» she said.
Gabriela, present during their conversation, added:
«And what a handsome man our Roman Yaroslavovich is! Respectable, honorable, wise, yet outwardly a typical romantic hero. Two images in one face—that’s so intriguing!»
«Tsk, Gabriela, better go change Kira’s bed linen while she’s on a walk with Oksana Vyacheslavovna,» Glafira Andreevna retorted. «You’re all about romances, not that you’re the right berry for the field, tuck your lips in.»
Gabi, as usual, sashayed away. The cook eyed her departure and said to Oksana:
«That girl completely loses her head when the master’s son flies home from Europe. She makes eyes at him unabashedly, but he looks at her as if she’s invisible. He had a fiancée, but she was unfaithful while he was earning money in Czechia. They split up, although that wayward lady was knocking on our doors here, crying tears, nearly tearing her hair out in despair at losing a rich match. Nothing helped. Roman completely stopped trusting her. He couldn’t forgive that she was seeing another man at the same time.»
With a mournful sigh, Aunt Glasha unexpectedly suggested:
«Come to my room this evening. We’ll have some tea. I’ll tell you my story, how Yaroslav Borisovich saved me from trouble and why I’ve called him an angel of goodness ever since.»
During the walk, Oksana again thought she saw Kira, sitting in the wheelchair, make some movement towards the spoiled puppy, but she didn’t rush to voice her assumptions aloud.
«We need to observe, observe, and observe. Again and again. It will become clear,» she thought.
After dinner, ensuring that Kiryusha had fallen into a blissful sleep, Oksana left her door slightly ajar and knocked on the neighboring one.
«Come in, I’ve been waiting for you,» the voice of the red-haired Glafira Andreevna called out. «I’ve brewed us some green tea with lemon balm, and I’ve saved some raspberry jam. We’re going to feast now.»
Oksana had previously only briefly visited the cook’s room, but now she was able to inspect the space more closely. The same elegance and homey comfort, spiced with Aunt Glasha’s personal cherished items. The wall was covered with numerous framed photographs: Yaroslav Borisovich with his wife, still very young, Kira from different angles, Victor in the garden—by the gazebo or at the pool. A handsome young man on a horse.
«That’s our Romasha, a beautiful man,» said Aunt Glasha. «God give him personal happiness! Like his father, he’s all about business. He’s of age to have his own children, but he’s always traveling abroad. I understand he’s certainly not a monk, but all these fleeting girlfriends aren’t what he needs for marriage. He’d make a wonderful father, look how he loves Kira.»
Glafira Andreevna took another spoonful of jam and began her story:
«After high school, 35 years ago, I trained as a public catering technologist. I graduated from an institute in Kharkiv, not just any culinary school. I dreamed of becoming a head chef, one to be awarded Michelin stars for my cooking art. But it didn’t work out. My appearance was to blame, nearly six-foot-three, size 10.5 shoes, full-bodied, bright-copper hair, angular movements, no taste in wardrobe selection. Of course, chefs aren’t chosen for their clothes, but personnel representatives in all the cafes and restaurants where I tried to get a job after graduating turned me away under any pretext. In one prestigious restaurant, only the HR lady was honest:
«Our guests often invite the chef to the dining hall if they like the dish. You can’t be the face of our establishment. You’d only fit in a circus buffet. I like to be honest with people I hire. Better this way than to shyly avert my eyes and flip you the bird.»
Yet, my trials and tribulations eventually bore fruit one beautiful day.
I was hired at the private café ‘Queen Tamar’ with Georgian cuisine. The owner was a short bald Georgian with crooked fingers and bowed legs. He temporarily dispelled the myth for me that Caucasian men are always endowed with sharp Eastern beauty—curly, dark-eyed, bold. This lothario told me:
«My wife is sick, can’t sleep with me, and I’m a man, I need to save my physiology. You’ll work in the kitchen and visit me a couple of times a week. Do well—I’ll make you head chef, and later, possibly, the executive chef.»
I was taken aback by his words at first. I said I’d think about it, but then I weighed my options. Six years part-time at the institute, two years before that as a kitchen assistant. I was turning 26 soon, still unmarried. No queue was forming for my fiery soul. No one even looked at me with that enveloping male gaze, full of desire. Never. Blushing and turning pale, I told him two days later that I agreed to all terms.
The owner of ‘Queen Tamar’ glanced at me under his brow, invited me to the storeroom. There I learned the basics of love among boxes of vegetables, herbs, and cases of vodka, which were then served in decanters as chacha. It was shameful, regrettable, but alright. It was a big physiological love, honestly lasting between me and the chef for a year and a half, after which I became pregnant. Upon hearing the news, my lover didn’t mince words; he fired me promptly, worried I’d talk. His wife mustn’t know, he had three grown children. If they saw who he’d set his sights on, the family would laugh. He paid me three months’ salary in advance and washed his paternal hands of it.
I didn’t tell him about the baby right away. Kept pulling it, sensing the news wouldn’t end well. With my overall fullness, my belly was noticeable only by the sixth or seventh month. Just around the time for official maternity leave, I found myself on the street. Money for my rented apartment ran out two weeks before Vityushka was born. From my family, I had only an aunt in a distant village. I can’t even specify our degree of kinship. Never saw my father, my mother became an alcoholic when I was about twenty. Initially, she wandered the streets, then disappeared without a trace, vanished. But I never doubted for a second—the baby must be born. Here I am in this wide world, essentially alone, but this would be my own dear flesh and blood.
My landlord wasn’t called compassionate, but she took pity, waited for me to give birth and be discharged from the maternity hospital. Gave me a month for everything. Tolerated me for free. Then her children came. They had nowhere to live, so she showed me the door. There we were, my month-old infant and I, wandering in grief. We lasted a week in a shabby hotel. But my son was restless. The building had poor sound insulation. Other guests started complaining that we were keeping them up at night. We moved to nowhere. Sitting with my belongings and child at an intercity bus stop. Decided to head to the countryside, maybe find an abandoned house. Barely a week’s worth of money in my purse.
When a luxury dark SUV slowed down near the stop, I didn’t immediately realize that its driver was asking me something. Sat there, drenched in bitter tears. Yaroslav Borisovich, and it was him, was building a house in these parts at the time, looking for a local specialized store recently built on the highway. I pointed him to it, why not, but he didn’t drive away immediately. Later, he told me that my eyes looked like those of a beaten dog, with so much boundless despair that he couldn’t help but ask:
«Woman, why are you sitting in the wind with a nursing baby? Need a lift somewhere? I can, even if it’s in the completely opposite direction.»
I don’t know how it happened, but I told him all my troubles in a nutshell, as if confiding in him. He grunted, thought for a couple of minutes, then asked:
«A professional chef, you say? I’m actually looking for one. I need to feed two teams of workers daily. We can provide you a heated trailer to live in.»
Of course, I didn’t hesitate for a second. The day was turning to evening, the bus was delayed, might as well have slept in the field. Grabbing my bag, I got into the warm interior of the car. No fear or apprehension at all. I’m accustomed to work, I adore my craft, it’s not like gods firing pottery.»
Glafira Andreevna interrupted her long story and poured another cup of fragrant tea for herself and Oksana. She brought a plate of rosy pies left over from dinner from the kitchen and briefly glanced at Oksana.
«Have I not tired you yet with my tales, doctor?»
«Not at all, Aunt Glasha. Rarely does someone converse with me so heartfelt, entrusting me with their secrets, and I am very grateful to you for this frankness,» Oksana replied.
«Then I’ll continue,» said the woman. «Everything was much nicer after that. The working guys greeted me as if I were their own mother, starved on dry food, while I immediately cooked them a hearty borscht on the bone, made some cutlets, and steamed wheat porridge in a cast-iron pot with butter.
When they brought out the compote as well, the foreman couldn’t resist.
«You cook wonderfully, Glasha! We haven’t seen such delicacies here in a long time. Therefore, guys, I will arrange it this way. There are fifteen of us working here. It’s difficult to feed such a crowd without a properly equipped kitchen. So, we will distribute the daily duty, who among the men will help with firewood for the stove, who will fetch water.
Another man will help the cook with the hard labor. She’s got a little one in her arms, who needs to be fed and looked after. So, brothers, have some conscience, don’t weigh down this young woman’s neck and don’t offend her in word or deed.»
This is how I found myself in our yard about 30 years ago when they were just laying the foundation.
Vityusha, my own golden boy, grew up here. After the construction was finished, I stayed in the house with the owners. By then, Yaroslav Borisovich and his wife already had little Romochka. Oh, the table I set for their housewarming. Guests could only marvel, wondering where he had unearthed such a cook. Various important and connected people have been in the house.
Many times they tried to lure me to other houses. But how could I? A good angel from heaven appeared to me one autumn evening at a bus stop, and I would betray him for others tempting with bread.
«Kirochka was born with me here. Yaroslav Borisovich put me in charge of her nannies and caregivers. Everyone here became like family to me, even that airhead Gabrielle with her dreams of lassoing Yaroslav Borisovich’s son doesn’t seem like an enemy.
That’s my story to you, Oksanochka. Maybe it will help in your work, maybe give you a hint.»
Oksana went to her room thoughtfully. She used to believe that the rich were stingy with affection. In the house of Yaroslav Borisovich, she saw another world, full of warmth, respect, and a desire to help each other in difficult life situations.
Her fervent belief to make everything a little easier for Kira was even more solidified in her mind. The next day, she increased the therapeutic workload for the girl. She insisted that massage treatments be restored, deciding they do not harm the body broken by illness but rather contribute to its tone.
Kira still did not respond to anything. Only the appearance of a shaggy puppy named Timofey seemed to slightly enliven her face. Oksana Vyacheslavovna did not give up. She dragged the girl’s wheelchair around the park. She set Kira to watch Victor’s dog training.
He took his responsibilities seriously. Little Tim already knew the commands sit, lie down, place, come here, walk. In the house, the puppy recognized only two owners—Kira, near whose feet he spent all his free time, and Vityusha, who fed and raised him.
Days flew by, and everyone’s favorite holidays—New Year’s and Christmas—approached.
Oksana, Gabi, and Glafira Andreevna joyfully decorated the already charming dwelling with pine compositions, colorful wreaths, and sculptures of fairy-tale heroes. Victor installed artificial Christmas trees in all the rooms, richly decorating them with expensive toys. The mood was festive.
Three days before New Year’s, Oksana’s only close friend unexpectedly called her.
«Ksyushka, you’re going to fall over. I have grand news. I’m getting married immediately and leaving with my beloved to the Far East. He’s a military engineer. We’ll live near the Vostochny Cosmodrome.»
Oksana instantly felt sad. She and Nastya were like sisters from the orphanage, always supporting each other, and now they faced separation.
Meanwhile, her friend continued to chatter over the phone.
«December 30th is my farewell bachelorette party at a nightclub, January 2nd we have a one-way flight. No refusals accepted. Ksyusha, I’ve even prepared a gift for you for the road, sewed an evening dress, you’ll be stunned. Of course, it’s not worthy of your beauty, but it will enhance it beautifully.
If Nastya saw me now, she would die laughing,» thought the caregiver.
She had recently overheard a comment about herself from Gabi. The maid disdainfully watched her after dinner and concluded.
«Our psychotherapist is a pale moth, a gray mouse. How does the earth even bear such shapeless, faceless women? They’re worthless. Men, no doubt, steer clear of such a scarecrow for miles.»
Oksana Vyacheslavovna promised Nastya she’d call back by night and headed to Kira’s room. The girl, after a hearty dinner and a walk before that, was already soundly asleep, sprawled on soft pillows. After adjusting the blanket, she slipped into the corridor. A difficult conversation with Yaroslav Borisovich awaited her, and at her timid knock, the owner immediately responded.
«Come in, I just finished with the papers. What’s wrong?»
«I’ve encountered unforeseen circumstances,» she outlined in a few words, «but I will accept any decision you make. The fact is that someone close to me is leaving for the far lands for a long time, and we won’t have a chance to meet if I can’t break away for the meeting arranged by my friend.»
«I’m not a prison overseer or a godfather in the zone, to keep you locked up, Oksana Vyacheslavovna.
You’ve been here non-stop for a month and a half. Things with Kira are going, if not brilliantly, then without hints of deterioration.
I’m pleased with your initiatives, methodologies, practical experiments. None of them have harmed my sick daughter. Be sure to go to the city. I give you 24 hours. On December 31st after eight in the evening you must return to these walls.»
Oksana didn’t leave his office. She flew out on wings. Aunt Glasha was busy in the kitchen, and the liberated caregiver couldn’t help but share her news with her.
«Even though I’m ugly,» Oksana chattered, «everyone still wants a piece of a bright holiday. And when will I see my Nastyusha again?»
«You ugly?» smiled the cook in response, «leave those tales for others, my dear. Me, a sly old lady who’s lived long in this world, all your masquerades won’t fool me. I’ve long guessed that you hide beauty under a dreary guise with glasses. But don’t worry, this secret stays between us. If you do so, you have good reasons. Your profession doesn’t hinder all these disguises, and it’s none of my business.»
Oksana turned on the run, rushed back to the kitchen, and warmly and tenderly embraced the cook.
«I know two good angels in this house now, Glafira Andreevna. Your kindness and readiness to understand and accept is no less than the mercy of the owner.»
She bashfully kissed Aunt Glasha on her plump cheek, smelling of vanilla and apples. She rushed to call Nastya to cheer her up with the news.
Considering that Nastya worked as a designer in one of the city’s ateliers, the dress she made for Oksana turned out to be luxurious. The soft, form-fitting dark blue silk accentuated every curve of her graceful figure.
A strand of pearls, a bracelet, and earrings, which her foster parents had given her for her 25th birthday, matched the overall style and tone of the outfit perfectly.
Having dressed her friend, Nastya was frozen in admiration.
«Ksyusha, you’ll be the goddess of this evening. I’m confident in my fiancé; he won’t waver. He’s already seen you in our group photos. But all the others will be at your feet, just you watch.»
«I’d rather keep away from all these signs of male attention,» Oksana replied bitterly. «I’ve had enough sad experiences in this area. It seems to me that decent, if not chivalrous, then at least adequate gentlemen are extinct in this world. I’ve only encountered those who have managed to disappoint me for a long time.
I’ll go home to my apartment, tidy up my hair, nails, and the rest. We’ll meet at the club in the evening.»
The venue called «City Lights» greeted Oksana, who arrived by taxi, with a stunningly colorful appearance. Decorated firs and pines, colorful lights, and tinsel shining in their glow, and the crowd dressed to the nines.
Her best friend Nastya was wrong. On the dance floor, at the tables, at the bar, there were many real beauties, worthy of being the stars of this evening and the upcoming night. On the eve of the New Year, it seemed, everyone tried to look their best. The audience was already relaxed by a fountain of alcoholic drinks, and Oksana sighed with relief; no one cared about her.
But she rejoiced too soon. At one of the tables, her first and only man, Vlad, already quite drunk, was having fun with friends. Seeing the relaxed Oksana, casually chatting with Nastya and the other girls, a greedy spark lit up in the man’s eyes.
«That girl has become even more beautiful; I should not have let the bird out of the love cage. Such a companion by my side would enhance the image of any successful man,» he thought to himself. «Tonight, I’ll drag her to bed again.»
Deciding to let the victim have at least one cocktail to make her more talkative, Vlad returned to his company but kept an eye on Oksana. About an hour later, Vlad’s patience ran out.
He decided to go and teach the wilful little thing a lesson, humiliating her in front of her friends. He suddenly appeared behind Oksana with a banal greeting.
«Look who’s here, and without any security. Want me to protect your gorgeous body from the claims of other suitors?»
Startled, Oksana recoiled from Vlad, but she didn’t want to spoil Nastya’s wonderful evening, so she quickly got up from the table and took Vlad away from the bar.
«What do you want? We’ve already put all the dots over the ‘i’ between us. Go back to those you’re spending the night here with, and leave me alone.»
But stopping the slick rascal was not so simple. He had no intention of giving up his plans to sleep with such a charming woman again.
«Don’t rush, Oksana. Let’s drink a glass of good red wine to this unexpected meeting and part as friends. I didn’t mean to anger you. Just thought you might also remember some pages from our short romance.»
The woman prudently decided not to escalate the situation over random circumstances and obediently followed the man.
At the bar, Vlad ordered two glasses of some expensive wine from an overseas collection, splurged on chocolate and sugar-dusted nuts, and proprietarily wrapped an arm around Oksana’s waist. His calculation was trivial. Now his old acquaintance would get tipsy and become more pliable, but he was wrong. Oksana downed her glass of wine in one gulp, not even tasting it, and boldly looked into her ex-lover’s eyes.
«Am I free from you now? Ritual observed?»
Vlad was unaccustomed to such behavior from the lady. He had never been denied by anyone before, so he began to whisper in her ear.
«This, my dear, will not end our pre-New Year’s date, even don’t hope for it. Now I’ll rent a private room, and you’ll be gentle with me. I remember everything, my dear.»
«There it starts again,» Oksana thought with annoyance. «Why do all men’s desires always boil down to one thing whenever a man appears?»
She helplessly looked around. There was no one nearby except a young man calmly sipping whiskey at the bar. Their eyes met, and whatever the stranger read in them, he lazily slid off the bar stool and approached them.
«This woman is with me. I only stepped away from the table for a moment, and you, young man, immediately took advantage of my absence.»
Vlad’s eyes widened in surprise.
«And who are you, some kind of business pepper? Where did you come from?»
What happened next Oksana remembered as if in a terrible dream. The man who came to her aid picked Vlad off the floor like a feather and gave him a solid slap in addition.
But the characteristically nasty, drunk man didn’t calm down. Before leaving the battlefield, he grabbed his half-finished glass of red wine and splashed it right on Oksana’s dress. A huge burgundy stain instantly spread across the silk. The woman turned pale, and her unexpected knight grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the restroom.
On the way, he said something about quickly washing the fabric, then there wouldn’t be any traces. Oksana was concerned about something else—no one had ever stood up for her in her life. Suddenly, in a burst of emotion, she hugged the man by the neck, pulled him along with her to the exit of the club, pausing only for a minute at the cloakroom to grab her coat.
«I’m driving,» the bewildered savior muttered on his way. «I have a meeting scheduled here with an old friend, but he’s running late.»
But Oksana wasn’t listening. As if in a dream, she dragged him along the cold autumn street to a checker-topped car that had just dropped off passengers. She didn’t care about decency, her ruined outfit, or the surprise of her compliant companion. There was only one thought pounding in her head—how fortunate I am to love wearing expensive silk lingerie; there will be no shame.
In her apartment, where she brought the random knight from the club, she pounced on the man like a tigress, like a ravenous March cat. And he did not resist. Everything that happened between them was as if they were in paradise.
Her body sang, her soul rejoiced, her thoughts danced the cancan.
«How tired I am of being well-mannered and decent. Let it all be just for once, I don’t even know his name, although my chance lover is clearly handsome and not stupid.»
For some reason, she was sure of the latter, although they had hardly exchanged a few words. By morning, they had fallen asleep together, not breaking their embrace.
But Oksana woke up alone. Except for the crumpled bed and a pillow still smelling of amazing men’s perfume, nothing in her apartment reminded her of the night before.
She made coffee, took out her stash from a shoe box to buy New Year’s gifts for everyone in Yaroslav Borisovich’s house. She had already come to consider all these people as family.
But the night, alas, had come to an end.
All New Year’s magic eventually ends. So did the Father Frost who had rescued her from the dreadful Vlad.
It’s just a pity, she hadn’t even fed breakfast to the stranger. True, there was nothing in the fridge, not even a slice of bread. But she could make delightful pancakes. So, flour, sugar, vanilla, milk.
There was a block of frozen butter in the freezer. But dreams aside, she needed to return to her duties. Oksana went back to her masquerade costume of a plain-Jane, packed her bag, and called Denis.
Yaroslav Borisovich’s driver promised to take her shopping for gifts and make it back to the estate in time.
Oksana suddenly thought that the man with whom she had spent this magical night was also an angel of kindness and protection, at least for her personally. Her feelings were mixed.
Sadness from parting and something unattainable, and joy that such a firework had happened in her rather bland life.
At Yaroslav Borisovich’s house, she and Denis arrived precisely at 8:00 PM, like clockwork. At the threshold, Oksana was delayed by Viktor with a puppy.
The gardener, blushing, handed her a bouquet made from fir branches with cones and ribbons of shiny tinsel.
Gabriella appeared on the porch, painted today, apparently in honor of New Year’s Eve, in all the colors of the rainbow. Colored mascara, eyeliner, eyeshadows, blush, lipstick.
«What, Vitek, are you handing out tokens of affection on the side? And you said you loved me till death? What, feelings have already wilted? Switched to our lady doctor?»
The modest, quiet, and ordinary gardener suddenly took a stand.
«I haven’t yet had the chance to give you your New Year’s gift. But don’t you dare speak disrespectfully to Oksana Vyacheslavovna. You are not worth her nail.»
Gabriella contemptuously looked away from Viktor and said.
«Shut up already, you garden-scarecrow. It’s not you I’m waiting for here. Roman Yaroslavovich is supposed to arrive soon. That man is no match for you. Learn from him how a real man looks and behaves.»
To interrupt this unpleasant monologue, Oksana took Vitya by the arm and led him aside.
«Don’t listen to her foul words, Viktor. A person who can love plants and animals is as if their continuation on this earth. Some of us become angels of kindness for other people, healing and saving lost and unhappy souls. And some become unique shepherds, guides for flora and fauna, protecting it from human cruelty, using it for the good of people, without spoiling, sparing, wisely. You are one of such angels of kindness for Mother Nature. Be proud of such an exceptional status. You’ve earned it.»
Oksana pecked the bewildered Viktor on the cheek and climbed the steps.
In the distance, the sound of an approaching car’s engine was heard, but she was already running to her ward. Soon it was time to celebrate the New Year, and Kirochka was not yet ready. Aunt Glasha had plenty of worries with the table as well.
In the festively decorated hall, everything sparkled and glittered, the table was laden with food and drinks, all the household members were in fancy clothes, even Oksana had changed her shapeless sweater for a white lace blouse and black skirt.
Only a bunch of curls on her head and funny glasses on her nose remained.
Yaroslav Borisovich came to the table in a soft cashmere sweater and loose light trousers. On Glafira Andreevna’s head and apron, small golden tinsel bows adorned.
Gabriella was in a provocative purple dress with a low neckline and deep cut on the back. She served the dishes this way.
In her chair, Kira sat quite straight in a dress of gentle violet color. Oksana had done her hairstyle. The girl looked refreshed, and at her feet, as usual, lay the faithful guard Timofey. For the holiday, Viktor had specially washed him with dog shampoo.
The puppy’s fur shone and even gleamed in places.
Oksana had already handed out presents to everyone—small Christmas ornaments depicting little angels in various outfits. All of them, if slightly shaken, made a melodious bell sound.
They began to sit down at the table at ten o’clock. It was still necessary to see off the old year, to thank it for all the good and ask it to take the bad with it.
Yaroslav Borisovich went to hurry his son, and soon they appeared together in the hall.
At that moment, Oksana just took a sip of orange juice when, along with her host, before Kira and her, a man appeared, with whom she had spent tonight.
She even caught the end of his phrase.
«Sorry, father, I was delayed, there were unforeseen circumstances, and then I had to reschedule an important business meeting that didn’t happen yesterday.»
Oksana choked and blinked her eyes in fear. And then, before everyone’s eyes, a miracle occurred, no other way to call this event. Kira came to life, reached out to her brother, then made a gesture toward the floor and inarticulately said «Nyuf.»
Everyone was stunned.
They rushed to shake and hug the girl, and in the midst of the general commotion, Oksana quietly slipped away from the table. Let the family be together, no one would notice her absence. But she needed to come to her senses after the unexpected encounter.
The man of her dreams, her mysterious overnight guest, and Yaroslav Borisovich’s son—were one and the same person.
She was trembling with confusion.
At the table, they soon discovered that Kira’s caretaker and her doctor, thanks to whom such a joyful incident occurred in the house, had disappeared. They sent Roman to look for her.
He persistently knocked on the door of the home doctor, then slightly opened it, but found nothing in the room except the sound of running water in the bathroom. Deciding that the woman might have fallen ill, the man resolutely pushed the bathroom door. Over the bathtub, bent in three bends, Oksana furiously scrubbed some fabric, dropping tears into the water. She turned around at the noise of the opening door. Now she had no ugly glasses, her hair was loose down her back, and Roman saw something very familiar in her.
Then he looked into the bathtub, where a beautiful dark blue silk dress lay. The puzzle came together.
«You? Is it you?» exclaimed the surprised Roman. «And I returned with champagne, provisions, a bouquet of flowers to your apartment, but it was empty. I nearly went mad with despair, thinking I had lost my night fairy forever.»
Oksana boldly stepped into his open arms. To hell with all principles, decency, rules. This man had turned her soul upside down yesterday.
People on this earth meet and get to know each other in different ways. With him, she felt good, the rest didn’t matter. Roman let the girl go first.
«Quickly put something on. There are only five minutes left until the chimes strike. We’ll make it.»
Oksana’s blouse and skirt were all wet. In just a few seconds, she pulled on her tight jeans, a chunky knit white sweater, didn’t bother to gather her hair, just lightly touched her lush mane with a comb. They made it to the table together with the chimes.
Bubbles played in the glasses of champagne. Culinary creations by Aunt Glasha awaited everyone at the table. Even Kira tried to display some semblance of a smile. Yaroslav Borisovich didn’t ask his son a single question, just looked at how the young people sat down at the table together. Glafira Andreevna thought to herself.
«With such a turn of events, soon our house will again echo with children’s voices.»
Viktor smiled happily, patting Tim’s back. Gabriella nervously bit her lip and chewed on a sandwich with red fish.
«So Viktor and I will soon be stolen away if I go crow hunting. Now, to stay in this house and further secure my place here, I will have to accept the gardener’s courtship. The guy is not bad, kind, handy, quite handsome.»
«The New Year’s Eve turned out to be truly magical and fairy-tale-like, just as it was supposed to be. Everyone at this table was happy in their own way. The long-awaited winter holidays flew by amidst a flurry of entertainment and relaxation. Only Oksana tirelessly worked with Kira to consolidate her success.
On the first working day, Yaroslav Borisovich realized that he had relaxed too much over the weekend and decided to come home earlier. Walking quietly along the soft carpeted hallway, he approached his daughter’s room door and became a witness to Kira’s new victories.
‘Nyuf, Tima, Papa, Roma, Glasha, Vitya, Ksana, Gabi,’ Kira obediently repeated syllable by syllable after Oksana Vyacheslavovna.
Yaroslav Borisovich turned the corner of the corridor and cried. The council, appointed by Oksana’s teacher in ten days, delivered an encouraging summary.
The disease had receded. The process of cell and tissue destruction had slowed down.
The remission period had already exceeded all known scientific limits.
‘Yaroslav Borisovich, I told you, Oksanochka is an excellent specialist. In our case, to expect a complete recovery is like living in the clouds. But your daughter has shown noticeable positive shifts in her overall condition.
She began to react to the outside world.
Weakly, slightly, but she is beginning to speak again. You know, I thought, if a patient lives surrounded by angels of kindness, as my student described to me, he has every chance to stay on this earth for some more time. And you will make it as happy as possible for her. I am sure of that.
Six months passed. The plane, flying the morning flight to Prague, was delayed due to weather conditions.
A good-looking young couple kept glancing at the electronic board and each other.
‘Romka, what if I hadn’t gone to that nightclub that night? Would you have seen me in my monstrous guise and not paid me any attention?’ asked the future mom with an already quite noticeable rounded belly.
‘Come on,’ the man replied, adjusting his wedding ring on his fingers.
‘I would have seen through all your disguising outfits. Your angelic soul, your ability to do good can’t be hidden. I would have definitely fallen for such radiant magic.’
A metallic monotonous voice announced boarding for their flight. The couple embraced and slowly walked to the plane boarding gate.
‘Let’s finish all my business in Prague for good. You’ll also get to see this beautiful city. And let’s hurry back to our family home. Do you know what Kira said before I left? Roma, Ksana, Kira, Tima are waiting. That’s the kind of puzzle she gave me.’
