Page 95 of Not Part of the Plan
When London and Marie, now dressed in pajamas, demanded Papa read them a bedtime story, everyone crowded into the living room to listen to Vadim voice the characters. It hit him then. Niko realized he could have been part of this family—one that shared striking similarities to the Pierces—had he bothered to put forth an effort.
Yet his father hadn’t welcomed him into his new life. Was Niko just a painful reminder to him of the woman they no longer shared? Was his mother the glue? Could there be a father-son relationship without her?
Niko wasn’t sure, but he wanted to try. His time in Blue Moon had shown him what family could be, and it was something he knew he wanted in his life now. He rose with his father when Adele and Tony said their goodbyes.
Katrina was the next to bow out with the excuse of an early morning appointment. She kissed his father and then her mother on both cheeks, offered Emma a sincere “nice to meet you,” and then coolly shook his hand.
“No longer a full house,” Greta sighed, shutting the front door behind Katrina. “Always bittersweet.”
“Bitter because we miss them when they’re not here,” Vadim said.
“And sweet because now we can put our feet up and enjoy the quiet,” Greta supplied, winking a blue eye at her husband.
“Greta, let me help clean up,” Emma offered.
“We can enjoy another glass of wine and talk about how handsome and stubborn these two are,” Greta said, slipping her arm through Emma’s guiding her out of the room.
The silence they left in their wake was immediately awkward. Vadim slipped his hands in his pockets and jingled the change he found.
“Do you still like brandy?” Niko asked, eyes again returning to his mother’s photo.
“I do. Though I don’t have any in the house. It seems to evaporate right out of the bottle,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
“I thought that might be the case,” Niko said, digging into the bag they’d brought and producing a bottle. “I brought a spare, just in case.”
Vadim looked at the label, and his caterpillar eyebrows lifted. “Very nice. Very nice, indeed.” He opened a cabinet built into the corner of the living room and produced two snifters.
They sat, his father in an ancient recliner and Niko on the couch, and he poured the amber liquid into the glasses.
They sipped in silence, listening to the sounds of running water and laughing women floating from the kitchen. It was a homey scene, yet Niko felt wildly uncomfortable. Words needed to be said, questions asked, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t ease them both into it.
“You and Greta seem happy,” he said. It was the truth. He’d been used to thinking of his father as two men, one headily in love with his mother, the other darkly mourning her loss. But this Vadim was different. He and Greta shared common ground, mutual interests. They weren’t held together by passion. They were fortified by commonality.
“Yes. Very happy,” Vadim said gruffly. “I enjoy her company very much.”
“A good match,” Niko said, thinking of Willa and her boots.
“Do you think so?” Vadim asked, and Niko thought he heard a hopeful note in the question.
“I do. I’m glad you’re not alone, that you’re not still mourning.”
“I still mourn,” Vadim said, staring into the brandy. “I will always mourn. Your mother was one of a kind.”
“And Greta?”
The corners of his father’s mouth lifted under his moustache. “Greta is one of a kind, too. I am a lucky man.”
“Why aren’t we better, Dad?”
Vadim didn’t pretend not to understand the question. His pause was thoughtful. “It started with a mistake I made. I thought if I gave you space, you’d come around willingly rather than me forcing you to accept things you were not yet ready to accept.”
“Giving me that space made me feel like you’d not only moved on from Mom, you’d moved on from me. New wife, new home, new family.” Niko looked around the living room, shelves stuffed with relics of two lives combined into one. His senior picture, his college graduation, his moments were tucked in with the rest of their highlights. Greta and Vadim’s wedding, Adele and Tony’s wedding, London’s first day of school, Maria’s first birthday, Katrina at her salon looking fierce.
His father looked down at his hands, and for the first time, Niko recognized their resemblance to his own.
“I am sorry for that. We Vulkov men are not good with feelings. Perhaps that’s why we lean so heavily on our partners. Greta’s been demanding that I drag you back here since before the wedding, but I was stubborn.”
“I don’t know if I’m mad at you or disappointed in myself. I didn’t know you had grandchildren. I’ve never been to your house. I didn’t know Greta was a research scientist.” Niko shook his head, bitter at the time lost the two would never get back.
