Tamara opened the box, and a million expressions crossed her face in a second. She looked up at me with wonder in her eyes. I decided it was best to go formal and dropped to one knee. Milena thought it a game and gave me a garbled laugh.
“Marry me?” I asked as well as I could in Armenian. I would have gladly died for the smile that appeared on Tamara’s face. I knew her answer before she spoke.
“Yes,” Tamara said in heavily accented English. She dropped down to my level, Milena getting more excited, and kissed me like it was our last day on earth. It was the same kiss that I found in the blizzard minus the desperation. This kiss had a future.
Milena started kicking and flailing her arms, thinking we were playing peek-a-boo. Tamara broke the kiss with a laugh, leaned down farther to kiss her daughter and reassure her she wasn’t forgotten. We rose, and I placed the ring on her finger. It was a little loose and would need to be resized. Milena was impressed by the shiny bobble and insisted on playing with Tamara’s finger. It kept Milena busy for a few more moments as we shared another kiss.
I had done it. A wife and a daughter in one day. Tamara wrapped her arm into mine and leaned against my shoulder as we walked. Like me, she wanted to be as close as possible.
We ate a quick dinner in the hotel restaurant. We would have lingered, but Milena was starting to get fussy. I guess all the sightseeing had worn her out and she was done with new stimulation. I could see that Tamara was worried I might change my mind now that I was seeing the crabby side of my baby girl. I just smiled and did my best to keep Milena entertained. The waiter did wonders making sure the food was delivered quickly. I over tipped for his attentions.
Once we were back in the room, Tamara was trying to sooth Melina, who seemed unhappy with everything. I could see that she was over tired and just needed to close her eyes. Tamara was more concerned with my reaction to Melina’s fussiness and was trying desperately to get her to settle down. It was a chain reaction; upset daughter triggering upset mother which, in turn, further upset daughter. I remembered what my mother told me once, about when I was but a babe and the one thing that would quiet me down.
I filled the tub with about two inches of warm water. I took Milena from her reluctant mother, stripped her down, and sat her in the tub. The crying sputtered out as the warm water caressed her legs. She stared at it as I held her upright. She leaned down forcibly and began to splash, not happy, but no longer crying. Curiosity overwhelming her discomfort.
I felt a breath in my ear and magic words mixed with love. I turned and found my future wife’s lips. They were filled with emotion, so much love as she cradled my head in her hands. Milena yelled out and splashed, causing water to find her face. She sputtered in surprise as Tamara quickly grabbed a towel and lovingly dried her face. Milena shook off the towel and went back to the water. Tamara sat down next to me. We spent the next half hour watching Milena tire herself out. When her head started drooping, and the eyelids refused to remain open, we dried her off, dressed her, and laid her in her bed. Daughters were crabby. They made up for it by being so damned cute.
Tamara attacked me on the bed. I surrendered willingly.
++++++++++++++++++++++
We awoke before Melina. I checked her breathing, as I had her mother so many months ago, and found it steady and without stress. I guess we wore her out. I crawled back into bed and just held Tamara. She snuggled into me, and I had a flashback to the hovel, trying to stay warm. This time, I didn’t apologize when I tucked my hand under her breast. Milena only let us enjoy each other for about ten minutes. It was enough though I could have stayed that way for few more hours.
Tamara called her mother as she fed Melina. There was a long discussion with a lot of smiling. I could pick out pieces as she told her mother about the proposal. I wondered if I didn’t plan it enough, maybe making a more romantic gesture. I let the idea fade away. Too much had happened to stall for a better time. Milena needed a father, and I needed the both of them.
“Mother make lunch,” Tamara told me once she hung up. I smiled, nodded, and added a kiss, so she knew it was fine. She added something about outside, and I think park. I guessed it was going to be a picnic. Milena would like that, so it was good for me. I sat down and watched my piggy daughter monopolize my fiancée.
My mother hadn’t tried to call me again in over twenty-four hours. I checked my phone to verify it and wondered if it was time to forgive her. It was her memories I accessed to quiet Milena the night before. I knew I couldn’t be angry with her forever. She had a right to know about the engagement. I did some quick math and knew it was the middle of the night in Chicago. I decided I would call her that evening and straighten everything out.
We spent the morning in the hotel pool. It was too early for the tourists, so we had the whole thing to ourselves. Milena thought it was the greatest thing in the world. She struggled to break loose from my arms and fully enjoy the water on her own. I found that dipping her down to her neck and bouncing her back up made her ecstatically happy. So we traveled around the shallow end, bouncing up and down, splashing, and chasing mommy around. I now understood how children could make people do stupid things. Only Tamara, myself and Milena understood our game. The only reward was Melina’s smile, which was payment enough.
We were well pruned by the time we left the pool. Milena put up a small fuss when we lifted her and her waterlogged diaper out of the pool. Tamara took her in her arms and cooed sweet things that seemed to satisfy her. I had a future olympic swimmer on my hands.
This time, when I entered the Petrosian household, I was greeted warmly by my future brothers-in-law. The two youngest examined Tamara’s ring and kissed her cheek and shook my hand. I feigned blocking a punch and we shared a small laugh. Armen wasn’t present and I was surprised not to see Yana until I saw her emerge smiling from the kitchen, dressed in an apron that was covered in flour. I was shocked when I saw who followed her out.
My mother, in an equally dusted apron, came out of the kitchen. Her hair not in its usually perfect place. Her smile defied the rest of her appearance. “Mom,” I stuttered. She smiled at me then went straight to Tamara.
“I am sorry,” my mother said in Armenian as poor a mine. She repeated it, and Tamara nodded, looking at me in shock. My mother hugged Tamara and began to cry. Then Tamara cried and hugged her back. I could do nothing, my arms full of Melina. Tamara sputtered out her forgiveness that needed little translation and wiped her eyes.
My mother turned to me with tears on her cheeks, “may I hold my granddaughter?” I walked over and placed Milena in her arms. Melina, doing her part, smiled at the attention. My mother was immediately in love. “I am so sorry little one. I’m a stupid woman thinking I know best,” she said to Milena, but I knew it was meant for me. Milena thought she was playing and gave her a toothless laugh. Tamara smiled at me and nodded. I had been instructed to forgive. Tamara had forgiven me, so I had no choice but to comply.
“She likes you,” I said quietly to my mom.
“She does, doesn’t she,” my mother said smiling, “does her daddy like me?”
“I love you, mom, you know that,” I forgave, “I was just angry.”
“You had every right, and I’ll try not give you reason to be angry again,” my mother said, her eyes never moving from Melina’s. My daughter seemed enchanted with my mother. Maybe it was her earrings, large silver disks waving below her lobes.
“She is so beautiful,” my mother said to Tamara. I interpreted as best I could. Tamara smiled again and directed my mother to the couch. They sat down together, ignoring me while they played with Melina. Milena was doing her part to duplicate smiles and grabbing fingers.
“Mother happy now?” Yana asked me quietly. I nodded. “Son happy?”
“Yes,” I answered in Armenian, “very happy.” Yana gave my arm a squeeze and headed back into the kitchen.
“You came here alone?” I asked my mother when I realized it.
“Your father and Ruben are with…Armen,” my mother said as she played with Melina’s feet. I think she was counting toes. I knelt down in front of the three and took Tamara’s ring hand in mine and showed my mother.
“We’re engaged,” I announced carefully. I wasn’t sure what I expected since she took my coming to Armenia pretty hard. She raised her eyes from Milena and smiled at Tamara.
“I am so happy for you two,” she said. I translated it to “she happy.” The smile didn’t need translation. It was honest and held no reservations. My mother had finally surrendered to my reality. Milena made it easier for her. Tamara and my mother hugged again which, I have to say, made me feel good.
Armen, my father, and Ruben entered a moment later. I went to greet my father, but my mother short-circuited the reunion.
“Frank, come see our granddaughter,” my mother called, waving my father over. My dad smiled at me, happy to see his wife smiling again. Milena got more attention as my mother explained everything that unfolded. Tamara got more hugs, and I shook hands with Ruben.
“Armen says he knocked you around a bit,” Ruben chuckled.
“Him and his two brothers,” I said, “it’s your fault we couldn’t understand each other. You’re a lousy teacher.”
“Maybe I had a lousy student,” Ruben hit back. I laughed knowing he could be right. I never did well in Spanish when I was in high school. “She really is a beautiful woman,” Ruben added, indicating Tamara.
“She is that,” I agreed, “lucky for Melina, she got more of Tamara’s genes than mine.”
“She has the Bennett nose,” my mother announced, overhearing my conversation. Unconsciously, I reached up and felt my nose, still a bit sore from the fight. Milena had a little button nose, not a big honker like mine.
“She’s pretty like her mother, ” my father diplomatically slowed my mother’s desire to mentally claim ownership.
“Yes, she certainly is,” my mother agreed. Ruben translated. Tamara was a lot cuter blushing. My mother moved Milena to Tamara’s lap and rose. “I promised to help with the cooking,” she said, before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “They’re both lovely,” she whispered.
“Help cook,” I told Tamara, who was confused. Ruben repeated my words in the correct Armenian phrasing. I rolled my eyes since Tamara had already understood. Tamara patted the cushion next to her, and my father sat down. He took Milena in his lap and instantly became a babbling fool, keeping the smiling Milena enthralled.
I sat down and found out what had transpired to bring my parents to Armenia. As I suspected, my mother was the driving factor. Ruben was brought along since he was the only Armenian speaker they knew, and they wanted to limit any issues they might encounter. Smart to avoid the fist fights.
As soon as my mother had seen the picture of Milena, she knew she had made some terrible mistakes. My father set the itinerary and hired Ruben. They had been with Yana for a few hours before we arrived. We weren’t warned because my mother feared I might stay away. I had been angry, but not that angry. The fact that they flew out first chance showed their commitment to me and my new family. I was a lot happier with my parents at that moment. Tamara seemed just as happy that all was going well.
They had already heard about the engagement from Yana. My father had been talking to the male head of the family, Armen, about the impending marriage. Essentially wishing to contribute financially to the wedding. They were moving faster than I was now. I sensed that I may have overstepped some Armenian custom, not conversing with Armen before asking Tamara to marry me, not that I would have accepted any disapproval either way.
Ruben assured me that the birth of Milena and Tamara’s love overrode any concerns they had about me. I had already greatly overstepped on the mountain. The rest was me making things right in their eyes. According to Ruben, I had done well.
I walked into the kitchen and saw something amazing. Yana and my mother hard at work. Yana, obviously in charge, and my mother happily following charade like instructions. It was some bonding thing between the two. I leaned against the doorframe and watched them work.
“What’s for lunch?” I asked my mother. She looked up, her hands coated with some brown flour.
“I have no idea,” she answered smiling, “it smells delicious, but I’m not sure what everything is called.” she tilted her head toward Yana, “she sure is a good cook.” Yana looked over at me.
“Good Chef,” I translated pointing at her, not knowing if there was a word for cook or if the context was necessary. Yana smiled and rattled off something about good help.
“I think you’re a good helper,” I translated again.
“It’s kind of fun,” my mother added, “I’m dying to taste the results.” She paused for a moment, “you really don’t need language, you and Tamara?”
“Nope,” I said smiling, “we figure out the important stuff and ignore the little things. It’s more honest that way. I suspect we’ll have our first fight once we learn to talk.” My mother laughed, and Yana just shrugged her shoulders.
“I’m sorry I tried to keep you two apart,” my mother apologized, “I should have just trusted your heart.”
“I know mom,” I said quietly, “I’m sorry for hanging up on you.”
“I deserved it,” she said, nodding her head, “though not answering my other calls was just rude.” She was smiling so I laughed. It was the right reaction. She meant it was rude, but she understood. I wouldn’t dare ignore the next call. I left them there before they drafted me to help.
++++++++++++++++++++++
The weather was perfect. Summer was breathing its last gasp adding a subtle warmth to the impending fall weather. The trees were just beginning to change to their autumn dress, but they still held tight to their leaves. The men acted as mules carrying down the bags and baskets of food and implements to the park. My mother walked with Tamara, insisting on carrying Milena. Tamara smiled at me every time she caught my eye. There was a new happiness there, something had shifted now that my parents were on board.
We pulled two picnic tables together and covered them with a white sheet that Yana had brought. Davit tacked the cover to the table in a practiced maneuver that indicated the family picnicked often. We were joined shortly by an older couple, Raphael and Elina. Raphael was Tamara’s uncle. They brought Tamara’s Grandmother with them. She was introduced as ‘Meemaw’ and obviously held in high regard. For a woman who could barely walk, her mind seemed very alert as she watched me like a hawk. Her gray hair was pulled tight to her head and secured in a single ponytail. It gave her an old strict schoolmarm look. Every time I caught her looking at me, I smiled. She would match my smile with her own, though I wasn’t sure if it was forced like mine.
Tamara whispered something to Viktoria who leaned over and translated to me. It seems Meemaw was suspicious of my intentions with her granddaughter. I wasn’t sure I could do anything about it. Time would eventually prove me honorable.
The food was excellent. Everyone spent considerable amount of time thanking Yana and my mother for the feast. Armen broke out a bottle of red wine and poured everyone a small dixie cup. Not exactly the Ritz, but it was appropriate for the surroundings. He then made a quick speech that Ruben translated for the Armenian impaired.
“Soon I will gain another brother,” Armen said, “a man who conquered a mountain to steal my sister’s heart.” I rolled my eyes at his embellishment, “Though he has a weak nose,” his brothers started laughing and Tamara gave Armen a pair of dagger eyes, “he stood his ground and refused to yield. Strength to protect my sister and my precious niece. I am proud to announce Jonathan’s engagement to my sister, Tamara.” There was a cheer and everyone lifted their dixie cup and drank, Meemaw included. Yana scolded Armen with a smile. I think she would have preferred something more formal.
I had to spend some time explaining the weak nose reference to my parents. They were shocked at first, but let it go when I explained the language barrier that created it. The rest of the party went well until Garik got into an argument with a family sitting at another table about fifty feet away. I had no idea what started it, but when I saw Armen and Davit move, I followed.
Garik was standing his ground, arguing with another man about his age. The man’s male family members had gathered around, obviously ready to take the argument to the next level. I recognized some of the words. It was a heated discussion over a girl named Angelina. Armen and Davit moved to the side of Garik, I joined Garik to the right. The intensity grew and we were outnumbered five to four. For some stupid reason, I thought we could take them if it came to that. I felt very Armenian at the moment.
I set my fighting stance when I saw one the men move forward in obvious aggression. I was about to find out how weak my nose really was. Strangely, I had little fear knowing I had the Petrosian’s next to me. This is what it is like to have brothers.
A voice in calm Armenian invaded the argument from off to the side. An elderly man that looked familiar stepped forward, his voice steady yet commanding. For some reason, the argument ceased as he spoke. He pointed at me, mentioning something about a mountain. The other family looked at me with wide eyes. There was some whispered discussion, and I could see their stances pull back from the brink. The man spoke again, pointing at Garik and the other instigator. I heard him mention Angelina and point back to me. I really wanted to know what I was missing.
I watched as the old man diffused the argument and had Garik and his rival shake hands. I was amazed at how easily he accomplished it. He smiled at me when it was over and held out his hand.
“Mikhail Popov, Mr. Bennett,” the man said in English. His accent was Slovic, but elegant. He spoke English very well. His face was fatherly in the warm way. His eyes had me trusting him almost immediately. I took his hand in mine.
“Jonathan, please,” I responded as I shook his hand, “what did you say to them?”
“I told them that you’re the mountain man,” Mikhail chuckled, “you survived a blizzard and jumped off a cliff to save your girl. I asked them if they were ready to go that far.”
“I kind of fell off the cliff.”
“Negotiations are about subtlety,” Mikhail said, “intent is much more important than reality. Tell me you wouldn’t have jumped for her.” Of course, I would have.
“Who are you?”
“I was on the plane,” Mikhail said, “I brought the helicopter back.”
“Oh!” I said smiling and shaking his hand harder, “I think we owe you our lives. It’s a small world to find you here.”
“Actually, I was looking for you,” Mikhail said sadly, “You weren’t conscious when we first met. I was hoping you knew of my brother.” My thoughts went back to the crash. I lost my smile when I remembered dragging the man, half his face missing, under a tree and burying him in pine needles. It suddenly felt wrong, like I hadn’t done enough. “I was hoping he had survived as I had. We could find no trace but you and Tamara in the snow.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said softly, “He died in the crash. I buried him under a tree. My god, I forgot all about him. I was so wrapped up in finding Tamara. I should have tried to contact you.” Mikhail let go of my hand and placed it on my shoulder.
“No, the living come first,” Mikhail soften my guilt, “to know how he died is a huge weight lifted. I had nightmares of leaving him to freeze or starve to death.”
“I don’t think he knew what happened,” I added, “I don’t think he suffered.” The hacked up face returned to my mind again. No, no one lived for more than a second after a trauma like that. Mikhail gave me a fatherly smile.
“Would you return and show me where he’s buried?” Mikhail asked. My first thought was absolutely not. I shoved it aside and considered his pain. I knew I wouldn’t want to leave my family member to rot on a mountain top. I glanced at Tamara, who was in a deep discussion with Meemaw. I wouldn’t leave her, that’s for sure.
“Yes,” I agreed, “I can do that.”
“Good.” Mikhail smiled, patting me on my shoulder, “very good.” He paused for a moment, “I really should say hello to Tamara. I understand you two are an item.”
“Engaged.”
“Well, at least something good came of the crash,” Mikhail said as I led him to our picnic area.
“Mikhail!” Tamara shouted as we approached. She brought Milena with her smile to meet up with us. It made sense, them knowing each other from the rescue. They traded words, and Mikhail doted over Milena for a few minutes. I was kind of proud of the compliments I only half understood.
“I fear my brother and I were the cause of the accident,” Mikhail said in English. His tone never wavered from the pleasant conversation he had with Tamara, so she assumed it was a repeat of what they had discussed.
“Pardon?”
“Nikolay and I work as mediators,” Mikhail took a deep breath, “a year ago we had our hands full in Ukraine, talking between the Russian separatists and Euro-centric loyalists. The altimeter failure was sabotage.”
“I didn’t even know there was a mechanical reason,” I admitted. Mikhail tickled Melina; I suspected to keep Tamara unaware of what we were discussing.
“The pilot was yelling at the altimeter when went into the mountain,” Mikhail smiled, belying the real conversation, he kept saying ‘this isn’t 4,000 meters.’ I found the cockpit and the altimeter had been misadjusted. I can only say I’m sorry to be the cause.” He paused a moment, smiling at Melina, “then again; she is a very beautiful little girl. I am glad something good came from it.”
“And you want a trip back to find your brother?” I asked. I imagined all sorts of repeat attempts.
“I don’t charter in advance anymore,” Mikhail said, “no one knows my full itinerary, not even me. You still willing to go?”
“Yes,” I said without thinking. He could have lied to me, so I took his trust and added some of my own. Mikhail changed to Armenian and spoke with Tamara whose face became concerned. She looked at me then back at Mikhail and said yes, nodding with hesitancy.
“I told Tamara what you agreed too and asked her if it was all right,” Mikhail said, “I left out the sabotage unless you wish me to tell her.”
“No,” I said, adding a comfortable smile. I moved closer to Tamara and gave her a kiss on her cheek. I knew she didn’t like the idea of me going back to the mountain, but Mikhail saved our lives, and his brother deserved some respect.
It was later that evening when I decided hiding things wasn’t a good way to start a marriage. With Ruben’s help, I explained my impending trip back to Azerbaijani next week and the cause of the crash to Yana, the brothers, my parents, and a frightened Tamara.
“You not go,” Tamara said in simple enough language.
“I have to agree,” my mother added, not needing to wait for Ruben. Tamara’s face was all the translation she needed.
“I think I have to,” I said, “we would have died up there if Mikhail hadn’t come back for us. I owe him for Tamara and Melina.” Tamara shifted closer to me, not wanting me to go and unable to disagree.
“I go with you,” Garik interjected. He had an adamant look about him. I was about to disagree when Yana interrupted. I had to wait for the translation.
“Yana thinks Garik should go with you,” Ruben said, “he climbs with a group a few times a year and knows a lot about the mountains.” I looked at Garik, who nodded firmly.
“I don’t like this,” my mother said. There was a mother’s apprehension in her eyes. She never liked me traveling around the world and now I was heading back to the crash site. Yana nodded when Ruben translated.
“Men do stupid things for stupid reasons,” Yana commented, “at least this stupid thing is for a good reason.” I think she was talking about her boys as well as me. She understood a brother wanting his brother back. My mother conceded when Ruben translated. She knew I was going, and she owed me some leeway after the way she treated Tamara.
I stood up and held out my hand to Garik. He rose and shook it. “Thanks,” I said, “I could use the help.” He wore a proud smile when Ruben translated. I fully understood then that Tamara came with a family. They would risk for me as much as they would risk for each other. I vowed to do the same.
++++++++++++++++++++++
Tamara was a nervous bundle. She had agreed to my going back to the mountain, but was terrified I may not come back. When Melina was finally asleep, I went to work easing her fears. Though we had shared much, I had never ignored my own desires to heighten hers. I put aside my selfish needs and began with loosening the muscles in her shoulders.
Tamara moaned and sunk her body into my manipulations. She tried to turn, but I kept her there, facing away from me as my fingers worked on her shoulders. She whispered something about her fears, but the words broke up as I worked the knots out of her neck. She reached behind her and caressed my thighs as my lips followed my fingers along her neck. Such soft sweet things came from her mouth.
I laid her on her back and, with her mild protests, began to kiss my way down her body. I found that I could cause little tremors with light flicks of my tongue. She only tried once to lift me into position to join with her, then gave up in a giggle when I found her belly button.
The smell of a woman in desire is intoxicating. Years of evolution had honed the scent into a bouquet that took my breath away. I forced myself to slow and tease the inside of her thighs with light kisses. When Tamara sensed my intentions, I heard her whisper something. I glanced up into frightened eyes. I smiled and she lay her head back down, unsure of what was about to happen.
I made love to her with my lips. After a swift intake of breath, Tamara’s moans defied her initial fears, and I felt her muscles surrender to me. I loved how I could make her squirm. Her body reacted in the most wondrous ways. I had no idea what she whispered between her gasps, but I took it as encouragement, so pleased when her hands combed through my hair as I sought her pleasure.
“Jonathan,” she almost yelled. Her back arched and I felt her body let loose, shaking as I lovingly teased her most precious flower. I continued as her body collapsed, her hands caressing my head. Suddenly she began laughing, pushing me away. I relented as she now found me more ticklish than arousing.
“What you do to me?” Tamara smiled, pulling me up her body. I could see the joy in her eyes. She was weaker and stronger all at the same time. I was weirdly proud of myself. A man who had just fully conquered a woman. She rolled me over with laughter in her eyes and straddled me. It took her no time to conquer me.
“You come back to me,” Tamara ordered as she rested in my arms.
“Yes, my love,” I responded. I could still feel her apprehension, but I had dulled it a bit.
++++++++++++++++++++++
Mikhail organized the whole trip. He booked flights and then canceled them when we arrived at the airport. He then hired a new charter on the spot. His carefulness reassured Garik and I. Garik brought a backpack full of climbing gear just in case. He made me carry an additional length of rope that I hope we wouldn’t need.
We couldn’t delay the trip since winter came early to the mountains. A blizzard would be deadly though we had enough gear to survive it if necessary. It was four days after the picnic when we flew over my first home with Tamara. I couldn’t see the hovel, but our makeshift flag was shredded and tangled in the tree it had been tied to. Tamara’s signal was still ingenious.
We set down about a mile east, the only clearing on the ridge large enough for a helicopter. The pilot was skilled, somehow putting down on the gradual slope without issue. He stayed with the helicopter as Mikhail, Garik and myself hiked back to the campsite carrying the stretcher to bring home Mikhail’s brother.
The hovel was surprisingly intact. I smiled at its construction. The inside had obviously been invaded by storms, but the outer shell was still solid, and I suspected, would still block a good portion of the wind. I crawled inside, looking at what was left of our first home. I could see that Tamara had left everything when she was winched up to the rescue helicopter. I found only one thing worth taking back with me. A little humor for my return.
Nikolay was exactly where I had left him. There didn’t seem to be any animals besides birds on the ridge, nothing large enough to disturb his remains. Unfortunately, decomposition wasn’t so lenient. Through Mikhail’s tears, we pulled Nikolay from under the tree. I held my breath as we worked, not wanting to breathe in what looked horrible to the eyes. Both Garik and I had to walk off in the middle of it. I lost my breakfast. I assumed Garik experienced the same.
Mikhail had assumed the worst and brought a black body bag with him. I was glad for his forethought. The task became infinitely easier when we zipped Nikolay inside. We took turns carrying the stretcher though Mikhail’s age limited the time he could help. It took over an hour to get back to the helicopter and load Nikolay on board.
Our supplies were, thankfully, unneeded as we took a day and a half to return to Armenia. Garik was amazingly unfrazzled traveling in foreign countries. He seemed to relish the adventure, minus the dead body. I was impressed with his confidence.
Mikhail left us at the Yerevan airport as he took off to Russia to bury his brother. His thanks were almost embarrassing, not to mention his constant apologizing for being the cause of the crash. I accepted his card and a promise that if I should ever need him, I would call.
I walked into the terminal and happiness stood before me. Tamara had an honest smile of relief as I moved into her arms as quickly as customs would allow. She put me in a death grip and tried to break some ribs. Her lips made up for her over enthusiasm. Just as wonderful as I remembered. Traveling was holding less and less appeal for me.
Garik got a kiss on the cheek for bringing me home safely. He looked at me with a knowing smile. Yes, for a brief moment, Tamara had forgotten that he was home safely as well. Yana and my mother were waiting with Melina in one of the many rows of chairs downstairs from the boarding ramps. Melina seemed pleased with my hugs and kisses. I loved how my daughter smiled.
++++++++++++++++++++++
It was late when Tamara and I returned to the hotel. We needed more permanent housing, but for now, the hotel allowed us to be alone together. No other family interfering. We swam with Melina until her eyes drooped. She was asleep when her head hit the mattress.
“Home still there,” I told Tamara in Armenian, adding a sly smile.
“On mountain,” Tamara clarified. I nodded.
“Found something,” I said as I took my shoes off. She waited for me to continue, which I did not. Finally, curiosity got the better of her.
“What?”
I went to my suitcase and wadded the item in my hand, hiding it as best I could. I then walked back to the bed and sat down.
“Nothing,” I said like a jerk. My smile was frozen on my face. Tamara put her hands on her hips and gave me the look only a mother could make. It was weakened by her own smile.
“Give,” Tamara said, holding out her hand. I could tell she was both intrigued and frustrated with my teasing. I laughed as I opened my hand, letting a pair of yellow panties with images of strangely posed ducks, hang from my fingers. Tamara’s eyes went wide and she tried to snatch them away.
I laughed as I quickly moved them to the other hand and stood away from her. The panties were a little faded for being exposed to the elements for a year. I had washed them up in Azerbaijani and found them still cute as hell.
“Give,” Tamara said, both laughing and demanding. I think I saw color entering her cheeks. A little embarrassment at owning such childish things. She had no idea how sexy the thought of them on her was. Sort of reliving the mountain in my mind. I held them up, just out of her reach, but she tried for them anyway. I spent the next few moments playing keep away.
Eventually, Tamara promised me kisses for their safe return. I relented, handing over the panties and leaned in for my reward. She flicked my nose with her finger and ran to the bathroom laughing like a schoolgirl. Touché. I broke down laughing at how she suckered me in.
It took a few minutes of begging to get Tamara out of the bathroom. A lot of apologizing and promising not to tease her again. She laughed a lot of it off before the door finally opened. My mouth fell open. A goddess dressed in nothing but cute ducky panties emerged. There was no hesitancy in how she moved. She knew exactly what they did to me and used it to her full advantage. The night was my personal vision of what heaven should be.
++++++++++++++++++++++
The wedding was a month away and I needed to protect my income. I called Doug Finley and he was ecstatic I called. The business was chugging along but he preferred a fast clip.
“I still have the Peruvian deal in the works,” Doug said. I could almost see the smile on his face. “If you could close that, we would be flush for the year, maybe two years.”
“I figured you’d have that done by now,” I said.
“Nope,” Doug sighed, “they aren’t that trusting. The want to shake a human hand and have things signed in front of them. You know me – I don’t do the third world.”
“Wimp,” I joked.
“It was always where you shined,” Doug complimented. I like how he said it. It’s good to know you’re wanted. “I bet you can knock it out in a day or two.”
“Okay,” I added, “I have two more mouths to feed now, so book the flights.”
“We’re rolling again,” Doug yelled into the phone, “damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead.” His excitement was contagious. I liked my work again.
++++++++++++++++++++++
Tamara took the trip in stride. Melina needed to be provided for. My agreement with Doug had profits distributed by time worked. I still received a token amount when I wasn’t working, but that was trivial to a full share. My savings wouldn’t last forever. It was time the father emerged out of his love-induced vacation and provided for his family.
Tamara spent the next two nights making sure I knew why I wanted to return home. It was totally unnecessary, but I didn’t let her know that. I enjoyed being convinced of something I was already sure of.
My parents had already returned to Chicago. I moved Tamara and Melina back in with Meemaw. I gave Tamara a budget and asked her if she could find a home for us.
“Armenia?” She asked, her smile spreading across her face.
“Yes,” I said. My job meant travel and home base’s location really wasn’t overly important. There was no reason to haul her to Chicago when I was already getting used to Yerevan. Meemaw’s eyes lit up during the discussion.
“You stay in Yerevan?” Meemaw asked Tamara.
“Yes,” Tamara said loudly as she jumped into my arms. I hadn’t realized how much it meant to her. She was willing to go to America, but only for me.
“You good man,” Meemaw said with the first honest smile she gave me. That’s why she held me at a distance. She was afraid I was taking her granddaughter and great-granddaughter away from her. Tamara hugged me hard. You would have thought I had given her the world. In a sense, I guess I unknowingly did.
Meemaw actually gave me a hug when I left for the airport along with wishes for a safe trip.
++++++++++++++++++++++
Jorge Chávez International Airport was like every other airport in the world. If you closed your ears to the Spanish, you could be in any large airport of any major city. I moved slowly across the terminal carrying my one bag. I had a five hour wait before my last jump, a small prop plane. I knew I had to get back on that horse.
I caught a quick meal at an airport diner. Everything had pictures and numbers which was helpful for my weak Spanish. I have always been afraid of local cuisine in airports. I stuck with a burger and fries thinking no culture can screw up Americana worse than what I have forced down in America itself.
I moved to the waiting room for SeePeru, a small local firm that specialized in small haul trips. They had a manned counter and logo, so they seemed more professional than many companies I had used in the past. I verified my trip with a pleasant young woman who spoke a smattering of English that softened my weak Spanish.
I sat in the first row of three empty rows of chairs and retrieved a book I had been reading on and off since my rehab ended. I had a hundred pages to go, so it looked like I would finally kill it this trip. I thought about how Tamara had chewed into my reading time. I regretted none of the loss. Tamara was a lot warmer than a book, and Melina was more fun. I chuckled to myself, which made the young attendant give me a strange look. I just smiled and opened my book.
“Are you flying to Ayacucho as well?” a well dress man said as he sat next to me, leaving a single empty chair between us. His appearance was perfect. Casual well tailored suit with perfect hair that looked like it wouldn’t move in storm. His moustache sat proudly on his lip, well groomed like the rest of him.
“Yes,” I replied, wondering how he knew to start in English.
“Then we will share the plane,” he said cheerfully. His South American accent gave his words an attractive flair. I suspected he was U.S. educated by the confidence in his English. I lowered my book and decided to talk since that is what he intended.
“Jonathan Bennett,” I said, holding out my hand.
“Emilio Campos,” he said, taking my hand and shaking it with more strength than necessary. Two more gentlemen in suits sat down in the rows. One behind Emilio and the other a few chairs farther down the row. “Ignore them,” Emilio smiled, “they are my shadows.” My interest in him increased immediately.
“I’m trying to close an import deal,” I said, turning my body toward him. You never know when you’ll meet someone important in small countries, someone who can help grease the wheels of commerce. “handmade pottery for the American market.”
“Really,” Emilio said brightly, “you purchase other things besides pottery?”
“We have a unique clientele,” I said as warm as possible, “mostly functional art items. The history of the art is as important as the quality of the item itself. I guess they are best described as unique conversation pieces. Things you can’t find in Walmart.”
“Intriguing,” Emilio commented. He thought for a moment, looking into space. “You wouldn’t have interest in small metal sculptures. Not really functional, but they are unique and handmade.”
“You have any pictures?” I asked. I smiled when he reached into his suit jacket and retrieved his phone. It took a few moments as he cycled through a few photos until he found what he was looking for.
“He has better pieces, but here are some of them,” Emilio qualified as he handed me his phone. I went through a few pictures of shiny sculptures that looked pretty far out there. The last picture was a metal horse. It was beautiful and highly sellable if it had a history.