Danielle Steel: Granny Dan

“No, I love your visits.” She smiled at him. The one this evening had particularly touched her, because he seemed to understand exactly what she was feeling.

“Then I shall have to visit more often,” he promised. It was easier for him to see her now, it was a short walk between her cottage and the Alexander Palace. He knew that Alexei and his sisters were already planning to keep her company, that was their intention, and the whole point of her coming. “You won't be lonely for long, and soon you can go for walks, and go over to the palace, when you're stronger.” She still couldn't walk across the room without assistance. “I predict you will feel better in no time.” She felt foolish suddenly for being lonely. Everyone was being so kind to her. In spite of missing her friends and Madame Markova, she was suddenly glad she had come here.

“Thank you for arranging it,” she said gratefully. “I'm happy to be here.”

“I'm glad you came, Danina,” he said quietly, looking relaxed and a little tired. It was the end of a long day for him, and she was sure he was anxious to get home to his wife and children. She felt guilty keeping him with her, but she enjoyed being with him. “I would have been so disappointed if you hadn't come.”

“So would I,” she admitted with a smile that touched deep into his heart, although she didn't know it. “This house is lovely.” She looked around admiringly, still awed by the luxury they had lavished on her. She had never seen anything like it.

“I thought you'd like it.” He smiled gently at her.

“It would be hard not to,” she admitted.

“Will you miss dancing terribly?” he asked, already knowing the answer, but fascinated by her life at the ballet.

“I live to dance,” she said. “It is the only life I know, the only one I want. I cannot imagine existing without it. Not being able to dance would probably kill me.” He nodded, watching her eyes, her face. He loved talking to her. And now that she was feeling better, she had a delicious sense of humor.

“You'll dance again soon, Danina, I promise.” But not too soon. She had a lot of ground to cover before she was strong enough to do that, and they both knew it. “You'll have to think of something else to do in the meantime.” He had already brought a stack of books for her, and she had promised herself she would read them. She never had time to read anything when she was dancing.

“Do you like poetry?” he asked cautiously, not wanting to seem foolish and pedantic to her, but it was one of his passions.

“Very much.” She nodded.

“I'll bring some tomorrow. I'm especially fond of the works of Pushkin. Perhaps you'd like him.” She had read a little of him years before, and would be happy to read more of his work, since she had the time now. “I'll come and see you tomorrow after I see Alexei. Perhaps I can have lunch here, so you won't be too solitary.” And with that, he stood up, but he seemed reluctant to leave her. “You'll be all right tonight, won't you?” He was worried about her, he didn't want her to be unhappy.

“I'll be fine,” she said with a warm smile. “I promise. Now go home to your family or they'll think I'm a dreadful nuisance.”

“They understand what it is to live with a doctor. I'll see you tomorrow then,” he said from the doorway, and she waved from her bed, thinking again how kind he was and how lucky she was to know him.

Chapter 3

The book that Dr. Obrajensky brought the next day was so beautiful it brought tears to her eyes as he read some of it to her. He was slowly opening a door to a world she had never known or dreamed of, a world of intellectual pursuits and cerebral interests. Only that morning, she had begun reading one of the novels he had left her. And over lunch, they discussed it. Like the poetry he had brought, it was among his favorites. And the time she spent talking to him seemed to pass like minutes.

They were both surprised to discover that it was four o'clock in the afternoon when he left, and he hated to admit, she looked exhausted.

“I should not be the one tiring you,” he said, looking remorseful. “I of all people should know better.”

“I'm fine,” she promised him, having thoroughly enjoyed the time they spent talking. She had eaten lunch in bed, and he had sat at a small table near her.

“I want you to sleep now,” he said gently, helping her settle deeper into her bed and rearranging her pillows for her. It was a job the nurse could do, but he liked doing it for her. “Sleep for as long as you can. I am dining at the palace tonight, and I'll check on you on my way home, if that's all right with you.” It was what he had done the night before, and she had loved it. It had blown away the cobwebs of loneliness she had been feeling.

“I'd like that,” she said, already looking sleepy. He turned off the lights next to her, and walked quietly out of the room, and turned to look at her from the doorway. Her eyes were already closed, and by the time he left the little house, she was sleeping. And she slept peacefully until dinner.

When she woke up she found a drawing next to her bed. Alexei had come to visit her that afternoon, and the nurse had told him she was sleeping. He had left a drawing for her, of her trying to swim the previous summer. Like most boys his age, he loved to tease her. And he felt particularly comfortable with her, as she was the same age as his sisters.

She had soup for dinner that night, and she was sipping tea when Dr. Obrajensky came back to see her on his way home from the Alexander Palace. He seemed to be in a lighthearted mood, and told her all about his dinner. He dined with the Imperial family several times a week, in fact more often than he did not.

“They are wonderful people,” he said warmly. He was a great admirer of both the Czar and the Czarina. “They have so much responsibility, so many burdens. It's a hard time in the world, especially now with the war. And there has been a great deal of unrest in the cities. And of course, Alexei's health is always a great worry to them.” His hemophilia was a constant problem, which necessitated the presence of a doctor near him at every instant. It was why the doctor spent as much time as he did with them, although he shared the responsibility with Dr. Botkin.

“It must be hard for you too,” Danina said quietly, “having to be away from your family so much, and your own children.” Danina knew that his wife was English and that they had two boys, twelve and fourteen.

“The Czar and Czarina seem to understand it, and they're very kind about inviting Marie. But she never comes. She hates social occasions. She prefers to be at home with the boys, or just sitting quietly and sewing. She has no interest whatsoever in my work or the people I work for.”

It was hard for Danina to believe, particularly given who they were. They were hardly ordinary employers. And she couldn't help wondering if in some way his wife was jealous of him. It was hard to believe she was that antisocial. Perhaps she was shy, or awkward in some way.

“Her Russian is poor, too, which makes it difficult for her. She's really never taken the time to learn it.” It was a long-standing bone of contention between them, although he didn't say that to Danina. It would have seemed disloyal to complain about Marie to her, and yet it intrigued him that the two women seemed so different. The one so filled with vitality, the other so tired, so unhappy, so bored, so constantly disenchanted about something.

Even after her illness, Danina's energy and excitement about life was contagious. And her conversations with him were a new experience for her as well. Other than the boys she danced with at the ballet, she had never had men friends, been courted by anyone, or had a romance. Her only relationship with men had been with her brothers as a child, and now she seldom saw them anymore. They were always too busy to come to visit. They came to St. Petersburg to see her dance about once a year, and her father came scarcely more often. They were deeply involved with their responsibilities to the army.