Danielle Steel: Granny Dan

“My God, it's a miracle,” she said, fighting back tears of relief and exhaustion. She looked almost as bad as Danina, but she had no fever and was not ill. She was simply devastated by the terror of nearly losing Danina. “Child, are you feeling better?”

“A little.” Danina nodded, and then glanced up again at the doctor. “I think you saved me.”

“No, I didn't. I wish I could take credit for it, but I'm afraid I've been quite useless. All I did was sit here. Madame Markova did a great deal more for you than I did.”

“God did it,” Madame Markova said firmly, “and your own strength.” She wanted desperately to ask the doctor if she'd be all right now, but she knew she couldn't ask him in front of the patient. But Danina certainly seemed much better. She seemed alert, and stronger, and as though she had turned the corner. They had come so close to losing her that Madame Markova was still shaking.

“How soon can I dance again?” she asked him, and both the doctor and Madame Markova laughed. She was indeed feeling better.

“Not next week, I can promise you that, my friend.” He smiled as he said it. Not for months, but he knew it was too soon to say it to her. He could sense easily that if he told her the truth, she would grow frantic with guilt and worry. “Soon. If you're a good girl, and do everything I tell you to, you'll be up on your feet again in no time.”

“I have an important rehearsal tomorrow,” she insisted.

“I think there's a good chance you might miss it. No legs, remember?”

“What was that?” Madame Markova looked worried by his comment, but he was quick to explain it.

“She couldn't feel her legs a minute ago, but they're fine. She'sjust very weak from the fever.” And a moment later when they tried to sit her up for another drink, they found she couldn't even do that much. She could barely get her head up off the pillow.

“I feel like a piece of string,” she said eloquently, and he laughed softly at her.

“You look a bit better than that. Much better, in fact, I think I might go back to my other patients before they forget what I look like.” It was after six o'clock, and he had been with her for thirteen hours, but he promised to return again the next morning. And as they walked to the front door, Madame Markova thanked him profusely and asked what to expect now.

“A long, long recovery,” he said honestly. “She must spend at least a month in bed, or she will risk getting sick again, and the next time she may not be as lucky.” The mere thought of it filled Madame Markova with horror. “It will be many months before she can dance again. Three, maybe four. Perhaps longer.”

“We'll tie her down if we have to. You heard what she's like. She'll be begging to dance by tomorrow morning.”

“She'll be surprised herself by how weak she is. She'll have to be patient, it will take time now.”

“I understand,” Madame Markova said gratefully, and thanked him again before he left. And after she closed the door behind him, she walked slowly back to Danina's room, thinking how devastating it would have been if she had died, and how lucky they had all been not to lose her. She was infinitely grateful to the Czarina, too, for sending them her doctor. There had been little he could do, but just having him there had been an enormous comfort. And he had been remarkably dedicated, staying as long as he had with Danina.

And as Madame Markova walked back into Danina's room, she looked at the young woman she loved so much, and smiled. Danina lay in her bed, looking like a child. There was a small smile on her lips, and she was sleeping.

Chapter 2

True to his word, Dr. Obrajensky came to see Danina again the next day, but this time he did not come until the afternoon because he knew she was out of danger. And he was pleased to see, when he returned, that she was eating and drinking. She still barely had the strength to lift her head off the pillow, but she smiled as soon as he entered the room. She was obviously happy to see him.

“How is Alexei?” she asked the moment she saw him.

“Very well indeed. Far better than you now. He was playing cards and beating his sister soundly at it when I saw him this morning. He said to tell you he hopes you feel better soon, as did all the Grand Duchesses, and the Czarina.”

In fact, she had sent a note to Madame Mar-kova, and Dr. Obrajensky knew what was in it. The Czarina had asked his advice in the matter.

Madame Markova was still in the sickroom with her, but even she was looking considerably more rested. And when she read the note from the Czarina, her eyes widened and she looked startled. She looked up at him in surprise, and he nodded. It had been his suggestion. The Czarina had invited Danina to come and stay in one of their guest cottages for her convalescence. She could be well cared for there, and make the long recovery she would need, without tormenting herself by being right in the midst of the ballet. Being in Tsarskoe Selo would be restful for her, she could be well supervised, and well nursed, and convalesce in just the way she needed, to make a full recovery and return to the ballet.

After they left Danina's room that afternoon, the doctor asked Madame Markova what she thought of the Czarina's invitation. She was still more than a little startled. It was an extremely flattering invitation, but she had no idea how Danina would feel about accepting. She was so tightly woven into the ballet, Madame Markova couldn't imagine her wanting to leave it for a minute, even if she could not dance now. Though admittedly, being there and watching them, and not being able to dance with them for months, would eventually drive her crazy.

“It might be very good for her to get away,” Madame Markova admitted, “but I'm not sure we can convince her of that. Even if she can't dance, I suspect she will want to stay. She hasn't left us in twelve years, except last summer for her visit to Livadia.”

“But she liked that, didn't she? This would be more of the same. And besides, I can keep an eye on her there. It's hard for me to get away as often and for as long as I have in the last few days. I have my responsibilities to the Czarevitch.”

“You've been very kind to her,” Madame Markova admitted freely. “I don't know what we'd have done without you.”

“I did absolutely nothing to help her,” he said modestly, “except pray, just as you did. She has been very lucky.” As much in the support of the Imperial family as in the attentions of their doctor. “I think the Czarina, and the children, will be very disappointed if she doesn't come.” And then he reminded Madame Markova gently of what she already knew. “It is a very unusual invitation. I think Danina would really enjoy it.”

“Who wouldn't?” Madame Markova laughed honestly. “I have at least a dozen ballerinas, if not more, who would be more than happy to take her place at Tsarskoe Selo. The problem is, Danina is different. She never wants to leave here, she's afraid she might miss something. She never goes to shops, or out for walks, or to the theater. She dances, and she dances … and she dances, and then she watches the others dance, and dances some more. Besides, she is very attached to me. Probably because she has no mother.” And it was obvious that Madame Markova genuinely loved her.

“How long has she been here?” he asked with interest. He was fascinated by her, she was like a rare, delicate bird who had landed at his feet with a broken wing, and now he wanted to do everything he could to help her. Even intercede on her behalf with the Czar and Czarina. But it was not a difficult task, they also admired and liked her. It was impossible not to admire someone with so vast a talent.

“She has been here for twelve years,” Madame Markova answered his question. “Since she was seven. She is nineteen now, nearly twenty.”