Knock. Knock. Knock.
Dmitry pounded on yet another shop door. The sky was now as black as coal—stars far and few between. The moon was a small white sliver and the gentle breeze from before was now a cold wind. It was a miserable night.
We had been roaming the streets of Paris, hand in hand, for hours now. I imagined it was nearing midnight. My feet ached from my heels and I couldn't stop shivering. Wearing a sleeveless dress was not helping the matter.
A week or two in Paris sure had spoiled this street sweeper.
But I could handle it and I didn't complain. Dima was trying his best. He had knocked on every store door I think in Paris, begging for a place to sleep...but alas, we were refused ninety-five percent of the time. The other five percent was a combination of nobody answering the door and someone answering, but only in French. With the store keepers that spoke only French, we awkwardly used hand motions expressing that we couldn't speak the language and we went on our way. I could speak very little French. The lessons Vlad and Nana had given me were my only knowledge and the few phrases I did know, were worthless in situations like these.
I was beginning to understand how Mary and Joseph had felt on Christmas Eve.
At one shop awhile back, we had even traded Dima's suitcase for a "guaranteed" room, but the greedy owner kept the case and refused to give us the room, basically robbing us. We protested about justice on the man's doorstep for a good half-hour, before deciding we couldn't waste anymore time for something we couldn't do anything about.
We moved on.
Besides, Dmitry said he only had pajamas inside the case anyway, and we could easily get him another pair when we had enough funds.
Finally, the door swung open and a grumpy old man stepped out. "What" he barked, sounding extremely annoyed.
Dima stood up a little straighter and put a smile on his face, one I don't know how anyone could resist. "Hello, Sir. I was wondering—"
"It's one in the morning," the man interrupted, steaming, "I don't care to make trades or bargains at this hour. Goodnight." He started to close the door but Dmitry stepped forward and stopped him from shutting it completely.
"Please, Sir," Dmitry begged, "My wife and I need a place to stay. We have no money."
We had tried the first few shops asking for a bedroom with two beds, but found that that was very uncommon in Paris and we were turned away easily at that simple fact. So, Dima and I had agreed to pretend we were married, since we would be sooner than later, to score us a room of some sort. Then, if we got one, someone would sleep in the bed and one on the floor.
The old man scoffed at us, surveying my appearance. "No money? That gown and crown sure look expensive."
Dima sighed, "They were gifts from—"
"I don't have time for this," the man slammed the door on our faces and Dmitry pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"D-Dima," I began, my teeth chattering, "L-let's t-t-try the n-next sh-shop."
He glanced up at me and his face softened. "Anya," he breathed, "You're freezing!" I tried to protest, but he was already swinging off his dark brown overcoat, which he had put on upon entering town, and placed it around my shoulders.
I smiled weakly and said in a small voice, "Thank you." Then, I slid my arms in and hugged the soft jacket to my body to contain the warmth. Dima then started to shiver and I frowned in concern, "But Dima you're—"
"Fine," he smiled reassuringly, "I'm fine, Anya." He ran a hand through his hair and let out a large sigh, "Let's try the next store."
"I feel good about this one," I tried to sound confident, but my tone lacked assurance. Dima shrugged and we went on.
Dmitry knocked again and we waited. There was no response. He went to knock again but I took his hand and led him to the next store. "Anya, they didn't hear us," he protested, trying to go back, but I pulled him on, "Anya..."
"I said I felt lucky about this store," I rephrased my earlier statement, "The people in that store won't help us."
"How do you know?"
I didn't reply. We reached a small bakery and I took a deep breath, knocking firmly on the door. There was no response so I knocked again. "Answer us," I demanded, staring at the small closed wooden door.
"Anya—"
"Answer!" I cried desperately, "We're cold, hungry, and homeless! We're from Russia...we have nothing! Please! We've been roaming Paris for hours. Please, help us!"
Dima wrapped his arms around me and I buried my face in his shirt, beginning to cry. "It's okay..." he soothed, shivering slightly, "It's okay..."
"Oh, Dima," I whispered, "What are we going to do?"
The door creaked open, startling us, and a middle-aged man stepped out in striped pants and a matching pajama top. He wore a sympathetic expression and sighed softly, "Hello, folks."
Dima and I exchanged thrilled glances and he stepped towards the man. "Good morning, Sir," Dima greeted in a friendly tone, "We are so sorry to disturb you at this hour, but my wife and I were wondering if you had a place we could sleep for the night. We've been roaming for hours..."
The man smiled kindly at Dima and then looked at me. His expression changed slightly and he looked rather puzzled as he viewed my appearance. I beamed shyly and curtseyd, "Hello, Sir. I'm Anya."
"You look..." the man drifted, as if he had seen me before and was trying to place my face with a name.
"Please, Sir," I quickly begged, not wanting to give him a chance to comment on my clothing and refuse us like all the rest had. I took my crown off my head and handed it to the man, "We don't have any money...but will you take this in return for a warm bed and food? I'm sure it would sell for quite a sum."
The man took my crown in his hand and admired it. "This is beautiful," he breathed, "Where did you get it?"
"It was my family's," I replied, "They were killed in the Russian revolution. My husband and I escaped. This is all I have left of them."
"Then I can't take it," the man shook his head, handing it back to me.
"But Sir!" I pleaded desperately, "I really don't mind! We just need a place to sleep! It's nothing to me...compared to a bed and some food."
"Nonsense," he smiled, "It's a family heirloom—you should never let anyone take it from you. Come inside, you two. I'm not one to take advantage of desperate folks." He opened the door wider and Dmitry and I shot each other looks of pure joy before heading inside the man's home, thanking him.
The man shut and locked the door behind us and we stood in a room filled with darkness. My heart began to beat quicker and I stretched out my hand and felt for Dima. I didn't like when it was so dark I couldn't see a hand in front of my face. My hand brushed up against Dima's vest and he took my hand in his warm comforting one. I relaxed a little and stepped closer to him. "Sorry for the darkness," the man mumbled, "We only have electricity installed upstairs. Let me light a lantern."
I heard the man walk a bit away from us and strike a match. I watched the tiny flame dance as the man lit a lamp with it. The room was then filled with golden light and I could finally get a good look around. I gasped slightly as I beheld the gorgeous room.
There were two large glass counters at the back of the room, next to a closed door, and inside the cases, dozens of pastries and scrumptious-looking desserts. There were large tables set up with baskets of varieties of bread for sale, their price written on a chalkboard in french currency on the wall across from me. It was a beautiful shop—decorated with bright yellows and light blues and the furniture was aesthetically pleasing. I had never been in a store as nice as this in my entire life!
Dmitry let go of my hand and wandered over to a basket of baguettes, eyeing them in awe and wonder. I stifled a chuckle and turned my attention to the man, who was watching us with a smile. "How long have you both been without food?"
"A few days," Dima answered, not bothering to look away from the bread he was practically drooling over. I frowned. A few days? Was that a lie? Or had he actually not eaten?
"I ate this morning," I replied, "But, I always seem to be hungry nowadays."
The man interrupted, his expression changing to one of pure excitement, "Are you feeding for two, Miss Anya?"
I nodded, thinking the man was talking about Dima, my "husband." "Yes...now." Dima whirled around, his cheeks bright red and his mouth fell slightly open. The man didn't pay attention to him, he only stared at me joyfully. What had I said?
"Congratulations! You should've said something earlier!" He exclaimed, "Come! We must give you food immediately." The man walked swiftly to the back of the room and opened the door, which led to another room. I started to follow him, but Dima grabbed my arm and whispered.
"What are you doing?! You can't pretend you're...we're...we're not...you're not..." he stuttered in my ear.
I frowned in confusion and whispered back, "I know we're not married but we will be soon. You started the lie..."
Dima chuckled softly, "Anya, marriage is different because that will happen soon. But...but..."
"But what?" I asked innocently, "What is different?"
"We don't know when you'll have a baby," he blurted quietly, "And we can't lie about that—not to this good man."
"What?!" I exclaimed and the man poked his head in the doorway. What was Dmitry talking about?
"My wife and children are asleep upstairs, so we must be quiet. Now come, please, do come. And would you bring the lamp with you?"
We did as told and entered the room the man had gone into, Dima handing the lamp to the man. We found ourselves inside a splendid kitchen, with three stoves and ovens, a large wooden counter covered in flour and baking materials, a large basin sink, two small iceboxes in the corner, and shelves filled with flour, sugar, icing, decoration utensils, and all sorts of different things that I had never seen before in my life. The man opened another door and invited us to follow, in which we did.
He led us through a small parlor, which I didn't get a good look at, and into a smaller kitchen. This kitchen had a table and chairs and one stove and icebox. It also had small cupboards and a sink. I figured this was the family's personal kitchen. I wonder what it would be like to have two kitchens... Nana probably had many, I just had never looked for them. "Here," the man smiled at me kindly, "Sit. You need your rest." I nodded, though I was still confused, and sat in the seat the man had motioned towards at the table.
The man patted Dima's back and grinned, "How are you holding up?"
Dmitry blushed and looked at me for answers, but I had no idea what to tell him since I had no idea what was going on. Dmitry looked back to the man and stuttered, "Uh...well um..."
The man grinned, "Don't worry. Everything will turn out fine." He opened the icebox and pulled out a glass bottle of white milk. "I remember when my wife had our first child," he chuckled, "I was so nervous."
That's when I understand everything.
I stood up abruptly, which caused the man to frown in concern. "Miss Anya?"
"Pregnant?" I inquired, "Did I mislead you into thinking I'm...Dima and I...that we're..." I trailed off nervously and Dmitry smirked slightly, obviously trying hard not to laugh at my realization that I had misinterpreted the man.
The man set the milk on a counter and began cutting two slices of bread, "You're not expecting?"
"No," I shook my head, "No, we are not." I began to blush madly and I placed my face in my hands, "I'm so sorry, Sir. I really am a clueless girl... I don't know exactly what I was thinking..."
The man laughed heartily, "It's alright, Miss Anya. It's been a long day for both of you." He placed the pieces of bread on two china plates and poured milk into two cups. He then motioned for us both to sit and we did. He handed our portions to us both and smiled warmly, sitting by Dmitry. "Eat up," he ordered and we gladly obeyed.
"What part of Russia are you both from?" He inquired.
"Petersburg," Dmitry informed before taking another bite of bread.
The man nodded, "Wow...the heart of the revolution."
"Yes," I replied, "The very heart of it."
"Is that why you both left?"
"For freedom, yes," Dima began, "The revolution changed everything. It's horrible over there now. I used to love living in Petersburg, but it's changed too much."
"I've heard rumors," the man agreed, "From what I've heard it sounds dreadful. They aren't letting people out, so I've heard...is that true?" Dmitry nodded before finishing off his slice of bread. "How did you both escape?"
"By train," I informed, "But then that was raided so we walked for awhile before taking a taxi the rest of the way."
"You both had papers?"
Dima and I smiled sheepishly at the man and he nodded knowingly. "Your secret is safe with me," he whispered. "What matters is you're safe now in Paris," he smiled.
"Finally," Dmitry beamed before beginning to drink his milk.
"Is your family still there...?" The man asked Dmitry, "What is your name, Sir? I don't believe I caught it earlier."
Dmitry smiled and shook the man's hand, "Dmitry."
"Glad to meet you, Dmitry."
"And you are?" I inquired before finishing my last swig of milk.
The man smiled charmingly and in a thick french accent replied, "Jean Benoit."
"Glad to meet you, Jean," Dima and I said in unison.
"Thank you," Jean nodded before turning back to Dmitry, "Now, please continue."
Dmitry sighed sadly, "Oh...my family...they're gone."
"I'm sorry," Jean stated mournfully.
Dmitry smiled at him thankfully and finished his milk just as I finished my bread. Jean began to take our dishes but I shook my head, "Let me help." Jean tried to argue, but I insisted. I went to the sink and washed the dishes and Dima dried them before also placing them back in the small cupboard. We chatted with Jean for a little while longer before he led us back into the parlor and up a staircase.
We followed him down the hallway and to the last wooden door. He opened it and inside was a lovely bedroom. Jean turned on the lights in the room and I could see it better. There was a window on my right with lace and floral curtains and below it a heater. There was a quaint vanity next to the heater and on the wall opposite me, two maroon sitting chairs. On my left was a petite desk and bookshelf , and a few pictures on the wall. Then, on the wall beside it, a bed with a floral spread.
"It's lovely," I breathed, shooting Jean a thankful smile, "Thank you."
"It is wonderful," Dima agreed, "Thank you, Jean. I won't forget your kindness."
"You both are welcome," he smiled in return, "Now, let me fetch you both some spare pajamas." He shut the door and left us alone for a moment.
"He is so kind," I remarked, running my fingers across the iron bed frame.
Dima smiled lovingly at me, "He is." It was quiet for a moment and then Dima stated, "You were right about this place."
"Call it a 'Grand Duchess'' intuition," I stated in a humorous tone and we shared a laugh. There was a knock at the door and Dima opened it, receiving our bedclothes and a goodnight from Jean. We bid him goodnight as well and thanked him yet again before shutting the door for the night. Dmitri set his suitcase on the floor near the vanity and then made his way over to the bed.
"These look like mine," Dmitry thought aloud as he laid a checkered shirt and pants on the bed. "And this," he smiled, holding up a satin lavender night gown, "Must be yours."
"It's darling..." I drifted in awe, taking it from him and holding it up against my body. I glanced up at Dima, who was looking in a sort of awe at me. I blushed and waved him away, "Turn around, Dima. I have to change."
His cheeks turned slightly pink and he nodded, "Oh, of course." He turned around and I waited a second or two to make sure he wouldn't sneak a peak...even though I knew he wouldn't. I began undoing my red dress and I struck up conversation. "Dima?" I asked curiously.
"Yes, Anya?"
"Was this really the first meal you've had in days?"
Silence.
"Dima?"
"It was," he admitted, "But it was my choice not to eat. I could've but I just wasn't hungry...after you left with the Dowager Empress."
I smiled to myself and shook my head, "Dima...you should've eaten."
"I didn't have an appetite."
I managed to get out of my red dress eventually and I slipped on the nightgown easily. It was a little big, but not noticeably.
"Alright," I stated, "I'm done. You're turn." I turned around and began to let my hair down as he changed.
"That nightgown looks beautiful on you."
I felt my cheeks warm and I took out my diamond earrings. "Thank you, Dima." I then slipped my jewelry and tiara into Dmitri's case and latched it shut.
"Alright," he said finally, "I'm done."
I turned around to see him in the checkered pajamas that were lying on the bed minutes ago. I beamed, "You're very handsome yourself, Dima."
He chuckled, blushing, but ignoring my comment, "You take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor."
I drew near him and smiled softly, cupping his cheeks, "You've certainly become quite the gentleman. Thank you, Dima."
"Thank you."
"It's very attractive," I admitted.
He beamed and leaned slowly in. I smiled and gladly received the kiss he wanted to give me. When we pulled apart, he kissed my forehead quickly and whispered, "Goodnight, lyubimaya moya."
(AN: "Lyubimaya moya" means "my darling/ my one and only love" in Russian. That is, according to google lol 😂 but, we'll go with it.)
My heart began to flutter, "Lyubimaya moya?"
Dima blushed, "Well..."
"Ya tebya lyublyu," I said proudly, which made him smile.
(AN: "Ya lyublyu tebya" means "I love you" in Russian...again, according to Google. If anyone speaks Russian, PLEASE correct me. I would be glad to make it correct. Plus, it would be interesting to actually know how to say it. For funsies, you know?)
"Ya tebya lyublyu," he nodded in agreement, giving me an eskimo kiss before we stopped embracing. I handed him a pillow and the floral blanket and he made his little bed cove on the floor. I crawled into bed and pulled the sheets over me. Then, Dima shut the lights off and laid on the floor.
"Goodnight, Dima."
"Goodnight, Anya."
I shut my blue eyes and let out a small sigh. Everything had worked out for tonight and I was content to focus on this moment. I fell asleep quickly and was left to my dreams.