have such a wonderful way of expressing yourselves.”
The next picture looked like a mini circus tent made of hides pitched literally in the middle of nowhere.
“My tribe lives in tents such as this. They are called yurts. They are quite comfortable and easy to move.”
“Have you ever slept in one?”
“Many times when I was a little girl. My cousin Natalya and I used to” she pantomimed with her hands, “get milk from the horses so everyone could have mare’s milk.”
“Your job was to milk the mares.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
The next picture made Mike inhale loudly.
“What’s the matter?” asked Greta.
“Who is that?”
“That is my cousin, Natalya,” said Ludmilla. “She is a schoolteacher in Yakutsk, where I come from. She is a very nice woman. She lives with our babushka, our grandmother.” Ludmilla pointed. “That is our babushka there. We think she is seventy-two or seventy-three years old. No one is sure.”
Mike saw a grizzled but smiling old woman with no teeth and liked her immediately. He looked back at Natalya. Ludmilla noticed Mike’s interest in her cousin and suppressed a smile. Rolf raised his eyebrows at his wife. Even Greta could tell Mike liked Natalya and sat smiling up at Mike.
“You like her, don’t you?” said Greta.
Mike blushed. “She’s beautiful.”
The picture showed Natalya handing a pot of food to the old woman while looking back over her shoulder at the camera. She had a lovely smile and long, thick, pitch-black hair hung down to her waist. The way she was turning, Mike could distinguish a slender waist and everything else shaped perfectly to his liking.
“Wow,” he said.
“Oh,” said Ludmilla, “you would like her. She speaks fluent English. In fact, she teaches English and Russian to advanced students. She also teaches art. She’s a very talented artist, much better than I am.”
“Wow,” he repeated, unable to take his eyes off the picture. He could even hear the bells in his bad ear.
Ludmilla looked at her husband. His eyes were still raised. This American was as transparent as glass. Greta was grinning broadly.
“I will show you some more pictures of her.” Ludmilla turned the pages and showed him a picture of her holding up a Doberman Pincher puppy to her cheek. Her Yakut features were much more salient in this picture. And, to him, she even looked more beautiful than in the first picture.
“How old is she?”
“Twenty nine.”
“Is she married?”
“No. She has never been married.”
“A woman that beautiful? Why not?”
Ludmilla didn’t mention the vision. “She is a very intelligent and independent woman. I think she is just waiting for the right man to find her.”
“Wow,” he repeated. Then he remembered himself and sat up. “I’m sorry. I must seem like a masher.”
“What is a masher?” asked Rolf.
“A man who bothers women.”
Ludmilla laughed. “No, Mike. We don’t think you are a masher.”
“Masher. I have never heard that word before,” mumbled Rolf.
“I have an idea,” said Ludmilla. “If you want to, you should write her a letter. I’m sure she would be glad to have a friend in American, besides her family.”
“Good idea,” said Rolf. “I have met her and she is an excellent lady.”
Greta slapped her knees. “Write her. Write her.”
Mike smiled. “Ok. I will. I will probably sound like a complete idiot. She’s a school teacher and I’m just a dump cop.”
“I promise you she will not think that,” said Ludmilla.
The remainder of the evening was very pleasant but Mike couldn’t stop thinking about Natalya. What happened was exactly what he was talking about before - he felt sparks and heard bells, and all that just from her picture. It was exactly the feeling he had when he first saw Maria. Maria. For the first time in almost two years, he had forgotten about Maria. Was this OK? Would it be all right with Maria? He knew she would want him to be happy and not be alone. He also knew that someone like Donna would be questionable in Maria’s mind. But this woman. Natalya. Maria would approve; he felt it.
The next day, he got up early, had a big breakfast, and did his standard Monday workout. He alternated three minutes on the heavy bag, the speed bag, and the jump rope for forty-five minutes. Then he alternated a hundred push-ups and twenty-five pull-ups doing four repetitions each, one after the other. Then he did his thousand kicks and finished with running five miles along the bike trail of the American River.
Afterwards, he ate his usual: Sirloin Tip Chunky Campbell Soup, cheese, milk, and an apple. When the doorbell rang, he opened it and there stood Ludmilla.
“Hi. Come in. I was just eating. Forgive my appearance. I’ve been working out.”
She came in. “I can’t stay long. I have to pick up Greta. I’m here to tell you about an interesting coincidence. I got a letter from Natalya today.”
Mike perked up. “Really? Is she OK?”
“Yes,” she smiled at him. “She’s wonderful. But I forgot to tell you before that we sent a picture of you and Greta to her. She wrote back and is interested in you as well.”
Mike looked at her. “You’re kidding.”
“No. I’m would not tease you about something like this. In fact,” she pulled a picture out of her pocket, “She asked me to give you this picture.”
She handed the picture to Mike. He saw Natalya sitting on a sheet covered sofa. She had her arm around her grandmother and both were smiling at him. She looked even more beautiful than before. Her brown eyes twinkled through Oriental features.
“Wow,” he said.
“Yes, well, I’ve got to go. See you, Mike.”
She went out the door. “Thanks, Ludmilla,” he called after her.
“Pajalusta,” she called back, which he correctly took to mean “you’re welcome.”
He stared at the picture. Damn, she a good-looking woman, he thought. He sat the picture up on the mantel by Maria’s picture. “You two talk while I take a shower,” he said.
After he showered, he sat down at his computer to write Natalya. He wanted to impress her. But how? She had to be at least a little bit like Ludmilla, and she could see right through people. That was one smart lady. Well, best to just tell it like it is. He was a crappy typist so this would take some time.
Ludmilla went home, delighted with what was happening. That wonderful man next door truly liked dear Natalya. She deserved a nice man like that, and he deserved a nice lady like Natalya. She didn’t tell him, but she wrote a letter to her cousin last night after Mike left. She told Natalya about Mike’s reaction to her picture. The poor man was smitten. That’s the word she used in her letter – smitten. And then to receive a letter today from her cousin saying she was interested in Mike; it was as if larger forces were at work here.
Chapter 7
A few days later, Natalya received her cousin’s letter. She couldn’t believe it - this man liked her! He thought she was beautiful. Her cousin said the man was smitten - that’s what her cousin said, smitten! She read the letter to her babushka.
“Finally