Granny Dan

“You know that's not true,” he said with eyes that told her everything she longed to hear but would never allow him to say again. She was desperately happy to see him. “I didn't want to make you ill after all you've been through. But I'm feeling much better.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” she said, feeling a trifle awkward with him, but looking at him intensely. He looked even more handsome to her now, taller and more powerful. In an odd way he was hers now, and she knew it, and it made him even more precious to her, even if they could never have what they both longed for. And with good reason. “Were you very sick?” she asked solicitously, and he was touched. She looked incredibly pretty in a pink wool dress that made her seem even younger than he remembered. She had looked very glamorous and very grown up in the blue velvet gown two nights before, and now she looked like a young girl, which more than ever made him want to kiss her. But this time, he knew he couldn't.

“I was not as sick as you were. Thank God. I'm fine now.”

“You shouldn't be out in the snow,” she chided him, and he smiled at her in answer.

“I wanted to come and see Alexei,” he explained, but his eyes told her something else as well. He had wanted to see her even more than Alexei.

“Will you stay for lunch?” she asked politely, and he nodded and smiled with pleasure.

“I'd like that.” And as he said it, they both thought that they could do this. They could spend time together, just as they had before, without ever divulging their secret, even to each other. But she had already begun to wonder what would happen when she went back to St. Petersburg in a month or two. Would they forget each other, or would he come to see her? Would it just become a cherished memory, and their love for each other fade like the residue of her influenza? It was already hard to imagine leaving.

They talked well into the afternoon, she returned some of his books to him, and he promised to come and see her again on his way home that evening, and everything seemed normal again when he left her. But he did not return that evening after all, and instead sent her a message. Alexei wasn't well, and Nikolai was spending the night at the palace with his patient and Dr. Botkin. Because of his hemophilia, the child needed careful observation, and Nikolai didn't think it wise to leave him. But Danina understood, and curled up in her bed with one of his books, feeling relieved to have seen him that morning. His two-day absence after their drama after the dinner party had been excruciating for her. Her migraine had disappeared the moment she saw him.

And it was a relief to her again when he appeared the next morning to have breakfast with her. But even she was not unaware that there was suddenly a greater intensity between them. Although they had agreed not to discuss their feelings for each other again, it was suddenly clear that his visits meant the world to her, and he himself had begun to feel anxious whenever he wasn't with her. But they were both still convinced that they could control the blaze of what they felt, forever if they had to, and she was determined to keep it in check, and never speak of it again for their entire lifetimes. Nikolai was growing less certain day by day that he could do it, but knew he had to do as she wished, for fear that if he didn't, he would lose her.

He spoke at length of Alexei that day, and explained the nature of his illness in detail to her. And it led them into a discussion about the joys of having children. He told her that she must not deprive herself of that, that he felt certain she would make a wonderful mother. But she only shook her head, and reminded him of her commitment to the ballet. And he told her again that he thought her unnecessary zeal on that subject unreasonable and unhealthy.

“Madame Mark ova would never forgive me if I left,” she said quietly. “She has given her entire life to us, and always will,” she said simply to him after breakfast. “She expects the same of me.”

“Why you more than any of the others?” he asked pointedly, and this time she laughed when she answered, and for the first time in days, her eyes seemed full of mischief.

“Because I'm a better dancer than they are.”

He smiled broadly as she said it. “And certainly more modest,” he teased. “But you're right. You are a better dancer, but that's still not a reason to give your life up for it.”

“Ballet is more than just dancing, Nikolai. It is a way of life, a spirit, a part of your soul, a religion.”

“You're crazy, Danina Petroskova, but I love you.” The words had just slipped out, and he glanced up at her in terror, but she said nothing. She knew it had been a mistake, an accident, and she decided to ignore it.