Remembrandt Page 4

  “This one will take you longer than just a few moments,” the professor said, interrupting my thoughts. “Why don’t you take it with you and return it when you are done . . .” His voice faded like he was distracted. I glanced at the clock on the wall beside him. We both had to be to class in five minutes.

  “I’m making you late to our class,” I said apologetically.

  He looked at his gold watch. “Ah, yes. We should be going. I have to gather a few things. I’ll meet you there.”

  I shut the cupboard door, slid the folder into my backpack, and turned toward the door. I was about the say goodbye when he said, “Alexandra, just make sure you keep our puzzles between you and me. I wouldn’t want a line of curious students outside my door every morning. Let’s keep it our little secret.” He combed his rather small fingers through his silver-white hair. He looked tired, and even though he smiled, there was something in his eyes that caught my attention. It was the same look my mom had given me several times when I had promised I would do something. Implicit trust. I wasn’t sure I had earned such trust—the professor and I had known each other only a few months. Regardless, I knew I could never let him down.

  I raced down the stairs to the classroom. Several students were already in their seats when I entered the small, auditorium-style lecture hall. I found a seat and pulled out my Russian textbook and notes, really just props in my charade.

  My fingers touched the folder from the professor’s office. I thought I might have a few seconds before class began to just spy a little into its contents. Unfortunately, the bell rang and Golkov arrived. I dropped the folder back into my bag. It would just have to wait until later.

  I didn’t have any downtime as I rushed from classroom to lab to study-group all morning and afternoon. In fact, in all my busyness, I probably would have forgotten the folder altogether if I hadn’t been feeling withdrawals from not having done any puzzles that day. The professor’s games were addicting.

  I decided to go for a little walk after my last class, knowing Casey would be in our dorm room. She and the girls on the floor were brainstorming their newest prank since the university had finally figured out how to remove our duct-tape arm. I kind of needed the solitude of my own space. I walked slowly across campus along the sidewalk toward Blackstone Park, curiosity building up with each stride.

  My secluded rock awaited me. I sat on the rough, level surface and opened my bag. I ran my fingers along the edge of the folder. They were trembling. This was supposed to be just another puzzle, but something told me this one was different— more involved somehow.

  A cool breeze rustled the leaves of the trees around me. I looked up as a few leaves fell in my direction, reminding me of the impending autumn. One landed next to my hand. I brushed it away and opened the folder.

  Inside was a stack of clean white 8½-by-11-inch paper, maybe about twenty sheets. Each page was completely blank. I thumbed through all the pages again, licking my fingertips and making sure to separate them completely to see if I had missed something. When I had almost given up all hope, something fell from the back of the folder. A blue envelope stood out against the dirt and leaves on the ground.

  Intrigued, I reached down quickly and toppled off the rock in the process, scraping my elbow on the way down. When I had recovered, I pulled the envelope out of the pile of leaves and brushed it off. A symbol embedded in a silver wax seal kept the flap closed. It was a flower, star-shaped with five points and a large stamen and style. I had seen it before somewhere. But for some reason the picture in my mind faded around the edges and all I could see was the etching of that same flower. I made a mental note to research flowers when I got home.

  I hesitated in breaking the seal. I had the distinct feeling that once I opened it there would be no turning back. When I was honest with myself, I knew this was exactly what I was hoping for. I tore open the envelope and pulled out its contents.

  In my shaking hand, I held an airplane ticket. My eyes searched it wondering what kind of puzzle this was. I read the words on the ticket and realized there was no mistaking it. This was a real airplane ticket. The departure date was set for that evening at eight. The destination was St. Petersburg, Russia. And the name on the ticket was Alexandra Stewart.

  4

  St. Petersburg

  The ticket in my hand moved in the fall breeze as I staggered back onto my rock. My body shivered. I should have been shocked by the paper in my hand. I should have called Professor Golkov and asked him for answers or more information. I should have just gone back to my dorm and ignored the feeling rising through me. I should have done a lot of things. As the unfamiliar feeling spread through me and filled my being, I finally realized what it was. Thrill.

  I felt as if I held the answer to my life’s puzzle in my hands. And even though I didn’t know where the answer would take me, the intrigue and exhilaration pulsating through me caused me to slide down from my rock. I slipped the folder back into my bag, but kept the envelope in my hands. For once I wouldn’t do what I should do.

  The crack of a twig startled me, and I almost dropped the envelope. My eyes quickly scanned the forest. William emerged from the trees, his flushed face contrasting with his white shirt. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dark brown slacks. How long had he been watching me?

  “I didn’t mean to . . . invade your privacy. I was just walking by and . . .”

  My heart still raced at what I held in my hand. I took a deep breath. “Do you usually walk this far from campus?” I asked, letting a smile sneak onto my face. I couldn’t hide my good mood from him.

  He took his hands out of his pockets and started playing with the strap of his bag. “I, um, didn’t get your name the other day. You said you liked to come here, so I thought you might be here.”

  “Oh.” I tried not to look too pleased. “Sorry. I’m Alexandra. Alex. It’s nice to see you in less sweaty circumstances.”

  I walked closer to him and held out my hand to shake his. I knew handshaking was kind of old school, but my dad had always said you could tell a lot about a person by the way he or she shook your hand. I worried William would notice the electricity still flowing through me. Before I could change my mind, he reached out and took my hand in a firm but careful grip. I wondered what my dad would interpret from that.

  This was the second time William and I had touched each other, but the first time I felt him. Instead of electricity flowing from me, a new surge flowed directly to my center, and now I worried he would see the sparks going off inside me. He smiled and slowly let go of my hand.

  “I’m glad I found you,” he said. “I was worried I was going to have to go running again—and get beat. It took my legs almost a week to recover from our sprint that day.”

  I laughed. “Mine too. I almost couldn’t get out of bed the next morning. Stairs were horrible.”

  “So—” he brushed a Superman curl from his forehead “—since you aren’t sore anymore, would you want to go running tomorrow? We could meet here or outside your dorm.”

  I almost said yes right on the spot, but I remembered the envelope in my left hand. It seemed to burn in my grasp. I debated how to answer him. “Well, I can’t tomorrow.”

  “What about Sunday?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry. I’m busy then, too.” The ticket showed I wouldn’t return to Providence until Monday. I saw the disappointment in William’s face. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I couldn’t tell him where I was going. And I had no idea what I was doing, so I couldn’t tell him that, either.

  I looked at the time on my phone. Just over three hours before the flight left. “I do need to get home soon,” I said, then stuffed the envelope into the front pocket of my bag and slung it over my shoulder. “Are you heading back my way? We could walk together.” I was trying to make up for turning him down— twice.

  His face brightened. “Sounds great!”

  We headed toward my dorm. I walked quickly, and he kept right in st
ep with me.

  On the way back, he asked me all the normal questions—what I was studying (Russian, but had interests in physics and foreign relations, too), my favorite music (classical and musicals—I know, totally lame), food (burgers and fries), and the things I loved most about Washington (Cascade Mountains, the spring Apple Blossom Festival, and the Columbia River).

  William was from Rhode Island, but had always loved traveling. Consequently, he had a more foreign taste in food compared to my American favorites. He admitted to secretly loving musicals (don’t tell his friends) and not just the music— he liked going to them as well. By the time we got back to my place, I was glad to know we had a lot more in common than just running and Brown University. Because he knew I was in a hurry, we just quickly said goodbye and I sprinted to my room.

  I wasn’t sure what to pack, but since I would be gone a few days I grabbed a couple of outfits, pajamas, some toiletries, and my passport, which had only been stamped in Canada and Mexico. I left a quick note for Casey—she was probably already on a hot date—saying I would be gone for the weekend. I didn’t give her any details, but she knew my dad had an apartment in town, so I hoped she would assume I went there.

  By the time I got to my car, I only had an hour and a half. I smiled as I raced to the airport, thankful my father had gifted me the little silver Miata when we had arrived in Providence. I rarely used the beautiful car, since I slept and ate on campus, but Casey’s shopping addiction had sent us into town a few times in the last month. I made it to the airport in record time, only easing off the gas pedal during one speed trap.

  I pulled into long-term parking and arrived at the gate with only a few minutes to spare. I boarded the plane and found my seat next to a window. For the first time since opening the envelope, I closed my eyes and took some deep breaths. The plane’s engines roared to life, and soon we were in the air.

  When I had relaxed, I took out the folder I had taken from Golkov’s office. The blank sheets of paper stared at me. I took them out again one by one, searching both sides for some sort of clue as to why I was heading to Russia. I counted twenty-three sheets of paper, but that was it. There were no secret codes or small text anywhere on the papers. I even held them up to the light thinking maybe something had been written in invisible ink, but still nothing. I put the folder and the empty envelope with the strange wax seal back in my bag.

  I decided to concentrate on where I was going. I had at least fourteen hours of flights to Washington DC, then Frankfurt, and finally, St. Petersburg. That was plenty of time to research where I was going. I searched my mind for pictures from magazines and textbooks on Russia. I recalled St. Petersburg and what I knew of the city. Maps and photos from past and present raced through my mind.

  St. Petersburg was the second largest city in Russia after Moscow, with more than a million residents. Over three hundred years old, St. Petersburg was an important cultural center. Located near the Baltic Sea, it was also an essential port. I knew the history, the geography, the government—everything you could read on Russia. Heck, I even knew the language, at least enough to get by. Yet my thrill faded to fear as I realized I had no idea why I was going there.

  What is Golkov thinking? Maybe he’s just rewarding me for doing so well in class. Yeah, that’s it. This is just a quick weekend visit to his homeland so I can practice Russian with the native speakers. I sat there trying to convince myself I was on a little vacation, but the more I argued with myself, the more I was sure this was no weekend getaway.

  I tried to sleep, but even the first-class seat didn’t provide much comfort. No matter how I laid my head, my neck ached. I couldn’t lean my seat back far enough or turn to either side without feeling awkward. The uncomfortable accommodations and nervousness of what was to come kept me awake until about halfway through the flight from Frankfurt to St. Petersburg. Then I finally slouched down in my seat and drifted off.

  “Stop it!” I laughed as my brother cranked up some awful alternative music in his car. We were driving back from the high school on a Friday afternoon in his newly acquired Buick. The car was older than I was, but Tanner babied the pale blue exterior so much it had yet to bear scars.

  “ You’ve got to branch out, Lexie. You can’t move like this to that classical and show-tunes stuff you listen to.” He proceeded to raise his hands and demonstrate some “moves.” His dancing didn’t stink too badly, but I wasn’t about to let him know that.

  “Get your hand back on the wheel. You’re awful,” I teased. “Besides, I heard you singing High School Musical in the shower this morning, so you can’t tell me you don’t like it.” He slammed on the brakes so hard that the seat belt yanked against my collarbone, and my head whipped forward. “What in the world!” I yelled at him.

  “Sorry, that stop sign is a joke. They should just put in a light here.” The four-way stop we waited at was an accident waiting to happen, with the large, overgrown oak trees blocking the lines of sight on all sides. Some of the tree branches even covered part of the sign. I could see how someone could miss it.

  “That’s okay. Just thought you were teaching me a lesson—embarrassed by your musical shower debut and all,” I taunted him.

  “Seriously, Sis, I’ll admit to liking some of your music if you promise never to mention it to anyone. Ever.”

  “ Your secret’s safe with me.” I smiled. I knew exactly how to get under Tanner’s skin, but I would never actually embarrass him.

  “Good. Then I promise not to tell Mom and Dad about those karate classes you’re secretly taking at the studio by the college. You know how they hate fighting.”

  “How do you know about that?” I glared at Tanner. “And it’s not fighting. It’s skill and discipline. Besides, it helps me to clear my mind when I need to.” I played with my seat belt and leaned on the headrest.

  “Okay, okay.” He put his hand on my shoulder. I knew he understood how my mind could harass me. “I get it. No worries. I wouldn’t tell them. I’m just glad someone has my back if ever I need it.”

  I smiled at his admission. Built like a football player, he could probably take on just about anyone we knew. If anyone could protect me, it would be him.

  “ You know, Sis, you kind of confuse me, actually. You’re a flippin’ genius when it comes to the books. You can sing and dance, though your taste could use some work.” He smiled and winked. “ You’ve tried every sport and are varsity material with all of them. And now you’re a karate expert, too? Seriously, when are you going to stop doing everything and start settling down?” He said the last part jokingly, but I sensed some concern or maybe jealousy in his voice.

  “I will ‘settle down’ when I find something I’m passionate about, something challenging. Take you, for example. You’ve loved football since you were three. Every game is a challenge for you. Every time you play, you love it. After each game you come home sweaty and awful-smelling” —I wrinkled my nose— “but high on life and already excited about the next game. You know who you are and what you want. I want that too.”

  When we were younger, Tanner had always wanted to have my memory. Now that we were older all I wanted was his confidence. In my book he really had it all, and I looked up to him for that.

  “ You’re an amazing big brother.” I squeezed his arm.

  He gave me the “don’t get mushy on me” look and proceeded to change music tracks on his mp3 player. When I heard the first few notes of the song, I grinned. Tanner had put on an oldie—“I Just Called to Say I Love You.” Even he had a soft side.

  The plane jostled me awake, and I looked out the window. From pictures stored in my memory, I recognized the Gulf of Finland in the distance. The sun glistened across the water.

  The airline pilot spoke over the intercom, introducing St. Petersburg. I ignored the rest of his tour-guide descriptions. Instead, I stared in awe at the cityscape of one of the oldest cities in Europe. It looked so miniature, and yet I knew how large the city was. The colorful domes and
majestic spires of the Church of Our Savior on the Spilt Blood (I know, long name) stood out. All the churches, museums, and palaces were so foreign and beautiful to me that I couldn’t keep my eyes off the architecture until our plane finally landed.

  My hand trembled while I grabbed my carry-on bag from the overhead bin. What now? Where am I headed? Panic crept over me. I was a teenage girl, alone in a foreign country. At least I speak the language, I tried to console myself.

  I took in the scene when I emerged from the plane via the jetway. The airport was larger and more modern than I had anticipated. I waited in the customs line with my passport ready. Once the official stamped it and cleared me to leave, I looked up and noticed a row of people holding signs with names on them. I assumed they were drivers waiting for their passengers. I walked past several signs with Russian and German names. The driver holding the last sign looked directly at me as I walked past him. I really didn’t need a stalker in a foreign country, but before I could avert my eyes my mind recorded the name written on his sign. Dana Laxer. I walked as quickly as I could to the nearest exit and stepped outside.

  Even though the sun was out, I shivered in the brisk air and began to wish I had worn something warmer. Taxis and airport shuttles passed by while I reached into my bag to get my jacket. I was still bent over zipping up my carry-on bag when two feet in black leather shoes stopped right beside me.

  Goosebumps covered my arms, and it wasn’t from the cold. What am I going to do? Maybe if I stay bent over for a few minutes, he’ll go away. I reached into the side pocket of my bag, pretending to look for something. The only things I felt were silk and trimmed in lace. I didn’t think pulling one of them out would help my situation. There was nothing I could do except face the stranger.