Page 34 of Covert Operation
As much as I hate the thought of her being on her own, I hate the thought of her being unhappy even more. “Where would be the perfect place?”
I’m interested in her answer. Another peek into a woman I want to know more about. The more I know about her, the more I can help her. The more I can help her, the happier she’ll be.
And the better I’ll sleep. Hopefully.
Savannah purses her lips, thinking for a second. “I don’t really know.” She nibbles her lower lip as we go back downstairs. “Idon’t hate the snow, I just don’t love this much of it, so I’d still want to have a little winter.” She peeks at me over one shoulder as we go back down the stairs. “But I definitely want more summer than we have here.”
I chuckle. “Almost anything is more summer than we have here.”
Savannah and I continue dispersing the items in her dining room and kitchen, putting each item in the room she thinks it will ultimately end up in. Then we go to work on the stuff on the floor, toting lamps, decorations, and art up and down the stairs. Once it’s all cleared out of the main area she lets out a sigh. “That looks so much better.”
“Good.” I flash her a grin. “Now we just have to do that with all the stuff in the garage.”
Savannah groans, her head falling back on the sound. “I need food before we do that.” She goes into the newly cleared kitchen and opens the fridge. “Unfortunately, I’ve been so busy ordering food for headquarters that I haven’t had time to get food for myself.” She presses her lips into a flat line as she peruses the contents. “I do have the stuff to make a version of plov.”
“What’s plov?”
“It’s a rice dish my mom used to make before…” Her voice drifts off then she clears her throat and tries again. “Before she was killed.”
I know what happened to Savannah’s parents. Pierce did a deep dive into her and her sister Sadie’s background when he first discovered Sadie wasn’t who she’d led us to believe she was. Discovering the girls were the daughters of a man who’d turned against the Russian Bratva was shocking. They’d only madeit out alive because their father brokered a deal with the US government, who’d given them new identities and new lives.
Their mother wasn’t as lucky.
“Why did she stay?” It’s a question I have no right to ask. An answer I shouldn’t expect her to offer.
And maybe she can’t.
Maybe her guess is as good as mine.
Confusion pinches Savannah’s brow, and it makes me think there’s no known answer. But then she says, “Because she loved him.” It’s so matter-of-fact. As if she’s shocked I wouldn’t have already known. “She knew Sadie and I were taken care of and we would be okay, but he wasn’t and wouldn’t be. My dad sacrificed his life to save ours and she sacrificed hers so he would know he was loved right up to the end.” There’s no sadness on her face. No anger. No regret.
“And you think she did the right thing.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. One I can see the truth of blatantly written on her face.
“You don’t just abandon someone you love when they’ve sacrificed everything.” Savannah takes a shaky breath, hinting at the emotion she’s keeping close. “I loved my parents. Do I think my father made some awful decisions? Yes, but that doesn’t stop my love for him.” Her lips curve in a gentle smile. “My mother felt the same. Sadie and I knew when we left that we would never see her again.” Savannah reaches into the fridge and starts pulling items out. “I miss her every day, and I always will, but I understand why she did what she did.”
So do I. I’ve felt similarly in my life. Would have sacrificed my own to save someone else’s. Without fear. Without regret. But it wasn’t an option. So I could choose to follow their path, or I could go on, doing my best to honor their memory.
Like Savannah has done for her mother.
I follow her to the clutter free counter as she lines up her collected items. “Tell me more about her.”
Savannah’s smile turns wistful as she sets a couple chicken breasts onto a cutting board and slices them into bite-sized chunks. “She was beautiful.” Once the chicken is handled, an onion and carrots go on a fresh cutting board and she starts peeling and chopping. “And she was a great cook.”
I watch as she expertly slices through the onion and turns the carrot into small matchstick-sized pieces. “It seems like maybe you inherited that trait.”
I’m not a cook. Don’t pretend to be. I can scramble eggs and heat up leftovers, but that’s the extent of it. Being at Alaskan Security has spoiled me. For a long time, many of us lived in the rooming house, so there was plenty to eat.
Now, not so much. It’s been a while since I’ve had something home-cooked. And as Savannah drops the chicken into a large pot and the scent of cooking meat hits the air, my mouth begins to water.
“I love to cook.” She stirs around the sizzling chunks. “Which is a good thing, because there aren’t many restaurants that serve the foods I ate growing up.”
I lean against the counter, watching as she works. “Was this your favorite?”
Savannah adds the onions and carrots to the pot, stirring them around with the browned chicken. “I really like plov, but it’s not my favorite.”
She peeks my way, expression a little sheepish. “My favorite is actually this sweet, cheese pancake my mom always made for breakfast called syrniki.” She carries some rice and a strainer to the sink, rinsing the grains under the tap. “We topped them with powdered sugar and smetana, which is sort of like sour cream or crème fraîche.” Holding a towel under the strainer, Savannah carries the rice to the pot, dumping it on top of the contents. She continues to talk as she adds seasonings and water. “I haven’t made them in forever, because Sadie doesn’t like them, and it seems silly to make a whole batch for only me.”
After mixing everything together, Savannah puts the lid on the pot and turns to me, wiping her hands on the towel. “We have some time, so if you want, we can get a little more done while that cooks.” She hesitates before adding on, “Unless you’re tired, and then we can be done.”