Read Online The Atlantis Code by Charles Brokaw - Free Book Online Page B

close, even though they seldom saw each other these days.
    “I called Ivan and found out you were here,” Natasha said. Ivan was Yuliya’s husband. “Since I was in the neighborhood, I thought I’d drop by.”
    “I’ve got some coffee on. And rolls that are almost fresh. Would you care for some?”
    Natasha nodded and followed her sister into the office. She took one of the straight-backed chairs at one of the desks. To Yuliya, she looked like royalty sitting there, despite the wretched decor of the little kitchen.
    After microwaving the coffee and the rolls, Yuliya placed the plate and the cups on the desk and sat.
    “This reminds me of what it was like when we were girls,” Natasha said as she took a roll. “You making breakfast for us before we went to school. Do you remember?”
    “I do.” Sadness touched Yuliya’s heart. Their mother had been taken from them too young by a respiratory illness. Sometimes, late at night, Yuliya thought she could still hear her mother’s agonized wheezing. And she remembered the night that the sound suddenly went away . . . forever.
    Yuliya had been fourteen. Natasha had been four. Although she tried, Natasha could never remember their mother—a big woman who loved to bake—except from photographs and from the stories Yuliya told. Their father had worked in a warehouse.
    “As I recall,” Yuliya went on, “you almost made me late every morning.”
    “As I recall, you were always primping for some boy.”
    “I primped for Ivan. And it worked for me. We are married and have two beautiful children.”
    “They get their looks from their aunt.” Natasha grinned.
    “No,” Yuliya declared, going along with the old joke. “You’ll not take that from me. I am their mother.
I
made them beautiful.”
    They nibbled on their rolls and sipped coffee in silence for a moment.
    “I miss you making breakfast for me,” Natasha said quietly after a bit.
    From her sister’s words, Yuliya knew Natasha had been off in some corner of the world that had briefly flamed into a private hell for her. Yuliya knew better than to ask where or how, though. Natasha would never talk about it.
    “Well, then,” Yuliya stated matter-of-factly, “as I see it, you have only two choices.”
    “Two?” Natasha arched her eyebrows.
    Yuliya nodded. “You can hire a maid, whom I can train to take care of you—”
    “Train her?”
    “Of course. It’s the only way. But to do it properly, she’ll have to spend a few years with me.”
    “A few years.”
    “If you want her trained to my satisfaction.”
    “I see.”
    Yuliya almost giggled and spoiled the moment. Natasha was always so in control of herself, always able to keep a straight face. “Or . . .”
    “Good,” Natasha said. “There’s an ‘or,’ because I didn’t care for the other suggestion.”
    “Or,” Yuliya went on unperturbed, “you can move in with Ivan and me.”
    Natasha went quiet and still.
    Yuliya knew that she’d dared too much, but she couldn’t stop herself. “The children would love it. They love you, Natasha. You’re their favorite aunt.”
    “They have good taste,” Natasha said.
    “You’re also their only aunt.” Yuliya couldn’t resist the dig. They were sisters and they’d never allowed each other to posture too much. Ivan had three brothers and no sisters. As yet, none of the brothers were married. She missed her little sister something fierce, and not just because of the lack of female blood relations currently in her life.
    Natasha smiled. “Thank you. But I would only be intruding.” She took another roll and broke it. “Tell me what you’re doing here—Ivan said you’d found someone’s unwashed plate.”
    Sadly, Yuliya dropped the subject of her sister sharing her home, knowing that Natasha would speak of it no more. Yuliya leaned back in her chair. “It’s not a dirty plate. It’s a cymbal. Several thousand years old, from the looks of it. Maybe more. I’m waiting for