Ruth felt a momentary twinge of despair. I've already lost. They've formed a closed group now. Ivan's already got his protective-male thing going with her, and his father is fascinated by every word she says, and Mrs. Smetski is absolutely in love with her. Mrs. Smetski looks so smug. As if she had defeated me. And maybe she has. Definitely she has. I'm gone. If only I had my own car and could just get out of here and drive home by myself and...
Mrs. Smetski already knew. That's why she wanted separate cars. She knew that the Crown Victoria would be way too crowded on the trip home because she knew this shiksa was getting off the plane. Ivan must have told them. But no one bothered to tell me.
Ruth couldn't let this deception go unchallenged. "So, when did you call your parents and tell them Katerina was coming?"
They all looked at her like she was crazy. "He didn't call," said Professor Smetski.
"I didn't even know I was bringing her till the last minute," said Ivan.
He certainly didn't seem to be lying.
Only Mrs. Smetski said nothing. Because she knew. Somehow, even without a phone call, she knew. And, dear sweet compassionate loving gracious woman that she was, she had tried to spare Ruth's feelings by giving her an escape route so she wouldn't have to suffer the long ride home from the airport trapped in the back seat with Ivan and his...
On impulse—on damnable, uncontrollable impulse—Ruth asked him point-blank. "So, are you and Katerina engaged already, or are you waiting to make it formal until you've had a chance to get rid of me?"
The embarrassment on all their faces. How inconvenient of her, to lay it on the line like this. To demand that they face up to what was obvious to all of them. Oh, is this making you uncomfortable? You poor dears.
"Ruthie, don't be silly," Professor Smetski was saying, "Vanya is just helping her on the—"
Ivan held up his hand to stop his father. "I don't know, Ruth, I don't know how you—I wanted to have a chance to talk to you alone, I didn't want it to be right here, but..."
Ruth's heart sank. She wanted to cry, in shame, in grief. "You are engaged?" Ivan shook his head.
Ruth knew a moment of hope. Still a chance. "We're married," said Ivan.
It struck her like a blow. Married. The door, not just closing, but closed, locked, slammed in her face. Married! "How... sudden," she said.
She turned her back on them then. They would not see the tears that leapt into her eyes.
She felt his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off. "I'm sorry I didn't write," he was saying. "Or call. I know it's hard to believe, but I really couldn't. And it wasn't as sudden as it seems, either, it... Ruth, you have to believe me, I didn't want it to be this way."
"If you didn't want it to be this way," she said, controlling her voice almost perfectly, "then it wouldn't be this way, would it? Or are you seriously telling me the two of you had to get married?" Ruth turned around and pointedly scanned Katerina's body, as if the pregnancy might already be visible.
"We haven't even slept together," Ivan protested.
"No, of course not," said Ruth scornfully. "Not you. If your wife ever has children, it'll be a virgin birth. That's why you needed a shiksa, isn't it? That's their specialty."
"Ruthie," said Professor Smetski, "this is as much a shock to us as it is to you, completely unexpected, but let's try to stay calm, it's a long ride home, and—"
"No, Professor Smetski, I don't think we'll be riding home together. I have a roommate who lives here in Syracuse. It was lovely to meet you, Katerina. Just a word of advice. Don't let Ivan out of your sight."
Of course the girl didn't understand a word Ruth said, but she wasn't a fool, this Ukrainian princess, and her eyes were full of tears. Remorse? Pity? Keep your crocodile tears, darling. If he wants you, then I don't want him. The man I loved wouldn't have gotten married without bothering to break off his previous engagement. So whatever you've got there with his arm attached to your back, it's not a man I ever knew or ever wanted. Somebody else, somebody faithless. I deserve better. So save your tears for yourself.
Bitch.
Without another word, Ruth turned and walked away. Out of the terminal. The payphones were all inside, but she wanted a clean break. Exit scenes had to be managed. No lingering where they could see you, see how you cry when you finally get Emilia on the phone and tell her, Bring your hot yellow roadster out to the airport, Nancy Drew, because your friend Ruthie needs a long ride with a strong breeze on her face to dry these silly damn tears.
Baba Yaga
Baba Yaga was astonished and delighted with these houses-that-fly. Long lodges like the halls of great lords, into which a hundred people crowded themselves, and then they scooted along the ground on their skinny chicken legs until they rose like geese into the sky, trailing smoke behind them from their sideways chimneys.
She knew at once that the princess and her unmanly husband had gone into one of these flying houses and traveled to a faraway place.
Why? To escape Baba Yaga, of course. There are no trails in the sky, no scent of Katerina's magic left behind. And they'd go a long way, too, to a land where Bear had no power, so Baba Yaga would be weaker yet. They thought that would stop her from following them.
It was always pleasant when an intended victim imagined himself to be safe; that added zest to her life, for it meant that the surprise would be all the more delicious. But for such a person really to be safe, that was unbearable, that sat in her belly like bad meat, churning, aching. They were not going to get away just because they had friends with such powerful magic that they could make houses fly.
Inside the airport, though, everything was confusing. Everybody seemed to know where they were going, which line to stand in. Lines meant nothing to her, of course, but when she tried to go past one particularly long line, a burly man stopped her, quite forcefully. Baba Yaga was appearing as an old woman at the time, so he wasn't rough with her, just kept explaining to her, talking more and more slowly, but none of it made sense. The people in the line had brought gifts, apparently, which they placed into the gaping mouth of a large box. The box engulfed it, and the people passed through a gate, and then they got their gift back on the other side. This made no sense at all. She had no gift, but without one, she apparently couldn't get through, even though people got their gifts back.
So Baba Yaga put on Shadow, the charm that made her unnoticeable. It wore her down to wear it—it took strength from her, apparently, with Bear so far away—but she used it only long enough to take away a woman's bag. A light one. She carried it to the box, put it in. The porch of the box moved, drew it inside. Then they let her pass through the gate.
Only it made a loud noise as she passed through it. They indicated she should step back and walk through again. Again the noise. They asked her questions she didn't understand. They took her by the arm and led her to a place where someone began to wave a wand around her. She had no idea what spell they were casting on her, but she had no intention of finding out. She drew out Shadow, put it on, and they didn't notice when she moved away. They shuffled around a little, looking vague and distracted. She walked off and left them wondering why they thought they were wanding somebody at the security gate, when no one could remember seeing anybody set off the alarm.
Exhausting as it was, she kept the shadow charm around her neck past the other gates. There was no important magic at any of them. She didn't know how the floor in front of the box moved, and she didn't know why the loud sound came when she walked through; but if it was magic, it wasn't much, because a simple charm like Shadow fooled them all. It shouldn't have. It was for common people, not for wizards, it would never work with wizards. But apparently wizards were in short supply in this place.