Collection 4 - Kolya's Son Page 29
Beyond Trish, near the top of the slope, Tony sat in silent vigil, Tanya anxiously watching beside him. Norm shifted Illya upward turning him so he could see them as well. The shivering increased, massive tremors Illya couldn't seem to control. Norm saw Tony nod at Illya, gesturing for him to continue, to keep going with something.
Then Illya twisted, his arms reaching out for Norm, the Russian's hands first resting on the man's shoulders and then, with a moan, wrapping around his neck as he had seen Misha, Tanya, and Tony do.
"I-- I do not know the correct words," Illya whispered to him. "I do not know what you want -- what you want me to say now."
"Say whatever it is that you want to say," Norm whispered back.
Illya didn't need any time to come up with, "I do not want to leave this place."
It wasn't the standard 'I love you, Dad,' that his kids always said, but it was probably the closest declaration Illya knew how to say.
Graham answered quickly, "You don't have to. We all would like you to stay. We all want you to stay with us." Again, it wasn't the 'I love you' that he usually responded with, but it was what Illya needed to hear. It was doubtful the young man had any idea what love was and it was not something that could be rushed. Right now, acceptance was what he needed, and safety was what he craved.
The blond head rested on Norm's shoulder, eyes closed, worn out. He was still now, no longer shaking, lingering in the moment, in the sensation of being secure and being at peace. He wasn't four or ten or sixteen or twenty-two. He wasn't a child or a teenager or an adult. He wasn't a student or a scientist or a dancer or an agent. He was just Illya. And Norm was sure he had never been that person before.
Another test flare went up and Misha bellowed from the top of the slope, "What are you all doing down there?"
"Come on down, Misha. Come watch the fireworks with us. We have the best place of everyone," Norm called out.
Tony lifted Misha over the fence and he scrambled down the slope, Norm's leg stopping him from rolling all the way to the water's edge. Illya gasped at the movement, dazed eyes opening, and he turned to move away, but Norm settled them both on the ground between his bent legs, one arm firmly around the waist of each. Illya stiffened, emotionally raw and uncertain, wiping his face and trying to force his body not to shake.
Misha grinned up at Illya beside him and patted his leg gleefully, then screamed as the first Roman Candle was sent off into the night sky, exploding over the river in a burst of color. The little boy clapped his hands, bouncing up and down. "Again. Again."
The loud cracks and blasts echoed down the slope, and Norm was glad he had kept Illya exactly where he was. The young man shivered at first, trying not to twitch as each explosion sounded, the memory of guns and weapons and bombs much clearer than that of any celebration. Then, as his attention gradually riveted to the bursting colors and sizzling sparkles that lit up the night sky, he stared transfixed at the splendor, something truly beyond his experience. Norm realized it was likely he had never seen anything like this before. All along the river, in homes and parks, people were sending up fireworks in honor of the day.
Illya's eyes took it all in, the excitement, the joy, the beautiful displays filling the sky. He turned around when it was almost over and stared at Norm and Trish with a look of incredulous wonder. "It is for freedom they are celebrating?"
Trish nodded, her eyes shining as she wrapped her arms around her legs and leaned her chin against Norm's shoulder. "Yes, that is what the day is about, to remember what we have gone through to get our freedom... Ilyusha, did you know that the newspapers called Kolya a freedom fighter? I think he would be happy to know you are here." She smiled down at him. "So what do you think of all of this, Ilyusha?"
"I think it is a good thing," Illya answered solemnly, his eyes filling with tears that he no longer tried to wipe off his face.
Norm laughed loudly, grinning at his family and squeezing both Misha and Illya in his arms until they protested. "That may be the understatement of the year, but, yes, it is certainly a good thing. Welcome to America, Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin. And even if you don't understand it now, welcome home."
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Prologue
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