Mistletoe and Magic (21 page)

Ha. She didn’t snore.

Did she?

No. She shook her head and returned her attention to the card and Rhys’s bold scrawl.

Agata insists that you stay in bed this morning until she’s had a chance to look at your ankle
.

He must have sensed she’d argue with that because the next line was in parentheses.

(Don’t fight with me; it’s not my demand.) Ring this bell when you’re awake. DO NOT GET OUT OF BED. Seriously. She’ll punish us both
.

She giggled. For such a big man, he sure was a wuss. Agata didn’t scare her. But once again, he anticipated her reaction.

Don’t underestimate Agata because she seems like such a good and loving lady. Take a look at your backpack. Notice it doesn’t appear as full as it was last night. That’s because Agata took your clothes. She said she wants to check them in case they need mending or laundering. Don’t kid yourself. She’s holding your garments hostage. You defy her, you’ll never see your jeans again
.

Hmmm…he might have a point. Currently, she wore a voluminous baby blue flannel nightgown, lent to her by Agata who’d been shocked to discover Polina normally slept in a t-shirt and sweat pants. At the time, dopey from pain killers and exhausted due to jet lag, she’d agreed to wear the borrowed nightgown to please such a giving, generous woman. Now, she wondered if that generosity actually hid an ulterior motive. Time would tell, since she knew for a fact her clothing was clean and in excellent condition. With so few belongings to call her own, she took extreme care with what she had.

If Agata gives you the okay, we’ll tackle another item on your mother’s list. Something small and not too taxing. Regardless of how your ankle is healing, you won’t be running today. That, I promise. So while you’re waiting for Agata to come to you, review your list and choose one or two items we can do from here while you’re recuperating
.

From here? Only one item came to mind. Number eight. Kiss a stranger. No, they’d already gone there. No big deal.

Oh, who was she kidding? She’d loved the way his lips fit against hers, how he managed to penetrate her fierce barriers without a fight. Yes, she’d panicked. In hindsight and based on what she’d seen of Rhys since that kiss, she realized he was nothing like Travis, nothing like the men who’d spent a few hours romping with her mom and then gone home to wives or girlfriends without a second thought. That didn’t mean she wanted to start anything with him. She, unlike her mother, was not someone who found vicarious thrills in flings and one-night-stands. Polina wanted forever. Temps need not apply.

So, okay. Enough brooding. Time to get this show on the road. Picking up the bell, she rang for Agata and snorted back a laugh. Was this how it felt to be a heroine in a Jane Austen novel?Seriously. Was this what rich people did? Lazed around in bed, ringing bells until servants showed up to take care of simple tasks? God, how dull! She’d been awake ten minutes, and her feet already itched to hit the floor. At least, she didn’t have to wait long.

After a quick rap of knuckles on the door, Agata bustled into the room with another tray. “
Dobry rano
.”

“Good morning.” Polina gave the same greeting in English, a gentle reminder to the older woman about her lack of foreign language skill, before folding the sheet and quilt neatly at her chest. Time for the baby bird routine again. Oh, she could argue, but she figured she’d be better off choosing her battles with care and wisdom. As lovely as she found this room, she had no intention of spending the day imprisoned here.

“You slept well, yes?” Agata said with a cherubic smile on her round face.

“Yes, thank you. I can’t remember when I slept so deeply.”

Agata clucked her tongue. “I told Rhys you needed rest. Rest and lots of food in your belly. You too skinny for Polish girl.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that last night.”

“So that means it’s true.” She set the tray on Polina’s lap and, moving the backpack to the floor, pulled the chair across the hardwood floor to sit beside the bed. “We fix that now.”

Fix it? Polina stared down at the ginormous egg dish crammed with chopped sausage, cheese, and diced peppers. Thick planks of golden bread beneath a blanket of white cheese sat catty-corner to the omelet, along with a small bowl of oatmeal topped by a lake of cream. If she continued to eat all the food Agata put in front of her, she’d have to fly home in a cargo plane.

Once Agata tucked the napkin into the collar of Polina’s nightgown, the feeding ritual began. Rhys’s warning to not take the older woman at face value prickled the hair on her nape and forearms. She needed an ally. Craning her neck around Agata’s bulk to peer in the doorway, she asked as casually as she could, “Is Rhys here?”

“In the dining room with my boys. He can wait. So can you.” Using the side of the fork, she cut a huge slab of omelet, folded it into a cube, and pierced it with the tines.

“That’s too big a piece,” Polina protested.
Grrmph
. Too late.

Agata shoved the egg cube in her mouth. “How you hurt your ankle?”

She had to chew around the edges of the glob in her mouth just to breathe, let alone speak. When she finally had the morsel down to a manageable size, she said, “I thought Rhys told you, I slipped on an icy sidewalk.”

Agata pointed the fork, another cube loaded and ready, at Polina’s face. “What you doing when you slipped?”

Polina wasn’t certain what the older woman meant. Maybe her English failed her? “I’m sorry?”

“A sprain as bad as yours, you didn’t hurt yourself walking on a path. You do…?” She put the fork down on the plate and rolled her hands. “What is word? Like those skinny little girls do in
Olimpijski
?”

Olimpijski
. Olympics? “Do you mean gymnastics?”

The older woman nodded. “That’s it.
Jeem-nas-tiks
. You do flips on sidewalk?”

“Of course not. I was running from—” She stopped, picked up the fork, and shoved the next block of egg into her mouth. Better to fill her mouth than to spill her secrets from it. But once again, she was too late.

“You were running from Rhys,” Agata finished for her.

“This is delicious, Agata,” she said, pointing to the omelet. “I’d love to have the recipe if you’d be willing to share it.”

“You were running from
Rhys
,” Agata repeated, this time with more emphasis on the man’s name. “Why?”

“Don’t be silly. I wasn’t running from Rhys.”

Agata frowned. “Ah, so then the
Smok Wawelski
was chasing you?”

“No, of course not.”

“You were with Rhys, who would have scared off anyone who might mean you harm. If the dragon no chase you, you must have run from Rhys. You tell me why.”

No sense fighting. Agata could break down a rock in an argument. “Because he scared me.”

“Rhys?” Her laughter could shatter the mirror on the dresser. “That man is big pussycat. What he do to make you afraid?”

Polina dropped her gaze to the egg dish, the cheese congealing as the meal grew cold. Suddenly, she’d lost her appetite. How on earth could she possibly explain why she’d run from Rhys yesterday? Even she knew she’d overreacted. She couldn’t make Agata understand her dread. Not without a long, drawn-out discussion about her mother and her life before her arrival in Krakow. “Nothing,” she murmured. “He didn’t do anything.”

“You look me in the eye when you tell me that,” Agata insisted and chucked her under the chin, tilting her face up. “You a good girl, Polina. I knew that
before
I read your mama’s letter.”

She stiffened. “Wait.” Had this woman just admitted to invading her privacy? “You read my mother’s letter to me? The letter in my backpack?”

Rather than apologize for such a breach in etiquette, Agata waved her off. “Ah, sure. You a guest in my house. I have right to know if you could hurt my family. While you sleep, I go through your things last night. And I read your mama’s letter. You a good girl. So, you tell me. What did Rhys do to make you run?”

She shook her head. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have. He really didn’t do anything wrong.”

“What did he do?”

“He kissed me.”

“And you no like?”

“No, I liked it fine. I mean, it was really nice. Rhys made me feel…” Words failed her, and she let the sentence trail off.

Agata patted her hand. “That’s how Stefan made me feel when he first kissed me. Like
motyle
, butterflies, flew in my belly. You feel that for Rhys, yes?”

Yes. No. “I’m not sure. I’ve only known him two days.”

“Bah. Means nothing. I know Stefan five minutes, I tell my mama, he’s the one for me. We had big wedding the next summer. You know, too,
ukochana
.” She tapped two fingers on Polina’s chest. “In here, you know.” The fingers moved to her forehead. “In here, not sure. But you will be.”

No. She couldn’t be in love with Rhys. Aside from the fact they barely knew each other, she had plans. Plans that did not include staying in Krakow.

Agata rose from the chair. “You eat. I check your ankle.” She flipped the quilt and sheet off Polina’s feet.

Cold air blasted her, and she shivered.

“Sit still please.” Agata took her by the heel and lifted her leg up toward the sunlight streaming through the window. “Still too swollen. You need more ice. You stay here today.”

“No. Please. I can’t stay in bed. I just can’t.”

On a sigh, Agata lowered her leg and replaced the covers. “You eat all your breakfast, and I have Rhys take you into living room again.” She wagged her index finger. “But you stay in living room, with foot on pillows. Ice and bandage on ankle.”

Anything was better than lying in bed all day. Picking up the fork and scooping up a large hunk of the omelet, she said, “Deal!” and slid the food into her mouth.

***

Compared to yesterday’s odd behavior, Polina seemed in much better spirits when Rhys knocked on her bedroom door and stepped inside.

“Thank God it’s you!” Her smile zinged straight to his heart, sending his blood pumping faster through his veins. “I was afraid you might be Agata, coming back in here to tell me she changed her mind.”

He chuckled. “She likes you.” Not that he was surprised by that. What impressed him was how quickly Agata had taken Polina under her ample wings. After dinner last night, he’d returned to the living room to find Polina asleep on the couch.

“You have her suitcases in your car?” Agata had asked.

He’d explained about the backpack, and she nodded as if perfectly satisfied with Polina’s meager belongings. “Good girl. No fussy. Bring her to the guest room, then fetch her things.”

Complying with Agata’s demand—like he had any choice in the matter—he’d scooped up Polina and carried her down the hall. After placing her on the bed, he kissed her forehead. “You should’ve stayed awake for dessert, sweetheart. Agata makes the best
sernik
. After I gorge myself on her cheesecake, I’m going to bring in your backpack. And I’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning. ‘Til then, rest. You’re safe. No need to barricade this door.”

The idea that she’d ever lived that way nauseated him. Even now.

He swallowed the bile rising in his throat and forced a smile. “Agata said I can bring you into the living room where you’ll at least have people around you, but you have to stay off your feet. Which means…” He bowed, one arm wrapped at his waist. “…I am your personal conveyance, madam.”

“Oh, good,” she said and picked at the lace collar of the flannel nightgown. “Pardon my poor manner of dress, dear sir. Agata won’t give me back my own wardrobe until I’ve proven I’m not a flight risk.”

“I warned you she’s a toughie.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” She pushed the quilt and sheet to one side. “And thanks for bringing in my backpack. And for taking me here when I was too stubborn to realize I needed help that I wouldn’t get in the hostel. And for all the sightseeing yesterday.”

Well, well. Had he broken through her defenses already? Doubtful. But he’d definitely chipped her wall. “You are quite welcome.” He approached the bed and stretched out his arms. “You ready?” On her nod, he slid his arms underneath her thighs and lifted her off the mattress.

She clasped her hands around his neck, and he couldn’t remember when an action felt so perfect. “God, you must be tired of schlepping me around.”

“Hardly. I’ve carried grocery sacks that weigh more than you.”

“Agata keeps telling me I’m too skinny for a Polish girl. She’s determined to get me fattened up before I go home.” As he strode past her backpack on the chair near the door, she reached out an arm and hooked it onto her wrist. “I need my mother’s list.”

“Did you come up with something we can do from here?”

“I haven’t looked, to be honest. I mean, most of the stuff requires legwork. Like, visiting the cemetery where my grandparents are buried and gaining permission to have Mom’s ashes interred in their crypt.”

“You know which cemetery?”

“Not off the top of my head, but it’s on the list.”

“So we can make a phone call once you get the name. Maybe we can gain permission or talk to the guy in charge to learn what steps we need to take to make it happen. What else?”

“I’m supposed to see the
szopki
at the Historical Museum.”

“That’s legwork, scheduled for another day. Next?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember. That’s why I need to get the list out of my backpack.”

He strode into the living room where he’d set up his laptop on one of the tables. The house was empty, and Polina noticed.

“Where is everyone?”

“Church. They’ll be back later this afternoon. Agata thought you might want a little privacy while we work on your mother’s list.”

“
Now
she wants to give me privacy? Last night, she had no problem going through my backpack. She even read my mother’s letter, the last message my mother ever gave me.” Tears shone in her eyes. “All the personal stuff about our life together, what she wanted for me and why. My whole life was opened up and examined while I slept last night.”