All These Things I've Done (Birthright #1)(7)

I went into Nana’s room. She was asleep, but I woke her up anyway.

‘Nana, did Leo say if he was going anywhere?’

Nana reached for the rifle she kept under her bed, and then she saw that it was me. ‘Oh, Anya, it’s only you. You scared me, devochka.’

‘Sorry, Nana.’ I kissed her on the cheek. ‘It’s just Leo’s not in his room. I was wondering if he said he was going anywhere.’

Nana thought about this. ‘No,’ she said finally.

‘Did he come home from work?’ I asked, trying not to sound impatient. Clearly, Nana was having one of her less cogent days.

Nana considered this for about a million years. ‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘No.’ She paused again. ‘I’m not sure.’ Another pause. ‘What day of the week is this, devochka? I lose track of time.’

‘Monday,’ I told her. ‘The first day of school, remember?’

‘Monday still?’

‘It’s almost over, Nana.’

‘Good. Good.’ Nana smiled. ‘If it’s still Monday, that bastard Jakov came to see me today.’ She meant bastard literally. Jakov (pronounced Ya-koff) Pirozhki was my father’s half-brother’s illegitimate son. Jakov, who called himself Jacks, was four years older than Leo, and I had never much liked him since the time he’d had too much Smirnoff at a family wedding and tried to touch my breast. I’d been thirteen; he’d been almost twenty. Disgusting. Despite this, I’d always felt a little sorry for Jacks because of the way everyone in my family looked down on him.

‘What did Pirozhki want?’

‘To see if I was dead yet,’ Nana said. She laughed and pointed to the cheap pink carnations that were sitting in a shallowly filled vase on the windowsill. I hadn’t noticed them. ‘Ugly, aren’t they? Flowers are so hard to come by these days, and that’s what he brings? I suppose it’s the thought that counts. Maybe Leo’s with the bastard?’

‘That’s not nice, Nana,’ I said.

‘Oh, Anyaschka, I would never say it in front of him!’ she protested.

‘What would Jacks want with Leo?’ I had only ever known Jacks to ignore or show outright contempt for my brother.

Nana shrugged, which was difficult for her to do considering how little mobility she had. I could see that her eyelids had begun to flutter shut. I squeezed her hand.

Without opening her eyes, she said, ‘Let me know when you find Leonyd.’

I went back into the kitchen to tend to the macaroni. I called Leo’s job to see if he was still there. They said he’d left at four as usual. I didn’t like not knowing where my brother was. He might be nineteen, three years my senior, but he was and would always be my responsibility.

Not long before he was killed, Daddy made me promise that if anything ever happened to him, I would take care of Leo. I’d only been nine years old at the time, roughly the same age as that little mugger, and too young to really know what I was agreeing to. ‘Leo is a gentle soul,’ Daddy had said. ‘He isn’t fit for our world, devochka. We must do everything we can to protect him.’ I’d nodded, not quite understanding that Daddy had sworn me to a lifelong commitment.

Leo hadn’t been born ‘special’. He had been like any kid, if not, from my father’s point of view, better. Smart, the spitting image of Daddy and, best of all, the firstborn son. Daddy had even given him his name. Leo was actually Leonyd Balanchine Jr.

The year Leo was nine, he and my mother had been driving out to Long Island to visit my maternal grandmother. My sister and I (ages two and six) had strep throat and had to stay behind. Daddy had agreed to stay with us, though I doubt it was much of a sacrifice as he’d never been able to tolerate Grandma Phoebe.

The hit had been meant for Daddy, of course.

My mother was killed instantly. Two shots through the windshield and straight through her lovely forehead and honey-scented chestnut curls.

The car my mother had been driving slammed into a tree, as did Leo’s head.

He lived, but he couldn’t talk any more. Or read. Or walk. My father had him sent to the best rehabilitation centre, followed by the best school for learning disabilities. And Leo certainly got a lot better, but he would never be the same. They said my brother would always have the intellect of an eight-year-old. They said my brother was lucky. And he was. Though I knew his limitations frustrated him, Leo managed a lot with the intellect he had. He had a job where everyone thought he was a hard worker, and he was a good brother to Natty and me. When Nana died, Leo would become our guardian – just until I turned eighteen.

I had added the cheese sauce and was considering calling the cops (for all the good that would do) when I heard the front door open.

Leo bounded into the kitchen. ‘You’re making macaroni, Annie!’ He threw his arms around me. ‘I have the best sister!’

I pushed Leo gently away. ‘Where were you? I was crazy worried. If you’re going out, you’re supposed to either tell Nana or write me a note.’

Leo’s face fell. ‘Don’t be mad, Annie. I was with our family. You said it was OK as long as I was with family.’

I shook my head. ‘I only meant Nana, Natty or me. Immediate family. That means—’

Leo interrupted me. ‘I know what that means. You didn’t say immediate.’