(Yah-�u Nahkts)
Chapter 6
The old man, who stood in front of her bed, partially blocked her view of the rest of the room. But, as Annabelle looked closer, she noticed a figure of a man that lay still on the bed across from her. Everything inside her froze momentarily, as the familiar features cut into her consciousness. And then panic set in.
�Diego!� she screamed, horrified, starting toward him.
But the tall, sinewy man, who sat on her bed, held her back, gently forcing her to lie down, as he spoke in the same, unfamiliar to her, language: �Lezhite. Pozhahluistah, lezhite.�
Seeing that she still struggled, the older man joined in. �The doctor wants you to lie down. Please. You need rest.�
�But my husband �� Her eyes, full of desperation, shifted pleadingly from one man to the other.
�He will be fine,� came a simple reply.
Annabelle watched with worry-filled eyes, as the doctor stood up slowly and walked over to Diego�s side, blocking him from her view. Reluctantly, she shifted her gaze onto the old man.
�Who are you?� she asked wearily.
�My name is Pyotr Aleksandrovitch Voloshin,� the old man said. �I am the captain of this ship.� He paused slightly, giving her an evaluative look. �I guess, you, English speakers, do not have a patronymic. So, a simple �Pyotr� will do. And this is Vasiliy,� he pointed to the doctor.
�Annabelle de la Vega,� she introduced herself, �and that is my husband Diego.� She leaned back onto her pillows, suddenly feeling exhaustion set in.
�That�s right,� Voloshin nodded approvingly, pulling the blanket over her shoulders. �Close your eyes and sleep. We should be arriving home in about five days.�
�Where�s home?� she asked sleepily.
�Riga,� Voloshin said with a touch of longing in his voice.
But, before his answer had a chance to register in the mind of his unexpected guest, the latter had already drifted off into a deep and troubled sleep.
***
Water. Water was all around him. Black, cold, stifling water. Its cruel, chilling hands pulled him downward and downward; its bottomless gorge open wide, ready to swallow him up. He struggled, but it was to no avail. The water closed in above his head, pressing on his temples until the pain became almost unbearable. He screamed � and bolted straight up in his bed, his hazel eyes still clouded with a shroud of nightmarish sleep.
Annabelle held out her hands and gently caressed his pain-stricken face. �Oh, thank God, you are finally awake,� she said softly, watching the cloudiness disappear from his eyes, as the awareness of his surroundings set in.
�Annabelle,� he breathed, reaching to touch her carefully, as a boy would reach for a butterfly, trying to not frighten it away. She was alive. She was here with him � wherever �here� was. Nothing else mattered.
She smiled, kissing the palm of his hand, as it reached her lips. Then, suddenly overcome by passion, she leaned toward him and covered his face with ardent kisses, her lips lingering on his. She pulled away reluctantly a few moments later, and he licked his lips, savoring the taste of her kiss.
�I�ll be right back,� she whispered. �I will tell the doctor that you are awake.�
He nodded absently, watching her walk toward the door of what appeared to be a ship�s cabin. Grunting, he pushed himself up from his bed, wanting to look around this unfamiliar dwelling. Suddenly, the room spun before him, and his hand flew up involuntarily to his temple, as the seemingly dulled pain exploded inside his head with renewed force.
Annabelle heard his sharp gasp, and she turned in the doorway in time to see him falter and drop to his knees.
�Diego!� the scream escaped her lips, as she rushed over to his side. Her arms supported him, soon joined by another pair, helping him back onto the bed. The violent dizziness weakened somewhat, and Diego looked up at the tall, lean man who stood by Annabelle�s side. The man�s eyes were flaring with anger, as he pushed the young caballero onto the pillows, accompanying his rather rude actions with a long and heated monologue in a language that sounded completely alien to Diego. One word caught the young don�s ear � it sounded familiar to him. And if that word, indeed, meant what Diego thought it did, then the whole speech could be explained by it alone.
�Did you just call me �cretin�?� he asked slowly in English.
The man stopped short, looking intently at his patient, as if trying to assimilate the meaning of this question into his limited vocabulary of English language. Then he nodded, �Yes, cretin!� And he accentuated his statement with a gesture that left no doubts as to his meaning.
The young couple burst into laughter.
�I guess,� Annabelle managed, as her laughter subsided, �some words are common to all the languages, caro mio.� Then she grew serious. �But the doctor is right. You are crazy to go jumping out of bed like that, after being unconscious for so long.�
�How long?� Diego asked hoarsely, watching as the doctor suddenly turned around and walked out of the room.
�Almost two days,� her voice fell to almost a whisper, as she sat down on the bed next to him and gently traced her fingertips along the side of his face. �I was so worried��
He smiled. �I�ll be all right, querida. It was just a little bump on the head. I ��
�It was not just a little bump, Don Diego,� came a voice from the direction of the door, and Diego saw an old, but robust-looking man enter the room, followed closely by the doctor.
�Good morning, Captain,� Annabelle greeted him, rising from the bed.
�Se�ora de la Vega,� he nodded. �Doctor Loganov came to get me,� Voloshin turned to the young man, �because you seem to be having a communication problem.�
�Oh, we understood part of what the doctor meant, Capit�n,� Diego noted wryly, studying the old man�s face.
Voloshin fumbled uneasily for a moment and then retorted. �From what I understand, Don Diego, you have acted most unwisely and thus have fully deserved � to be called so. You have not yet recovered enough to go jumping around the cabin.�
�Precisely what I told him,� Annabelle interjected.
�All right, all right, I concede,� Diego raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. �It was foolish of me. It shall not happen again.�
Voloshin nodded. �Vasiliy Ivanovitch will remain here with you to make sure that it does not happen again.� He pointed at the doctor. �And he has my permission to use whatever force necessary to keep you in bed as long as he sees fit. And I am sure that your wife will help the doctor in that task � if he should happen to require any assistance.� Voloshin bowed slightly, turned on his heels, and walked out.
Diego de la Vega sighed, looking after the retreating figure of the captain, and then frowned mockingly at his wife. �Would you mind explaining to me what this was all about?�