ROMANOV AUTUMN
Chapter Forty-Five

Jack kept his promise and helped Olivia and Henry move into their new apartment. It was spacious, including two bedrooms, a parlor, and a small bathroom. Between the four of them, Olivia nitpicked the most and nearly drove her brother and husband to insanity several times. Jack brought his daughter to visit the hotel where he once worked as a bellhop and Mac captured everyone's heart immediately.

"Europe, eh?" Adam asked as the three of them had an ice cream soda at the local café around lunchtime. "I'm surprised you're not tired of it already."

"Hardly," Jack admitted, nudging Mac's shoulder when she began to make a slurping noise with her straw. "You're finished, honey," he said in a quiet voice, and eased the cold mug from her tiny hands. She smiled at him and leaned her chin in her palm, playing with the napkin in front of her.

"I have no urge to go there," Adam replied with a half-hearted shrug. "Just seems so old and filthy."

"You don't know what you're missing, then." Jack paused to sneeze and after excusing himself, Mac tugged on his shirt.

"Bless you," she said in a cheerful tone, and Jack smiled, glad Olivia had taught her basic manners. Mac had to be reminded how to behave on occasion, but generally knew what to do in most situations. This, he felt, was quite impressive for a four-year-old.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he whispered. "We should get back to my sister's in a few minutes before they wonder where we've gone." He smiled a little, noticing the chocolate stain around his daughter's lips. "How did you manage to make such a mess?" he asked, using a clean handkerchief to wipe her face and hands. She squirmed a little, her entire face puckering.

"Don’t know," she admitted, and Jack eased her into his arms as they prepared to walk Adam back to the hotel.

*****

By the middle of August, Jack determined it was time to make preparations for the journey. He booked two tickets for the Baltic, grateful when Henry and Olivia offered money for better accommodations.

"This should be enough for a second class cabin," Henry explained as they went to the ticket office.

"It isn't necessary," Jack protested, but Henry shook his head.

"We insist. Third class is not suitable for your daughter, especially not for her first trip outside of the country with you."

Jack felt his face grow warm with embarrassment, but accepted the money without further argument.

Olivia helped Mac pack her small suitcase full of clothes--three dresses, two pairs of shoes, small boots, a winter coat, and a hairbrush. Many of these items were still in fine condition, despite how often Mac wore everything.

"I will miss you severely," Esther told the child, hugging Mac and placing kisses all over her chubby cheeks and forehead. Olivia did the same and allowed Henry to pull his niece into a rib-crushing hug.

"Please be careful," Olivia begged. "I want you both back unscathed."

"I'll take care of him," Mac promised, and Esther beamed as the little girl grabbed onto her father's hand, squeezing it tight.

"Good girl," Esther replied. "Write as soon as you arrive."

Mac waved after climbing into the coach, which would take them to the train station. The Baltic would depart from New York City's harbor, and Jack had purchased two train tickets there as well.

Once her aunts and uncle disappeared from view, Mac turned around again and sat facing the back seat of the carriage. It was a beautiful summer day despite the unbearable heat and humidity.

Mac found it very strange that her stomach filled with butterflies as soon as she knew she would not see her father's family again for quite some time.

"Here we are," the coachman announced as they pulled up to the station about a half hour later, and Jack eased Mac to the dusty ground. He took her suitcase in one hand after shouldering his knapsack with the other. Mac stood watching as the carriage left and Jack placed an encouraging hand on her shoulder.

"Let's go, honey," he urged, and she looked up at him with wide eyes.

On the train, Jack allowed Mac to scribble on blank paper from his portfolio, deciding to read a bit from the morning paper.

"What are we gonna do in Russia?" Mac asked, and Jack looked at her. "Are Grandma and Grandpa nice?"

"They're very nice," Jack promised. "And there will be plenty to do, honey."

Mac frowned a little and continued to draw random shapes, connecting them together by lines and swirls. She fell asleep about an hour later and he couldn't help staring at her. Mac looked so much like her mother, though clearly she had features from both of her parents. Jack opened his portfolio to another blank sheet and very carefully removed a fresh charcoal pencil. He got about halfway through the portrait before they arrived in New York City, and Mac seemed extra cranky when he attempted to wake her.

"Mmm," she groaned, struggling to sit up, and Jack chuckled at her disheveled appearance.

"We're in New York," he explained, and she looked at him, blinking her eyes wearily. She allowed him to carry her off of the train in one arm while using his other to hold her suitcase.

"Where are we staying?" Mac asked, using his shoulder as a pillow, and Jack thanked the conductor before stepping onto the platform. It was so familiar, yet so different at the same time.

"Friends of mine," he replied, referring to Mr. Rockefeller, who immediately demanded his presence at his home when they arrived in the city. "They are very important people, so I want you to make sure you're on your best behavior, all right?"

Mac nodded and demanded to get down. He allowed her to do so and she took hold of his hand once she realized how crowded the streets appeared.

"Stay close to me," Jack warned, and Mac didn't dare disobey.

It felt as though they walked forever, and at one point, Mac began to cry due to her sore feet. Her quiet sniffles broke Jack's heart, and he immediately carried her into a small café so they could rest for a bit.

"Would you like something to eat or drink?" he asked, and Mac looked at him, chewing on her lower lip.

"No," she hiccoughed, and he ordered a soda water for each of them anyway. She sipped from the glass, her dark eyes following those who came in and out of the café.

"Are you feeling all right?" Jack frowned, noticing how quiet she'd become over the past several hours since their departure from Chippewa Falls. The previous night Mac had been very energetic, wanting to do nothing more than run all over the yard and demand that he play pirates with her.

"Yes," she replied, and he cleared his throat, sitting up straighter.

When a half hour passed, he announced it was time to start walking again.

They arrived at Mr. Rockefeller's large house around five, and Jack noticed a significant change in Margarita's once youthful appearance. She greeted him with the same vigor as before, though instead of harping on his size, she immediately swept Macena into her arms.

"She is darling!" Margarita cried, and Jack had to smirk at the horrified expression on his daughter's face. "Look at the beautiful curls and the rosy cheeks! Oh, she has her mother's eyes!"

Jack swallowed past a lump in his throat, and at that moment, Mr. Rockefeller hobbled into the hallway.

"Don't suffocate the child," the old man scolded, and Margarita put Mac on the ground at once. "So, this is the little one, eh?"

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Mac greeted, curtsying, and Mr. Rockefeller began to laugh heartily.

"Of course, it is always a pleasure to meet such a charming young lass as yourself. Margarita, please bring the child upstairs for a bath, and Jack, you already know where you're staying. It is good to have you in my house again."

Jack smiled at the compliment and Mr. Rockefeller urged his guest to head in that direction.

Once he entered the familiar guestroom, Jack stood gazing out the window that overlooked one of the quieter city streets. He sat down on the edge of the neatly-made bed and removed his vest, damp with sweat from the summer heat.

"Daddy!" Mac raced into the room, wearing a brand new dress purchased for her barely a week ago.

"Where did you get this?" Jack asked, and Margarita stood in the doorway.

"A late birthday gift," the maid explained, and he shook his head with bewilderment.

"Did you thank her, Mac?" Jack raised his eyebrows, and Mac glanced over her shoulder shyly.

"Thank you," she said, and Margarita chuckled.

"Of course, darling. Now, Jack, after you two have taken a short rest, join us in the parlor for tea. Supper will be at 8:30 tonight."

"We will," Jack promised, and once Margarita shut the door behind her, Mac twirled around in circles, watching as her new dress made a mushroom shape with the breeze she created.

"I like her," she said, and hopped onto the bed once her father lay down. "And I like the old man, too. He's like a grandpa!"

Jack had to admit she had a point. Mr. Rockefeller treated him like his own son despite their relationship as boss to employee. However, he tried to imagine a time before Alyiah appeared in his life, and found it immensely difficult.

"He is like a grandpa," Jack agreed, and Mac lay down, using his chest as a pillow.

"Did he know Mama, too?" she asked, and Jack peered at her, having to strain his neck a little.

"He did know Mama for a little while," Jack replied, and Mac took a deep breath, shoving her thumb into her mouth.

When they sat in the parlor for tea at five as directed, Mr. Rockefeller told Mac all about how her father rescued him on a cruise ship about six years ago. "He was quite brilliant, actually," the old gentleman spoke, causing Mac to giggle with delight. "I never saw such determination in a fellow. Therefore, I knew I had to have your father as my guard. He did a good job of it, too."

"Thank you, sir," Jack replied, easily embarrassed by praise.

"Do you know any pirates?" Mac asked, and all three adults stared at each other, stunned.

"Pirates?" Mr. Rockefeller pretended to ponder the question for a long time, stroking his white mustache. "Let's see, now. Ah…I know something you would appreciate when you're old enough to read novels of this size."

Jack watched as the old man disappeared from the parlor, leaving his cane behind, and Margarita clucked in frustration.

"Honestly, that man continues to think of himself as a spring chicken!" She took the cane and hurried after her master in case he should trip and fall over something.

"This is a big house," Mac breathed, still unused to the seemingly endless rooms. She desperately wanted to explore every nook and cranny, but knew her father wouldn't allow it. At least, not without his presence nearby at all times.

"Yes, it is," he agreed. "I spent about a year here, until I got sick."

Mac stared at him. "You were sick?" she asked, stunned, and he nodded.

"I had influenza, which nearly turned into pneumonia. You had the same thing last winter."

Mac seemed to understand and she immediately embraced her father, burying her head against his chest.

Mr. Rockefeller returned carrying a hardback book in his hands and presented it to the little girl. It was a novel titled The Pirate, by Sir Walter Scott. Jack chuckled at the awe on his daughter's face and ruffled her hair.

"And, of course, I do have my copy of Treasure Island that I believe I kidnapped from his library shortly after I left here."

Mr. Rockefeller winked and sat back down, leaning his cane against the chair. "And I'm sure I have known many pirates," Mr. Rockefeller continued, "though secrecy is their main tactic. I doubt they would have told me of their occupation."

Mac grinned with delight and Margarita shook her head with amusement.

"Honestly," she began. "You men are all the same!"

"Oh, come now," Mr. Rockefeller teased. "Tell me, Jack. Are you in any need of financial assistance for your journey? You always know there's a helping hand when you come to New York."

Jack opened his mouth and closed it, shocked. "Not at all, sir," he lied, not wanting to accept charity. He believed in earning his own salary, the honest way to handle things. "But I appreciate the offer very much."

Mr. Rockefeller gave a nod and Mac chewed on her lower lip. "I do wish you would allow me to treat you as a grandson. It is the least I can do. What is the use of having all of this money if I cannot share it?"

Jack cleared his throat and encouraged Mac to join Margarita in the kitchen for a little while.

"Sir," he continued, "I don't mean to be difficult, but I feel very strongly about making my own way. If I was unable to afford my daughter, I wouldn't have taken her with me."

"That is a very good attitude," Mr. Rockefeller agreed. "But you mustn’t refuse help in all circumstances. Sometimes it is best to swallow your pride."

Jack had to admit the old man had a point and promised in the future to seek assistance if needed.

Dinner was a three-course meal, and again Mac didn't eat very much at all. She nibbled at her meat, bread, and vegetables, keeping her chin in her palm as she listened to the casual conversation around her.

"Just give her time," Margarita whispered after Jack inquired about his daughter's lack of appetite that seemed so sudden. "She's nervous, traveling alone with you for the first time. It will get better, dear."

Jack hoped she was right.

Chapter Forty-Six
Stories