ROMANOV AUTUMN
Chapter Fifty-Three
Mac felt utterly terrified as the
two princesses dragged her by the hands into the palace, though her fear was
quickly extinguished when she reached the grand doors. A large black man stood
to one side, and greeted her with a bow.
"She is not a guest, Jim...we
found her prowling," Olga explained, and the guard frowned deeply.
"We're taking her to Father."
The guard named Jim gave a nod of
understanding, and before Mac could introduce herself properly, Tatiana gave
her arm an impatient tug.
"Come along," she
ordered in a voice that sounded surprisingly grown up.
Mac couldn't help but gasp when
they entered the palace, for it was much grander than she ever imagined. The
ceilings were so high they made her dizzy when she would raise her head to the
clear domes. Sunshine caused the golden rails to glisten, and the walls were
constructed of solid white marble.
Servants rushed past, taking care
of their daily duties, without giving her the least bit of attention.
Mac didn't dare speak,
though...she wanted to save herself as much trouble as possible.
"Here is Papa's study,"
Olga announced after they walked up a flight of stairs, and stood facing a dark
oak door with a brass handle. Mac chewed on her lip and politely folded her
hands while she waited to be introduced to the king.
Tatiana knocked twice and opened
the door, and Mac felt Olga shove her forward so she stood in the entranceway.
"Hello, my dears. What can I
do for...oh, who is this?"
Mac looked up at the sound of the
gruff but startlingly kind male voice, and raised her eyes. The Tsar was much
smaller than she expected, with a reddish blonde beard and sparking blue eyes.
"She sneaked through the
gate, Papa," Tatiana explained, holding her head high. "We found her
hiding behind a bush."
"The guards clearly were not
paying attention, or they would have captured her," Olga explained, and
the Tsar chuckled softly.
"The guards cannot be
everywhere at once," he replied. "Thank you, girls. I will take it
from here."
Olga frowned...clearly, she'd
expected her father to treat Mac with a bit more hostility, given the
circumstances. Instead, he stood smiling at the strange child as though she
were part of the family!
"Yes, sir," Tatiana
replied, and with a huff, Olga stomped out of the room with her sister close at
her heels.
Nicholas II walked towards Mac,
whose mouth hung open, and she couldn't bring herself to shut it. She stood
facing the man many of the Russian peasants considered to be a direct
descendant of God himself. Yet he seemed so...normal! Mac wondered if this were
a dream, and she would wake up safe and sound in the tiny shack.
"No need to look so
frightened," the Tsar began, and encouraged her to sit down on one of the
fancy chairs. Mac did as she was told, and chewed anxiously on her lower lip.
"Please don't put me in
prison, sir," she begged, and jumped when he began to laugh.
"Who told you I would put
you in prison?" Nicholas asked, and Mac shrunk back in her chair.
"Because I was naughty,"
she whimpered.
"Oh, come now," the
Tsar replied, his smile not disappearing in the least. "What is your name,
child?"
Mac swallowed, quite certain she
was going to be sick. "Macena Dawson, your highness."
"Dawson. Hmm!" Nicholas
rubbed his beard and appeared to be thinking about something.
"Yes, sir," Mac
whimpered. "I'm from America, and came here with my papa last year so I
could see my mama's family."
"What is your father's name,
if you would not mind telling me?" the Tsar asked, and Mac realized the
fear that had taken such a tight hold on her had eased, especially now that she
was not going to be thrown into jail.
"Jack Dawson, sir," Mac
replied, and the Tsar stopped pacing.
"Jack Dawson! That is a
familiar name indeed, one I never thought I'd hear again in this lifetime! What
did your mother do?"
"I don’t know," Mac
admitted with a shrug. "She died."
"I'm terribly sorry,"
Nicholas apologized. "If I remember correctly, I met your father when he
worked for the imperial ballet, if he is the same man."
"Really?" Mac gasped,
and Nicholas gave a nod.
"Yes. Your mother was a
dancer, and she was one of the best during her time. Both were introduced to me
after the performance. Of course, mind you, I have met many people over the
years, but your father I could never forget." He went around to open his
desk drawer and presented Mac with a piece of paper. She took it carefully and
realized with a start that her father had sketched the Tsar and his wife, and
signed it with his initials as he did with every drawing.
"Oh," she breathed, and
the Tsar turned back to face her.
"What does your father do
now?" he asked, and Mac frowned.
"He works for the leather
factory," she explained, and Nicholas gave a nod of understanding.
"That just won't do,"
the Tsar murmured under his breath, and Mac felt her heart start to beat
quickly again. "I would dearly love to reward him for his kindness. My
wife is currently looking for another guard to look after my son, and I do
believe..."
"My father was a guard
once." Mac jumped up at once, forgetting all formality. "For Mr.
Rockefeller! He was a rich man in America!"
"Well, well." Nicholas
chuckled. "That may be perfect. Just a moment." He went to his desk
and took a piece of parchment from inside of his desk again.
Mac watched, stunned, as he began
to write something down, and sat until he finished.
The Tsar eventually sealed the
letter with his initials and rolled it up, tying the parchment with a ribbon.
"Please present this message to your father, and have him come to the
palace first thing in the morning. I will inform the guards that he is expected,
so they will not give him trouble."
"Oh, sir, thank you very
much," Mac breathed. She could just imagine her father's expression when
she handed him the official document, though she would probably have to endure
a spanking first.
"I am very pleased to have
made your acquaintance, Miss Dawson, and I do hope your father will consider
working for me." He took her hand and shook it gently, offering to send
her home in a carriage.
"No, thank you, sir,"
Mac replied. "I think I'd be in less trouble if I didn't."
The Tsar chuckled warmly and led
her to the front doors, where Jim gave Mac a formal bow and a wink. Mac waved,
carrying the parchment in her hand, and bolted across the lush lawn to the
gates. She sneaked through, and just as she reached the village square, she saw
Raisa leading her father in the direction of the palace. Both looked truly
terrified, and stopped short when they saw her alive and unharmed.
"Mac, you're all
right!" Raisa exclaimed, and Jack clutched at his chest, swallowing hard.
"Where have you been?"
he demanded. "Is it true you sneaked through the palace gates?"
Mac stepped back a pace; she'd
never been struck by her father, but he truly looked as if he wanted to hit
her.
"Yes, sir," she
replied, and nearly forgot about the parchment in her hand. "I met the
star! And he remembered you!"
Jack took her arms roughly and
knelt down so they were eye level. "I am very angry, Mac. How could you do
such a thing? If anything had happened..." He hugged her tightly, and Mac
buried her face against his chest, feeling her lower lip tremble.
"I didn't mean to scare you,
Daddy," she promised, and Jack gave Raisa a pat on the shoulder.
"Thank you, honey," he
said. "I think you'd better return home now."
Raisa shot Mac another anxious
glance before bolting away, and Jack rubbed a hand over his face.
"Mac, you have no idea how
terrified I was. What you did was so dangerous, considering we're not Russian
citizens."
"Daddy, I met the
king!" Mac spoke up, and Jack looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
"And he let you go?"
Jack didn't understand, and saw that she carried a piece of paper tied with a
ribbon.
"Yes," Mac promised.
"He was very nice, and said he remembered you!"
Jack stopped walking and faced
her again. "Excuse me?" he asked, and Mac handed him the piece of
parchment.
"He said you and Mommy met
him a long time ago!"
Jack felt as though he might
faint, and tried desperately to steady his breathing to avoid doing so.
"Let's get home before we get into details," he replied, and took her
hand. "Stay close beside me."
Mac did as she was told, glancing
over her shoulder at the palace as it sparkled in the distance.
They arrived home a short time
later, and Mac immediately crawled onto the bed, bouncing impatiently.
"Open the letter and read it," she begged, and Jack sat down at the
desk, pulling the chair so he could face her.
"His majesty requests your
presence at a formal interview at 9:30 in the morning on the twelfth of
September, 1908." He felt light-headed and was unable to speak for a
couple of minutes.
"I told the star you worked
for Mr. Popov, and he wants you to work for him!" Mac exclaimed, and Jack
stared at her, startled.
"Oh, honey," he gasped,
and she immediately threw herself into his arms. "And it's the Tsar,
sweetheart, not star."
"Whatever he is." Mac
giggled and took his hands.
"What on earth would he want
me to do for him?" Jack asked, and Mac thought for a moment.
"He wants you to be a
guard," she replied, and Jack's eyes widened. "I told him you were
one before for Mr. Rockefeller, and he liked that."
"Oh, my God." Jack
didn't know what to think. When he met Nicholas II back in 1898, he had no idea
the impression he'd made was so great.
"He showed me a drawing you
did for him," Mac explained, "after I told him your name."
"I don't know what to
say," Jack stuttered. "This is a miracle. That's all I can think
of."
Mac nodded eagerly. "And I
met his doorman, who's a giant black man named Jim! He bowed to me when I left.
He tried to do so when I came in, but the princesses yelled at him for
it," Mac explained, and Jack shook his head, smoothing her cheeks, and
kissed her forehead.
"I'm just thankful you're
alive," he replied.
"You're not gonna hit
me?" Mac asked, stunned, and Jack shook his head.
"Of course not, though if
you pull a stunt like that again I may have to change my mind about how I
discipline you in the future." Jack didn't believe in striking a child,
and was grateful he never had to resort to such an action with his daughter.
She was, for the most part, very well-behaved given her age, and incredibly
mature.
"I love you, Daddy,"
Mac whispered, hugging him again, and Jack smiled.
"I love you, too," he
replied. "Now, I am going to have to take you with me tomorrow, so there
will be a bath tonight. And I do not want any fuss," he added, and Mac
immediately undressed, which caused him to laugh quietly.
"I won't at all," she
promised. "I'll pour the water myself!"
"Put your dress back on,
sweetheart. We must have supper first...it's getting late." He encouraged
her to do so, and went to take out whatever sat in the icebox. If the interview
went well the following morning, he would be working for the Tsar of Russia,
and their lives would change drastically. "You saved our lives,
sweetheart," he announced as they sat eating bread, cheese, and fruit.
Meat was difficult to come by, especially with the small amount of money they
earned per week.
"You've been coughing so
much, Daddy," Mac pointed out. "And if you kept working for Mr.
Popov, you wouldn't get better."
"I'm sorry I've been
worrying you, pumpkin." He kissed the top of her head. "But just make
sure you include tomorrow in your prayers tonight."
"Oh, I will," Mac
promised, shoving the last of the cheese from her plate into her mouth.
She didn't fight her father once
when he gave her a bath about an hour later, pleased when he tried to make it
as comfortable as possible.
"You're going to have to
wear your Sunday dress tomorrow," Jack announced, taking it out of the
closet and hanging it carefully over the desk chair. Mac wrinkled her nose at
the rather frilly outfit, wishing she could dress like a boy.
"Okay," she sighed,
crawling under the covers once she wore her nightgown, and waited while her
father prepared himself for bed.
"Thank you,
sweetheart," he whispered in her ear once they lay side by side, and Mac
snuggled close to him.
"Welcome, Daddy," she
replied, her eyes drifting shut.