11. Peter

11

PETER

P eter placed four pairs of the latest model of translating earpieces on the dining table. William's team had developed them for the Kra-ell, and they weren't as sophisticated as the one that blocked compulsion, but they did the job of translating even better.

"What are these?" his mother asked.

"Marina's parents don't speak English. They can speak Russian, Finnish, and Kra-ell." He added the last part so his mother wouldn't get all snooty about them being illiterate or something.

For humans, who didn't have the immortals' innate ability to absorb new languages like sponges, speaking all three fluently was an impressive achievement.

"I see." She picked up a box and opened it. "They don't look like the ones you have in your ears. "

"Mine are also compulsion blocking. William's team created a new, simpler, and less costly version for the Kra-ell. They can be set up to translate from Kra-ell or Russian into English. Marina's parents will set them up to translate English to Russian or Kra-ell."

Pulling out the devices, she examined them for a moment before sticking them in her ears. "What do I do now?"

"Tap on one of them." He demonstrated. "It will give you the selection and instruct you on what to do next."

She frowned. "But what will happen when you and I speak English? Will it automatically translate to one of the other languages?"

He chuckled. "No. It's a smart device. It will not translate my English to Kra-ell when you have it set up the other way around."

"That makes sense." She smiled sheepishly. "All this new technology just goes over my head."

As the door opened and Marina walked in with her parents, Peter walked over to greet them.

"Lara, Daniil. It's so good to see you again." He leaned to kiss Lara's cheeks one at a time and then offered Daniil his hand.

"How do they like the village?" he asked Marina.

"They love it," Marina said. "Did you get them the earpieces? "

"Yes." He led them to the dining table and explained how to put them in.

When it was done, Peter turned to his mother. "This is my mother, Catrina. Mother, this is Lara, Marina's mother, and Daniil, her father."

"A pleasure to meet you both." His mother offered her hand to Lara and then to Daniil.

So far, so good. Everyone was being polite, and his mother was making an effort to be civil and to not look down her nose at Marina's parents.

"I see that you've met my Peter before," his mother said.

"Oh, yes." Lara smiled. "Peter and Marina stayed in Safe Haven before they moved to the village, so, of course, we were introduced. And you met our Marina on the cruise, correct?"

"Yes." His mother forced a smile. "She was part of the crew and hard to miss with her blue hair and piercings."

Lara grimaced. "I don't like either of those things. But what can I do? When they are all grown up, they don't listen to their parents."

His mother laughed, and for a change, it didn't sound forced. "Tell me about it. Peter stopped listening to me when he was a wee lad of sixteen."

Peter lifted a hand to stop his mother from launching into more details about his rebellious teens. "Please sit down. You can keep entertaining Lara and Daniil while I help Marina serve dinner. "

The house's open layout meant that they had no privacy in the kitchen, so he couldn't pull Marina into his arms and kiss her until the tension left her shoulders. All he could do was convey his feelings with his expression when his back was turned to the dining room.

Once the food was served and they'd taken their seats around the table, everyone got busy loading their plates.

Lara broke the silence first to compliment her daughter on the roast, and his mother echoed the sentiment, whether she was enjoying the food or not.

"Wine, anyone?" Peter asked.

Daniil regarded the wine with one raised bushy brow. "Do you have anything stronger?"

"I sure do." Peter got up and brought over a bottle of vodka. "Better?"

Daniil's expression brightened. "Oh, yes. Now you are talking my language."

Peter opened the bottle and poured the vodka into Daniil's wine glass and was surprised when his mother lifted hers.

"I prefer something stronger as well. I'm not a big fan of wine."

"Well." Marina lifted her glass. "When in Rome and all that. I guess I'll be drinking vodka as well."

"Not for me." Lara shook her head. "I'll have the wine. "

For the next ten minutes or so, they ate in silence.

Daniil was done with his meal first. He pushed the empty plate aside, poured himself more vodka, and leaned back in his chair. "This was an excellent meal, Marina. When did you learn to cook like that?"

"The better question is not when but where, and I learned from the best." She lifted her glass at her mother.

"Oh, Marina." Her mother waved a dismissive hand. "You flatter me. You didn't learn from me. I never cooked just for my family. I always cooked for many people, and I still do." She glanced at Catrina. "That is what I do at Safe Haven. I work in the staff kitchen."

"And I work in maintenance," Daniil said. "It's the same job I did at Igor's compound, but now I do it with joy."

Peter watched his mother's expression shift as Daniil described their struggles—the constant fear, the oppression, the ways they'd maintained their sense of community and tried to lead as normal lives as they could.

Thankfully, he hadn't mentioned what Marina had been forced to do with the Kra-ell. Not that it was a secret, but he didn't want his mother to make her feel uncomfortable about something she had very little control over, if any .

"What about school?" his mother asked. "Peter tells me that all of you speak three languages. Did you have official schooling, or did you just pick it up?"

"We had schooling," Marina said. "But it was just the basics. Most of what I've learned has been from reading books. At least the Kra-ell didn't restrict that. We were allowed to order books from a catalog, and we had a system of borrowing books from one another."

Peter saw something soften in his mother's face. "Is that how you learned English?"

Marina set down her fork. "I learned some English while still in the compound, mostly by watching movies and reading children's books. But I learned the most after arriving at Safe Haven. I studied every free moment I had. I wanted to integrate, to be part of this wonderful new country the clan brought us to."

"That's admirable," his mother said. "What kind of work did you do at Safe Haven?"

Peter tensed at the question, seeing Marina's discomfort. "I worked in housekeeping," she said quietly. "Safe Haven is a resort, and they need people to maintain the guest rooms."

To Peter's surprise, his mother nodded approvingly. "There's no shame in any kind of work as long as it is legal. I've done my share of odd jobs over the centuries. "

Peter stared at her. "You have?"

"Of course." She took a sip of her drink. "In my youth, which was a very long time ago, the clan wasn't nearly as wealthy as it is now. Everyone had to contribute however they could. I've done everything from serving ale in taverns to raising chickens and selling eggs."

"I remember the chickens," Peter said. How had he forgotten that part of his childhood? "You used to send me each morning to collect the eggs."

"And you hated me for it," his mother laughed. "But you did it, and we made do. Every morning, rain or shine, summer or winter, I walked to the nearby village with my basket of eggs and sold them until there were none left."

The atmosphere around the table shifted perceptibly as the three parents found common ground in their experiences of hard work and survival, and Peter watched in amazement as his mother engaged enthusiastically in swapping stories about the old times with Marina's parents. The walls between them were crumbling as they found unexpected connections.

Marina caught his eye across the table, her expression a mix of relief and wonder. He reached for her hand under the table, squeezing gently.

"Tell us about the tavern," Peter said. "I've never heard that story before."

He was fascinated by this glimpse into her past.

"Oh, those were interesting times," she said. "I learned a lot about human nature during that time."

"The stories you must have heard," Daniil said. "The drink loosens people's tongues."

"Oh, I did, and the fights I broke up!" His mother laughed. "My immortal strength came in handy. I developed a reputation as Iron-fist Catrina. Men wanted to arm-wrestle me, and the barman took wagers, and he gave me a cut of the winnings after everyone left. I made more from those than from what he paid me and the tips combined."

This was a whole new side of his mother that Peter had never been aware of.

He shook his head. "I can't believe you did all that and never told me."

His mother shrugged. "It was a long time before you were born. I saw no reason to encourage your adventurous streak by telling you stories from my own somewhat scandalous youth."

"We all do what we must to survive," Daniil said. "To make better lives for ourselves and for our children."

His mother nodded. "Yes, we do."

Peter felt something tight in his chest begin to loosen. They weren't fully there yet—his mother hadn't completely accepted Marina—but this was progress. Finding these common threads of experience, these shared understandings, was a start.

As the conversation continued, flowing more naturally now, Peter felt hope growing. His mother was seeing Marina and her family as people—complex, resilient, worthy people—rather than just humans who weren't good enough.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a beginning.