Chapter Four

Jasha

J asha had doubts they would ever arrive at Lake Tahoe. Having Daisy by his side brought him great peace, and he was glad Mr. Bronson had allowed her to travel with them. The Jeep crunched to a halt on the long driveway at the top of the hill, the world outside a swirling blur of white. Jasha’s neck ached from the endless hours spent staring out the window, watching the landscape transform from green to brown to white. Mr. Bronson directed him to sit in the back with Daisy in her carrier while he sat up front with Adam. The two men discussed Christmas festivities for the month. The way they interacted suggested a close bond, more akin to friendship than a typical employer and employee connection. Even after many visits to the apartment, Mr. Bronson held no positive communication with his father. What was his real connection to his father and why did his father owe this man so much money?

A sprawling chalet stood against the backdrop of a snow-kissed Lake Tahoe. Snow clung to the roof like a thick white blanket, and the ground was a pristine expanse of white broken only by the Jeep’s tire tracks.

Daisy meowed insistently from her carrier, a tiny island of warmth in the frigid air. Jasha hurried to extract her, the cold nipping at his exposed skin.

With his tall stature and broad shoulders, Mr. Bronson appeared attractively windswept as he braved the wind and the falling snow. He led Jasha, Daisy tucked safely under his arm, to the tall red double doors just as a manservant pushed one open.

Adam passed by carrying their suitcases to their rooms as Mr. Bronson introduced Jasha to the butler, Mr. Wells. He was an older gentleman with white hair and blue eyes.

A grand staircase, its steps like a marble waterfall, highlighted the foyer. It curved gracefully, disappearing into the upper floors. Green ivy with tiny Christmas lights decorated the stair railings. The view was so enchanting that it seemed like something out of a fairy tale. Mr. Bronson’s decorated home felt completely out of character for the man Jasha had seen in his apartment. There were two contrasting sides to his personality that added to the complexity of who he really was.

The interior was a world away from the icy exterior. A towering stone fireplace dominated the grand entrance hall, its hearth currently filled with burning logs. Warmth radiated from the crackling flames, chasing away the chill seeping into Jasha’s bones. The scent of pine and leather mingled with the wood smoke, creating a comforting atmosphere.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Mr. Bronson joked, ushering Jasha further inside and straight to the largest kitchen Jasha had ever been in. An older woman pointed to a plate of Christmas cookies.

“Miss Nadia is the mother of my homes. She’s been with me since I was a child. She cooks and bakes the best food.” He turned to her. “This is Jasha.”

“Welcome, Jasha,” she said in Russian then switched to English. “Let me know if you want anything. I’m always here. I made some hot chocolate for you two with fresh cookies.”

Jasha was stunned when he heard his native language. “Are you from Russia?”

She nodded. “St. Petersburg. Mr. Bronson said you were from Russia. Where are you from?”

“St. Petersburg too.” Jasha smiled.

They took a seat at the island and indulged in the delicious colorful cookies, while also savoring the warmth of the hot chocolate. The presence of Miss Nadia in the home had a calming effect on him.

After a brief tour, Mr. Bronson took him to his room. “Make yourself at home. Unpack and make good use of the furniture and closets.”

Jasha’s eyes widened as it was a world away from the sterile white walls of his apartment. Here, the walls were a comforting deep forest green with white trim, the large windows offered a breathtaking view of Lake Tahoe even in the evening with all the Christmas lights turned on outside.

The bedroom had a twinkling tree in one corner, its branches laden with colorful ornaments and shimmering lights. Garlands of holly and ivy were draped on the mantelpiece, and mistletoe hung from the ceiling light.

“Thank you.”

“Feel free to wander through the house. You can use the kitchen at any hour. Treat it like it’s your home.”

Jasha nodded.

“I want you to enjoy the holidays.”

While Mr. Bronson was talking, Jasha noticed a plush cat bed in a quiet corner, its soft texture inviting. Jasha’s heart swelled with joy. In another space close to Daisy’s sleeping area, he noticed a small area with a bowl of water and another for cat food. The man must have called someone to add these items to the room. He doesn’t seem like the same person who had stood in my apartment with a gun to my father’s head. How can he change so drastically? Jasha let Daisy down and she went straight for the food and water.

“I can’t believe you did all this for Daisy. We both appreciate it.”

“I want you and Daisy to be comfortable. The litter box is in the bathroom.”

“Thank you.”

“I’d like to remind you that you’re not being punished for your father’s mistakes. You’re here under my protection and care.”

“If you say so, sir,” Jasha replied with a hint of disbelief, indicating his lack of conviction.

“We’ll talk in the morning after breakfast. If you need anything, just send me a text,” Mr. Bronson said.

They exchanged numbers.

“Good night, Jasha.”

“Good night.”

Jasha found himself alone with Daisy in a spacious bedroom in a winter wonderland fairy tale. Soft, plush carpets covered the floor, and a king-sized bed accented the room.

Jasha pulled out his phone again and dialed his father before Mr. Bronson started laying down his strict set of rules in the guise of protection. The line rang a few times before clicking over. “Papa?” he said. There was a long pause before his father’s voice, heavy with defeat, answered.

“Jasha,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m so sorry about this. I know this isn’t fair to you, but I couldn’t…I couldn’t come up with the money.”

Hearing his father in such misery, Jasha couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of sorrow. He knew how much pressure his father had been under. “It’s okay, Papa,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “I’m safe. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m glad you’re safe, Jasha. I’m so sorry. Are you sure Mr. Bronson didn’t hurt you?”

Jasha nodded, even though his father couldn’t see him. “No! He treated me fairly. He hasn’t hurt me at all or taken advantage of me. I’m in Lake Tahoe with lots of snow.”

Jasha took several pictures of the room with Daisy eating, then sent them to his father.

“See, Daisy and I are doing okay here. Out my window is Lake Tahoe. So don’t worry. I miss you, though.”

“I miss you too. This apartment is a coffin without you here. Please call me when you can.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you,” his father choked out and ended the call.

In a tender gesture, he directed his attention towards Daisy, who gracefully made her way to the bed and nestled beside him. He gently stroked her velvety fur. He knew he was in for a long, lonely time, but at least he had her for company.