When Victor said 'exact moment and circumstances', he meant exact moment and circumstances. I found myself back at the horse farm with Boris, dressed just as I was when the flash of light that signaled 'the end of the world as we know it' occurred.
Boris was still talking. "I don't know what all went on in America—but he wasn't happy. He liked his classes and his work, but outside of that—the girls wouldn't leave him alone, the other lads didn't care for that, or for him being a foreigner and so much smarter than the most of them—he said his English was better than some of theirs, which was a crime. Mostly what I got was that he was lonely—Oh. Good afternoon. Master. What brings you out here?"
Victor must have teleported in order to get to the horse farm as quickly as he did. "I decided I wanted to be here when you gave Joviana her present. That was my purpose. Have you given it to her yet?"
"No—but before I do, since you're here, I have yours." Boris reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a slim package wrapped in ordinary grocery-bag brown paper and tied with string. Boris was not the sort of person who would bother with expensive fancy paper or ribbons.
Victor reached out and took it, untied the string (which Boris retrieved and coiled up, tucking it back into his pocket), and undid the paper.
It was a framed photograph. The frame was an inexpensive tourist-shop item, painted scarlet and turquoise with touches of cobalt, and the photo in it was battered, and could have used digital re-imaging, but I knew, looking at it, and at Victor's eyes, that it would occupy a prominent place among his keepsakes, just as it was, for the sake of the giver—and for what it was, in and of itself.
It was a photograph of Cynthia and Werner on their wedding day. Cynthia was wearing traditional Rom garb, and Werner was in a stiff, new-looking black suit, which fit rather poorly. It didn't matter. The happiness and the love that radiated from them shone through all the trappings—that love in which they had made their only child. Cynthia made an incandescently beautiful bride, and the goofy, happy, proud grin on Werner's face said it all.
It was bittersweet, looking at their faces, knowing what would follow—her dangerous trafficking in demonology, his depression, the Baron with the dying wife, and the lightning blizzard—but then, all happiness is bittersweet, if it is honest, because there is the inescapable knowledge that one day, it will be otherwise.
But right there, right then, was where we were, in the now—and Victor raised his head to say—a little hoarsely?—"Thank you. I have no recollection of ever seeing a wedding photograph of them—ever. I am very glad to have this."
"I was saving it for you—for the right occasion. I'd been hoping I would live to see you married—now I can only hope I'll live to see a child of yours." Boris said.
Victor glanced at me. We were getting very, very good at non-verbal communication. His glance asked, 'Should I tell him?'
I shook my head almost imperceptibly. 'No. Don't tell him about the baby yet.' Better to wait until a month had passed—after the honeymoon, and after a positive result on a pregnancy test—fewer awkward questions all round.
"I have every hope you will live to hold my firstborn…Father." Victor replied.
My heart nearly burst with love for Victor at that moment. Yes. Yes!
Boris' jaw dropped. He looked from Victor to me and back again. "Did you just—? Did you—?" As far as Boris knew, I had been no more than ten meters away from him for the past hour—he knew I had not made any calls or sent any messages. That Victor should have called him 'Father' had to seem like nothing less than a spontaneous miracle.
It's good to get things that you want. It's better still if you are good enough, and wise enough, to want the things that you need…
Boris had to employ his handkerchief again, making it seem as though he were just wiping his face. "Well!" he said. "Well! Thank you—son. Now, Daughter, as for your present—they're right here." He reached back and patted the neck of the friendly mare, his face beaming with pride.
Oh, no. He was making me a present of a horse—of more than one horse.
He continued. "She was the best I bred, until her little one was born— Gentle as a lamb, and smart as a dog." He pointed to her foal. "He's going to be a grand one, he is. A champion. And she's taken to you already."
"That is a princely gift indeed." commented Victor.
I was nervous around horses. I didn't really like them—but Boris was offering me the very best of everything he had, and I knew it. I would love them. I would learn to love them. "Oh, Boris—Thank you. Thank you so much—She's beautiful, and he's such a funny little darling, right now. I know what they mean to you—so I know what an honor you do me."
"That's all right." He said, waving off my thanks. "There's no one I would rather see have them. Tomorrow, they'll be down at the castle stable—along with all their tack and trappings."
"Thank you, Boris—thank you for everything."
"You're welcome." he said. "Any time you want to come on out here, you can. It's a peaceful place…"
We took a moment to listen to the wind.
Victor broke the silence to say, "I am afraid that I, at least, must return to the castle."
"Me, too. My mother and Bisitra are going to be at the castle in half an hour for dress fittings. I really ought to be there—since it's my dress that's to be fitted." I added my part.
"Then let's go home." Boris concluded.
And so we did.