The Mountain

Tamara opened the box, and a million expressions crossed her face in a second. She looked up at me with wonder in her eyes. I decided it was best to go formal and dropped to one knee. Milena thought it a game and gave me a garbled laugh.

"Marry me?" I asked as well as I could in Armenian. I would have gladly died for the smile that appeared on Tamara's face. I knew her answer before she spoke.

"Yes," Tamara said in heavily accented English. She dropped down to my level, Milena getting more excited, and kissed me like it was our last day on earth. It was the same kiss that I found in the blizzard minus the desperation. This kiss had a future.

Milena started kicking and flailing her arms, thinking we were playing peek-a-boo. Tamara broke the kiss with a laugh, leaned down farther to kiss her daughter and reassure her she wasn't forgotten. We rose, and I placed the ring on her finger. It was a little loose and would need to be resized. Milena was impressed by the shiny bobble and insisted on playing with Tamara's finger. It kept Milena busy for a few more moments as we shared another kiss.

I had done it. A wife and a daughter in one day. Tamara wrapped her arm into mine and leaned against my shoulder as we walked. Like me, she wanted to be as close as possible.

We ate a quick dinner in the hotel restaurant. We would have lingered, but Milena was starting to get fussy. I guess all the sightseeing had worn her out and she was done with new stimulation. I could see that Tamara was worried I might change my mind now that I was seeing the crabby side of my baby girl. I just smiled and did my best to keep Milena entertained. The waiter did wonders making sure the food was delivered quickly. I over tipped for his attentions.

Once we were back in the room, Tamara was trying to sooth Melina, who seemed unhappy with everything. I could see that she was over tired and just needed to close her eyes. Tamara was more concerned with my reaction to Melina's fussiness and was trying desperately to get her to settle down. It was a chain reaction; upset daughter triggering upset mother which, in turn, further upset daughter. I remembered what my mother told me once, about when I was but a babe and the one thing that would quiet me down.

I filled the tub with about two inches of warm water. I took Milena from her reluctant mother, stripped her down, and sat her in the tub. The crying sputtered out as the warm water caressed her legs. She stared at it as I held her upright. She leaned down forcibly and began to splash, not happy, but no longer crying. Curiosity overwhelming her discomfort.

I felt a breath in my ear and magic words mixed with love. I turned and found my future wife's lips. They were filled with emotion, so much love as she cradled my head in her hands. Milena yelled out and splashed, causing water to find her face. She sputtered in surprise as Tamara quickly grabbed a towel and lovingly dried her face. Milena shook off the towel and went back to the water. Tamara sat down next to me. We spent the next half hour watching Milena tire herself out. When her head started drooping, and the eyelids refused to remain open, we dried her off, dressed her, and laid her in her bed. Daughters were crabby. They made up for it by being so damned cute.

Tamara attacked me on the bed. I surrendered willingly.

++++++++++++++++++++++

We awoke before Melina. I checked her breathing, as I had her mother so many months ago, and found it steady and without stress. I guess we wore her out. I crawled back into bed and just held Tamara. She snuggled into me, and I had a flashback to the hovel, trying to stay warm. This time, I didn't apologize when I tucked my hand under her breast. Milena only let us enjoy each other for about ten minutes. It was enough though I could have stayed that way for few more hours.

Tamara called her mother as she fed Melina. There was a long discussion with a lot of smiling. I could pick out pieces as she told her mother about the proposal. I wondered if I didn't plan it enough, maybe making a more romantic gesture. I let the idea fade away. Too much had happened to stall for a better time. Milena needed a father, and I needed the both of them.

"Mother make lunch," Tamara told me once she hung up. I smiled, nodded, and added a kiss, so she knew it was fine. She added something about outside, and I think park. I guessed it was going to be a picnic. Milena would like that, so it was good for me. I sat down and watched my piggy daughter monopolize my fiancée.

My mother hadn't tried to call me again in over twenty-four hours. I checked my phone to verify it and wondered if it was time to forgive her. It was her memories I accessed to quiet Milena the night before. I knew I couldn't be angry with her forever. She had a right to know about the engagement. I did some quick math and knew it was the middle of the night in Chicago. I decided I would call her that evening and straighten everything out.

We spent the morning in the hotel pool. It was too early for the tourists, so we had the whole thing to ourselves. Milena thought it was the greatest thing in the world. She struggled to break loose from my arms and fully enjoy the water on her own. I found that dipping her down to her neck and bouncing her back up made her ecstatically happy. So we traveled around the shallow end, bouncing up and down, splashing, and chasing mommy around. I now understood how children could make people do stupid things. Only Tamara, myself and Milena understood our game. The only reward was Melina's smile, which was payment enough.

We were well pruned by the time we left the pool. Milena put up a small fuss when we lifted her and her waterlogged diaper out of the pool. Tamara took her in her arms and cooed sweet things that seemed to satisfy her. I had a future olympic swimmer on my hands.

This time, when I entered the Petrosian household, I was greeted warmly by my future brothers-in-law. The two youngest examined Tamara's ring and kissed her cheek and shook my hand. I feigned blocking a punch and we shared a small laugh. Armen wasn't present and I was surprised not to see Yana until I saw her emerge smiling from the kitchen, dressed in an apron that was covered in flour. I was shocked when I saw who followed her out.

My mother, in an equally dusted apron, came out of the kitchen. Her hair not in its usually perfect place. Her smile defied the rest of her appearance. "Mom," I stuttered. She smiled at me then went straight to Tamara.

"I am sorry," my mother said in Armenian as poor a mine. She repeated it, and Tamara nodded, looking at me in shock. My mother hugged Tamara and began to cry. Then Tamara cried and hugged her back. I could do nothing, my arms full of Melina. Tamara sputtered out her forgiveness that needed little translation and wiped her eyes.

My mother turned to me with tears on her cheeks, "may I hold my granddaughter?" I walked over and placed Milena in her arms. Melina, doing her part, smiled at the attention. My mother was immediately in love. "I am so sorry little one. I'm a stupid woman thinking I know best," she said to Milena, but I knew it was meant for me. Milena thought she was playing and gave her a toothless laugh. Tamara smiled at me and nodded. I had been instructed to forgive. Tamara had forgiven me, so I had no choice but to comply.

"She likes you," I said quietly to my mom.

"She does, doesn't she," my mother said smiling, "does her daddy like me?"

"I love you, mom, you know that," I forgave, "I was just angry."

"You had every right, and I'll try not give you reason to be angry again," my mother said, her eyes never moving from Melina's. My daughter seemed enchanted with my mother. Maybe it was her earrings, large silver disks waving below her lobes.

"She is so beautiful," my mother said to Tamara. I interpreted as best I could. Tamara smiled again and directed my mother to the couch. They sat down together, ignoring me while they played with Melina. Milena was doing her part to duplicate smiles and grabbing fingers.

"Mother happy now?" Yana asked me quietly. I nodded. "Son happy?"

"Yes," I answered in Armenian, "very happy." Yana gave my arm a squeeze and headed back into the kitchen.

"You came here alone?" I asked my mother when I realized it.

"Your father and Ruben are with...Armen," my mother said as she played with Melina's feet. I think she was counting toes. I knelt down in front of the three and took Tamara's ring hand in mine and showed my mother.

"We're engaged," I announced carefully. I wasn't sure what I expected since she took my coming to Armenia pretty hard. She raised her eyes from Milena and smiled at Tamara.

"I am so happy for you two," she said. I translated it to "she happy." The smile didn't need translation. It was honest and held no reservations. My mother had finally surrendered to my reality. Milena made it easier for her. Tamara and my mother hugged again which, I have to say, made me feel good.

Armen, my father, and Ruben entered a moment later. I went to greet my father, but my mother short-circuited the reunion.

"Frank, come see our granddaughter," my mother called, waving my father over. My dad smiled at me, happy to see his wife smiling again. Milena got more attention as my mother explained everything that unfolded. Tamara got more hugs, and I shook hands with Ruben.

"Armen says he knocked you around a bit," Ruben chuckled.

"Him and his two brothers," I said, "it's your fault we couldn't understand each other. You're a lousy teacher."

"Maybe I had a lousy student," Ruben hit back. I laughed knowing he could be right. I never did well in Spanish when I was in high school. "She really is a beautiful woman," Ruben added, indicating Tamara.

"She is that," I agreed, "lucky for Melina, she got more of Tamara's genes than mine."

"She has the Bennett nose," my mother announced, overhearing my conversation. Unconsciously, I reached up and felt my nose, still a bit sore from the fight. Milena had a little button nose, not a big honker like mine.

"She's pretty like her mother, " my father diplomatically slowed my mother's desire to mentally claim ownership.

"Yes, she certainly is," my mother agreed. Ruben translated. Tamara was a lot cuter blushing. My mother moved Milena to Tamara's lap and rose. "I promised to help with the cooking," she said, before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "They're both lovely," she whispered.

"Help cook," I told Tamara, who was confused. Ruben repeated my words in the correct Armenian phrasing. I rolled my eyes since Tamara had already understood. Tamara patted the cushion next to her, and my father sat down. He took Milena in his lap and instantly became a babbling fool, keeping the smiling Milena enthralled.

I sat down and found out what had transpired to bring my parents to Armenia. As I suspected, my mother was the driving factor. Ruben was brought along since he was the only Armenian speaker they knew, and they wanted to limit any issues they might encounter. Smart to avoid the fist fights.

As soon as my mother had seen the picture of Milena, she knew she had made some terrible mistakes. My father set the itinerary and hired Ruben. They had been with Yana for a few hours before we arrived. We weren't warned because my mother feared I might stay away. I had been angry, but not that angry. The fact that they flew out first chance showed their commitment to me and my new family. I was a lot happier with my parents at that moment. Tamara seemed just as happy that all was going well.

They had already heard about the engagement from Yana. My father had been talking to the male head of the family, Armen, about the impending marriage. Essentially wishing to contribute financially to the wedding. They were moving faster than I was now. I sensed that I may have overstepped some Armenian custom, not conversing with Armen before asking Tamara to marry me, not that I would have accepted any disapproval either way.

Ruben assured me that the birth of Milena and Tamara's love overrode any concerns they had about me. I had already greatly overstepped on the mountain. The rest was me making things right in their eyes. According to Ruben, I had done well.

I walked into the kitchen and saw something amazing. Yana and my mother hard at work. Yana, obviously in charge, and my mother happily following charade like instructions. It was some bonding thing between the two. I leaned against the doorframe and watched them work.

"What's for lunch?" I asked my mother. She looked up, her hands coated with some brown flour.

"I have no idea," she answered smiling, "it smells delicious, but I'm not sure what everything is called." she tilted her head toward Yana, "she sure is a good cook." Yana looked over at me.

"Good Chef," I translated pointing at her, not knowing if there was a word for cook or if the context was necessary. Yana smiled and rattled off something about good help.

"I think you're a good helper," I translated again.

"It's kind of fun," my mother added, "I'm dying to taste the results." She paused for a moment, "you really don't need language, you and Tamara?"

"Nope," I said smiling, "we figure out the important stuff and ignore the little things. It's more honest that way. I suspect we'll have our first fight once we learn to talk." My mother laughed, and Yana just shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm sorry I tried to keep you two apart," my mother apologized, "I should have just trusted your heart."

"I know mom," I said quietly, "I'm sorry for hanging up on you."

"I deserved it," she said, nodding her head, "though not answering my other calls was just rude." She was smiling so I laughed. It was the right reaction. She meant it was rude, but she understood. I wouldn't dare ignore the next call. I left them there before they drafted me to help.

++++++++++++++++++++++

The weather was perfect. Summer was breathing its last gasp adding a subtle warmth to the impending fall weather. The trees were just beginning to change to their autumn dress, but they still held tight to their leaves. The men acted as mules carrying down the bags and baskets of food and implements to the park. My mother walked with Tamara, insisting on carrying Milena. Tamara smiled at me every time she caught my eye. There was a new happiness there, something had shifted now that my parents were on board.

We pulled two picnic tables together and covered them with a white sheet that Yana had brought. Davit tacked the cover to the table in a practiced maneuver that indicated the family picnicked often. We were joined shortly by an older couple, Raphael and Elina. Raphael was Tamara's uncle. They brought Tamara's Grandmother with them. She was introduced as 'Meemaw' and obviously held in high regard. For a woman who could barely walk, her mind seemed very alert as she watched me like a hawk. Her gray hair was pulled tight to her head and secured in a single ponytail. It gave her an old strict schoolmarm look. Every time I caught her looking at me, I smiled. She would match my smile with her own, though I wasn't sure if it was forced like mine.

Tamara whispered something to Viktoria who leaned over and translated to me. It seems Meemaw was suspicious of my intentions with her granddaughter. I wasn't sure I could do anything about it. Time would eventually prove me honorable.

The food was excellent. Everyone spent considerable amount of time thanking Yana and my mother for the feast. Armen broke out a bottle of red wine and poured everyone a small dixie cup. Not exactly the Ritz, but it was appropriate for the surroundings. He then made a quick speech that Ruben translated for the Armenian impaired.

"Soon I will gain another brother," Armen said, "a man who conquered a mountain to steal my sister's heart." I rolled my eyes at his embellishment, "Though he has a weak nose," his brothers started laughing and Tamara gave Armen a pair of dagger eyes, "he stood his ground and refused to yield. Strength to protect my sister and my precious niece. I am proud to announce Jonathan's engagement to my sister, Tamara." There was a cheer and everyone lifted their dixie cup and drank, Meemaw included. Yana scolded Armen with a smile. I think she would have preferred something more formal.

I had to spend some time explaining the weak nose reference to my parents. They were shocked at first, but let it go when I explained the language barrier that created it. The rest of the party went well until Garik got into an argument with a family sitting at another table about fifty feet away. I had no idea what started it, but when I saw Armen and Davit move, I followed.

Garik was standing his ground, arguing with another man about his age. The man's male family members had gathered around, obviously ready to take the argument to the next level. I recognized some of the words. It was a heated discussion over a girl named Angelina. Armen and Davit moved to the side of Garik, I joined Garik to the right. The intensity grew and we were outnumbered five to four. For some stupid reason, I thought we could take them if it came to that. I felt very Armenian at the moment.

I set my fighting stance when I saw one the men move forward in obvious aggression. I was about to find out how weak my nose really was. Strangely, I had little fear knowing I had the Petrosian's next to me. This is what it is like to have brothers.

A voice in calm Armenian invaded the argument from off to the side. An elderly man that looked familiar stepped forward, his voice steady yet commanding. For some reason, the argument ceased as he spoke. He pointed at me, mentioning something about a mountain. The other family looked at me with wide eyes. There was some whispered discussion, and I could see their stances pull back from the brink. The man spoke again, pointing at Garik and the other instigator. I heard him mention Angelina and point back to me. I really wanted to know what I was missing.

I watched as the old man diffused the argument and had Garik and his rival shake hands. I was amazed at how easily he accomplished it. He smiled at me when it was over and held out his hand.

"Mikhail Popov, Mr. Bennett," the man said in English. His accent was Slovic, but elegant. He spoke English very well. His face was fatherly in the warm way. His eyes had me trusting him almost immediately. I took his hand in mine.

"Jonathan, please," I responded as I shook his hand, "what did you say to them?"

"I told them that you're the mountain man," Mikhail chuckled, "you survived a blizzard and jumped off a cliff to save your girl. I asked them if they were ready to go that far."

"I kind of fell off the cliff."

"Negotiations are about subtlety," Mikhail said, "intent is much more important than reality. Tell me you wouldn't have jumped for her." Of course, I would have.

"Who are you?"

"I was on the plane," Mikhail said, "I brought the helicopter back."

"Oh!" I said smiling and shaking his hand harder, "I think we owe you our lives. It's a small world to find you here."

"Actually, I was looking for you," Mikhail said sadly, "You weren't conscious when we first met. I was hoping you knew of my brother." My thoughts went back to the crash. I lost my smile when I remembered dragging the man, half his face missing, under a tree and burying him in pine needles. It suddenly felt wrong, like I hadn't done enough. "I was hoping he had survived as I had. We could find no trace but you and Tamara in the snow."

"I'm so sorry," I said softly, "He died in the crash. I buried him under a tree. My god, I forgot all about him. I was so wrapped up in finding Tamara. I should have tried to contact you." Mikhail let go of my hand and placed it on my shoulder.