Chapter 148

Johanna’s mother. Patrick Miller, her father, had died a year and a half ago from a stroke. Elizabeth didn’t want to know anything when we offered her to live in Russia with us, so she wouldn’t be so alone in Minnesota. That the climate, that the language, that the food, that her long-term neighbors, that the house, that the furniture business… it was useless. Elizabeth had as much of a wolf inside as her daughter; she would remain faithful to her land and her husband, stoic as a beacon in the face of the storm, always looking forward to her beloved grandchildren visiting her. She would not leave Minnesota, even in death. It had been difficult for Johanna to accept it.

I don’t know why my mind wandered like that. I couldn’t concentrate.

“Only if the situation becomes critical,” I decided, clearing my throat.

“I think it’s already critical enough, don’t you?” he replied, with a sour grimace.

“Mirko, please.”

“I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean to…”

“Oka