sleepy.”
“So?” Meaghan asked.
Russ sighed. Meaghan never let stuff like this go and they both knew it. “Fine, his name hasn’t always been John Smith.”
“Where are they from?”
Russ coughed like he was choking on something. “Where do you think they’re from?”
“Bosnia. Croatia. Kosovo. Somewhere like that.”
“Yeah, somewhere like that.” Russ turned to the fridge. “You want lunch?”
“Yes. And don’t change the subject. I have to work with Jamie. And you and Matthew know him like family. It would be nice to be let in on his history, even a little.”
Russ started assembling two sandwiches. “Put the kettle on, would you? I need a cup of tea.”
Meaghan got up, and with far more stomping, banging, and clanking than necessary, filled the kettle, slammed it down on the stove, and turned on the burner. At least now maybe she was going to get some answers.
She sat back down at the table. “So, what’s the story on those two? They’re refugees, right?”
“Did Jamie tell you that?”
“No, I figured it out on my own. I’m right though, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, you are.” Russ brought the sandwiches over. “Eat. I’ll take care of the kettle.”
Meaghan examined the sandwich. Turkey, it looked like, with red leaf lettuce and mayonnaise. “Did you make this mayo from scratch or scoop it out of a plastic jar like a normal person?”
“It’s criminal that people eat that processed crap when it’s so easy to make.” The kettle whistled and Russ filled two mugs with hot water and tea bags. He carried the mugs over and sat down. “Let it steep a minute,” Russ said. “Want some honey?”
When Russ said “honey” she felt her face grow hot. “Yes. Then stop fussing and talk to me.”
Russ fetched a jar of honey and two teaspoons. “Fine,” he said, sitting back down. “John and Jamie are refugees from . . . Bosnia.” He seemed to be tasting the word, trying it out to see how it sounded. “Somewhere like that.” He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed for moment. “Look, Meg, the thing you got to know is they left a damn horror movie behind them. Jamie was only a kid and he watched his mother killed right in front of him. John was a prisoner and they tortured him for days. Jamie had to watch that too. It was so bad. You can’t imagine how bad.”
Meaghan felt her impatience and indignation evaporate. She’d been so obsessed with getting the details that she’d never considered how awful they might be.
“God,” she said. “Poor Jamie.” This was so much worse than she’d imagined. “He seems so normal. Happy. I never would have thought . . .” She trailed off. Twelve years old and watching that happen to his parents. Her respect for him grew. That kind of resilience required phenomenal inner strength.
“Yeah, amazing, isn’t it,” Russ said. “He was like a wild animal when they first got here. It took Matthew six months to get him to even speak. But when he finally did, it was almost flawless English. He told me later he learned it watching TV. The guy is smart as hell. And tough.”
“How did Matthew get involved?”
Russ’s face flushed. “I don’t really know. I wasn’t here for all of it. I got here right after they did.”
“Did he sponsor them or something?”
“Um.” Russ set his sandwich down. “Not exactly. They kind of came here outside official channels.”
Meaghan raised an eyebrow. “John’s not a war criminal, is he?”
Russ shook his head. “No, no. Well, I guess it depends which side you were on. There was a fight for control and John lost. I don’t know all the details. From what I do know, the other guy was the war criminal. Complete bastard.”
“And he took his revenge,” Meaghan said.
“Yeah. He did.” Russ shoved his plate away, his sandwich half eaten. He opened the honey jar and stirred a spoonful into his tea cup. “This stuff is so damn good. You taste it?”
“I did,” Meaghan said, trying
“So?” Meaghan asked.
Russ sighed. Meaghan never let stuff like this go and they both knew it. “Fine, his name hasn’t always been John Smith.”
“Where are they from?”
Russ coughed like he was choking on something. “Where do you think they’re from?”
“Bosnia. Croatia. Kosovo. Somewhere like that.”
“Yeah, somewhere like that.” Russ turned to the fridge. “You want lunch?”
“Yes. And don’t change the subject. I have to work with Jamie. And you and Matthew know him like family. It would be nice to be let in on his history, even a little.”
Russ started assembling two sandwiches. “Put the kettle on, would you? I need a cup of tea.”
Meaghan got up, and with far more stomping, banging, and clanking than necessary, filled the kettle, slammed it down on the stove, and turned on the burner. At least now maybe she was going to get some answers.
She sat back down at the table. “So, what’s the story on those two? They’re refugees, right?”
“Did Jamie tell you that?”
“No, I figured it out on my own. I’m right though, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, you are.” Russ brought the sandwiches over. “Eat. I’ll take care of the kettle.”
Meaghan examined the sandwich. Turkey, it looked like, with red leaf lettuce and mayonnaise. “Did you make this mayo from scratch or scoop it out of a plastic jar like a normal person?”
“It’s criminal that people eat that processed crap when it’s so easy to make.” The kettle whistled and Russ filled two mugs with hot water and tea bags. He carried the mugs over and sat down. “Let it steep a minute,” Russ said. “Want some honey?”
When Russ said “honey” she felt her face grow hot. “Yes. Then stop fussing and talk to me.”
Russ fetched a jar of honey and two teaspoons. “Fine,” he said, sitting back down. “John and Jamie are refugees from . . . Bosnia.” He seemed to be tasting the word, trying it out to see how it sounded. “Somewhere like that.” He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed for moment. “Look, Meg, the thing you got to know is they left a damn horror movie behind them. Jamie was only a kid and he watched his mother killed right in front of him. John was a prisoner and they tortured him for days. Jamie had to watch that too. It was so bad. You can’t imagine how bad.”
Meaghan felt her impatience and indignation evaporate. She’d been so obsessed with getting the details that she’d never considered how awful they might be.
“God,” she said. “Poor Jamie.” This was so much worse than she’d imagined. “He seems so normal. Happy. I never would have thought . . .” She trailed off. Twelve years old and watching that happen to his parents. Her respect for him grew. That kind of resilience required phenomenal inner strength.
“Yeah, amazing, isn’t it,” Russ said. “He was like a wild animal when they first got here. It took Matthew six months to get him to even speak. But when he finally did, it was almost flawless English. He told me later he learned it watching TV. The guy is smart as hell. And tough.”
“How did Matthew get involved?”
Russ’s face flushed. “I don’t really know. I wasn’t here for all of it. I got here right after they did.”
“Did he sponsor them or something?”
“Um.” Russ set his sandwich down. “Not exactly. They kind of came here outside official channels.”
Meaghan raised an eyebrow. “John’s not a war criminal, is he?”
Russ shook his head. “No, no. Well, I guess it depends which side you were on. There was a fight for control and John lost. I don’t know all the details. From what I do know, the other guy was the war criminal. Complete bastard.”
“And he took his revenge,” Meaghan said.
“Yeah. He did.” Russ shoved his plate away, his sandwich half eaten. He opened the honey jar and stirred a spoonful into his tea cup. “This stuff is so damn good. You taste it?”
“I did,” Meaghan said, trying
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