Reminding myself of this fact, I clear the pie away and retreat to the counter, uncertain what to say. Petr's father leaves soon after with a wave at me. I watch him go, envious of Petr's relationship with his father.

Petr drapes a scarf around his neck, preparing to leave.

I hesitate, my insides twisting at the thought of opening up to him, even if it's in Todd's best interest. I'm starting to believe I can trust Petr as far as I'm willing to.

I approach his table. "Petr, can I ask you something?" I start uncertainly. My hands are in my apron, clenched and twisting together, out of his sight.

"Of course." He waves at the seat across from him.

Perching on the edge of the bench, ready to flee, I hesitate under his direct gaze. He's curious, his blue eyes scouring my features. "Everything okay?" he asks.

"Yes. Well, no. I kind of have an issue with Todd. With your involvement with teens and ... everything else, I wanted to ask your advice." The words come out as a breathless rush. He can't possibly know how much courage this is taking, that it's a struggle to draw a full breath right now. I'm leaving my comfort zone. It's for a good cause and stressful as hell. "Sorry," I mutter, embarrassed. Having a conversation shouldn't throw me into a near-panic attack.

"No rush. I've been waiting for you to talk to me for two weeks." He smiles warmly. "I'm not about to go anywhere now."

I clear my throat. I dismiss the words I have no idea how to handle. "Todd brought home a gun and hid it in his room. I found it by accident. It was in his Secrets Box which is ... never mind. I wasn't supposed to look and I did and I saw the gun and now, I don't know what to do. I'm afraid to confront him, because I don't want him to hate me but ..."

"It's a serious issue," he finishes.

I nod and release a sigh. Petr isn't freaking out. It's a good thing. "I hid it in my room. I don't even know how he got a hold of it. The kid has no money of his own and he's never out of my sight, except at school."

Petr is listening intently. He's hard to read right now, and I'm praying he's not judging me for being a bad role model or something for Todd.

I wait. He appears to be choosing his response carefully or maybe thinking about what to do.

"I didn't know who else to talk to," I add, a little worried by his silence.

"I'm glad you think enough of me to talk about it," he starts with a faint smile. "I think karate is the first step. I also think you need to talk to him about what's bothering him. I don't think his actions can be viewed in isolation. Everything is connected to a central source, an issue that's disturbing him in a way he doesn't know how to handle. From what I've seen, when kids act out, it's because they really don't know the right way to deal with something."

"I know he doesn't," I whisper.

"Then you need to deal with the source."

I gaze at him, heart aching for Todd's ruined life. "I can't, Petr."

"Okay, Claudia." He doesn't seem surprised or insist I tell him what's wrong, for which I'm grateful. "It's much harder to curb or channel the symptoms and ignore the problem. We'll give karate a go and, with your permission, I'll drag him to a couple other activities. When in doubt, wear him out and give him something else to occupy his mind."

"You don't have to take this on yourself, Petr," I say with more confidence. "If you want to recommend some things, I'll make sure he goes."

"I have sensed, and this may be wrong" he leans forward with a gentle smile "that you're both running from something. You don't have to tell me what or why or anything of the sort, but I recognize suffering when I see it. Mikael's death taught me this, and I am sensitive to the pain of others. Whatever it is, this source problem, if you don't want to entrust me with it, then at least let me help you limit it from affecting Todd."

Speechless and horrified once more Petr can see what I want to keep hidden, I'm tempted to leave right then and there, grab Todd and move on to the next town.

But for the first time in four years, Todd is happy, and someone is offering to help us without prying too deeply into what we're running from. My emotions are screaming while the logical side of me knows Todd deserves this chance. I definitely need the assistance in preventing him from doing something to ruin his life.

I can't keep running, if I want him to be stable and happy. For now, it's an option to stay put, to give Todd a chance.

"Okay." The hoarse word is barely audible. "Okay."

It's all I can manage. Without another word, I stand and hurry to the employee section of the kitchen. I'm overwhelmed, scared ... I can't even identify all the feelings pummeling my brain. They bring tears to my eyes, though, and I take several deep breaths to calm myself.

I survived the discussion and came out with a plan to help Todd. It was, in every way, a success. My focus needs to be there instead of on the fear I experience any time I consider trusting someone. I have to be brave for Todd. If anyone can help him, Petr can.

Chapter Eleven: Petr.

It's hard for me to be triumphant about Claudia's thaw. It took her too much effort for me to feel victory, and I'm even more certain now she's running from something really bad. She's scared, and I don't like it one bit.

She doesn't re-emerge from the kitchen before I leave. I head home and grab the community center schedule to figure out what might work to keep Todd busy for most evenings in the week.

Claudia is right to be worried. Todd's questions when we first met, coupled with the fact he went so far as to buy a gun, are definite red flags. He's moved from emotional angst to action and is willing to confront whatever issue it is without understanding the potential consequences of any actions he chooses to take. If he finds out she took his gun, there's nothing to prevent him from buying or borrowing another.

My first thought that he needs to understand what it really means to hurt or kill someone else is one that's hard to address head on without tipping him off that we know about the gun. I sit for a moment in deep thought, disturbed by whatever mess they're involved in but helpless to do more than she'll let me.

I wish Claudia would talk to me. It's frustrating to work in the dark like this and ... I like her a little too much not to want to wrap my arms around her and Todd both and protect them.

The community center has a plethora of activities for the local kids. My gaze slides to my iPad, and I flip through my schedule as well. I've got ten class visits throughout the county before Christmas, along with a trip to the local military base, mandatory military training and ...

A visit to the local vet's hospital to talk to those injured in battle. I go monthly, partially out of a sense of duty to my fellow service members but also to gather the names of new amputees who might be good candidates for the private medical center housing the experimental program where my bionic leg was developed. I also visit one of the guys who was on my team the night Mikael died.

It's a perfect opportunity to show Todd the grittier side of war and what a bullet can do to someone. I don't know if it'll help, but it can't hurt for him to know in advance how much damage a weapon in the wrong hands can inflict.

If only I had Claudia's number to call and let her know what I'm thinking.

It takes me all of ten seconds to debate the pros and cons of showing up twice to see her in one day and decide it really doesn't matter. If she has a problem with it, or if she's scared off by it, I'll remind her this is about Todd.

So I create a proposed schedule for Todd and return to the diner for the second time around eleven. The crowds of morning shoppers have thinned out, and I go to the breakfast bar instead of my regular booth.

Claudia glances at me curiously when I enter. She seems to have recovered from the trauma of talking to me earlier and I wait for her to come by.

"You can't want more pie," she says and pauses on the opposite side of the counter from me.

"Baba wants to know what kind of wedding cake you want," I joke with a smile.

She laughs and flushes. "I love your father, Petr."

"He's a good guy," I agree. "Expect him to be back, by the way."

"Not a problem." She's relaxed and her eyes shine. "Coffee?"

"Not this time." I unfold the piece of paper I printed with a schedule for Todd. I'm organized to the point of anal at times, thanks to the military, and I've planned out an entire month worth of activities, down to the times, locations and mode of transportation. I hand it to her.

"What is it?" she asks, accepting it. She reads through it. "You did this for Todd?" She looks up at me, surprised.

"Did I miss anything?"

"No." Her brow furrows in puzzlement. "I ... wow. I'm not sure what to say." Her focus returns to the paper, and she studies the entries stretching from the end of November through the New Year. "This is amazing."

"Just say it works for you and Todd, and I'll make it happen."

"This is too much, Petr. I can't ... I won't let us take up the time you should be spending helping everyone else in town," she says without taking her eyes off the paper.

"It's my pleasure, Claudia."

She meets my gaze. I can almost see her internal struggle. It doesn't take a genius to guess she's not used to entrusting her brother's welfare or interests to anyone else. The two of them are almost inseparable, and their affection for one another is irrefutable.

I also know the decision has to be hers. Pressuring her will drive her away.

"You're sure?" she asks again after a brief hesitation.

"Positive," I reply. "I would've called to tell you but I don't have your number. Though, in truth, my father might have it by now. He was KGB. Don't let him weird you out. Old habits die hard."

A smile pulls up one side of her full lips. "Okay, Petr." She takes a deep breath, and I sense again this is difficult for her.

"You, ah, ever have a day off?" I ask without thinking.

She stares at me, red in her cheeks.

"Just curious," I add. My heart quickens the way it does after a cardio workout. The small voice telling I'm not a whole man anymore, and not good enough for someone like Claudia, is warning me I never should've asked. I imagine crushing it once more. Claudia is too compelling for me to let the voice of insecurity win.

"Sundays."

Wow. She answered. "I thought it might be nice if I made you a cup of coffee for once," I say.

"Will it be hot?" she asks, a little uncertainly.

I chuckle. "Yeah. Unless you like cold coffee."

She ducks her head but not before I see the smile. "Okay, Petr. We can have coffee." As with the decision about Todd, I sense the energy she puts into the response and that she's at her limit.

"You can bring Todd, too. We'll do brunch at my place. Baba will be happy to see you, I'm sure, and there's more than enough to do at the house to keep Todd busy."

"He won't go anywhere without Maya," she warns me, enough recovered to look me in the eye again.

"Bring her, too."

"To your castle?" Her face scrunches at the words. "You really live in a castle?"

"Yeah. Don't hold it against me." I laugh, thoughts on Brianna.

"Why would I?"

"Just a ... stupid joke. I dated a girl once who resented the fact I was wealthy."

"First you date women who can't accept your leg and now someone who doesn't like who you are," she says and then clears her throat. "You don't have very good sense in women, Petr."

She says it in the chiding tone I've heard her use with Todd. "Yeah, you're right." I smile.

"That includes me."

"Nothing you say will convince me of that."

The shadow is back in her gaze. Before she gets cold feet, I stand up to go.

"Let me know Sunday if you want any changes to the schedule." I motion to the paper in her hands. "I won't be in tomorrow. I have to go to Boston for the day."

"Thank you, Petr."

"See you at ten on Sunday."

I leave, my insides thrumming with warmth and excitement. I haven't been this excited about a date even if it's with a bunch of other people present since I was a teen.

Chapter Twelve: Claudia.

Sunday at around ten in the morning, Todd, Maya and I pile out of a taxi in front of the mansion larger and more imposing than it appears from the road. New snow coats the manicured lawn and eaves of the great house, though the driveway and courtyard out front are cleared.

The windows of the castle facing the road are decorated in green wreaths with red bows while the entryway is framed by fresh smelling pine garlands. I shiver inside my coat, not accustomed to cold weather and honestly not caring for it much at all. Beneath the knee length, wool jacket I splurged on from the Goodwill, I'm wearing leggings and a sweater with a belt and snow boots.

It's not like me to put this much care into what I'm wearing, but I changed four times before we left this morning. Standing in front of the massive house, I'm feeling underdressed and suspecting none of my clothes remotely resemble what multimillionaires wear.

The door opens as we approach. Petr grins. He's wearing a sweater and khakis. His right foot is bare and the left foot of his prosthetic covered with a sock. "Come in!" he greets us.

The inside is cozier than I expect, the interior consisting of dark woods and stone complemented by wrought iron accents. The open foyer with its sky-high ceiling is flanked on either side by staircases that disappear into the interior of the house.

It smells festive of cinnamon and cookies and is decorated cheerfully. At the center of the foyer is a towering Christmas tree decked out in red, gold and silver. Pine garlands interwoven with red ribbons wind among the bannisters of the stairwells, and wintery decorations dot every flat surface.

"I'll take your coats," Petr offers. He's standing beside a coatroom the size of my bedroom.

Realizing all of us are staring in awe at the breathtaking foyer, I start forward and hand him my jacket. Todd and Maya follow. Petr puts everything away and leads us past the Christmas tree into the depths of the house. There are decorations everywhere, and the savory scent of home cooking permeates every inch of the mansion.

"Your house is amazing," I manage to speak finally.

"Smells like cookies," Todd adds.

"Thanks." Petr glances at me. "Hope you all came hungry. When I told our cook we had company, she went overboard."

"You have your own cook and come to the diner every day," I murmur, not sure why it surprises me to know they employ a chef.