When the aircraft had taxied to the terminal, she'd gotten just the briefest moment to reply to the goodbye that the dancer offered as she was escorted off the plane by the man. He hadn't so much as looked at Oksana.
She was detained for a very brief interview. It had almost been funny. After a few questions, she'd said that she intended to set up a gardening and landscaping business, and offered to show the agent the books which she had in her luggage pertaining to the subject as it applied to where she was going and what would -- and more to the point -- what wouldn't grow there. "But I am certain that you have similar plants here to what I am used to working with," she said, "different species, no doubt, but, similar climate, and everything."
The agent looked bored and asked her where her tools and implements were, if she was going to be gardening. Oksana looked a little shocked. "I could not bring them as I traveled by plane. Do you mean that no one sells such things here? I cannot be the only gardener in this large country -- at least I hope not."
She was told that she could go after showing him that she had the wherewithal to make a proper start at a company. As she walked out, she heard the agent behind her, "Ms. Zaratskaia, are you sure that you're not forgetting anything?"
When she turned around, he was right there, less than a foot away from her, obviously expecting her to jump out of her skin.
"No," she replied with a smile, I think not."
He smiled pleasantly, "Welcome to Canada."
"Thank you," she smiled back just as pleasantly.
As she walked in the terminal, she saw a man in a black chauffer's uniform holding a piece of white cardboard with her surname on it. She palmed her ring and walked over to him, reaching to shake his hand. He saw the mark, but she saw no recognition in his face. "I'm here to drive you to Edgar, Ontario." He consulted a piece of paper, "You're Ox -"
She stared as he obviously struggled with her name. What came out of him almost made her laugh. She'd never known that a name such as hers could possibly be so tortured as it was when he'd tried to say it. She slipped her ring back on, remembering that her instructions had only applied until she was here.
"Yes," she said with a small laugh, "that is me, at least I think it is. My name is Oksana Zaratskaia."
"Bingo!" the man smiled, "I'm very sorry. I'm terrible with names."
They spoke little on the way and Oksana looked out at the scenery with interest. She was amazed at the size of the limousine and then saw by reading the emblems that it was a Cadillac. Even she had heard of the name. At length, she asked about the town, since she was on her way to visit a friend there.
"It's a nice little place," the chauffer remarked, "what we call a bedroom community here. Many of the people who live there work in other cities and towns, but like to live in a country setting. I'd say that your friend there must be pretty well off, if they live there."
"Yes," she nodded, "I believe that he is."
Eventually she found herself in front of an older home, large and rambling. The front door opened, and she was looking at the man with the long pony tail and his wide smile. "So you made it, Oksana."
She put down her bag and hugged him a little carefully while still trying to look as though they were old friends. "It's so good to see you again, but I have many questions." She'd whispered it in Russian, not knowing about the driver.
The smile didn't waver, but he nodded as he paid the driver, and then turned when they were alone, "I have many answers for you. Nice ones too, I hope very much." He picked up her suitcases, leaving her only her carry-on. As they walked to the door, he smiled.
"The answer to the first one, I think, is that you need have no fear. You are as free here as those birds over there in the trees. The answer to the second one is that the people here know me as Gene. Of course, to you it is Yevgeny," he said with as much of a smiling bow as he could manage while still holding her luggage.
"What secret name do I have here, then, if they can make 'Gene' out of 'Yevgeny'?"
He grinned, "It is not such a long reach, if you think that 'Yevgeny' is 'Eugene' in English. So they shorten it and I am quite pleased that they do. You? You have a wonderful, beautiful name here. Would you like to know what it is?"
"Very much," she chuckled.
He put the bags down inside the door and leaned in to whisper. "Oksana." And then he kissed her cheek.
She looked at his smile as he said, "Wonderful, isn't it?"