One Good Deed.

Andrew Grey.

Chapter 1.

LUKA K KRACHEK felt the plane touch down and lurch forward slightly as the brakes were applied. He looked around and waited. He had understood very little that had been said to him in the past day, so he simply sat and waited. He'd learned to follow the crowd and do what everyone else did. The inside of the plane was a cacophony of overlapping voices, none of which made any sense at all. The plane moved forward again, engines revving, adding more noise to the interior of the "cigar" he was traveling in. The plane came to a stop, and this time he heard a ding and then the clicks of everyone unfastening their seat belts. He wasn't in a hurry, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he heard another announcement about Milwaukee. At least he was in the right place. felt the plane touch down and lurch forward slightly as the brakes were applied. He looked around and waited. He had understood very little that had been said to him in the past day, so he simply sat and waited. He'd learned to follow the crowd and do what everyone else did. The inside of the plane was a cacophony of overlapping voices, none of which made any sense at all. The plane moved forward again, engines revving, adding more noise to the interior of the "cigar" he was traveling in. The plane came to a stop, and this time he heard a ding and then the clicks of everyone unfastening their seat belts. He wasn't in a hurry, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he heard another announcement about Milwaukee. At least he was in the right place.

The people all seemed to try to stand at once, crowding into the aisles before noisily filing out. He got his bag from the overhead bin and followed everyone out of the plane. Like he had his previous flight, he went with the flow of traffic. With his limited English, he knew to follow the signs to baggage claim. He had the words written on a piece of paper he kept in his wallet, along with other important words from signs he would see. Luka rode down the escalator and followed the other pa.s.sengers to a lower level. He recognized people from his flight, so he followed them and waited at one of the revolving belts. Eventually, bags began to slide onto the belt, and he looked worriedly for his old, battered suitcase. Everything he had in the world, besides the information stored in his head, was in that suitcase. When it appeared, he breathed a sigh of relief and lifted it off the belt once it came around to him. Now he needed to know what to do.

"Luka," he heard and looked around. "Are you Luka Krachek?" a man said in Serbian-the first words in Luka's own language he'd heard since leaving his country.

"Yes," he replied with a smile.

A broad man with the same dark coloring as Luka walked toward him. "Good. I'm Steven Koalic from your cousin's church, and I have a car outside." The man extended his hand, and Luka shook it, never so happy to hear his own language in his life. "Did you have any difficulty?"

"No. Only making sure I was on the right planes, because I understood so little," he answered. Steven offered to carry his suitcase, but Luka declined. He wouldn't let it out of his sight again. The entire trip he'd worried it would get lost and then he would have only the few things he'd managed to pack into the bag he was carrying with him.

"Then you'll be happy to know many of the people in our community speak our language, and there are restaurants that serve food like home," Steven explained as he led Luka to an elevator. They rode up and then crossed a walkway over the street. Things looked the same and yet different. There were cars everywhere, but they were bigger and different from back home. "I know things will be different for you, but when you're with the community, there will be familiar things as well."

Luka nodded and continued looking around as the parking structure shifted from old-looking to gla.s.s-enclosed and brand-new. Lights flashed inside an atrium, and he saw what looked like moving pictures of light, apparently for no other reason than looks. They didn't seem to perform a function, to Luka's practical mind. He didn't ask if there was anything more to it than art, but it seemed like a waste of energy to him.

Steven led him to a small car. He opened a hatch in the back, and Luka placed his bags inside.

"Where are Bella and Josif?" Luka asked. His cousins had arranged for him to immigrate to this country. It had taken a great deal of effort on their parts, and he was anxious to thank them and explain that he would make them proud. Josif was the son of his mother's sister, who had left Serbia when she was a young woman.

"I'm sorry," Steven said softly and then opened the car door. Luka did the same on the other side, and once the doors were closed, he waited until Steven turned to him. "I'm supposed to take you to the church. We were all hoping you would arrive yesterday so you would have more time to prepare." Steven looked out the window, and Luka braced himself for bad news. "Bella and Josif were in an automobile accident. Josif did not survive, and his funeral is today. Bella is still in the hospital, and we don't know if she'll survive. We're hopeful, because her brain seems to be responding, but she hasn't woken up yet." Steven looked at his watch. "We need to go right away. I will take you back to my apartment so you can change, and then we will go to the church."

Near panic gripped Luka. He'd just stepped off a plane in a strange country, and one of the few people he knew was dead, with another in the hospital. He wanted to ask Steven to let him out so he could go home. It didn't matter how bad things were for him there-this was turning out to be worse. Instead, he sat still, staring out at a strange building in a strange land.

"It will be okay," Steven said.

Luka took a deep breath and steeled his resolve, pulling from some inner reserve of strength he wasn't sure would be there. He nodded and kept his expression as stoic as possible. He didn't know Steven at all, and there was no way on G.o.d's green earth he would allow a near perfect stranger, even if he was the only person Luka had met who spoke the same language he did, see him break down. "We go," he said in English. Steven started the engine and pulled out of the parking s.p.a.ce.

They pa.s.sed row after row of cars and finally exited the ma.s.sive structure. Luka watched it all as it pa.s.sed outside the windows, wanting to memorize everything about his new home, while at the same time trying to digest the fact that his cousin was dead and his cousin's wife lay in the hospital. It was almost too much for him to bear. Steven pulled onto a highway, and they sped up. A huge domed church approached on the horizon. Luka wanted to see it, but Steven pulled off and headed away.

"We will go to my apartment first, and you can change. Then I will take you to the church. Many of the people there speak Serbian, so you will feel more comfortable," Steven told him.

Luka nodded. He didn't know what else to do. The farther they got into the city, the more lost he felt. Everything he knew was slipping further and further behind him. What he'd thought was going to be an adventure had quickly turned into a nightmare-a h.e.l.l where he knew no one, didn't speak the language, and everything was changing all around him. Steven eventually pulled the car into a driveway and came to a stop. Luka got out, glancing in all directions at small homes set close together with small lawns, all manicured and mowed.

"Is this your house?" Luka asked. He'd pretty much given up speaking in English. He was really bad at it, and the few times he'd tried, people didn't seem to be able to understand him.

"Yes," Steven told him. "I bought it two years ago."

"You must be doing very well here," Luka observed "I do okay. The house needed a lot of work when I bought it, but I worked on it myself, along with some of the neighbors." He pointed down the street. "Many people here go to the Serbian church."

Luka nodded and followed Steven inside. The home was nicely furnished. It seemed strange because everything looked so large. The television took up most of one wall, and the chairs wouldn't have fit in the doorway of his tiny apartment in Belgrade. Steven led him down the hall to a bedroom and told him he could use it to change. He wondered where he would be staying. His cousins had written and said he was to stay with them until he got settled, but now everything was up in the air. Luka thanked Steven and closed the door. Shrugging off his worries, he set his suitcase on the bed and opened the case. His clothes were packed neatly, and he looked at the one nice suit he'd been able to bring. He had only the shoes he was wearing and he hoped they would be good enough. They had to be-they were all he had.

Slowly, Luka began to undress. He folded the clothes he took off and then carefully unpacked what he had. As he pulled out the suit coat he'd had for years, he carefully unwrapped a framed, faded photograph of his parents. He stared at it for a few minutes and then carefully wrapped it and put it back in his case. He sighed and pulled out the rest of the clothes he was going to wear. He encountered the second and last photograph he'd packed, but didn't look at it. The emotions were too close to the surface and he couldn't think about that.

Luka blinked a few times and then finished dressing before looking at himself in the mirror that hung on the closet door. His hair was longer than he liked, but there had been no time to have it cut. He searched in his flight bag for his kit and combed his hair. He looked scruffy from not shaving, his beard coming in dark and full, like it always did. A soft knock sounded on the door. Luka jumped slightly and then opened it.

"We need to leave soon," Steven said.

Luka nodded and turned around, packed his clothes in his case, and closed the lid. He didn't know if he was staying here or not, and he didn't want to presume. Since Steven didn't stop him, Luka gathered that he was expected to stay somewhere else and Steven had only agreed to provide transportation.

A chirping sounded from Steven's direction, and he pulled out his cell phone. Luka heard him speaking in English, but he was talking way too fast for him to understand most of it. "Okay," he heard Steven say, and then Steven hung up. "You can leave your suitcase here. You'll be staying with me for a few days." Luka asked if that was okay. Steven smiled and nodded. "My sister had thought you would be staying with her, but she has the kids, and I have extra room," Steven explained, and Luka felt better. The last thing he wanted to do was stay where he wasn't wanted.

"Thank you," he said in English. It was halting and he knew he'd probably misp.r.o.nounced the simple phrase, but he needed to start becoming comfortable with English if this was going to be his home now.

"It's nothing. I'll be glad for the company. My boyfriend is out of town for the next week, so I'll be all alone," Steven told him.

It took Luka a few moments for him to realize and fully register what Steven had said. He didn't say anything and decided it was probably best to pretend he hadn't heard it.

"He's on a business trip."

"Does he live here?" Luka asked tentatively. Steven seemed pretty open about it.

"Not yet, but he's going to be moving in next month. We've been seeing each other for a year and a half," Steven said as he led the way to the front door. They stepped outside into the summer heat, and Steven locked the door before walking out to the car. "Does it bother you that I have a boyfriend?" he asked. "It's okay if it does. I understand that might be new to you."

"No," Luka said. "It doesn't bother me." How could it-the first stranger he'd met in America was like him. He wasn't comfortable talking about it, though, so he said nothing. They got in, and Luka settled in the pa.s.senger seat. He couldn't believe that on his first day in a new country the first thing he was actually going to do was to go to a funeral. He'd heard about so many amazing things in America and he wanted to experience them all. "Are we near Disney World? I want to go there someday."

Steven laughed. "Disney World is in Florida," he told Luka.

"Is that close to here?" Luka asked, and Steven laughed again.

"No. It's a long way away. America is very big. We are in the north, and Disney World is in the south. Over a thousand miles away."

Luka nodded. "Did you grow up in Serbia?"

"No," Steven answered as he backed down the driveway. "My mother and father immigrated like you when they were my age. I learned the language from them. They'll be at the church, and I'll be sure to introduce you."

Luka paused. "Do they know about you?" He wasn't sure what he wanted to say. Where he came from, people didn't talk about things like that, and he was having difficulty expressing himself, even in his native language.

Steven shifted gears, and they began moving forward. "Are you kidding? Yes, they know. Sometimes I think my parents like Daniel more than they do me. He and my mother have this special sort of bond between them, probably because they both spend part of their lives taking care of me." Steven continued driving, and Luka tried to reconcile what Steven had just told him.

"People accept you here? They don't try to hurt you?" Luka asked.

They stopped at a light, and Steven shifted so he was looking at him. "Yes, most people accept me here. There are those at church who don't. But my mother refuses to speak with them, and they get over it pretty fast. For some reason, no one messes with my mother." Steven smiled. "She's a force of nature." The light changed and they continued on.

Luka didn't talk the rest of the ride. He simply sat and thought. His mother and father would never accept him like that. In fact, they hadn't spoken to him in a number of years. They'd found out about Misha and him and that had been the end of everything as far as his family was concerned.

After riding for a while, they turned off and pulled into the parking lot of a large white church. Suddenly, Luka felt a little less alone. The building looked like something he'd see at home and it gave him comfort. Maybe things would be all right after all. Steven parked, and Luka got out of the car. He waited and then followed Steven inside. The interior was very much like churches back home with its familiar mosaic ceiling. Voices, soft and low, filled the large s.p.a.ce with a soft hum. The best part was that he understood most of what was being said.

"You must be Josif's cousin," a woman said from behind him in perfect Serbian.

"I just arrived," he answered, looking up and over her shoulders toward the coffin that sat on a riser just outside the sanctuary.

"I'm sorry this is your first taste of America," she said. "I know it's hard, but you're with family now. We have helped a number of others transition to this country. So do not despair. Say good-bye to your cousin and know that the rest of our family here is with you." She smiled at him and tilted her head slightly. "Afterwards, if you like, I can introduce you to my daughter. She's about your age and single."

Luka was too speechless to move. Mothers the world over were all the same. His own mother had worked tirelessly until his sister had finally gotten married. Of course, he'd disappointed them by not only staying single, but.... He pushed the thought from his mind. He had enough challenges today; he didn't need more.

The woman drifted away, greeting others as they came in and taking charge of the flow past the coffin. He wondered if she was Steven's mother, but Steven was speaking in hushed tones to another woman across the room. Luka wandered around, slowly making a circle and then doing it again. Most people seemed to either ignore him, or were just caught up enough in their own business that they weren't paying attention. He saw his aunt and uncle. They greeted him and talked for a few minutes, and then Luka found himself alone again.

"h.e.l.lo," a soft male voice said from next to him as Luka stared out one of the windows.

"h.e.l.lo. I'm Luka, Josif's cousin. I just arrived from Belgrade today."

The man nodded and smiled. "I'm Peter Montgomery. Josif and Bella were-are-friends of mine," he said in perfect Serbian, which was surprising given that Peter looked anything but Serbian with his blue eyes, light hair, and ruby-red lips that captured Luka's attention for a few seconds. Then Luka forced himself to look away. "We met when I helped them learn English a few years ago."

"You're a teacher?" Luka asked.

"Yes and no," Peter answered, waving one hand back and forth. "I'm a social worker, but in the evenings I help people learn English. It started with a young couple I was helping out. Then I began holding regular cla.s.ses for other people who wanted to improve their skills. Soon I was teaching a lot of people. I taught them English, and they taught me Serbian." Peter blushed adorably. "I learn languages very quickly. I speak a number of them, including Spanish and German."

"I only speak Serbian and German," Luka said. "I took English in school but that was long ago."

"We can change that if you wish," Peter told him.

Luka wanted to hear more, but people began making their way into the church, so he followed and sat down near the front.

The service started, and Luka was thrilled. There were some differences from what he was used to, but it was conducted in his language. Everything about the Ma.s.s was familiar and surprisingly calming, even if it was a funeral. He hadn't seen his cousins since they'd visited Belgrade a number of years earlier, but he still felt their loss. Luka had been looking forward to seeing his extended family again. But honestly, it was hard for him to think of much other than what he was going to do now. He knew it seemed selfish, but....

Rather than dwell on the funeral and his own precarious position, Luka let the familiarity of the service calm him. There were people here who understood him. Yes, he was a stranger in a strange land, but he'd found a small piece of home here, and he could live with that. As the service continued, he listened and responded at familiar points in the liturgy, one constant in a sea of life changes.

At the end of the service, there were few dry eyes. It pleased Luka to know his cousin was that well liked and cared about. They prayed for Bella as well, sending her their thoughts and well wishes for a speedy recovery. Then, slowly, people stood and began filing out, talking softly as they moved. Luka followed behind the others, a little lost in his own world.

"Excuse me," he mumbled when he b.u.mped into someone.

"It's all right." It was Peter, and he turned to smile at him. "Are you going to the luncheon?"

Luka nodded. He guessed he was. He saw Steven, who seemed to be following the crowd, so Luka did the same.

"Was the service similar to those back home?"

"Yes," Luka said. "It was very comforting and nice. I'm glad my cousin was so well liked."

"Your cousin was loved," Peter told him. "He was always willing to help others. People relied on Josif, and he'll be missed." Peter motioned him forward, and they went into a large hall where tables and chairs had been set up. Everyone gathered and talked, taking places at the tables. Luka sat next to Steven, and Peter sat on the other side of him. More than once while they waited for the others to gather, Luka caught himself glancing at Peter, wondering what was behind the sadness he saw in those huge blue eyes. Something in Luka's heart told him it wasn't from the funeral today. It was much deeper than the loss of a friend. Whatever had happened to Peter had touched and maybe even scarred his soul. Luka shivered and looked away.

"You should see if Peter can help you learn English," Steven said from the other side of him. "I was told you already have a job, and that's great, but learning English will help you get along outside of the Serbian community."

"Of course," Peter said, and Luka turned toward him in time to catch his smile. "I'll be happy to help you if you want."

It was probably too soon for Luka to be making decisions, but he found himself nodding anyway.

"What did you do for a living in Serbia?" Peter asked.

The room quieted before Luka could answer, and the priest stood up at one end of the room. Everyone bowed their heads, and the priest said a blessing. Then people began getting up. Luka followed the others, and when the time came, he filled his plate and returned to his seat. Some of the dishes were familiar, but many were strange. He took a little of everything, even the green stuff with white things suspended in it.

"You're brave," Peter told him, indicating the green, wiggly stuff.

Luka didn't know what Peter meant until he tried the green stuff. It was sweet, chewy, and terrible. He swallowed and pushed it to the side. His mother had always taught him never to waste food, but in this case he was most definitely going to make an exception. If this was an example of American food, then Americans were certainly strange.

"That's Jell-O salad," Peter told him in a combination of English and Serbian. "Beware," he added with a warm smile.

Luka wanted to laugh, but wasn't sure it was appropriate, so he returned the smile and began eating again. As soon as he took the first bite of real food, his appet.i.te kicked in and he began to eat quickly, his empty stomach demanding attention. The food was better than the green stuff, some of it familiar, like the sausages, called cevaps, similar to what his mother made. similar to what his mother made.

"You didn't tell me what you did," Peter said from next to him.

"I worked in scientific research for the government," Luka explained, but he gave no further details. His previous employer had not been particularly pleased with his decision to leave, and with the way he'd felt he had to leave, he knew he wouldn't be readily allowed to return. "I really can't talk about it." Secrecy had become a habit he couldn't easily break.

"Is that the kind of work you'll be doing here?" Peter asked.

"I work for university here," Luka said in English. "Josif help me," he added. He hoped he still had the job and remembered the papers safely tucked in the bottom of the bag he'd carried with him. "I have papers."

"Excellent. It sounds like you had some excitement getting out of Serbia."

Luka nodded. "It is free except when the government no want it to be." He wasn't sure if he made sense, but Peter nodded, and Luka smiled.

"Your English is pretty good."

"I learn in school, but not use much. I know is bad." It sounded bad to his ears, but he forced himself to continue. He needed to get used to the language. Everything was, of course, much easier for him to say in Serbian.

"No, it's not. You just need practice," Peter said in Serbian. "First you need to begin to understand, and then you'll feel more comfortable speaking. It's very natural and something I've helped a lot of people with. I can help you too."

"Okay," Luka agreed. He'd been in America just a few hours and he'd already met someone who might be a friend. Maybe two someones, if Steven turned out to be as nice as Luka hoped. It would be nice to have a friend who was like him, though here it didn't seem to be a big deal.

"Where are you staying?"

"For tonight I'm staying with Steven, but after that I don't know. Josif and Bella had written me to say that they had a small apartment I could live in, but with Josif...." He hesitated, then said, "With Josif gone, I don't know what is going to happen." He swallowed hard and returned to his food. It gave him something to concentrate on other than the people he'd lost and how alone he was. Luka turned to Steven. "Can I see Bella?"

Steven paused for a few seconds before nodding. Then he went on to explain that she was in a special area of the hospital and only family could see her. Since Luka was a relative, that shouldn't be a problem, but Steven wouldn't be able to go in with him.

"I can take him," Peter interjected. "I have nothing else to do this afternoon. I'll take him from here to the hospital, and bring him back to your house afterwards."

"Thanks," Steven said. "I have things I have to get done this afternoon. That would be great." He smiled and then added, "I don't have plans for this evening, so we can talk then and I'll show you around if you like."

"Thank you," Luka said. "That would be nice."

They finished eating, and people sat around, talking. Then, after a while, they began to leave. Luka looked around, wondering what would happen next. A few people stopped by to introduce themselves. Some were cousins and more distant relatives he hadn't ever met. They seemed happy to see him. Some spoke Serbian and some didn't, but all of them shook his hand vigorously.

"We can go see Bella when you're ready," Peter told him once more people filtered out.

He nodded.