Kat shook her head in confusion. Why would her parents need to get a team of lawyers for this? What was really going on?
"The others aren't much cheaper," said her mother. "And they're not nearly as good."
"Where will we get the money?" asked her father.
"We'll have to mortgage our house," said Orysia.
What? thought Kat. What are they talking about? What could be so serious and expensive that they had to mortgage their house? Kat knew that they had only finally managed to pay off the mortgage a year before.
"Perhaps your father should sell his house."
"I can't ask him to do that right now. Not so soon after Mama died."
Kat could feel bile rising in her throat. She had to find out what was going on. This was serious. No doubt about it.
"He'll have to sell it eventually, though," said her father. "These cases drag on for years."
"I know," said her mother. "It's going to take up all of our savings, and his too — just to defend him."
Defend him from what? From who? It didn't make sense.
Kat could hear their father pacing below. She could just imagine the expression on his face: scrunched eyebrows, a face slowly turning red, and beads of sweat popping out on his forehead.
"What about Genya's education?" he asked with a choked voice.
Genya's eyes flew open at the mention of her name.
"Let's play it by ear," said her mother. "What choice do we have?"
CHAPTER 9
KAT FOUND IT hard to concentrate at school the next day. During art class, Mr. Harding was still having them do life drawings, and Beth was the current volunteer. Kat propped her sheet of paper on a drawing board and grabbed a pencil to sketch with. What was happening with her grandfather, she wondered. What was it that her parents weren't telling her?
"Are you with us, Ms. Baliuk?" asked Mr. Harding, standing behind her. Kat looked around and realized that the timer had sounded. Everyone else had completed a line sketch, yet she had not even begun. She was too embarrassed to reply, so she just smiled at him weakly.
He looked at her not unkindly and said, "I'll only be marking you on your best sketches, but you should try to do them all."
Kat nodded. She could feel the tears welling up in her throat and she willed herself not to sob.
At lunch, she stood in the cafeteria line with her tray and mechanically grabbed the first things she saw. It wasn't until she sat down with Beth, Callie and Michael that she realized what she had bought: two bowls of Jell-O and a piece of cheese. Strange.
Kat was so involved in her own thoughts that she didn't hear when Beth asked her a question. Kat nearly jumped through the roof when Beth placed a hand on her forearm, "Are you feeling all right?" asked Beth, a concerned look in her eyes.
Kat sighed deeply. "I'm fine."
Callie and Michael had finished their lunch by this time, and they got up to go outside for some fresh air. "You guys coming?" asked Callie.
Kat shook her head. "You go ahead," she said to Beth.
Ian noticed that Kat was sitting by herself, and so he left his friends and walked over.
"Can I sit down?" he asked.
"Sure," said Kat.
"What happened last night?"
Kat's head jerked up suddenly. "What are you talking about?"
"Your mom looked so upset," said Ian. "And now you're acting weird."
"It's nothing," said Kat.
Lisa was watching Ian and Kat from the other table, and Kat noticed her get up and walk over. She flopped down in the chair next to Ian and looped her hand through his arm. "Something going on?" she asked, looking at Ian.
Ian could tell by Kat's expression that the last thing she wanted was to talk about anything serious with Lisa listening in.
"We're talking about the winter concert," said Ian quickly.
Kat saw Ian's mouth move, but she had already retreated into her own thoughts. What was going on with her grandfather? What was it that had happened fifty years ago? She remembered the old photographs that Dido kept in his room. The one of her great-aunt Kataryna was about 50 years old. And the wedding. Baba's parachute silk wedding dress. Did this have sometime to do with the war, Kat wondered?
"Parachutes," said Kat.
"What?" said Ian, looking at her in confusion. "Parachute what?"
"That's the backdrop," said Kat. "For your solo."
Lisa's pale face broke into a delighted smile. "That's brilliant," she said. "It would be a huge piece of shiny material, and it would catch the lighting beautifully, but without taking the attention away from Ian. White would be ideal." As she said this, she bumped him with her shoulder in a possessive way.
"Where would I get a parachute?" asked Ian.
"Ask me tomorrow," said Kat, pasting a weak smile onto her face.
When the bus dropped Kat home after school that afternoon, her grandfather was nowhere to be found. He wasn't in the garden, and he wasn't sitting, brooding, in his favourite chair. The door to Genya's bedroom was closed, and so she gave it a light tap. When no one answered, she opened it a few inches and peeked in. Her grandfather was fast asleep on the top of the comforter. Salt of dried tears etched down the side of his cheeks.
"Dido," she said, gently shaking him by the shoulder.
His eyes jumped open, and he looked startled for a moment, but then he focused on her, standing there.
"Dido," said Kat. "Why don't we go for a walk?"
Danylo sighed with deep sadness and closed his eyes. "I'm tired," he said.
Kat knew that it was more than mere tiredness that made him want to sleep. "Come on," she said. "I've been cooped up in school all day and could really use some fresh air."
Danylo opened his eyes again and looked at her. "Okay," he said. "Why don't we walk to my house and check the garden and get the mail?"
"Great," said Kat.
Kat knew that it would take her grandfather a good ten minutes to get ready. It looked as if he hadn't shaven, and he would want to change into a freshly ironed shirt and trousers.
She looked at her watch and considered. By the time they got back from Dido's house, it would be supper time. She had promised Ian that she'd look into parachutes. Better get a head start now.
Kat opened the phone book to the yellow pages and looked up "parachutes." No parachutes per se, but several parachute clubs and sky diving instructors. It's a start, she thought.
She dialled the first number and got an answering machine. Ditto for the second and third. Finally, on the fourth try, a human voice answered:
"Swoop and Swirl Skydiving, can I help you?" the woman's voice said.
"Um, hi," said Kat. "I've got a weird question ... do you know where I would be able to buy or rent a used parachute?"
"Weird questions are my husband's department," said the woman. "Hold on."
Kat waited, and in a minute, a male voice came on the line, "Yes?"
Kat repeated her question. "Everyone thinks we have a whole basement full of used parachutes," said the man in an amused tone. "Skydivers don't even use that kind of parachute any more."
"What do you mean, ‘that kind' of parachute?"
"The big ones with all the material. During the war they were made of white silk. Worth a fortune now."
"Oh," said Kat.
"What about a modern army parachute?" the man offered helpfully.
"Are they huge pieces of material?" asked Kat.
"Yep," said the man. "But they're khaki, not white, and they're not silk anymore."
"Do you have any idea where I would find one of those?" asked Kat.
"You could try an army surplus store," suggested the man.