Page 62 of Protecting Maggie
“Don’t know. They just appeared.”
“My name is MacGyver. Well, my real name is Ricardo. Some people call me Ricky.”
“Three names?” the smaller boy asked.
MacGyver smiled. “Yeah, I guess. But you can choose which one you like best.”
“Ricky,” the little girl said.
He beamed. “Ricky it is. And what’s your name?” he asked her.
“Yana.”
The oldest boy said something in harsh tones to the girl, and she immediately frowned and ducked her head.
“It’s okay,” MacGyver said. “I’m not going to hurt you. Any of you. Yana is a beautiful name.”
Preacher remained silent as MacGyver did his best to win the trust of the three very skittish kids.
“How old are you, Yana?”
She held up four fingers, then looked at the boys as if wanting reassurance that she’d either gotten her age right, or it was okay to still be interacting with MacGyver.
“She four. I am eight. My brother is seven.”
“And what should I call you?” MacGyver asked him.
For a moment, the boy frowned. Then he said, “I am Artem. My brother is Borysko.”
“It’s nice to meet you both. As I said, I’m Ricky, and my friends over there are Maggie and Preacher…um…Shawn.”
Three sets of eyes swung toward Preacher and Maggie.
“Oh my God, they’re adorable,” she whispered.
“Your English is very good,” MacGyver praised. “Where did you learn it?”
“School,” Artem said, not hiding his derision at what he obviously thought was a stupid question.
“Right,” MacGyver said with a small chuckle.
“This is our place,” Borysko told MacGyver again.
“I’m very sorry to have come here without asking if it’s okay. But we were afraid of the guns. And Maggie needed a place to rest. She was hurt. We’ll leave if you want us to…but can we share for a while?”
Preacher had never seen this side of his teammate. He was speaking soft and low and all his attention remained on the children.
Artem’s gaze went from MacGyver, to where Preacher and Maggie were sitting, then back to MacGyver. “Did Russians hurt her?”
“No. It’s complicated.”
Both boys’ brows furrowed in confusion.
“Sorry, um…it’s hard to explain,” MacGyver said, trying to use words that the children might understand.
Yana tugged at Borysko’s shirt and said something in Ukrainian.
Her brother translated. “Her English is not good. Shehad not started school when the bombs came. We are trying to learn her.”
