Four Broken Pieces ✓

Forty Five

Reality came crashing down on my head when I looked at my watch and realized I'd spent over two hours with Robert and my mother. We'd talked of everything from our pasts to our favorite hobbies. I'd learned that Robert was extremely rich, was previously married, had a dog named Carlos and loved my mother even more than I'd initially thought. I was honestly surprised he hadn't proposed or anything. He'd looked positively giddy as he watched my mother talk.

My mother would have said yes if he'd asked her to marry him. That much was obvious with the evident love and happiness that had radiated from her face. I knew she'd loved my father more than anything but it was time to move on. It was what my father would have wanted. She'd finally gotten everything she'd been after. Happy thoughts swirled in my mind as I drove home to pick up enough clothes for the days I'd spend in Violet's log cabin. I tried to focus on the mental checklist of things I needed. Anything but focusing on what might happen after I left my house and got to a safe place. Anything but thinking that I'd have to say goodbye. I'd get to see the boys one more time, to kiss them and hug them and say everything I felt in my heart. It wouldn't be enough. It would never be enough.

I didn't even let myself think of the thought that it might be the last time I'd see them. It wouldn't be. I had to believe that. We deserved to find happiness together and I'd have to believe God would grant us that miracle.

I pulled up to the house just as my phone started ringing in my pocket. Fishing it out, I was surprised to see Ivan's number on the display screen. I'd assumed they were back at the house by now. We'd agreed not to call each other in case they tracked our phones.

That was unless it was some sort of emergency. For a moment, I could swear my heart stopped beating. It didn't matter if I'd known they would be in danger as long as Ivan's father was out there. I could never, would never be able to wrap my head around the idea of losing them. I cut the call and pocketed the phone before racing into my house. Prayers to anyone who'd listen raced through my head. Please don't let me be too late. Please tell me they were here. I prayed and prayed as I looked around my empty living room. They weren't here. They should be here by now. I, I thought we had more time.

"Ivan! Mikhail! Alexei!" My heart was hammering in my chest so fast I thought it would burst. Pure fear shot through my heart and my knees almost buckled. I couldn't lose them. I wasn't ready. I hadn't even prepared myself for the possibility. Could I ever prepare myself for such a possibility? My mind was too jumbled to even call Ivan back.

Or perhaps it was fear that when the caller picked up, it would be Ivan's father and the hope in my chest would fizzle out. I kept crying out their names to a seemingly empty house as I searched the kitchen.

A pair of footsteps suddenly came barreling down the steps. I recognized them before the person even emerged and flung myself into his arms. The familiar scent of a fire filled my nostrils and I couldn't keep my shuddering sob from ripping out as I wrapped myself around him as tightly as I could.

Ivan's strong arms wrapped around my waist and he pulled me into his chest. I buried my face into the crook of his shoulder and kept my legs wrapped around his waist as I tried to keep my tears locked inside.

For a second I thought I'd lost them and it had felt like the end of the world. But he was still here. He was still safe in my arms. Ivan's father hadn't done anything just yet. Relief had my dying heart starting up once again as I drew back and glanced over his distraught face. That's when I realized something was drastically wrong.

The arms that held me were shaking slightly. They never shook when they held me. They were always strong and grounded. He was my real safe place, my rock, and feeling him shake was like shaking the ground on which I stood. The handsome face that was gazing up at mine was full of poorly disguised worry. Even his love for me was consumed with whatever grief tormented him. There was something desperate in the way he clung to me like I was the only thing left in his world.