Chapter Twenty-Three - Emily
Parts of my old life are bleeding into the new one, and slowly I’m making it all work together. I rub my rounded stomach, walking out onto the back porch of the estate, picking some flowers for the house, humming to myself. The months are passing so fast, I haven’t had a chance to enjoy the seasonal changes.
The weather’s changing again, and springtime is one of my favorite seasons. Reconnecting with Stacy and Kiara has been awesome. Parts of my limbs have been sewn back on. We’ve even gone out a few times, but I haven’t been able to tell them everything about my new life. I can’t.
Ryurik is still a mystery to me in many ways, the only real show of vulnerability being when Laura was in the hospital. I saw how he could be a man I could truly rely on and put my full trust in. It’s been hard to reconcile that with the man I read copious amounts of notes on in the department and all the crimes I know he evaded. For the most part, I haven’t seen him take any actions in front of me that indicated criminal behavior.
But who knew what he did all day and during the long nights he is away at Blindside Metro. I’ve got a new personal phone that I’ve purchased, but there’s no guarantee that Ryurik hasn’t tapped it.
“I can’t believe you married the guy from the nightclub. Wow. I need you to do over the wedding. Did you really need to get married without us there?” I had to work harder with them both to repair the friendship, because if I had it my way, both the girls would have been bridesmaids at my wedding.
“I promise you; it wasn’t my decision so much as it was Ryurik’s. We had a quickie wedding,” I told them, and we meet every few weeks to catch up. I’m going to make it up to them at the baby shower, and there’s nothing Ryurik can do about it.
I use my shears to diagonally cut the mauve-colored roses. I only want a few, and if I asked the gardener, Henri, to do it, he would, but I would rather do it myself.
Next, I snip the white and pink roses happy with the bunch I’ve selected. I’m becoming quite the nester. Heading back inside to beat the heat, I think about my mom’s recovery, so surprised by how it’s going. It’s been shorter than I thought it would be, and I’m due to see her today.
See. You can have a normal life with this man. It’s the story I tell myself every day to bring a sense of normality to this situation. We go out to dinner like other couples. Fight and argue like others. Make love sometimes, and we talk about normal everyday couple things.
Most days I try not to think about his lengthy list of criminal activities because Ryurik doesn’t talk to me about his operations. That’s the part I find strange, but in order to have a normal life, maybe he compartmentalizes it, like me. He heads out to the Blindside early in the day, running the club and checking on operations, but that’s all I know.
When I ask him more about his operation, he doesn’t say much, closing like a clam, and that’s what makes me suspicious. You would think after eight months in, he would tell me something more about the depth of his life. When it comes to taking care of the baby and attending ultrasounds, checking in about Laura, and seeing that I’m okay, he will be there physically, but there’s something he hides, and it’s starting to eat away at me day by day. We’re going to be married forever so why not open up to me?
Walking back inside, I meet Olga along the way. Initially she got my hopes higher than she should have, but reality has brought them crashing back down.
“Good morning. You look like you’re about to give birth any day now. How wonderful!” she delights.
“And my back is feeling worse off for it, Olga. I’m ready for this baby to pop out so I can get a look at it.”
“We all can’t wait.” Olga grins touching my stomach. “Do you need a vase for those?”
“Yes. I was about to go to the nursery and see if the gardener has a spare one.”
“Are you sure? I can get it for you, and you can rest.”
“No, don’t fuss over me. I’ll waddle there. I want to check out what it’s looking like now anyway. Thank you, though. I’m sure I’ll find what I’m looking for.”
Besides, I want to be alone with my thoughts. Ryurik’s already gone for the day and soon enough I’m going to be seeing Mom.
What if he just needs more time to show me? But as I place the stalks of the roses in the vase, I think about all the months he’s already had to show me who he is—to tell me the story of his life. I’ve never pushed him for information. I wanted him to tell me himself, and at times it felt as if he was looking into me, and all I was able to do was stare back at a wall.
We’re having a baby together, and I don’t want my daughter to grow up with a cold, stiff father who doesn’t know how to show love or affection.
Taking my time, I pour the water, thinking about the imaginary bubble I’ve been living in with him and what to do about it. By the end of my impromptu flower arrangement, I’m no closer to the answer. I put the vase into the living room, placing it on the table in there and getting ready to meet Mom.
I perk up some when I arrive at her house, my heart filling up as soon as I walk into the front yard. I look around the garden with its sweetness and it matches her. Maybe she’s the reason I like roses so much. She has a garden full of them.
“Mom!” I call out, knocking on the door, the screen locked.
“Is that you, Em?”
“Sure is.”
She walks down the hallway, opening the door, her face bright, full of life, her hair no longer straggly and her skin back to normal. It’s been an unbelievable recovery, and I can’t believe what she looks like.
Hugging her tight, I don’t want to let go. I nearly lost her, and every moment I get to spend with her is precious. “How are you, Mom?”
“I’m doing great, and yesterday I went for my checkup, and they confirmed it too. The new liver is so good, but I’m never going to eat fried foods to test it,” she adds.
“You look so good. I haven’t seen you this way for so long.” We head into the living room and sit down together.
“I know, I know. And it’s all thanks to the wonderful man you married. How are things going for you two? Getting prepared for the baby to come?” she asks, the hidden secret of my marriage something I will never tell her. She would be devastated if she knew I married a Russian mobster to save her life.
“Um, truthfully, I’m not sure. He doesn’t talk about himself much, and I feel like things are one-sided. Maybe I’m hormonal and reading too much into things.”
Laura nods, hugs me again. This time putting her hands on my baby bump. “Hmm. Sounds like one of those strong, silent, action-oriented guys. It looks like it too. I think this is a cup of tea type of discussion with cookies. Think so?”
Nodding in agreement, I guide myself down into the chair, happy to be with her. “Yes. I think it is.” After chatting for a while and Laura giving me some sage advice from being twice divorced, I head back home with Ryurik on my mind.
He hasn’t texted me, and usually after lunch, he’d give me a quick call, but nothing. The baby’s kicking up, so I take a walk down the halls of the house, turning to the left where Ryurik’s private study door is normally closed. But I stand the with the light streaming in from the outside, the door wide open. Rooted to the spot for a minute I think about it.
Should I? Maybe I’ll find more out about him this way, since he won’t tell me. The door’s open now, and when I enter, I do a little digging rifling through his drawers checking into things. Opening the bottom drawer, I see it. There’s a gun wrapped up. Okay, so he keeps a gun. Not necessarily a crime. Many people are licensed to carry, but then why is my heart beating so damn fast. I stare at it, holding my breath, looking up at the door to check no one’s coming.
Slowly, I take the gun out, staring at the model, and the bullets. It’s wrapped up for some reason with a blue cloth. When I touch it, I feel something, a darkness as I hold it in my hand, as if I shouldn’t have it.
Dropping it back in the drawer, I close it up, continuing to look through all the nightclub paperwork, and that’s when I see the name scrawled in blue ink. William Dee. Friday night. Busse Woods. Body dump. Jan 7 th . Panting, I take a photo of the words with my phone. Friday night was the same night Willy Dee was murdered at Blindside, and I conduct a Google search of Busse Woods. Of course. It would be the perfect place to buy a body.
No. No. No. I don’t want to see this, but I can’t unsee it. This is the evidence for the case, staring right back at me. He did kill Willy. Not that he didn’t tell me to my face, but I’ve got the proof and possibly the gun that killed Willy right in front of me. I take pictures of it all, putting it on my phone, my heart sinking.
No. Maybe it’s not what he means. It could just be a bunch of words. I won’t know unless I go to the place. I want to deny what I’m reading—what I’m feeling inside, but I can’t. It’s wrong and I know it is. He’s a monster and I’ve been ignoring it for so long, building this imaginary world, perceiving him to be this good guy underneath, but the bubble’s burst, and reality won’t let me stay in denial any longer.