Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Hazel
B uckwheat pancakes sizzle in the pan on the stove. I push the spatula underneath a hot, bubbling one and flip it, smiling at David who’s standing in the living room putting on a record. These types of pancakes are his favorite. I’ve mastered making them, and this one is perfectly golden brown.
After a moment, the crackle of the record player begins, and Russian music fills the house, along with the sounds of our daughter’s giggles.
I glance over the counter and find her little curls bouncing from her pigtails. David chases her around the couch, indulging her in her favorite game. She has so much energy it makes my head spin sometimes. Motherhood is beautiful, remarkable, wonderful and exhausting.
She stops by the entrance to the kitchen and David scoops her into his arms, swings her around until they’re both dizzy and she’s squealing with delight. Then he blows raspberries onto her little tummy while she wiggles and cackles.
I watch them for a moment, smiling, scooping up the pancakes that are ready and placing them on a plate beside me.
“It smells great, baby,” David calls over his shoulder as he sets down our little girl, Anya. She just turned two, and she’s adorable and full of life, and already bringing so much joy to our lives.
“Thank you.” I return his smile.
I crack a few eggs into another skillet to fry, David’s other favorite breakfast food. But for some reason, my stomach is unsettled, and the smell of the eggs doesn’t agree with me this morning.
My mouth fills with saliva, my throat constricting. My stomach churns. I look away from the eggs, willing myself not to be sick in the sink.
My heart races, my hands are clammy. I wipe my palms with a dish towel.
David frowns, his forehead creasing. He wanders over to me and places his hand on my lower back, kissing my neck from behind. He places his chin on the dent in my shoulder.
“Everything okay, sweetheart?” He murmurs close to my ear.
I nod, drawing in a deep breath, concentrating on expanding lungs and how the air fills the cracks between my ribs. Anything I can do to make the nausea subside. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” He brushes my hair off my shoulder, his lips fluttering behind my ear. Goose bumps travel across my skin and a shiver of comfort weaves through my bloodstream, but I’m still lightheaded.
“I’m just feeling a little queasy. It must be the eggs.”
David steps from behind me and takes the spatula from my hand. “I can finish up with breakfast if you want to rest.”
I gaze up at him, fondly, adoringly. I love him so much, sometimes it takes my breath away. My mind is always capturing glimpses of him, storing it to memory forever. There is so much of Anya in him, in the shape of her face and the color of her eyes.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Of course, baby.” He smiles, genuine, lovingly.
Some days I wake up and don’t know what I did to deserve him, but I made the right choice in quitting my job and choosing him over everything else. It was a chance I had to take, and it’s paying off in the best way.
“Thank you.” I give his forearm a squeeze, the muscles cording under his skin.
I give his mouth a kiss and walk into the living room, stroking Anya’s cheek as she sits down to play with blocks.
I wrap my finger around one of her ringlets. I am in love with her spiral curls.
Another wave of nausea rolls through my stomach, almost making me double over, but I hide it.
I slip off to the bathroom and glance at my reflection in the mirror. The last time I felt lightheaded and nauseated like this was when I was newly pregnant with Anya.
I look at the calendar on my smart watch, scrolling to the date of my last period. It’s been five weeks.
My mouth drops. I’m shocked I didn’t realize this until now, but I’ve been so busy with Anya and helping David with the business, my missed period slipped through the cracks.
I nibble on my bottom lip and root through the bottom drawer of my bathroom vanity, relieved when I spot a leftover pregnancy test.
I pluck it out, unwrap it, and with a hammering heart, I take it. It turns to two double lines almost instantly.
I cover my mouth with my hand and murmur, “oh my god.”
I stand there in the bathroom shaking for a few seconds, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
A minute later, there’s a knock on the bathroom door, followed by David’s worried voice.
“Hazel? Everything okay in there? I don’t mean to bother you. Just checking on you, because you looked a little pale in the kitchen, and you’ve been in here a while.”
I blink, the room coming back into focus, the sunlight casting a canary glow across the walls and white tile floors.
I twist the knob. The door creaks when it opens, the only sound between us. I glance up at David, clutching the pregnancy test like it’s a loaded stick of dynamite.
I lift my hand and offer the stick to David.
“What’s this?” He chuckles at first, then his eyes grow wide with understanding once he realizes.
His eyes jump from me to the stick and back again. “You’re…”
“Pregnant!” I exclaim when he trails off.
“This is new?” He points to the test.
I nod, tears of surprise and happiness overwhelming me in a flood of emotions. “Yes, I just took it. I realized my period was late. I had a leftover test. I’ve been feeling queasy. It all added up, so I decided to take this and… well… we’re going to have another baby!”
David scoops me in his arms and spins me around just as he did with Anya a few minutes ago.
She toddles down the hallway, lifting her arms as she notices what he’s doing to her mommy.
Her little cheeks are rosy, her gray-blue eyes alight. She lifts her arms, and her hands make dimpled fists. “Daddy, me next!”
She is so verbal already, speaking in full sentences, at just two years old. David proudly declares her as ‘his little genius,’ anytime we are out anywhere with people we know.
He’s also teaching her Russian, because he wants her to be fluent in his native language. She’s catching onto words and phrases and it’s amazing to watch her learn and grow.
“Daddy is happy!” David exclaims in Russian, throwing his arms up in the air after he sets me back down. “Do you want to know why?”
“Why, daddy?” Anya shouts too, responding in Russian, feeding off his excited energy.
“Mommy is going to have a baby. She has a baby in her tummy right now!” He rubs my stomach for emphasis.
“A baby?” Anya squeals, although I get the sense that she doesn’t fully understand what that means.
Although she does have baby dolls that she plays with, pushes in a stroller, feeds a bottle to, and puts in a play crib to sleep. She is so nurturing; I know she’ll be great with a sibling.
“You’re going to be a big sister,” David says, lifting her into his big arms.
“Big sister!” Anya chimes, clapping her hands.
David wraps one broad arm around me, and I allow myself to be swallowed by my elated emotions, and by his sculpted tree trunk of a torso. We weren’t planning this, but now that it’s happening, it feels right, like it was meant to be all along.
I’m fully crying now, feeling blessed beyond measure for the life I chose, and the life I’m building with my little growing family.
I gaze into my daughter’s eyes, then my husband’s, and I know I’m safe, right where I’m supposed to be. This is home. This is freedom.
David is expanding his business and has fully gotten out of the gun trafficking he never wanted in the first place. He’s been cleared of all charges and retained insurance money for the fires at the warehouses. He lives with loyalty and stands by his late father’s honor.
I couldn’t have picked a better man to fall in love with, and I’m grateful every day that I get to wake up next to him, calling him mine.