Chapter 24 #3
But I do know her little haunts in this home.
She had a small area in the unfinished basement, complete with concrete floors, where she’d strike one match after another after another until her father came home or her mother caught her.
They’d both stop her, but with different responses.
Her mother would beg to know why, and her father would rage, throwing and breaking things, occasionally striking her.
He didn’t need to ask why. He largely was the reason why.
And way down by the creek, there was a small access point to a local state park with camping and picnic areas. She would sometimes sneak down there and make good use of the grilling stations. She never cooked food, of course.
Lydia opens the door to the car and slams it shut behind her.
“Lydia.” I don’t want her storming ahead of me or doing something rash. She looks over her shoulder at me, her lips pursed.
“What?”
“Wait for me.”
“Why don’t you follow me?” she tosses back defiantly.
A brisk wind kicks up, reminding me of the lonely, stark moors we’ve both read about in Wuthering Heights.
I realize our relationship—tumultuous, marked by passion and intensity—is not unlike theirs.
Like Catherine, my Lydia almost married the wrong man.
I’m the one who knows her.
I’m the one who loves her.
I’m the one who would lay down his life for her.
Then why don’t I love her enough to trust her? To give her the smallest measure of freedom? I tell myself it isn’t Lydia I don’t trust, but our enemies…
“Leave me alone, Viktor. I need some time,” she says when I reach her. “I want to talk to my mother and my sister. Can I do that in privacy? You’ll be right here. No one’s going to swoop in and kidnap me here, right?”
I shrug. “I have no fucking idea. All I know is that you have a target on your back, and there isn’t any place too low for that asshole to stoop.”
Vera rings the bell at the front door. There’s no answer.
“That’s strange,” she says thoughtfully, biting her lip before knocking. “I had a key, but it isn’t working. Mom must’ve changed the locks.”
“A good idea with Yudin on the loose,” Nikko says.
“Yeah, but wouldn’t she tell me?”
Nikko and I meet each other’s eyes. He draws his gun. I prefer my fists in situations like this. Together, we make a good team, though.
I put Lydia behind me. She frowns, her jaw clenched, but even she can’t hide the fear in her eyes. She texts her mom.
A few minutes later, there’s the light sound of footsteps. We can’t see anything as the windows are too high up, even for me and Nikko, but a moment later, we hear a series of locks being undone. We’re tense, but a moment later, Zofia Ivanova opens the door and stands, smiling at us.
“Mom, you scared us,” Vera says, shaking her head.
“Why?” Zofia asks, opening the door wider. “Come in, come in. I’m sorry if I haven’t been in touch. I’ve not been feeling well.” She looks over her shoulder. “Nikko, why are you holding a gun? Are you expecting someone to ambush you?”
Well… yes.
Lydia frowns at me. I only shrug as she leads us into the house. She embraces both girls, one at a time, holding them tight before she lets them go. .
“Nice to see you again, Nikko.” She gives him a big hug before she turns to me. “And you must be Viktor?”
She’s completely lost in my arms, she’s so little. I hug her back and wonder why she’s trembling. When I let her go, she turns her head and coughs into her arm.
“Oh, we have so much to chat about,” she says. “Please, let’s go to the living room.”
Vera makes herself at home in the large living room, heading to a sideboard.
“You guys want drinks for this planning sesh?” she asks.
“I’ll take the wine,” Lydia says. “Mom doesn’t have beer.”
I shake my head. I want to be on full alert. Nikko declines as well.
Kolya got into our heads hard.
Lydia sits beside me, sipping a glass of sparkling prosecco.
“Mom, why aren’t you feeling well?” Vera asks, sitting down beside Lydia.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she says. “I’ve had this cough I can’t get rid of, but I’ll get better soon.” Her smile fades. She takes the drink Vera gives her and takes a small sip as if to steady her nerves. “Though honestly, Vera, I think it’s stress. We have a lot to talk about.”
Vera looks sharply at her mother. “What do you mean, stress? What other symptoms do you have?” She’s in full-on Dr. Ivanova mode.
Her mother tells her her symptoms, waving her hand as if to pass her off. “I’m fine, Vera.”
“Maybe you’re not, though,” Vera says with a frown. “And why are you stressed?”
Zofia opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it.
She swallows. I’m struck with how alike Vera and Lydia’s eyes are to hers.
While Vera is slender and has a touch of the “mad scientist” vibe to her with her wild hair and the occasional times she wears glasses, and Lydia is all curves and feminine allure with a heavy side of snark, all three of the women have a strong resemblance.
She stands, pacing the expansive living room. It’s a calm atmosphere with neutral-toned, modern furniture, clean lines, and wide windows that let in bright light, but it feels anything but calm in here right now.
She turns and looks at Lydia. “I wasn’t entirely honest with you.”