44. Sandrine
Sandrine
Holding Violet’s hand, I reach our SUV and tell the driver I’d like to stop for ice cream. His face twitches as he asks for the address. He gets on his handheld radio, and I wait to hear Kirill crackle on the other end.
What??
But he puts the radio away and then speaks to the guards in the SUV behind us about the diversion instructions. It’s not unusual for us to make an extra stop here and there. They’ve been driving me around for weeks.
We reach the ice cream parlor, and inside, two of the guards sit at a table and watch Violet while the other posts on the sidewalk. I know they’re watching Violet more than me.
Gale doesn’t mention the guards. The girls attend a very exclusive school, and many rich parents have a security detail following them around.
I tie the balloons to a bunch of chairs around one table while Violet and Emily check out all the flavors. My heart is so filled with joy and pride when I hear my daughter read them to her best friend. But Violet loves to be in charge.
When the girls get to our table and see the balloons, Emily jumps up and down and does a little happy dance. But Violet immediately starts rearranging them.
With Violet playing party decorator, and Emily sitting at the table with her legs swinging joyfully, Gale goes to the counter to order. Next, she brings over a large silver tray with at least ten flavors.
“It’s called the kitchen sink.” She puts it down on the table and hands out cups and spoons. “It’s a birthday special. Here are sprinkles, crunchies, and gummies.”
I sigh. It’s so big because they expect more than two kids. But heck, I love ice cream. And so does Violet.
“Look, Mommy, a purple scoop.” Violet turns to Emily. “That’s my mother’s favorite color. She paints with it all the time.”
“You paint?” Gale asks.
I nod, feeling awkward.
“Can I see your work?”
I take out my phone and show her the photos of the paintings that I put up on Instagram.
While Gale is looking at them, I grab the purple scoop and take a lick that tastes like blueberry.
The shock of cold on my tongue reminds me of the day Elodie and I got ice cream in Arizona.
I was finally feeling normal, and then we were taken.
I think about Kirill in Las Vegas, checking on her. But I’m also startled to think what if something else had happened that day? What if that other mafia man took me instead? I would have been denied this second chance at my life.
My heart pounds at the thought that I’m falling in love with Kirill. But does he still love me?
I stare out at this risk I’m taking. Balloons, a kitchen sink, sitting out in the open. I’m testing that love.
Gale blinks tears at how happy Emily is. “Thank you so much for this. I… She’s had a hard time making friends.”
“Violet adores her. We’re not going anywhere.” I nod, watching the girls. “Emily seems so happy now.”
“She is. For today, at least.” Gale’s shoulders sag in relief. “How about you? Was Violet always this easy?”
I swallow, forcing a small smile. It’s too much to confess about my amnesia.
“She was,” I say, because it’s technically the truth.
Kirill had the hard part. He had the diapers, the late-night feedings, the colds, and the fevers.
I didn’t have it easy all these years for a different reason, but I still feel guilty.
The ice cream starts to melt because two five-year-olds and Moms who get brain freeze can’t eat ten scoops of ice cream.
It’s been a wonderful hour. The girls’ laughter is something I will keep with me.
Emily clings to Violet like she’s a big sister.
God, she’ll make a great big sister when Kirill and I have more children.
I need a son…
My life feels so right and more secure than ever. I want my husband to have a successful reign as Pakhan. I want him to raise sons he’ll be proud of. And I want a hand in making them good men.
I know they’ll be…bad like their father. In those ways. Do…bad things.
But Kirill is a wonderful father, and after he got over hating me, he’s been a loving, supportive husband.
When I see one of the guards get on his phone, I remember I’m not supposed to be here.
“We do have to go home.” I stand up. “This has been great.”
Emily hugs Violet tight at the waist. “Will you come for a pway date, pweeze?” she asks.
Violet nods enthusiastically. “Yes!”
I don’t know if I can make that happen. But I smile, fully prepared to throw this kid under the bus that she said yes, not me.
Gale hugs me before I leave. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
I hug her back and tell her I had a great time. And it’s the truth.
“Do you need the bathroom?” I ask Violet, putting on her coat.
“No, Mommy.”
I consider if I should make her go, but I see my SUV is already idling. With all the other guards in their cars waiting, I nod and lead Violet out of the ice cream parlor.
On the way back to Iron Keep, I sense the driver getting tense. He speaks Russian to my guard, and I find it unnerving because I don’t understand the language.
Is he telling my guard to snitch on me to Kirill?
Next, we’re pulling into a sketchy-looking gas station with a convenience mart. The driver gets out and pumps gas into the SUV.
My guard puts his face in my window and mouths: Two minutes. He scans the area, but doesn’t look concerned.
The SUV behind us just idles. Since those guards remain in their vehicle, I relax.
But Violet tugs on my sleeve. “Mommy, I have to go.”
I exhale and don’t ask why she didn’t say yes earlier. Damn, Kirill is so much better at this. He forces her to go to the bathroom before and after they go anywhere.
“Come on.” I open the car door, and my guard looks horrified.
“Madam, wait until we get to Iron Keep.”
“She’s a child. She needs to use the bathroom. She can wet the car. I assume you don’t want that.” I help my daughter out. “It’s right inside the mart. Come with me if you’re concerned.”
He gets on his radio, and I think I’m done for. He works for me. He’s my guard. I don’t wait for him. My child’s health comes before a guard covering his ass.
The excursion to the ice cream shop, an innocent detour, was an hour. That’s all.
I steer Violet around the pumps, thinking, I’ll smooth this over when Kirill gets home.
We go inside the convenience mart, and I bring my daughter into the narrow bathroom.
She goes into the stall herself, not needing my help.
I admit I’m nervous about how long she’s taking.
When she comes out, I exhale and help her wash her hands, even soap them up together with mine.
“This bathroom is stinky,” she says, then dries them under the hand dryer.
“We’ll be home in a few minutes.” I use a paper towel on mine.
Leaving the mart, I cross the open lane to get back to my SUV. But another black SUV pulls in quickly and stops short right in front of us.
Blocking us.