11
I smacked his arm. “I want to be more than a waitress, you know.” We talked for a while longer before they had to go, and they watched as I locked up the door. I drove back home, bringing the last of the stuff into my kitchen.
My phone rang, I picked it up without checking the caller ID. A man’s voice. “Natalya? I am Father Kempechny, and I received your letter.”
“Father? Thank you for calling, I have so many questions.” My mind was reeling, here was the one person who knew my mother, who helped her in her darkest times.
“I know, my child. There are many things you want to know, but these things should not be spoken about over the phone. You said you wanted to know more, and things have recently changed. If you travel to your hometown, I will take you to her and explain to you what you need to know.”
I thought about it, I had no passport, but I did have some money now. It would cut into my college fund, but something in the back of my mind told me I HAD to find out the truth about her. “It will take some time, Father. I have to make arrangements, get a passport.”
“That is all right, the dead aren’t going anywhere.” He gave me his direct phone number, he was still at a church in my mother’s hometown. “Call me when you have tickets, fly into Moscow then take the train to Sergiyev Posad. I will show you what you seek then.”
“I will, Father. Can you… can you tell my father’s name?”
“Not yet, Jessie. Better to wait.” He was being evasive, so it couldn’t be good. Of course, my father was a rapist and a killer, so I shouldn’t expect much. I thanked him again and he hung up the phone.
I didn’t have Internet at the small cabin in the woods, but I did have phone service with unlimited data. I got busy, looking to see how much this little trip would cost me. I searched the Delta Airlines site, they had direct flights from Minneapolis/St. Paul airport for a little over two thousand dollars round trip. I cringed, thinking about a twelve-plus hour flight crammed in Coach, between a fat old businessman and an overweight woman who used too much bad perfume. Add in hotel, cab, food, and this trip was going to push over four grand, easy.
How much was it worth to find out about my real parents? Did it really matter?
I was distracted by a knock on the door. I got up, looking out the window I could see Patrick was there, and he was holding a pie. I didn’t care if the person at the door was Freddy from Friday the 13th, if he had pie for me, I was letting him in. Patrick was nice, though. I opened the door and smiled at him. “Patrick, what a surprise!”
He held out the pie. “Mom was hoping you’d stop by so she could give you this. She knew you wouldn’t have much here while you settled.”
I took it, it was a spiced apple pie, and smelled heavenly. I closed my eyes, just the smell of it made me feel better. “It smells amazing,” I said as I took a step back to invite him in.
“If you don’t mind the company, you can help me eat my ice cream.” He pulled his arm out from behind his back, he had a quart of Kemps’ French Vanilla in it.
I giggled a little. “You don’t have to bribe me, Patrick, I would have offered you a slice,” I said as I walked the pie to the small table. “But I’ll take the ice cream.”
He took his boots off and left them by the door before coming to join me. “I had to bring something too.” He stepped past the boxes that were stacked by the door, everything I had brought back with me. I pulled out some plates, forks and a big spoon; he sat his big frame at the table as I set it. I was glad I had met him, he was becoming a good friend, but there was no spark between us. I didn’t feel the same way with him as I did when I thought about John. I had some friends who were looking for a nice guy, I resolved to introduce him to a few when I got settled in.
“You didn’t have to come all the way out here to eat pie, I’m sure your mom has more.” I saw a flash of embarrassment on his face. “You didn’t.”
“Pies don’t last long in our house, Jessie. Mom had to label this one and threaten violence to keep this one safe.” I could just imagine those big guys fighting over the last piece at the dinner table; with just Mom and I, we never had that problem. I cut us each a slice, then he covered it with a big scoop of ice cream. I knew I’d have to run an extra couple miles to burn it off, but it was SO worth it. I moaned in pleasure as I tasted the pie, his mom was a great cook. “I thought you might want some help unpacking, the pie was mostly so I could have more.”
“I don’t have that much, really,” I said. “What do you know about getting a passport?”
“It’s not that hard. You get photos at a drugstore, go to the county offices and fill out the application, then wait six weeks or so to get it.”
Six weeks? Crap. “Any way to get it faster?”
“Well, you can pay more to put a rush on it. If you really need it fast, I think you can go to the Consulate in Chicago, show them your tickets, and they can do it overnight.” That sounded a little better, but I didn’t want to go to Chicago. “What do you need a passport for?”
“I want to find out more about my real parents,” I told him. We finished the pie, then I went and got the letter from the Father that gave me all the information I had. He read it, then read it again. “I wrote the Father back, and he called me. He is willing to tell me more, but not over the phone. I want to visit my mother’s grave, too. She gave her life for me, I want to thank her in person.” I dabbed the Kleenex to my eyes and started to break down. He reached for me, but I ran to the bathroom instead. I took a few minutes to gather myself, washed my face, and then went back out. He was still reading the letter. “I’m sorry, I get a little emotional.”
“It’s all right, you’ve gone through so much these last few weeks,” he said as he pulled me into his lap and wrapped his arms around me. “Let it out.”
I did. I laid my head on his shoulder and bawled my eyes out, letting go of all the emotions I’d bottled up.Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.
Patrick’s POV
I held her as she cried, trying to ignore her body pressing into mine as I tried to stay in the Friend Zone. She wasn’t mine, she was John’s, and I was here to protect and help her. She fell asleep in my arms, totally exhausted physically and emotionally. I put her on the couch, covering her up with the quilt that was hanging over the back, and went back to the table.
I looked at the letter from the Father again. Taking out my phone, I took photos of each side, sending them to my father and my Alpha along with a quick text about how she was thinking of visiting him to get answers. My father was first to respond. “Don’t do anything, don’t let on you shared the information. We promised the Highlands Alpha and Beta John we would protect her, and if she runs off to Russia that will be difficult.”
I thought about it. “What if she wakes up and buys a plane ticket? She asked me about how to get a passport.”
“Good, then we have at least a few days to weeks to prepare. If she wants a passport, help her out. Right now, it’s important to be her friend, to build her trust. Keep visiting, ask her to help you with your work. If you can, get her involved in her schoolwork, hopefully that will distract her long enough we can figure this out,” my Dad said.
“I’m going to send this to Alpha Esca with my observations,” my Alpha said. “He knows the European Alphas, he may be able to find out who her father is before she does. There are only so many gentleman’s clubs in Moscow at that time, we can narrow it down since the Father said her real father owned one.”
“Yes sir. I will make sure she is protected, and help when I can.”
I could tell from her breathing and heart rate she was deeply asleep, so I had another slice of pie and more ice cream before covering it and putting it away. I was getting antsy, so I turned out the lights and left her a note saying I went home, and to call me if she needed to talk. Locking the door behind me, I drove home. Mom could see on my face how upset I was. “Go run it out,” she said. I nodded, pulling my clothes off and leaving them on the chair by the door before shifting into my grey and black wolf. Taking off for the woods, I ran hard, heading to our territory boundary. A full circuit was a good twenty-two mile run, and I needed every inch of that to get my head straight again.