by Juniper Hart
“What are their names, Leonid?” Andreas insisted. Svetlana could tell he was losing his patience with the other man.
Leonid sauntered back into the living room and snatched the invitation back up into his meaty hand, sighing as he read the words again. “Trevor… and Marika.”
Andreas sat back in the high back wing chair, a pensive look on his mismatched face. Svetlana could feel beads of sweat forming around her brow.
“Who are these people, Lana?” Andreas asked, his intelligent but frigid eyes watching her closely. Svetlana thought quickly and came up with a story.
“Oh, she is a Facebook friend of mine. I haven’t even met her in person,” she answered offhandedly. “How strange she would send me an invitation to her wedding.” She forced a thin smile on her face. “But I suppose people will do anything for a gift,” she offered weakly, wondering how much of this Andreas was buying into. Judging by the expression on his face, not very much.
“Yes, it is very strange. How did you meet her?” Andreas pressed, sitting forward to rest his arms on his knees and study her face intently.
“Playing Words with Friends, Andreas.” She quickly rose to her feet, terrified as a dizzying feeling overcame her. “Are you finished asking stupid questions?” She didn’t wait for him to answer before she ambled toward the kitchen.
“Where are you going now?” Andreas demanded.
“To make supper. I have to eat something other than the shit pizza you idiots continue to order day after day. It is no wonder that my toilet looks the way it does.”
“Don’t go too far, my love,” Andreas told her warningly. She shot him a disgusted look and left the living room.
As if that would ever be an option, she thought despairingly. As Svetlana entered the kitchen, she opened the fridge and pretended to busy herself with making the evening meal, but her mind was racing.
Andreas was not smart enough to make the connection. He had no reason to believe that Kendra was in the States. He didn’t remember her history.
Svetlana bit on her lower lip, trying to make sense of her friend’s cryptic message. Was that invitation real, or was that simply her way of letting her know where she was and that she was okay?
I must find a way to get to her.
The name “Marika Varga” had been plucked from a book that she and Kendra had read when they had first been stolen. In the novel, Marika was an assassin who managed to seek revenge on all her enemies, and Svetlana knew her friend was speaking to her in code, but to what end?
As if guided by an unseen hand, she felt her body being drawn back toward the living room where Andreas was staring into the fireplace silently.
What is he doing? she wondered, staring silently at him until suddenly, Andreas reached for his cell phone and dialed out. Her breath caught in her chest as she heard his side of the conversation.
“I believe I know where she is, sir,” Andreas started and paused as the other person spoke. “Yes, I think so…”
Svetlana inhaled sharply. Would he really call on him now, without having proof? It was a careless thing to do, but she understood why Andreas was doing it.
If he was wrong, sending the man on the other end of the phone on a wild goose chase was as good as signing his own death warrant. On the other hand, if Andreas said nothing while his gut screamed at him and she was in America, he would most certainly end up dead by the same fate. It was a difficult choice to make.
A Catch-22, Svetlana thought grimly, waiting for Andreas to speak again.
“I-I, yes… sir. Svetlana received a cryptic invitation to a ceremony in America today. She claims she knows nothing about who sent it, but I suspect that it’s her.”
Svetlana noted that he had purposely left out the word “wedding” from the sentence. She realized, for the first time, that Andreas was as afraid as she was. He had just as much to lose as she did.
“I don’t think so, sir,” Andreas was saying again. “But I can go there make certain it is her.”
Another pause ensued. Svetlana would have given her left arm to find out what the other man was saying, but she dared not move.
“Y-you want Leonid to go with you to the States? I’ll let him know… and where would you like me to go?” She watched Andreas’ body sink back against the wing chair again. “That’s fine, I’ll stay here with Lana.”
Dread filled Svetlana’s gut, and she slowly backed into the kitchen again. She needed to find a way to contact Kendra before her worst nightmare arrived in the US. The only question was, how could she do that with Andreas breathing down her neck?
“Marika, you will not believe what I found at the market today!” Trevor hurried into the apartment and kicked the door shut behind him. “Come and see this!” He dropped the half dozen bags he was carrying onto the kitchen floor.
He had gone a little overboard, but he had been overwhelmed with the sights and smells of the market.
This is why you should never go shopping when you’re hungry, he thought ruefully, placing his keys upon the counter and poking his head around the corner into the living room. To his surprise, it was empty.
He had been expecting to see Marika curled up on the sectional, covered by a blanket, reading a book with Ellie, or the two engaged in some kind of art project. But as he wandered through the apartment, it was clear that neither his niece nor his fiancée was home.
Hmm. I wonder where she went. He had discovered that the soup lady at the market had created a tantalizing pot of goulash, and Trevor had purchased half of it, knowing that Marika would appreciate the taste of home. He walked back into the kitchen to put away his purchases, including two impressive sunflowers which he knew Ellie would adore.
As he got down to the last reusable bag, he bunched it up to stick it in the cupboard underneath the sink. That was when he saw a white piece of paper slip to the floor. Crouching down, Trevor retrieved it, grinning when he realized the motion took no effort.
Even six months ago, I would have been panting and huffing and puffing right now. Marika has been so good for me. I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been, and I’m definitely happier than I’ve ever been.
Every day, she pushed him further without saying a word. She gently reminded him that he had a child to take care of now, and that Ellsbeth had lost enough without losing anyone else. Marika inspired him to do better for himself, and soon, Trevor found he was working less and his confidence was stronger than it had ever been.
Beyond that, Marika had figured out a way to incorporate his business and file his taxes appropriately, going back five years. When Trevor had shown Tristan what she had done, his sister had been wowed as she looked over the returns.
“Is it okay? I mean… it’s not that I don’t trust her,” Trevor said quickly. “It’s just, the tax laws in Hungary are different than ours. Is this done properly?”
“It’s perfect!” Tristan had sputtered. “She found loopholes I wouldn’t have found. Does she have an accounting background? How does she know so much about this?”
Trevor had shrugged and shaken his head.
“No, I don’t think so,” he answered, but he was ashamed to discover that he was not entirely certain.
I can just chalk this up to one more enigma about Marika that I’ll probably never unravel, he thought, but he realized that it wasn’t upsetting to him. He’d come to accept that everyone had their secrets, and that Marika had earned his trust. She’s done nothing but enrich both mine and Ellsbeth’s life, and she deserves her space and respect for that.
“Well, you no longer have to worry about the IRS coming to seize your business, brother. Your fiancée has you all caught up, and somehow, you’re getting a hell of a lot back from Uncle Sam. Marika is going to need to give me tips on this.”
Trevor grinned, thinking about Tristan’s approval of his fiancée as he opened the piece of paper he’d retrieved from the floor.
“Dear Trevor,” it began, and he felt ice chips in his veins, his smile fading
to nothingness. His eyes went bleak. As he took in the even, feminine scrawl he had grown to know and cherish, his vision began to blur. Every one of his fears was realized in that single letter.
Marika had left him, and she wasn’t coming back.
8
“Trevor, please come over and stay the night,” Tristan begged. “I don’t feel right about you being home alone. Ellsbeth is asking about you and Marika. I don’t know what to tell her.”
“I’ve been alone my whole life,” Trevor commented bitterly. “And I guess I always will be.”
He had spent the afternoon staring out the window, watching dusk fall over the landscape, but not really seeing anything except the words Marika had written in the letter, words which pierced his heart like a thousand small pin pricks.
She had dropped Ellie off at Tristan’s before fleeing, and in some depressive haze, he had reached for the phone to call his sister. As soon as she answered, he regretted his action. Instantly, her voice had turned to sadness, but he heard the unspoken undertone there, the one that said, “I knew it!”
She was waiting for us to fail. Mom, too. Why did I ever allow myself to get comfortable in this? The outcome was inevitable.
The siblings sat in a partially awkward, partially comfortable silence for a moment, each with their respective phones pressed to their ears.
Suddenly, Trevor knew his sister was right. He shouldn’t be alone, especially not in the condo, and it wasn’t fair to Ellsbeth that she be left alone while he wallowed in self-pity. She needed her uncle, and he wouldn’t let her down. Regardless of the abyss Trevor was facing, he needed to remain strong for Ellie. She didn’t deserve more pain in her young life.
The entire apartment was a reminder of Marika anyway. She was in every corner of every room.
She couldn’t wait to get out of here. She didn’t even take her toothbrush, Trevor thought with a sick feeling in his stomach. The thought of marrying me repelled her so much that she just ran back home without so much as a second thought.
“Baxter is coming by,” Tristan offered. “He could use some time with his uncle also.”
It was all Trevor needed to hear. His family was still there for him, and they would overcome together, just like they always did. Besides, Baxter had also lost a lot, and Trevor wanted to remain strong for his nephew.
“I’ll be there in a few hours,” Trevor told Tristan. “Just let me get myself together.”
When he arrived at Tristan and Johnny’s bungalow, Trevor recoiled in horror. Harley’s silver Dodge Caravan was parked in the driveway.
For a fleeting moment, he considered turning around and making the two-hour drive back to Connecticut, but he was drained both emotionally and physically.
What can Harley possibly say to make me feel worse than I already do? he thought, smirking with uncharacteristic firmness. He wasn’t that being anymore, the pushover who hid from conflict. He was there to spend time with his family, and nothing was going to stop him from doing just that.
He got out of the new Lexus, a car he had purchased at Marika’s insistence.
“Why do you drive such an old car?” she had asked him. He’d shrugged, glancing at his beat-up Escape. He had purchased it second hand five years earlier, and it had done its job, transporting him from point A to point B.
“I have no problems with old Suzy,” he protested, but Marika had shaken her head, sighing.
“It is a good car, yes, but don’t you deserve something better? Why are you so afraid to spoil yourself?” Trevor had looked at her uncomprehendingly.
“No,” he replied. “I don’t deserve anything better.”
Anger had lit her seaweed eyes, turning them a deep ocean blue at his answer.
“Yes, you do. And I won’t stop telling you that until you believe it. You will buy a new car,” she insisted. That very afternoon, he had driven them home in a brand-new silver Lexus, one he had picked out completely on his own.
Trevor had long since engrained his unworthiness in his own mind, but as the days had passed, he realized that he really enjoyed the luxury of the automobile. He had never indulged in material things for himself, yet under Marika’s guidance, he was suddenly wearing better quality clothes, smelling like expensive cologne, and he had even spoiled himself to a haircut, something he hadn’t done in almost a year.
He found himself admitting that he felt better, and everyone had commented on his happy glow. Of course, that glow had faded and continued to wan as he climbed the steps toward Tristan’s front door.
Why did she do all that? Why would she build me up to crush me like this? His throat was raw from the tears he had shed on the drive, and he wondered if his eyes were swollen. Trevor didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but the cruelty that Marika had bestowed upon him.
Anyway, it didn’t matter how he looked. He was going to be subjected to Harley’s ridicule anyway. He may as well have given his cousin more ammunition. Hopefully, if he gave Harley enough steam, he would burn himself out and go home early.
The toll from the day had beaten his body severely, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and go to sleep, possibly never to wake up again.
Stop being a fool. You have Ellie. Get yourself together.
“What are you doing out here? Come in!” Tristan was at the open door, staring at her brother. Trevor hadn’t realized he had stopped on the front porch, where he’d remained unmoving. He glanced up, surprised at her presence.
“What’s Harley doing here?” he demanded. Tristan looked taken aback by his sharp tone, but she shook her head.
“He’s not here, Trev. Will is, though.”
Relief crossed through Trevor’s body. He was grateful that he wouldn’t have to deal with his abrasive cousin that day. He followed Tristan into the house.
“Is he okay? Why is he here?” he asked without any real interest. Will was a nice guy, and Trevor would much prefer his company to that of Harley.
“Everyone is fine, Trevor,” Will replied, rising from the sofa. Trevor suddenly realized that neither Addison nor Ellsbeth had come out to greet him.
“Where are the girls?” Trevor asked, his brow puckering.
“It’s just us, Trevor, and the baby,” Tristan told him. “Johnny took the girls and Baxter to the city for the night.”
Suddenly Trevor was alarmed, and his eyes narrowed. His entire purpose for coming over was to see his niece and spend time with the kids.
“What is this, an intervention?” he growled.
“Of course not,” Will said quickly. “We just thought you could use some peace and quiet tonight. We’re having a slumber party.” He offered his cousin-in-law a half smile, and Trevor immediately felt apologetic.
“Sorry, I’m a little tense,” he muttered, sitting down beside Will on the sofa. He nodded understandingly.
“I heard you had a rough day,” Will agreed, nodding compassionately. “What did she say? I mean, assuming you want to talk about it at all.”
“She didn’t say anything. She left a letter,” Tristan interrupted quickly. She shot Will a quick, warning look.
Trevor smiled humorlessly. He reached into his pocket and removed the crumpled note, throwing it angrily at Will. He picked it up and smoothed it out before beginning to peruse it, an eyebrow arched slightly as he took in the words on the page.
“Here, Trevor. And I won’t take no for an answer,” Tristan said, thrusting a glass of wine into her brother’s hands. “Trust me when I say you’re going to need this. It’s the only way to properly get over heartbreak.”
Trevor was in no position to argue, and he nodded at his sister, taking a sip. You’re okay here. Just take the night to get yourself together. Tristan is doing you a favor. He sat back and stared up at the ceiling, still trying to make sense with what had happened.
“Trevor, you can’t take this personally,” Will said quietly, refolding the letter. “Sometimes things like this happen. When I was in college, I did a cou
rse on immigrant sociology. Because of the close-knit nature of old-world communities, many women who leave their homes opt to return simply because they miss their families. North American society does not face this nearly to the extent of the rest of the world, particularly European and Asian cultures.”
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, not comprehending the connection. Will’s dark eyebrows knit together, and he tapped the letter in confusion.
“Well… because… well, she says here that she misses her parents,” Will trailed off lamely, suddenly looking embarrassed. “I’m just explaining that the familial connection—”
Trevor stared at him, leaning forward as Will abruptly stopped speaking.
“What?” he demanded, his expression perplexed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“In the letter… it says that she went home because she misses her mom and dad,” Will breathed. With the stealth of an alley cat, Trevor snatched up the letter which Will had lain on the couch between them. He ripped it open and began to read it again as if seeing the painful words for the first time.
“Dear Trevor,” he started aloud.
“Trevor, you don’t need to do this to yourself again,” Tristan pleaded. “I’m sure you’ve committed this to memory by now.”
Trevor ignored her and read on.
“I want you to know that the last year I’ve spent with you has been the best year of my life. I wish I could remain here with you forever, but I must go home, where I belong. Please forgive me for this and know that I love you and Ellsbeth more than I ever thought possible. Thank you for everything you’ve done, and never stop believing in yourself. Don’t worry about me. Marika.”
He stared up at Will uncomprehendingly.
“It doesn’t say anything about her parents,” he said slowly. “Where did you see that?”
Will pointed at the paper again. “On the back.”
Manically, Trevor flipped the single piece of paper. The blood drained from his face as he saw script he’d never noticed before.
