“Five more minutes, yes?”
“If I stay, that five minutes will turn into five more. Then five more. Then who knows how many after that.” She kissed Anastasia’s cheek, then slid out of bed. “I’ve got to go.”
Anastasia turned to face her. “What if I give you reason to stay?” she asked, tossing the covers aside.
Laramie’s mouth watered as she stared at Anastasia’s naked body. She had spent last night with that body pressed against her side. Now she wanted to feel it moving underneath her.
“Don’t tempt me.”
She gathered her discarded clothes and wadded them into a ball rather than putting them on. It would be foolish for her to get dressed when she would need to strip for a shower anyway.
She opened the door just wide enough to poke her head through the opening. She didn’t see Elena wandering around so she dashed across the hall. She cinched her robe around her waist and gathered her work clothes. When she opened the door, Elena was standing in front of her with a stern look on her face.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. Elena had picked up a good deal of English, thanks to her daily lessons, but a few communication gaps remained. “Do I need to grab Anastasia?”
Elena leaned forward and sniffed melodramatically. “You smell like sex.”
“I—What?”
“You,” Elena said, slowly enunciating every word. “Smell. Like. Sex. I will not have such behavior under my roof. No daughter of mine—”
She tried to poke her finger into Laramie’s chest, but Laramie brushed her hand away.
“I’m not your daughter,” she said, trying to keep a lid on her temper.
Elena pointed behind her. “But she is.”
Laramie looked past her, hoping to see Anastasia’s door was still closed and Anastasia was sound asleep. No such luck. Anastasia stood in the open doorway, one hand on the knob and the other on the jamb. Her beautiful face was twisted in a rictus of pain.
Laramie wanted to go to her. To hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. But she couldn’t because she didn’t know. She squeezed Anastasia’s arm to show her support.
“Do you want me to—”
“No,” Anastasia said softly. “Just go.”
Laramie left them alone. In a way, Elena’s revelation didn’t come as a surprise. Their bond had been palpable since the moment they met. Would it remain intact now that Anastasia knew the reason behind it, or were there too many years of anger and resentment in the way?
Whatever the outcome, Laramie knew Anastasia and Elena’s relationship would never be the same again. She could only pray that her and Anastasia’s relationship wouldn’t be irreparably damaged as a result.
* * *
Elena gripped the lapels of her robe with both hands as if she were trying to protect herself from something. Anastasia almost laughed at the absurdity of the idea, considering she was the one who stood to be hurt the most.
“I did not mean for you to find out this way.”
Elena extended a pleading hand toward her, but Anastasia jerked away. She bumped against the door, making it bang against the wall. The sound echoed through the quiet house.
Elena flinched, then slowly lowered her hand. Anastasia watched it descend. Was that the hand of the woman who had held her when she was a baby? The one that had tossed her away instead of caring for her?
“I have wanted to tell you so many times,” Elena said. “From the moment I recognized you and knew you were mine.” She pointed to her eye. “My baby, the one I gave away, had the same mark in her eye. She had forehead just like yours. And a smile that made my heart melt every time I saw it. Just like yours. We can get a DNA test if you want, but I don’t need to see the test results to prove what I already know to be true. You are my daughter.”
“Is that why you and your sisters couldn’t stop staring at me on family day? Because you’ve convinced yourself and them that this fairy tale you’re concocting is true?”
“It’s not a fairy tale, Ana. It’s true. I am your mother.”
“Stop saying that!”
Anastasia said the words so loud Shorty and the rest of the ranch hands probably heard her all the way in the bunkhouse.
“Even if you do turn out to be the woman who gave birth to me, you are not now and have never been my mother.”
“I deserve that.”
“And I deserve an explanation. If you loved me as much as you’re trying to convince me to believe, why did you give me away?”
Elena lowered her eyes. “It’s complicated.”
“I like puzzles. Help me solve this one.”
“Come to the kitchen. We can sit and talk over a cup of coffee instead of standing here yelling at each other.”
Anastasia would have preferred to remain where she was, but she decided to heed Elena’s suggestion for Laramie’s sake. Laramie could take refuge in the bathroom for only so long. She followed Elena down the hall so Laramie wouldn’t turn into a prune while she cowered under the shower spray.
“If you’re my…mother,” she said while Elena poured two cups of black coffee, “who’s my father?”
Elena didn’t answer, forcing Anastasia to press her for a response.
“Please tell me it isn’t Yevgeny.”
“No, it is not him,” Elena said firmly.
When she hesitated again, Anastasia waited her out.
“I do not know your father’s name,” Elena said at length. “He and I were never formally introduced.”
Elena seemed ashamed by the confession. Anastasia could think of only one reason why. A reason both logical and unimaginable.
“You were raped, weren’t you? That’s why you couldn’t bear to keep me. That’s why you won’t let Shorty get too close to you.”
Nodding, Elena finally broke down. Her broad shoulders shook as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“How did it happen?” Anastasia asked.
“You already know the circumstances. Do you really need to know the details?”
“I don’t want to. I need to. I have spent twenty-eight years wondering about my past. You are the only person who can fill in the blanks for me. All the blanks.”
Elena got up and plucked a bottle of vodka out of the liquor cabinet.
“For this,” she said, pouring a liberal amount into her cup, “I’m going to need something stronger than coffee.”
“I’ll take some of that, too.”
Considering the enormity of the moment, she felt confident Laramie would forgive her for breaking the rules.
“I was twenty-five when it happened. Three years younger than you are now. One night, I went to dinner with friends. I left early because I had to be at work the next day. As I made my way home, a man ran up behind me and hit me on the head with something hard and cylindrical. It felt like a police baton. The blow knocked me unconscious. When I came to, he had pulled me into an alley and he was having his way with me. He put his hand over my mouth so I couldn’t scream for help. I have no idea what he looked like because he wore a balaclava over his face. He didn’t speak during the assault so there’s no way I would be able to recognize his voice. I still remember the way he smelled. He had a very distinctive body odor. If I ever came across him again, I would recognize him right away.”
Anastasia winced as she took a sip of the spiked coffee. Not from the sting of the vodka but from the pain inflicted by Elena’s tale. Her tale.
“I told my sisters what had happened, but I didn’t go to the police because I wouldn’t have been able to give them a description and I didn’t want any of the officers to act like it was my fault. Plus I couldn’t be sure the man who accosted me wasn’t one of them. If he was, they would be more likely to protect him than seek justice for me.”
Anastasia had heard similar stories from friends who had gotten gay-bashed. Dealing with the trauma of the assault was often less stressful than dealing with the police’s disdain afterward.
“I discovered I was p
regnant two months after I was…attacked. I wasn’t seeing anyone at the time—I stopped dating after the incident—so I knew the father could be only one person. My sisters told me to get rid of it—of you. A baby, they said, would only remind me of the worst night of my life. I struggled with the decision. I took too much time to make up my mind, and I had no choice but to bring the pregnancy to term.”
“Why did you give me away?”
“I was living on my own, making barely enough money to support myself. I couldn’t support you, too. I wanted you to have what I couldn’t give you: a loving home with parents who could care for you the way I couldn’t. I wanted to cry when you told me you had grown up in an orphanage. That no one ever claimed you. I wanted to tell you everything then. I wanted to tell you I was sorry I wasn’t able to make your dreams come true. And for making you the way you are.”
“The way I—You mean you think you’re the reason I’m a lesbian?”
Elena spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Perhaps my distrust of men seeped into you somehow.”
The statement wasn’t the most farfetched Anastasia had ever heard, but it came close.
“My best friend is a man. I trust him with my life. I just don’t want to have sex with him.”
“Mischa is not your boyfriend?” Elena seemed almost relieved by the revelation. “That changes my view on some things. Part of the reason I was so upset when I saw you flirting with Laramie was I thought you were cheating on him with her.”
“Mischa and I aren’t together. We just said we were to make things easier for both of us.”
“And you don’t blame me?”
“You didn’t make me this way.” Anastasia rolled her eyes heavenward. “Someone else did.”
“That makes me so happy.” Elena gripped her coffee mug with both hands as she started crying again. “I used to think the night you were conceived was the worst day of my life. It wasn’t. The worst was the day I let you go.”
“What was the best?”
“The day we met for the second time. When I looked into your eyes and realized you were mine.”
Anastasia remembered that moment. When Elena had gasped after seeing the birthmark in her eye. The sound, she realized now, hadn’t been one of horror or revulsion but recognition.
“I know you will need time to take everything in, but do you think you will ever be able to forgive me?”
“I don’t know,” Anastasia said honestly. “I’ve spent so much time wondering who you were and why you did the things you did. Now that I know, I don’t know what to do with it. Or the realization that you don’t approve of me being gay. Even if we put the past twenty-eight years behind us, I can’t forget what you said last month.”
“I was wrong to say those things. I didn’t know—”
“That you weren’t just talking about Laramie? That you were talking about me and Mischa, too?”
“I said the things I did because I didn’t want you to be hurt. I didn’t want her to take advantage of you and walk away with your heart in her hands. I was wrong to say what I did because I am in no position to pass judgment on someone else’s life.”
Anastasia must have lost her tolerance for alcohol over the past few weeks. After less than one shot, she felt the vodka begin to lower her defenses.
“I won’t comment on your choice of partner if you don’t comment on mine,” she said.
“It’s a deal.”
Elena reached across the table. Anastasia felt a surge of emotion when Elena’s large hand swallowed her smaller one in its grip.
“Is it safe to come out?” Laramie asked gently.
Anastasia turned to look at her. Laramie looked adorable standing there with her hat in her hands and an expression of concern on her face.
“Yes,” Anastasia said, switching to English. “Everything is fine now.”
She and Elena—She and her mother couldn’t erase the past, but if they worked hard enough, they could create a future they had both dreamed of. One she had thought she would never achieve but was now within reach. If she was lucky, she would be able to spend it with Laramie Bowman by her side.
Chapter Twenty-six
Laramie felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Her relationship with Anastasia was out in the open, and despite what she had been told to expect, the world had not come to an end. Quite the opposite. In fact, her world had never felt more idyllic. Sure, a couple of the ranch hands and their wives had acted a bit standoffish during the first family day after Mischa made his big announcement, and she and Anastasia had confirmed the rumors about them as well, but Elena had taken the guilty parties aside and given them a talking-to. Elena hadn’t revealed what she said and Anastasia hadn’t been close enough to overhear her, but Laramie had been able to tell by Elena’s stern expression and the group’s downcast looks that she hadn’t tempered her words while vocalizing her disappointment in their behavior.
“She’s taking this mama bear thing to heart,” Laramie had said as she watched the fiery exchange.
The men had been receptive to the news that Elena was Anastasia’s mother. Though she hadn’t told them the unfortunate story detailing Anastasia’s conception, she had admitted to giving Anastasia up for adoption—and confessed to being overjoyed by their most unexpected reunion.
“She is trying to make up for lost time.”
“I’d say she’s off to a pretty good start.”
After they absorbed Elena’s withering lecture, Fyodor and Ivan had each made their way over to Laramie, Anastasia, Mischa, and Pavel to offer their apologies. The gestures had seemed sincere, not feigned. Like the men were speaking from their hearts and not just paying lip service so they could get out of Elena’s doghouse.
“This proves that everything I have been doing as an activist is worth it,” Anastasia had said. “If I cannot change whole world at once, maybe I can change little bit of it at a time.”
When Laramie had reached for Anastasia’s hand, it had felt like much more than a gesture of solidarity. It had felt like she was making a statement. A loud one.
“Is time for you to make big coming-out speech you said you would not do?” Anastasia had asked with a teasing smile.
Laramie had squeezed the hand she held in hers.
“Who needs speeches? In my book, actions speak louder than words.”
Things had been okay around the ranch since that slight bump in the road. More than okay. Better than before. Laramie didn’t have to be on guard all the time or worry about keeping secrets—either hers or Anastasia’s. She could just be herself. She had never felt more free. Or more wary.
As she had seen time and time again, life often gave you everything you wanted only to turn around and take it all away. She went to bed each night and woke each morning wondering when the other shoe was going to drop.
It took almost five months for her to finally receive the answer.
Her cell phone rang late one night in mid December. Despite the cozy covers piled on top of her and Anastasia’s warm body lying beside her, a chill went down her spine when she heard the sound. She reached for the phone knowing the conversation she was about to have likely wouldn’t be pleasant.
“Dad?” she said after seeing her father’s name printed on the phone’s liquid crystal display. “Is something wrong?”
“I tried and tried not to make this call, but I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
Her father was one of the strongest people Laramie had ever known, but she had never heard him sound so helpless.
“What’s happened?”
“Your brother’s taken a turn. I need you to come home.”
As Laramie watched large flakes of snow fall outside her bedroom window, she felt the frigid winter temperatures began to seep into her.
“What?” she asked, trying not to tremble with fear. “I don’t understand. The last time I talked to Mama, she said Trey was getting better.”
&n
bsp; “His body is healing, but his mind is…” Her father’s voice trailed off as he let out a heavy sigh. “He says he’s still in pain, even though Dr. Whitaker says he shouldn’t be feeling much more than the normal aches from physical rehabilitation. He’s not the kind who will admit when he’s hurting, so logic says there has to be something to it. At least, that’s what I thought in the beginning. I had a talk with Lloyd, though, and he told me Trey should have weaned himself off painkillers two months ago. Instead, he’s taking more and more of them. At this point, it can’t be for pain. I think he’s just trying to escape.”
“Escape from what?”
“Reality. If his rodeo career is over, he has no idea what he’ll do with his life. Rodeo was always Plan A. He doesn’t have a Plan B.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Talk to him. He’ll listen to you. He always has. Your mother and I have been trying to convince him to go to a drug rehab center, but he won’t hear of it.”
“He’s always been a stubborn cuss. He gets that from you.”
“So do you. Unlike me and Trey, you allow yourself to see reason from time to time. I know you’ve made a commitment to Mr. Ivanov. I wouldn’t dream of asking you to break it if I could see any other way around it, but—” Laramie could hear her father’s control start to break. “I don’t want to wake up one morning and find my only son dead of an overdose.”
It broke Laramie’s heart to hear her father suffering so. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him as he cried, but she could only use words to offer comfort.
“It’ll take some time for me to make my way, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
* * *
Anastasia had been listening in silence throughout the call between Laramie and her father. She placed a hand on Laramie’s slumped shoulders when the call ended.
“What is wrong?”
Laramie turned to her with tears in her eyes. “I have to go home.”
Comrade Cowgirl Page 23
