Ashes

by Aleatha Romig

  The days we didn’t meet, I was left with assignments.

  I’d never been much for school, but with him it was different.

  I couldn’t hide in the back of the classroom or work on my invisibility. With his oversight, I was the star pupil. There truly seemed to be little he didn’t know. Philosophy and history were his passion. While we worked on other subjects such as algebra and geometry, his stories were my favorite. I could sit and listen to him for hours. Even my baby seemed comforted by his deep, resonating tone. Together we’d be lulled into the world of long ago, learning without even realizing it.

  Irina was different altogether.

  She was older, probably closer to Miss Warner’s age. Yet she was nothing like the woman with the crop. Irina was both stern and tolerant. It was a welcome dichotomy as she instructed me on my new life. From manners for dining and entertaining to dressing and boundaries within the large home, she was knowledgeable in all things. Irina oversaw my everything. She ordered my clothes, oversaw my hygiene, and monitored my nutrition.

  I never asked Irina or Tadeas if they knew the circumstance of my arrival in Andros Ivanov’s home. They never asked me if I wanted to stay. The subject was carefully avoided on all sides. It was as if I appeared one day and became their responsibility.

  That didn’t mean to insinuate that I never interacted with Andros.

  I did.

  Some mornings I’d be summoned to the dining room or the patio to eat breakfast in his presence. Other times, we would dine together. As time passed, I would wonder why he’d bought me and brought me to Detroit. Rarely did he enter my suite. When he did, it was to oversee the progress on the nursery.

  I knew he had his own suite, yet even a month after my arrival, I’d not seen it.

  He’d been honest about wanting my healing.

  Each night slumbering in a soft, clean large bed followed by days filled with hygiene, nutrition, walks in the garden, and education, all combined to facilitate my improved health. I wasn’t alone. My baby grew too, moving more, kicking, and pushing the limits of its surroundings.

  While Irina tended to my needs upon arrival and each week after, I was also visited by Dr. Katov. Thankfully, Irina accompanied me in each visit, translating his questions and my answers. Unlike doctors of my past, Dr. Katov was professional and thorough. He explained through Irina that I needed nutrition and rest above all else. When hungry, I should eat. When tired, I should sleep. As Andros had stated, my new job was to provide for the baby within me.

  My internment within the cell house had caused me to miss the end of winter and all of springtime. The days now were long and hot. Humidity hung in the air and the walls limited the summer breezes within the garden. I didn’t mind the heat. It was better than staying inside. Along with craving foods and baths, it was sunshine I longed for.

  With my health records incomplete, Dr. Katov figured my due date to be late August to early September. He reassured me that first babies often arrive late and that was all right. The longer my little one stayed safely inside me, the better for his or her health.

  One afternoon near the end of July, Irina informed me that I’d be dining with Mr. Ivanov. To everyone around me, he was Mr. Ivanov. Only I spoke to him as Andros. It wasn’t a huge deal, but in some way, it added to my sense of worth.

  Andros looked up from some papers as I stepped out onto the patio. Irina and I had chosen a blue sundress. Since my arrival, not only had my stomach grown, appearing as a beach ball beneath my clothes, but also my breasts. Truly, I was stunned that my skin could continue to stretch, accommodating my child.

  “Good evening,” he said, his dark eyes scanning over my body.

  It wasn’t uncommon, and while he’d seen me nude in Chicago, he’d never approached the subject since arriving in his home.

  “Good evening, Andros,” I said as I sat. “Are you in town for long?”

  I’d learned that he traveled often. There was something about having him present that set my mind at ease, even when I didn’t see him. I felt no unease around either Irina or Tadeas. It was the others who frequented the house, walked the halls, and occasionally entered the study that was my classroom. Though I didn’t understand their language, the way they looked at me brought a chill to my skin.

  Even with my body covered, their glares gave me the feeling of the men in the senator’s study. It was as if they were seeing me on that small pedestal.

  “I will be gone for a few days,” he said as people moved around us, bringing platters of food to the table and refilling our glasses of water. “That’s why I wanted to see you. How are you feeling?”

  “Better every day.”

  He nodded as he lifted his glass. “Tell me about the child.”

  It was nice to have someone who cared. “Dr. Katov says everything is on schedule.”

  “And you? What is it like?”

  “A miracle that we’re here, that I have food like this…” I nodded toward the table. “Thank you.”

  “The baby.”

  “Kicks a lot, especially before I go to bed at night. It’s funny how it makes my stomach move.”

  Andros smiled. “I’d like to see.”

  The warmth from the summer night evaporated, yet despite the way I’d been welcomed to his home, I knew my place. “Of course, Andros.”

  The subject wasn’t brought up again until near the end of our meal.

  “When do you see and feel the movements?”

  “Usually,” I said, “after I take a bath. I do that before sleep.” The truth was that I often bathed multiple times a day. At a minimum, I’d take a shower upon rising and a bath before sleeping.

  “Madeline, I’ve been patient and you’ve done as I said. You are radiant, such as the sayings predict. I’ve spoken with Dr. Katov and Irina. I can see you and how your body has changed. It’s time I see it for myself without the restriction of covering.”

  I wasn’t certain why his proclamation was upsetting me. I knew our agreement from the night he purchased me. Lifting my gaze, I met his. “Do you want me to come to you or will you come to me?”

  His lips curled upward. “Eight-thirty I’ll be at your suite.” He stood and came closer, running his finger over my cheek. “Madeline, your willingness pleases me.”

  I inhaled as his touch lingered. “I agreed to this.”

  “To belonging to me,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Say it.”

  “I agreed to belong to you.”

  “And are you lacking in anything?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Have I fulfilled your expectation?”

  “Surpassed,” I answered honestly.

  “Be ready for my visit.”

  “I will.”

  When I returned to my suite, the clock read a little after seven in the evening. I chose not to allow my thoughts to linger on what he would want or what he would do. In reality, he’d only asked about the baby and the changes to my body. I chose not to overthink.

  Yet as I settled into the warm fragrant water of my bath, my skin didn’t relish the silky softness of the bath salts. Instead, mentally, I was back at the house, waiting for the customer to arrive. However, this time, I didn’t have the guidance of Miss Warner. I could call Irina, and ask her what?

  Obviously, with the baby inside me, this wouldn’t be my first sexual encounter. What could she possibly say that I hadn’t learned through experience?

  After my bath, I let down my hair. Since my arrival, it had been trimmed and shaped. I applied new mascara and a light pink lip gloss.

  Most often I slept in oversized t-shirts and shorts. They were pajamas but nothing for viewing. Hanging in my closet was a black silk nightgown with a sheer robe. Forgoing panties, I pulled the black silk over my head and down my body. It sheathed my skin, leaving nothing about my baby bulge to the imagination.

  As eight thirty approached I moved about the room, from the sofa and chairs near the balcony to the large
bed. Opening the French doors, I started to step onto the balcony, but voices from below stilled my steps.

  One was Andros. The other was a man I didn’t know. Their conversation was entirely in Russian and while it was difficult to understand, it sounded heated.

  I closed the door and the drapes, opened the pocket door and stepped into the nursery.

  Even the room calmed me. The furniture was white, matching the room’s trim. There was a baby bed, a bassinet, a table for changing the baby’s diaper, a dresser, and a large rocking recliner. I ran the tips of my fingers over the soft sheet and changing pad. Irina and I had already ordered lotions and powder. The top drawer of the changing table was filled with the tiniest diapers, baby wipes, and undershirts she called onesies.

  A smile came to my lips as I ran my palm over my enlarged midsection. “Little one, no matter what Mommy endures, this is because I love you. I love you more than you will ever know.”

  As my ears prickled at the sound coming from the attached room, my breath caught in my throat. There wasn’t a knock.

  The door to my suite had opened.

  Turning off the light in the nursery, I hurried back through the pocket door.

  Andros’s dark stare simmered as he took me in: the black negligee hugging my curves as the sheer cover floated behind me.

  “Andros.”

  “Come closer, Madeline. I’m done waiting for what is mine.”

  Madeline

  Present day

  Patrick and I were in the back seat of a dark sedan while Mason rode in the front seat with Garrett driving. I immediately recognized Garrett as the man with Patrick from our first trip to Ann Arbor, Corpus Christi, and then on to Dallas. He’d recognized me too, saying, “Ms. Miller.” Surprisingly, before I could correct him, Mr. Sparrow did.

  “Madeline and Patrick are married. Her name is Mrs. Kelly.”

  It wasn’t as if Mr. Sparrow had been overtly kind or even compassionate regarding my honesty, and yet that simple statement planted a seed of hope.

  Maybe I was a fool who never learned. That was a real possibility. For as long as I could remember, I tried to see the good in people, even when it didn’t exist. I did that with Kristine at the mission and for years with Andros. I created an illusion that included mutual respect. Each time I began to believe, brick by brick, statement or deed at a time, my sense of security behind the wall grew. That was until he’d orchestrate the obliteration of my illusion to dust.

  I tried to do with my memories of Andros what I’d failed to do with those of Patrick—compartmentalize them away. When I’d done that with Patrick, it was because life had taken me down a different path. Now, it was a matter of choice. I didn’t want the recollections that included Andros.

  I wanted to move forward.

  With my hand within my husband’s grasp, his broad shoulders next to mine, and his cologne filling my senses, we traveled the streets of Chicago on our way to our daughter. It wasn’t that I wanted to save my memories of the time I’d spent with Andros as I had those memories of Patrick when we were young. It was that I refused to allow recollections of Andros to tarnish what was literally at my fingertips.

  Patrick squeezed my hand as we entered a tunnel. The car moved slowly, descending beneath street level. The tunnel angled downward, yet I hadn’t noticed exactly where we had been on the street or in the city, not that I would know. Other than the tournament, I hadn’t been in Chicago since I was moved to Detroit.

  “Soon, you will meet with not only Ruby, but the wives of my friends,” Patrick said.

  “They’re all married?”

  “We all are. I just never mentioned my status to them before.”

  I leaned against his warmth.

  “Anyway, the ladies all know that we married young and that Ruby is our daughter. They don’t, however, know about you and Sparrow.” His head shook. “I believe we should leave that to him to explain.”

  Lights lined the underground two-lane tunnel above and to the sides.

  “Are we almost there?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You all live together?”

  “Not really and yes.”

  I smirked. “That explains it.”

  “Sparrow and his wife, Araneae, have the penthouse. It’s the top two floors. However, the first floor of their penthouse is considered a common area. We gather in their kitchen almost every morning. Lorna, Reid’s wife, self-appointed herself as our caretaker. For a long time, she was the only female, and I believe she wanted to do what she could to help four helpless schmucks. She’s an excellent cook and takes care of the apartments too. The floor below the penthouse contains three equally large apartments. Reid and Lorna live in one and Mason and Laurel in another.”

  “And you in the third?” I asked.

  “And us in the third,” Patrick corrected.

  “Is Ruby there? In your apartment?”

  “Araneae asked if she could stay in the penthouse.”

  “And you agreed?”

  “I thought it would be easier. Ruby knows I’m her father, but she doesn’t know me. Our goal was for her to be as comfortable as possible. And she and Araneae hit it off. Letting her stay up there made sense.”

  And comfortable was with Mr. Sparrow?

  I had trouble believing that.

  The tunnel opened to a wide garage filled with many different cars, makes, models, and sizes. Garrett brought the car to a stop in front of an elevator. The next thing I knew, Patrick, Mason, and I were on our way up to what was labeled A on the keypad. Strangely there were few options: G, 2, A, and P.

  Near the options available was a scanner. Instead of his hand, Mason leaned forward, allowing a beam to scan his eye. Once he did, the doors closed and we moved upward.

  “I’ll get you settled in our apartment and then go get Ruby and bring her to you.”

  I nodded, remembering the conversation on the plane. I hadn’t been granted access to other floors of this tight-knit dwelling. The elevator opened to what appeared as a lobby with sofas and chairs. There were three doors. Patrick and I stepped out, but Mason stayed within.

  “I’m going to 2 to check on Reid,” he said as the doors closed.

  Near the button to call the elevator was another sensor.

  “I can’t make anything work, can I?”

  “I guess that depends on what you want to make work,” Patrick said with a grin as he led me to the middle door. “Should I carry you over the threshold?”

  “I think I can walk.”

  As he opened the door, the afternoon sunshine streamed in through floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the interior of the apartment in warm shades of crimson. The room we entered was a large living room, complete with a massive television and a theater-style sofa. The walls contained a few large photographs of Chicago’s skyline, and yet there was little that said this was Patrick’s home.

  A smile came to my face, realizing this was a multimillion-dollar bachelor pad in the sky.

  “You’ve definitely moved up from the hole in the wall.”

  Patrick grinned. “I’d move back to that hole if it meant I was with you.”

  I turned toward him, taking in his broad shoulders, height, and girth. He wasn’t the boy who lived in a wall any longer. “I’m not sure we’d fit. How about we stay here together instead?”

  The living room opened to a dining area, complete with a table and six chairs. It fit the room perfectly, almost as if it were staged. Into the kitchen, I followed and stilled. The cabinetry, countertops, and appliances were top of the line and such as with the table, they looked unused.

  I turned toward Patrick. “It’s beautiful. When is the last time you cooked?”

  He shrugged. “Does frozen food count?”

  I smiled.

  “Ruby was probably in diapers and it wasn’t here.”

  “Mason’s wife?”

  “Lorna is Reid’s wife, but my coffee maker gets used.”

  I ran my hands
over the solid-surface countertops and tall chairs near a breakfast bar. “I have a confession.”

  “You don’t cook either,” he said with a grin.

  “I don’t. I’m sorry. If it’s left up to me, we may starve. The only time I came close to learning was at the mission.” I spun completely around, taking in the windows overlooking Chicago’s skyline, the hanging lights, and tile backsplash. “I’ve never given it much thought, but I might like to learn.”

  “Maddie girl, it’s up to you. I’ve survived without turning on that stove for nearly eight years. I’m sure Lorna won’t mind two more mouths to feed. Then again, if you want to learn, she’s the one who can help you. I can only teach you how to insert a K-cup.”

  “Yeah, I know how to do that.”

  Patrick reached for my hand. “There’s more.” We continued walking down a hallway away from the living room. He opened one door to an office. As opposed to the kitchen, the office appeared utilized with multiple screens and a large L-shaped desk with a big leather chair. There were large books opened and piled and a bookcase filled with what appeared to be textbooks.

  “Light reading?” I asked.

  “I like math. It’s relative in almost every situation. My degree was in business and finance. Working for Sparrow is consuming. Instead of going on for my master’s or doctorate, I decided I’d self-teach in what spare time I had.”

  “Imagine that boy in the wall teaching himself…” I went to the bookcase and ran my fingertips over the spines. “Advanced calculus and physics.”

  Patrick reached for my shoulders. “What interests you? I find the more I learn the less I know and the more I want to know. Have you considered going back to school?”

  “My interests are world history and linguistics. I studied for years. It was with a private tutor so there’s no record, but I found it fascinating. I love to read…” I peered again at the bookcase. “But I think I’ll pass on Advanced Macroeconomics.”

  “Are you sure? It’s a fascinating read. And that ending…I was blown away.”

  I reached up and cupped his cheek. “I’ve missed you. Men like you are rare. You’re deadly serious one minute and joking about math the next.” My grin grew. “Which isn’t a funny subject.”