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To catch up on the story:
Part 1
Part 11
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Yvette sat on her cot, twisting a ring in her hands. In her tiny mind, she remembered the lady with the kind face. She wanted to go back there. She’d been so happy. However, she was too young, only five years old, too young to know where she had gone.
One minute they were in the garden, playing and laughing. The next she’s shuttled off to dark places. Male hands grasped and shoved at her. Female hands, hands with rough calluses, pushed her around, and always, everywhere she heard angry voices.
Her eyes filled with tears. Where has Mama gone? For that’s how she thought of her. The lady with the kind face was Mama. She remembered an older man too. He’d given her the ring.
“It belongs to Mama,” he’d said. “Keep it.”
Her small mind had barely been able to grasp that.
There was a knock at her bedroom door and it creaked as it opened. A bulky, muscular man entered, towering over her, a tray of food in his hand. Slamming it down on a table in the corner of the room, his only word was, “Eat,” and he left.
Yvette stared at the food. She wasn’t hungry, and she began to cry.
***
“Do svidaniya,” (Goodbye) Amanda said in Russian and hung up the phone. Turning to Paul, she added, “Well, we’re all set.” She lifted a slip of paper from the desktop and handed it to him. “Meet me at the metro in an hour.”Paul stuck the paper in his pocket.
Amanda rose and walked to the window. Night had fallen over Moscow, yet it wasn’t dark, for the lights of the city sparkled around them. Enormous flakes of fresh snow blew through her view. The snow would help conceal her. Below, huge drifts sat piled along the street edges and across the way in the park; they consumed the landscape.
Paul walked up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. She leaned back against him and felt his hands slide down around her waist. A large bang came from the hallway, followed by cursing in Russian.
“You ok?” he asked.
At his words, Amanda turned around and faced him. His arms remained about her. She found that comforting.
“I’m fine.”
“No jitters?” He seemed to look deep into her soul. Uncomfortable, she looked down at his shirt. Its Hawaiian pattern was out of place in this dark city. It was like him to wear it.
“Nice shirt,” she commented. She’d avoided his question.
“You avoided my question.” He’d read her thoughts.
Amanda buried her face in his chest. For a few moments, neither one spoke. Her thoughts whirled.
What is happening to me? She’d never before given in to this much emotion. It clouded her judgment. Only one thing was uppermost in her mind tonight and that was Yvette. She couldn’t deal with how she felt about Paul. Not right now.
Another loud bang came from the hallway and the slam of a door followed by more cursing. Amanda looked over Paul’s shoulder at the door.
“What are they arguing about?” he asked. Paul couldn’t speak Russian, but Amanda could.
“Trust me. You don’t want to know,” she remarked and laughed.
She pulled away from him and walked back to the desk. Opening the drawer, she removed a small pistol and slid it into her pocket. The clock read 11:15 PM.
“We’d better move,” she said. Looking at Paul, she remarked, “See you after.” Crossing to the door, she turned the knob. She felt his eyes on her back.
“Amanda?” his voice called out and she paused. Looking over her shoulder, her eyebrows rose in question. “Be careful.” She nodded and was gone.
***
Paul watched her go. He was afraid for her. His greatest wish was coming true. She cared for him. He could see it. But he also knew she was vulnerable and he wasn’t going to take advantage of that. She had to accept him in her own time.
Truth was, he didn’t want a girly girlfriend. No, he wanted the tough-as-nails woman she’d become. Tonight, for instance, she didn’t need him with her to get Yvette. If anything, he’d be in the way. Amanda performed best when left to her own devices. He looked too western here in this city. He stood out, and she didn’t.
Plus, she knew Moscow like the back of her hand. He’d only get lost. He pulled the paper out of his pocket. She’d said to meet her at the metro with the tickets. They’d have to leave quickly. That was his part - that, and moral support.
He still thought she regretted what she’d done to her father. She’d explained it all to him, how she was adopted, but he didn’t think that mattered. Her father was still her father.
“He took me in because he had to. He’d made a promise.” That had sounded to him like an excuse.
“Doesn’t that speak well for him? I mean, he could have broken his promise,” Paul countered.
She’d changed the subject.
Paul watched the minutes tick by until it had been an hour. Apprehensive, he crossed to the closet and lifted the bag. Re-checking its contents, he glanced again at the clock. It was time to go.
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Suzanne
Suzanne Williams Photography
Florida, USA
Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.
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