Edge of the Past (4 page)

“I hope so.” Both Sergei’s voice and his gaze shifted downward.

I never knew Sergei thought about his child so much, and I wondered how much more emotion he held inside. I stopped walking and slid in front of him. Placing my hands on his face, I looked into his eyes but didn’t speak. I just wanted to connect with him.

Sergei drew me nearer and rested his forehead against mine. His lips were closing in for a kiss when Mom called my name behind me. I turned, and she pointed at the small shop ahead.

“We’re stopping in this bakery.”

I faced Sergei again. “Do you want something sweet?”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “I have my sweetness right here.”

I smiled and hugged him, warming my face against his wool scarf. Hearing Sergei talk about the baby made me sad but also a little uneasy. That part of his past still weighed on his mind, and he might never come to terms with it. I could only hope that if he opened up more and more, he would find some peace.

****

Sergei had a chat with Max that kept him from making any more inappropriate comments, but it didn’t ease the strain between them, and it didn’t make Max any friendlier toward me. When Monday morning came, I happily packed for the train ride to Moscow. Max would be returning to work, and Sergei and Anna could show us their hometown without any negative vibes around us.

Outside the train window, the icy landscape blurred into a haze of white as we sped away from St. Petersburg. With our parents seated in a different car, Sergei and I were enjoying some rare alone time. I turned to him and brought my knees up onto his lap.

“This is going to be so much fun. I finally get to see where you grew up, where you skated…”

“My air of mystery will be gone,” he said with a sigh.

“Especially after I see those baby pictures your mom promised to show me.” I giggled.

He groaned. “She’ll probably have them waiting next to the dinner table tonight.”

“I’m excited for my first home-cooked Russian meal. I told your mom I’d return the favor with an Italian feast when she comes for the wedding. All the best of my grandma’s recipes.”

“Maybe you can win over my father with your cooking. He does love a good meal.”

“I got
your
attention with my spinach lasagna.” I winked, thinking back to the first time I’d cooked for Sergei.

He smiled and angled his head down, his mouth inches from mine. “It was more than the lasagna.”

He gave me a slow, soft kiss and treated me to several more during the four-hour trip. Upon arrival in Moscow, the train took us into the center of the city, where we parted ways with Anna and Max. They boarded a bus to their apartment, while Sergei, my parents, and I snagged a taxi to our hotel.

Mom and Dad said they wanted to take it easy for the afternoon, so I suggested Sergei and I visit the sports club where he’d trained for twelve years. He hesitated a bit, and I considered proposing another activity, but then he nodded. “Yeah, we can do that today.”

Thick traffic made our taxi ride long. The time passed fast with Sergei playing tour guide through the cab’s windows, but as we neared our destination, he grew quiet.

I laid my hand on his thigh. “We can turn around if you’re not up for this.”

He squinted out his smudged window and cleared his throat. “No, I want to see if it’s changed any.”

The cab pulled up to the large multi-rink complex, and we plodded through the snow to the entrance. Sergei swung open the door, and I tugged the zipper on my coat higher. The building didn’t offer any relief from the cold.

“It still smells the same.” Sergei looked around the lobby.

Cases packed with medals and trophies adorned the walls. Above them hung hockey jerseys and red banners celebrating the club’s many successes. Two tiny blonde girls in pink skating dresses emerged through the double doors to our right, and I caught a glimpse of an ice surface.

“Is that the main rink?” I asked.

Sergei nodded and showed me inside. Music from the ballet
Spartacus
reverberated off the tall ceiling. On the ice, a number of girls and boys were working on elements and consulting with coaches. There were no bleachers like we had at our rink on the Cape. The few spectators stood on a balcony overlooking the ice.

We drifted toward the edge of the rink. Sergei spread his hands on the boards and stared at a spot on the ice. “My coach used to stand right there for the entire session. He wouldn’t move. But we could hear him yelling at the other end of the rink.”

“Sounds like a fun guy.”

“He hated when we asked questions. If we didn’t understand something the first time, we had to figure it out on our own because he refused to repeat himself.”

“Wow. That makes your accomplishments even more impressive then. You were practically coaching yourself.”

“The little kids used to come to me for help, and he would yell at me for teaching them.” Sergei shook his head. “When I decided to quit skating after Elena and I split, that was one of the hardest things – leaving all the kids.”

I rubbed the back of his leather jacket. “One good thing came out of his awful teaching methods. You learned how to be an amazing coach.”

His gaze traveled to the students on the ice, and we watched the action in silence for a few minutes. Sergei’s eyes had that faraway look again.

“What are you thinking about?’ I asked.

“The last day I skated here.” He swallowed, and his jaw tensed. “The day Elena told me she was pregnant.”

An uncomfortable heat flushed my cheeks, and I loosened the scarf knotted around my neck. “Did she tell you here?”

He nodded. “After practice. There was a spot behind the building where we used to meet so our coach wouldn’t see us. He would’ve gone straight to Elena’s father if he’d known we were together, and I’ve told you how Ivan felt about me.”

“He didn’t want you anywhere near Elena off the ice. He didn’t think you were good enough.”

“When she said she was pregnant, I thought, ‘Ivan is going to kill me.’”

“From what you’ve said about his power and his reputation, that was probably a valid fear.”

Sergei looked down at the boards. “I can’t believe how careless we were. With everything that was at stake… I disappointed so many people.”

I wanted to say something comforting, but my stomach was turning at the images of Elena and him flashing through my head. The fact that it had all happened years ago didn’t make it any less unpleasant for me to think about.

Sergei’s phone rang, and he fumbled through his pocket to check the caller. “It’s my mother.”

I glanced around. I needed a couple of minutes to myself. “I’m gonna look for the restroom.”

“They’re at the end of the hall.” He pointed behind us and peered at me. “Are you okay?”

Was my face red? Probably green. “Yeah. I’ll be right back.”

As I walked along the dank corridor,
Spartacus
faded, overtaken by tinkly piano music. Behind a large window to my left, a class of little girls and boys stretched through ballet positions. Gathered next to the window were a couple of ladies cloaked in fur coats. Their pungent perfume followed me down the hallway like a floral fog.

An exterior door next to the washrooms was propped open, revealing the rear of the complex. Was that where Sergei and Elena used to hide? What did they do back there? Make out?
Well, you know they went way beyond that.
I gulped as more images flooded my brain.

I slipped inside the restroom, where another fur-clad woman stood facing the stone wall, her phone to her ear. She lowered her tone and continued her conversation as I washed my hands and splashed water on my cheeks.

I reached for a paper towel from the rusty dispenser, while the woman snapped the phone shut and spun around. We came face to face, and her eyes widened. I froze in place and gasped.

It couldn’t be.

But there she was right in front of me.

Elena.

Chapter Four

She was gorgeous. Her silky black hair still had the bob cut, softly framing her face. Not one blemish could be found on her porcelain skin. She resembled the teenager I’d seen in photos but with a sophisticated maturity. Everything about her, from her delicate makeup to her manicured nails, gave off a feeling of perfection.

I can’t believe it’s really her.

Elena blinked and returned my examining stare. She looked as alarmed as I felt shocked. I said in Russian, “You know who I am.”

She paused, pressing her red-stained lips together. “Yes.”

“Do you speak English?”

“Yes,” she repeated.

A drop of water slid down my cheek, and I remembered the paper towel in my hand. I patted my face, which had grown hot again.
Nothing like being a mess when meeting your fiancé’s ex-girlfriend,
especially when she looks
flawless.

“Sergei’s not going to believe you’re here,” I said.

Elena shook her head and walked around me. “I should not see Sergei.”

I wasn’t keen on them having a reunion either, but Elena’s reluctance baffled me. “Why not?”

“Too many bad feelings. It is best to leave past.”

“I can’t not tell him I saw you.”

“I do not want to see him,” she stated forcefully.

Ten years had passed since they'd split, and she still hadn’t gotten over it? Whatever her reason, I wasn’t going to push her. I had no desire to watch Sergei reconnect with her.

“Okay. If that’s what you want.”

I marched out the door but stopped in the hall. Maybe I shouldn’t tell Sergei about Elena. He was already feeling down enough, thinking about all the disappointment he’d caused. Telling him Elena refused to talk to him wouldn’t make him feel better. But how could I face him and pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened?

I walked slowly toward the ice where Sergei had resumed his position at the boards, watching the skaters. I joined him, and he turned his body to face me.

“I’m sorry I brought up that stuff about Elena,” he said. “Being here is just kind of… intense.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You can talk to me about anything.”

He enveloped me in his arms, and I pressed my face to his neck, breathing in his spicy cologne.
You don’t have to tell him about Elena.
He held me tighter, and I took a deeper breath.
No, I can’t
do it. I can’t
keep this from him.

“I have to tell you something unbelievable,” I said, pulling away. “Elena is here.”

“What? Where?” Sergei’s eyes dashed around the rink.

“I ran into her in the restroom. I told her you were here, but she said seeing you would bring up bad feelings.”

“She won’t even say hello? After all this time?”

“I don’t understand it either.”

Sergei stood with his mouth agape. “Why would she even be here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s coaching? You heard from a friend that she doesn’t have any kids, right?”

“Yeah, that was a few years ago.” He scratched his head. “What did she say to you besides not wanting to see me?”

I started to reply, but the appearance of Elena stole my words. She quickly clicked across the concrete floor in her stiletto boots and stopped in front of us. She’d looked poised on her walk over, but now that she was next to Sergei, she shifted from heel to heel, and her fingers fiddled with her silver bracelets. Sergei gave her a subtle once-over, and the uncomfortable feeling returned to the pit of my gut.

“Sergei,” she said softly in Russian. “You look well.”

He studied her, delaying his response. “So do you.” A deep V formed between his brows, and he switched to English, “I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

“I do not want to bother you. You have very successful life now. No need to bring up past.” Elena fidgeted and looked over her shoulder.

“I hope all is well with you? You are married?” Sergei asked.

“No, I divorce two years ago.” She glanced again at the corridor as she continued to jangle her bracelets.

“I’m sorry,” Sergei said.

“Are you coaching now?” I asked.

“I am here with my cousins’ daughter. She wait for me, so I must go.” She started to back away. “It is good to see you, Sergei. I am happy you have good life.”

She hurried toward the ballet studio, leaving Sergei and I to share bewildered looks. I’d only known Elena for a total of two minutes, but she’d left a lasting impression.

“That was very strange,” I said.

“She practically ran out of here.”

“I can’t get over the fact that she’s here when we were just talking about her.”

Sergei stared down the hall. “There are so many things I wanted to ask her… about when she went away and…”

A group of kids and parents streamed into the area from the studio, among them Elena with a young girl beside her. Elena rushed the girl to the exit as she helped her put on her pink jacket. We watched them pass through the gray double doors with the rest of the crowd.

Sergei rubbed his hand over his mouth and made a move for the door. “I’ll be back.”

“Where…” I asked to his retreating figure. I hesitated but then jogged after Sergei. When I caught up to him, he said, “I have to talk to her.”

Outside in the parking lot, Elena shut the rear driver’s side door of her dark SUV and was about to climb behind the wheel. Sergei called her name and she paused behind the open door, stricken with a startled look.

“What do you want?” she asked shakily.

“I haven’t seen you in ten years and you can’t spare a few minutes?” Sergei asked.

I peered at the back window, but the tinted glass prevented me from seeing inside. Elena took a step closer to the vehicle. “There is nothing more to say.”

The rear door opened, and the girl in the pink jacket jumped out. A white knit cap covered the top of her long black hair, and a matching scarf circled her neck. She gawked at me and said quietly, “You’re Emily Butler.”

That’s when I saw them. Her blue eyes. Eyes the color of crystal azure seas. The same eyes that mesmerized me on a daily basis.