Edge of the Past (5 page)

Sergei’s eyes.

“Liza, please sit in car. We need to go,” Elena ordered.

But Liza didn’t move. She continued to stare at me, just as Sergei and I did back at her. Luckily, she was too enamored with me to notice Sergei. An unconscious movement shot my arm forward toward the girl.

“Yes, I’m Emily. You’re Liza?”

Her face lit up as she shyly took my hand. “I watch you on TV all the time.”

She didn’t have any hint of a Russian accent. I cocked my head to the side. “Are you American?”

“She is,” Elena answered for her. “She live in New York until last year.”

A jumble of thoughts confused me as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing and hearing. Sergei couldn’t tear his eyes away from Liza, and he’d lost the ability to speak.

“We’re going to America for the World Championships,” Liza said. “It’s my birthday present.”

“You’re going to Washington D.C.?” Sergei asked, finally finding his voice.

“Yes,” Elena said. “Liza’s parents buy tickets last year… before they pass away.”

My hand went to my heart, while Sergei said, “I’m so sorry.”

“Liza live with me now, and we need to get home, if you excuse us.”

The petite girl looked up at Elena with pleading eyes. “Can I get Emily’s autograph first?”

Elena pursed her lips and waited a few moments before turning to me. “This is okay?”

“Sure, of course,” I stammered.

Liza hopped into the back seat and reemerged with a purple backpack. She pulled out a small notebook and pen and handed them to me.

“Is it L-E-E-Z-A?” I asked, holding the pen above the paper.

“L-I-Z-A,” she said.

As I wrote her name, I asked, “How long have you been skating?”

“Since I was four.”

“And how old are you now?”

“I’ll be nine in two weeks.” She bobbed up and down.

The quick math in my head brought me to a date circa summer nineteen ninety-three. The summer Elena had gotten pregnant. My hand started to shake and not from the bone-chilling cold. I steadied the pen and finished the autograph.

“There you go.” I returned the book to Liza with a quivering smile.

She gazed wide-eyed at the paper. “Thank you.”

“Time to leave.” Elena herded the girl into the SUV. “Again, it is good to see you, Sergei.”

“Elena, we need to–“ Sergei said, but Elena shut her door. She reversed out of the parking space and zoomed away before I could blink.

My heart beat as fast as the speed of Elena’s SUV. I slowly pivoted toward Sergei. He stood with his hand atop his head, staring down the road.

“Do you think… could Liza possibly be…” My voice trickled into a whisper.

Sergei’s eyes showed both pain and confusion. “My daughter?” he croaked.

I shivered and wrapped my arms across my chest. His
daughter
. Hearing Sergei say it out loud made my suspicion all too real.

“Could Elena have given the baby to her cousins?” His forehead wrinkled.

I looked down at my boots and closed my eyes for a moment.
What is happening here? We just came to visit the rink and now we might have discovered Sergei’s child?

“Could that be what her father made her do?” Sergei rambled on.

“She didn’t want us to see Liza,” I said, raising my head.

“I can’t…” Sergei ran his hand through his hair. “I have to find out if she’s…”

“Do you think Elena will tell you the truth?”

He stood taller with determination. “She has to. I’m not leaving without answers. If Liza trains here, then she’ll be back tomorrow. And I’ll be here waiting.”

I chewed on the inside of my lip. “I’d like to come with you, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” He grasped my hand and intertwined our fingers. “I just assumed you’d be with me.”

“We have to keep this to ourselves tonight at dinner.”

Sergei nodded. “Until we know anything for certain.”

I knew one thing for certain – Elena had secrets. Secrets that could turn everything in our lives upside down.

****

“Welcome! Welcome!” Anna exclaimed. “Dinner ready very soon.”

Sergei and I stepped inside ahead of my parents, and I was struck by the size of the apartment. Sergei had described it to me, but words hadn’t adequately conveyed the small dimensions.

I shed my jacket, and Sergei hung it on one of the dining table chairs. The table sat almost in the doorway. There was no separation between the eating area and the living room. The entire space could fit inside my parents’ den in Brookline.

“Papa’s working?” Sergei asked.

“Yes, he work late shift,” Anna said and motioned to the short couch and two mismatched parlor chairs. “Please sit. We have drink.”

Sergei accompanied Anna to the kitchen, and Mom and Dad sat in the chairs. I sank into the old brown sofa and noticed the bed in the tiny alcove across the room. The space had to be Sergei’s old bedroom from what he’d described. I’d seen closets bigger.

Sergei and Anna returned, carrying glasses of liquid that resembled cider or beer. Dad accepted one from Anna and examined the drink. “Is this Kvass?”

“Yes, like you try in St. Petersburg,” Anna said.

I hadn’t sampled the malt-like drink at any of the restaurants in St. Petersburg, so I took a tentative taste from my glass. An initial hint of lemon hit my tongue followed by the lasting flavor of beer. I hid my dislike behind a smile.

“Where in Moscow do you want to visit tomorrow?” Anna asked. “Red Square? Cathedrals? I can show you good market for shopping.”

“Em and I need to go back to the rink in the morning,” Sergei said, sitting beside me. “We saw Elena there, but she didn’t have time to talk today.”

Anna gasped. “You see Elena?”

Mom leaned forward in her seat. “This was the first time since you quit skating, isn’t it?”

“Yes. So, obviously, I wanted to talk to her, but she couldn’t stay.”

“Does she work at the rink?” Mom asked.

“She was there with her cousins’ daughter.” Sergei’s voice dropped on the last word and he stared at his glass.

Mom watched me with a worried frown. If she only knew the situation could be much more complicated than just running into an ex-girlfriend.

A bell dinged in the kitchen, and Anna rose with her drink. I took a tiny sip of mine, concentrating on the frayed rug under my feet. Sergei hadn’t said much after we’d left the rink. He was understandably stunned from meeting Liza, but I wondered what he was thinking about Elena. Was he having flashes of their years together? He’d said he didn’t have any thoughts of “what might’ve been,” but did seeing the beautiful Elena and their possible daughter make him feel different?

Both my parents had their eyes on me now, so I gave them a little smile as I took another sip of my Kvass.

“We can check out the area around the hotel in the morning,” Dad said to Mom. “Looked like there were some interesting shops and cafés.”

God bless my father. Nothing ever fazed him. I was going to need his calmness if Liza turned out to be Sergei’s daughter. I cringed on the inside just thinking about telling Mom the news.

Anna called us to dinner, and we helped ourselves to the first course, a cabbage soup Sergei introduced to me as shchi. The table, sized for four, was set with plain ivory-colored china and a small bouquet of white lilies in the center. It would’ve been a tight fit if Max had been there.

Each course gave my palette a new experience, and I enjoyed the meal more than I’d anticipated. The entrée, beef and pork-filled dumplings called pelmeni, had me humming with appreciation. The thin and translucent dough melted in my mouth, and the filling was well-seasoned and juicy. Anna detailed each step of the recipe and promised to give me a copy. Talking food with her pushed thoughts of Elena and Liza to the back of my mind.

After dessert of Russian fruit cake, my parents helped Anna clear the table while Sergei and I went over to his room, if one could call it that. We stood between the bed and a tall wooden cabinet, and there was barely enough space for us to move. I thought of my bedroom in my parents’ house – the four-poster bed, my own bathroom, the window seat where I loved to read. Sergei hadn’t enjoyed any such comforts growing up.

“This bed looks even smaller than a twin,” I said. “How did you fit in this?”

He laughed. “When I had my growth spurt at fifteen and hit six feet, it got tough.”

“I can’t imagine not having a door for privacy. There were many times I needed to shut out my mom’s nagging.”

“I guess since I never had a door, I didn’t know what I was missing.”

“Where’d you keep all your stuff?” I asked.

“My clothes were in here.” Sergei tapped the cabinet. “Everything else got crammed under the bed.”

“It’s nice you had a window,” I said, running my hand along the sill. My fingers stopped when I reached a carving – one Russian word etched into the wood.

Elena.

“Did you do this?” I asked.

Sergei’s chest bumped my back as he looked over my shoulder. “No. Elena did.”

My neck tensed, and I pulled my hand away from the window. “So, she was here. In your room.”

Sergei turned my waist so I faced him. “A very, very long time ago.”

“It didn’t seem so long ago today.”

I moved past him into the living room just as Anna came forward with a picture album.

“Here are photos I promise to show you,” she said.

I wiped the irritation from my face and sat with Anna on the sofa. Sergei perched on the arm as I opened the album to a black and white picture of him as an infant.

“Sergei such good baby. Cry very little,” Anna said.

“That’s how Emily was, too,” Mom said.

“We used to keep checking on her in the nursery to make sure she was okay because we couldn’t believe a baby would be so quiet.” Dad chuckled.

I sharply flipped the page. All the talk about babies was just reminding me of Elena in Sergei’s bedroom. The alcove had probably been another one of their hiding places.

I concentrated on the photos of toddler Sergei – ones of him playing in a snowy playground, showing off a toy truck, and smiling next to his traditional Russian birthday pie. As I looked at the pictures I’d wanted to see for so long, my nerves relaxed and my heart softened at Sergei’s adorableness. His hair was blond then, and his blue eyes practically popped off the page.

“You were so cute,” I said, grinning up at Sergei.

He glanced down with an embarrassed smile. I resumed paging through the album and gushing over the images until I arrived on one of Sergei and Elena as pre-teens in matching glittery blue costumes. They were posing in what appeared to be the lobby of the rink, and Sergei’s arm was locked around Elena’s tiny shoulders. He looked protective of her, which made sense considering how much Elena feared her father.

I lingered on the page, my chest tightening more the longer I stared at the photo. Seeing the two of them together as kids – Elena with her fair skin and dark hair next to Sergei with his striking blue eyes – I became convinced Liza was their child. I peeked up at Sergei, and his dazed look said he was thinking the same thing.

Chapter Five

The door to the sports club swung shut behind us, and I stomped my boots on the rug to shed the wet snow. Sergei did the same while keeping his eyes fixed on the lobby. A few women congregated near the far wall, but Elena wasn’t among them.

We made our way further inside, where a group of about ten kids occupied the ice. I looked for Liza and finally spotted her on the opposite end of the rink executing a layback spin. Her back was beautifully arched, her right leg expertly turned out. The long dark hair that had hung over her shoulders the day before was pinned into a tight bun.

Sergei gazed up at the spectators on the balcony. “I don’t see Elena.”

“She has to be here somewhere,” I said, tapping my fingers on the boards. I wanted to be there so I didn’t feel left out, but I’d like the conversation with Elena to be over as soon as possible.

Liza repeated her spin three more times for her coach, a diminutive older man with his arms crossed and a stern eye trained on his student. When Liza skated closer to him, he said a few words and her head drooped. Sergei stepped toward the boards, watching the lesson with a concerned stare.

A rapid click-clack of heels behind us became louder, and the hairs on my neck rose, anticipating the confrontation. Sergei and I both turned at the same time.

“Why are you here?” Elena asked in Russian.

Bundled in a different fur, she wore the same agitated look she’d had when we last saw her in the parking lot.

“You must know I’d have questions,” Sergei replied in English.

Elena glanced at me and snapped, “There is nothing to question.”

“I think we should talk outside,” Sergei said. “This isn’t the place to discuss this.”

“What is to discuss? Nothing.”

Sergei inhaled deeply. “We can either talk outside or I’ll wait here until Liza’s finished and say it in front of her.”

Elena narrowed her dark eyes and pivoted on her five-inch heels, stalking toward the exit. Sergei placed his hand on the small of my back, and we followed Elena outside to the sidewalk. Her anxious breaths showed as white puffs in the frosty morning.

I stayed close to Sergei’s side. I might be mostly an observer during the conversation, but I wanted Sergei to feel my presence.

He stood in front of Elena and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “I don’t even know how to ask this except to just ask it.” He swallowed slowly. “Is Liza our daughter?”

Elena burst out a laugh. “It is ridiculous. She is my cousin. I raise her only past year.”

Her too-quick response raised my suspicions even more. It sounded rehearsed, and Elena was staring over Sergei’s shoulder rather than at his face.

“Lena, I took one look at that girl and could see how much she resembles us,” Sergei said.

Lena? Maybe he thought using childhood nicknames would open her up. I shuffled my feet on the pavement, watching helplessly as Sergei’s frustration grew. There was nothing I could do to make this easier for him.