Lifeline
On Christmas Eve, Dmitri and I had plans to go downtown for an early dinner while the girls spent time at their grandparents’ house. It was a thoughtful gesture from Dmitri, and I was looking forward to venturing out of the house and rejoining society for a couple of hours. With my due-date nine days away, I needed some downtime. I looked forward to relaxing with moy droog, my friend, before our lives became even more hectic after the baby arrived.
George was active and keeping me awake at night, and even the smallest tasks drained my energy. With all the flurry of activity that came with the holiday season, Dmitri and I rarely had time to hang out and talk. We both needed to catch our breath before the baby was born.
When we rolled up to the valet in Dmitri’s cool, black Maserati, curious onlookers eyed us like we were celebrities. As we cruised into the restaurant, Dmitri looked wickedly sharp in a modern black suit that accentuated his bulging muscles and trim athletic frame. I caught a few ladies checking out my handsome dinner companion, but he breezed past them with his hand on the small of my back as if they were invisible. I strolled beside him in a sequined, winter white maternity dress, proudly displaying my round belly. I wore a breathtaking gold choker encrusted with diamonds—a necklace Vladimir had given me while we were dating.
Once inside, the hostess seated us at a cozy table by the window with a perfect view of Fountain Square in the heart of the bustling city. Bundled up commuters rushed down the sidewalk with shopping bags clutched in their hands, and horses towing carriages trotted down the street. As we settled in at the table and looked over the menu, our server told us about the special Christmas Eve feast. Roast pork with chestnut stuffing, sliced turkey over mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole with country ham, and caramelized brussel sprouts drizzled with hot bacon dressing.
Dmitri consumed a lot of protein to fuel his muscles and was sold on the special. However, I had overindulged on the creamy layered cakes, tea cookies with sugary icing, and bakery baskets that were constantly finding their way to the kitchen and needed to make healthier choices for George. Instead of ordering the fettuccine alfredo I was drooling over, I settled on a goat cheese and spinach salad with pine nuts and poppy seed dressing, a baked sweet potato, a sautéed portabella mushroom steak, and a side of steamed broccoli. While I ordered the healthy options on the menu, Dmitri and I both knew I was going to steal a few bites of the good stuff from his plate.
Before the server walked away, Dmitri added on an order of deep-fried sauerkraut balls with remoulade dipping sauce as an appetizer for us to share. He knew me too well. The honey mustard phase had ended, and my latest craving was the salty and tart goodness of sauerkraut. I added heaping helpings of it to almost everything I ate. Babushka had pickled a billion jars of it from her fall cabbage harvest, and at the rate I was devouring it, our supplies would be depleted by the spring.
While we waited for our food, Dimitri reached across the table and picked up my hand, pushing my wedding ring into the side of my finger. “How are you doing, Carter? Ready for the baby?” He gave me a little grin and squeezed my hand as he waited for me to respond.
My eyes welled with gratitude as I returned his smile. Dmitri was a godsend. I didn’t know what I would’ve done without him these last few months. He was my best friend, champion, and super hero all rolled up into one perfectly chiseled package.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when he noticed my tears.
I covered my face and shook my head, embarrassed by my out-of-whack pregnancy hormones. “Nothing.” Pulling away, I waved my hand dismissively. Since I’d first met Dmitri in Ekaterinburg, he’d been my rock. When I was injured, he was gentle and kind as he nursed me back to health. When I was frightened, he soothed me by reading to me and drawing pictures to take my mind off the constant danger that loomed over us. He saved my life, gave me his blessing to adopt his sisters, and stepped in for Vladimir in his absence to help me run the household.
As my tears flowed, Dmitri got up from his chair and moved across the table to the seat beside me. His loving green eyes were filled with compassion and concern, and he placed his arm around my shoulders to comfort me. He knew why I was emotional, and it had nothing to do with pregnancy hormones. “Want to go?”
I took a deep breath to compose myself and shook my head. “Thank you for everything. I’d be lost if I didn’t have you.”
Dmitri’s expression turned serious. “You’ll always have me, Carter.”
As I stared at him, mesmerized by the sincerity of his words, the wait staff swooped in and began serving our first course, interrupting our intense conversation. While the staff set out a basket of rolls along with our appetizer, Dmitri whispered to me in Russian, thanking me for my thoughtful words and adding that it was an honor to spend time with me. George had been quiet for the last hour or so, but he must’ve woken up from his nap when I started salivating over the delicious scent of warm bread.
I laughed, as if enjoying a private joke, while my energetic little guy kicked around inside me. Dmitri gave me a quizzical expression, so I picked up his hand and placed it on my stomach so he could feel the baby moving. He smiled and continued to speak in Russian, saying George was strong and healthy and ready to come out. In a matter of days, I would be holding my precious little boy in my arms. After all we went through to save him, I couldn’t wait for him to meet the family.
A tall server with sweet brown eyes delivered my salad and apologized for interrupting our tender moment. “Do you know if the baby is a boy or a girl?”
“We’re having a boy,” I said.
“Congratulations.” She placed her hand on her heart. “I’m sure he’ll be a handsome little guy. You and your husband make a beautiful couple.”
I felt the blood drain from my face as a wave of guilt washed over me. Of course, she thought Dmitri was my husband. I was gushing about how lucky I was to have him in my life. His hand was gliding across my stomach, feeling the baby move. I quickly became aware of the affectionate and loving vibes bouncing between us and how it appeared to onlookers. We had become so familiar with one another, we were acting like a couple. Vladimir would be disgusted. I felt so ashamed. I got up from the table to escape before the entire restaurant witnessed my emotional meltdown.
“I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” The poor server was mortified at my reaction to her seemingly innocent comment.
“No. It’s fine.” I headed toward the bathroom, but Dmitri caught my arm and lead me into a vacant private dining area out of the public view. I picked up a napkin off the table and blotted the tears off my face.
“Please talk to me, Carter.” Dmitri pulled a couple of chairs out from the table, and we sat opposite each other.
“I’m sorry I ruined our evening. I just—” I lifted my eyes to the ceiling and caught my tears before they ran down my cheeks.
Dmitri’s eyes glistened as he regarded me with pity. “Boss has been gone a long time.” Judging by his pained expression, gone was a code word for dead.
I shook my head defiantly. “Vladimir gave me his word he would come home. I promised him I would wait for him.”
“I hear you crying at night, and it kills me that I can’t take your pain away. I want to remove everything that hurts your heart and press it into my own chest to take away your suffering.” He gazed into my eyes. “Let me be your man, Carter.” He lifted my chin, and leaned in, asking permission to kiss me.
Since Vladimir had lost touch, never once did I let my mind wander far enough from center to consider moving on with another man. I was twenty years old. I hated the idea of spending the rest of my life alone as a single mother, but how would I ever meet someone who could compare to Vladimir? If finding a new husband came down to tangible qualities like temperament, likeability, stability, loyalty, and a solid ten on the smoking hot chart, Dmitri would get a check in every single box.
But he isn’t Vladimir.
Based purely on logistics, Dmitri was a perfect fit for me. We were already living together, and all we had to do to transition from friends to lovers was move him up from the basement and into my bedroom. I was lonely and tired of being scared. Exhausted from the constant stress and fear, worrying about Vladimir being hurt and fighting for his life. I needed to vanquish the torturous images and damning thoughts from my mind and replace the negativity with new memories and a future filled with happiness rather than dread.
Moving on with Dmitri would be the smart and sensible thing to do, not only for myself, but for my children. Becoming romantically involved with him would bring a strong, sexy man to my bed. No more lonely nights. No more hugging pillows and fantasizing about Vladimir. No more guilt about feeling happy while my husband was missing. Dmitri was my lifeline back to normalcy and a stepping stone to a new forever life—one that didn’t include Vladimir. I glanced down at my wedding ring and twisted the band as I admired the vitality of the blood red solitaire.
I’d made a lot of mistakes in my life, and with the baby coming in a few days, I had to trust my instincts and make the right decision. “I thank God you are a part of my life, Dmitri. These last few months have been torture, and you’ve been so supportive and loving.” I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand. “You are a wonderful man, and I care for you deeply—but my heart will forever belong to Vladimir.”
He pulled back and lowered his hand from my chin. “I respect your loyalty, Carter. If I believed he was still alive, I would never say these things to you. Vladimir was my brother. I made a promise to him too. I vowed to protect you with my life and never leave you alone. Seeing you in pain and not being able to help you crushes my soul.” He made a fist and pressed his hand over his heart. “Vladimir would want you to find happiness again, and he would choose me to take his place.”
I wanted to believe that Dmitri didn’t love me, and he wasn’t trying to seduce his brother’s wife. He was trying to do the honorable thing and fill in for Vladimir—not out of love, but out of loyalty. Dmitri’s commitment to his job was never ending, but I explained that no one could ever take the place of my sexy Russian. I believed Dmitri’s motivation was built on a foundation of respect, but he was mistaken if he believed Vladimir would give him his blessing to move into our bedroom. Whether he was in Moscow, the afterlife, or the room next door, my possessive husband would kick his ass if he busted him trying to steal me away from him.
The cornerstone of my relationship with Vladimir is trust.
Dmitri accepted my rejection graciously, and we went back to our table and enjoyed an amazing dinner as if our awkward conversation had never taken place. That was how we dealt with sensitive issues within our family—we ignored them. Yuri’s execution, Vladimir’s absence—no one uttered a single word. The solution to every problem in our family was dead silence. Based on that principle, the matter between us was closed. Dmitri and I would bury this conversation and never speak of it again.