Flame Read online

  Kristine and I were nearly the same height. Staring into her eyes, I told her the truth. “I don’t know if I’m sick. I don’t think I’m contagious if that’s what you’re worried about. I can work. I can,” I added the second confirmation as my sentences come faster, and fear added to my distress. Missing work would jeopardize our one-room apartment. “I’m sorry.”

  Kristine came my way, lowered the lid on the toilet, and directed me to sit. “Talk to me, Maddie.”

  “I-I don’t think I’m sick.”

  “What do you think the problem is?”

  Problem?

  Was being pregnant a problem?

  Wasn’t it supposed to be a blessing or something corny like that?

  Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I stared up.

  As I did, Kristine crouched down until our eyes were again level. “Does Patrick know?”

  Swallowing the new sobs, I shook my head. Finally, I shrugged. “I don’t even know.”

  “Have you taken a test?”

  “No.”

  “When was your last period?”

  I tried to recall. My cycles weren’t regular. After moving onto the streets, I assumed the irregularity had to do with nutrition—or lack thereof. It wasn’t that I’d starved; nevertheless, up until our relocation to the mission, the proper vitamins and minerals were often lacking. “I think it was just before we were married.” I took a deep breath. “It was really short. I remember thinking it was weird, and I hadn’t had one for a while before that. Like I said, I’m not regular.”

  “How short?”

  “I don’t know, maybe just a couple of days and not very much.”

  Kristine forced a smile. “Honey, you moved in here over a month ago, right after you were married. You could have already been pregnant.”

  My eyes opened wide. Part of staying at the mission was taking classes about righteous living. “I know it was wrong. We weren’t married...”

  She reached for my hand. “That’s not important any longer. You made it right the day you two were legally wed. What matters now is finding out for sure if you’re pregnant and taking care of you and the baby.” Her light-brown eyes shone. “Are you going to tell Patrick?”

  “I think that first I’d like to know for sure. After I get my weekly stipend, I will buy a home pregnancy kit. Unless you could maybe give me an advance?” I hated to ask. “And then I can go to the store today.”

  Her lips came together for a moment. “You know that Pastor Roberto and I are here for you, for everyone we take in. The tests from the store aren’t always accurate. If you’ll let me, I can help you.”

  My chest filled with a bubble of something like gratitude. Kristine and her husband Roberto had already helped Patrick and me more than anyone—ever. “I-I can’t ask you.”

  “You aren’t asking.” Her head shook as she squeezed my hand. “We’ll keep this between the two of us for a few more days. On Friday, after breakfast is cleaned up, I’ll drive you to a place where they can help you.”

  “What about our room?” I asked, afraid she’d say we needed to move out. There were only a few children in residence and they’d moved in with their mothers or parents. Most didn’t stay long, making me think they weren’t welcome. “Will we be kicked out?”

  “Don’t you worry about that right now,” Kristine said with a smile as she stood. “Go back to the kitchen and get yourself a piece of toast. No butter. Once you eat that, you need to get back to your duties. It’s your turn to scrub down the stove.”

  “Okay.”

  “You won’t let me down, will you, Maddie?”

  My head again shook. “No, Kristine, thank you for helping me.”

  “Now, we don’t know anything for certain. There’s no need to jump to conclusions. After your appointment on Friday, you can better determine what the future holds.”

  “Why Friday?” I asked, wanting to get the test sooner rather than later. Friday was four days away.

  “On Fridays, Roberto takes the boys to pick up supplies for the construction and remodel. With Patrick occupied away from the mission, he won’t realize you’ve left. If it turns out to be a false alarm, then you can tell him when the time is right.”

  “Oh, that makes sense,” I said. “I just don’t know if I can keep it from him until then.”

  “You do what feels right,” Kristine said. Her head tilted. “Do you want to get his hopes up and then be wrong?”

  Hopes up?

  “Do you think he’ll be happy?” I asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know how he’ll feel,” I answered honestly. We’d never discussed children, which wasn’t smart. Nevertheless, we hadn’t.

  “The place I’m taking you,” Kristine said, “will help you with the pregnancy. Be aware that they won’t help you terminate it.”

  My eyes opened wide as my heart thumped in my chest. “I don’t want that. I know it’s stupid and we’re still kids ourselves, and we can barely afford to live with just the two of us, but I don’t want to...” It was hard to say the word. I’d thought about it off and on over the last week as the sickness made itself more known. Thinking and saying were two different things. “...abort.” Tears glided down my cheeks. “If we learn I’m pregnant, I want this baby.”

  “Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you? A baby is a lot of work, though. Have you been around babies much?”

  “Not really. I was an only child, and well, after my parents died, the foster homes where I stayed had mostly older children. Except one.” The memory came back. “There were three babies. Miss Edith—that was how we had to address her—could house more babies and make more money. The thing was, she didn’t take care of them She made it the older girls’ responsibility.”

  “Did that include you?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you do have some experience.”

  “Not really.” I sighed. “The babies cried a lot and when they did, Miss Edith would yell at us. I went out one night with a bit of cash and vouchers to buy diapers and formula. I wanted the break even though I’d only been in that house about a week.”

  “What happened?”

  “I never went back. It was the last home I was ever in. I took the cash and used the vouchers for food for me...” I shrugged. “Miss Edith liked to drink vodka. She said you couldn’t smell it on her breath—that’s why she drank it.” My nose scrunched. “I could smell it. That night I could smell a lot of it. I figured it was the right time. By the time she probably realized I was gone, it was too late. I boarded a bus and made my way here.”

  “What happened to the babies you abandoned?”

  I’d never thought of it like that. I hadn’t thought of them at all. “I don’t know. I suppose the other girls took care of them.”

  Kristine nodded. “Do you think you can handle your own child, one you can’t abandon?”

  “I won’t be alone. I have Patrick.”

  “You just said you aren’t sure how he’ll feel.”

  I had said that, but Patrick wouldn’t abandon me over a baby. I knew he wouldn’t. A slight smile came to my lips as I imagined him with a child. We may only be children ourselves, but we’d learned to lean upon each other, take care of each other, and look out for each other. Our life circumstances caused us to grow up faster than some. He was only eighteen, but Patrick was a good man. In my heart, I believed he’d be an equally good father.

  We’d learn this parenting thing together, just as we already had learned so many other lessons.

  “I won’t know how he feels until I tell him,” I said. “As for me, this baby will be different because it’s mine, right?”

  “I have never had a child,” Kristine said, her voice sounding far away.

  I was suddenly very self-conscious of the fact that I may be experiencing something she never had. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. God had a plan for me. Even though I’m not the right person to answer that question, I b
elieve I was put here for instances like this. You and the others are the children I’ve been given.” She smiled. “I realize you’re not a child, Maddie.”

  My head shook as I looked down at my stomach.

  Had it grown?

  I wasn’t sure if it was the regular meals or maybe... “I don’t feel grown up.”

  “No matter what you’re feeling, on Friday be sure to voice your concerns. While I don’t know what it’s like to give birth to a child, I know that this mission and each person who comes here is special and valuable. I know I’m proud of all you and the others do. I couldn’t imagine abandoning you or any of the others. There are too many possibilities for your future.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Now...” She turned to the door and back. “Think about this. On Friday, they may discuss other options that you may not have considered.” She waved her hand. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves.” She reached for the door handle. “Go eat a piece of toast and clean the stove. After that, until it’s time to start working on dinner, you should rest.”

  “What about lunch? I’m on table duty.”

  “I’ll take your place.”

  “No, I can’t ask that.”

  “You didn’t,” she said with a grin as she opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

  Standing, I stared at my reflection in the small mirror over the sink. My cheeks were gaunt with dark circles under my green eyes. Kristine was right about me needing rest. Over the last few weeks I’d been uncharacteristically tired—exhausted. I’d thought it didn’t make sense, not since we now had a safe home. I figured it was my body taking advantage of the new situation, wanting rest I’d missed.

  Now, I believed it was more.

  The thought of Patrick tugged at my conscience. I wanted to tell him about the possibility of a baby. It was the right thing to do, but then again, what if I wasn’t pregnant? What if I would just worry him—as I’ve been concerned—over nothing?

  I turned on the water and cupping my hands, I splashed cool water over my face. The paper towel was rough on my skin as I dried my cheeks and eyes. I wasn’t certain that the impromptu face-wash hid my pallor, but it did reduce the evidence of crying.

  With a deep breath, I stepped back into the hallway near the kitchen.

  “There you are,” Patrick said as he came bounding down the backstairs. He reached for my hands. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I answered more out of habit. “What are you doing?” There was something about his smile that appeared bigger than normal.

  “Pastor Roberto said that soon I can run my own crew for demolition.”

  Demolition was what they did before remodeling—using sledgehammers and carting away the debris.

  “I thought you liked the remodel better?”

  “My own crew, Maddie.” His blue eyes shone with the possibility.

  I lifted myself up on my toes and kissed his cheek. “You’re amazing.”

  “No, Maddie, we are. Don’t you see? This will give me the experience to get a job—a real job with money. Pastor Roberto said he’d give me a good reference after I put in the time.”

  Time.

  I had predicted that I was about five weeks pregnant. However, after what Kristine said, I could be farther along than that.

  Three months?

  Four months?

  “How much time?” I asked.

  “Whatever it takes, Maddie girl. We’re going to get that house.”

  “With the white picket fence.”

  He kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you tonight by dinner. Love you, Maddie girl.”

  “I love you,” I called as he hurried past me the direction of the kitchen and cafeteria on his way to Pastor Roberto.

  The building where the mission was set was still in the stages of demolition and remodeling.

  I wasn’t certain how they had the money to do what they were doing. Then again, the money was only for supplies. The residents of the mission provided the workforce. The men worked the demolition and remodeling while the girls worked the cafeteria and cleaned the common areas. We were all responsible for keeping our own apartments—rooms—clean.

  As I stepped into the kitchen, the high rectangular windows caught my attention. From my angle, I saw only the gray sky and large snowflakes. It was late February in Chicago.

  A smile came to my lips. We weren’t cold. We weren’t hungry. Patrick could take what he learned and use it for a real job, one with real money. My hand went to my stomach.

  “Baby, we can make this work.” My volume was almost inaudible, yet I heard it and maybe so did our baby.

  Madeline

  Present day

  I stood motionless as my last plea hung in the air, and Patrick turned and walked away. “Patrick,” I called one last time.

  My chest ached from the sensation that my heart had been ripped from my body. I looked down at the long emerald dress, the necklace, and shoes. My long hair fell forward as I once again gave into the unbelievable pain and loss.

  It wasn’t only Patrick walking away. It was also Andros’s betrayal.

  How could he walk away from me and abandon me after all we’d been through, after all of these years?

  Did he really think he could begin a relationship with Ruby?

  The thought made the concoction bubbling within my stomach churn.

  Andros didn’t have relationships.

  Rage brewed under my skin.

  I was eighteen when we met—when he...

  I forced the memories away, concentrating on my age the night we met.

  At the time, he had been nine years older than I.

  Ruby was now sixteen.

  That made Andros twenty-seven years older than her.

  I looked to the men standing near me. “Please, I need to get to my daughter.”

  Instead of answering, the man who had ushered me from the poker room held out his hand and said, “Your handbag, ma’am?”

  “I-I...” Without relinquishing them, I looked down at the small purse. “I need it back.”

  “That’s not up to me.”

  I lifted my gaze to the tall man who had been talking with Patrick, the one with the longer hair. The dark-eyed one had left with Patrick. This man had his back turned my direction, yet I felt his power.

  All of these men had it, a scary yet familiar aura, similar to that of the men within the Ivanov bratva. My gut told me I was right. This wasn’t the Russian mob, but it wasn’t legal either.

  The tall dark-haired man who left with Patrick was the one who spoke to Andros, telling Andros to leave his city.

  His city.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that that man was to Chicago what Andros Ivanov was to Detroit.

  “It’s up to him,” I said, lifting my chin the direction Patrick and the man disappeared. “The dark-haired one,” I clarified. “Isn’t it?”

  The other one with the long hair turned my way. His green gaze zeroed in on me and then to my escort. “Mr. Sparrow told you to take her downstairs.”

  Sparrow.

  “Sir,” I said, hoping I could get him to acknowledge me. “I didn’t expect this—being left here.” Every eye was on me. “Andros has my daughter.” I sniffled back another sob. “I’m not sure who you are or who Mr. Sparrow is, but I need your help. I’ll do anything to get to her.”

  The man’s green eyes narrowed. In his gaze I felt the familiar edge of fear that came with Andros, and yet unlike the leader of the Ivanov bratva, there was life in this man’s eyes. Within his orbs I saw a cyclone of possibilities: contemplation, calculation, and yes, power, but more. I prayed it was compassion.

  Could men who lived in a world similar to Andros’s have both power and compassion?

  “Do you have children?” I asked.

  I prayed he did.

  He didn’t respond.

  “She’s sixteen,” I said, willing my voice to stay steady. “If you allow me to unlock my phone, I can show
you her picture.”

  “Take her downstairs,” he demanded.

  The man beside me reached for my elbow. I pulled it away.

  “Please, let me show you Ruby’s picture.”

  The large man seemed to be considering my request.

  I swallowed. “I know you heard what I said. I realize it sounds unbelievable, but if you’ll just let me show you her picture, you’ll know.”

  While Ruby had my dark hair, she had Patrick’s blue eyes. It was a beautiful combination, even as an infant. While I’d tried to forget Patrick, seeing his blue gaze every day made it impossible.

  The man stepped forward. Some of his dark-blond hair had fallen loose from the tie near the nape of his neck. The tendrils framed his face, the locks coming to his solid jaw. He reached out his hand. “Give me your handbag and phone and go with our man. Eventually you may need to convince us of your story, but not yet. You have someone else who deserves to see that picture first.”

  Patrick.

  Who were these men that they would respect Patrick’s decision?

  How was Patrick involved in this?

  With new tears I handed my purse forward. “The phone is inside.”

  “Tell me, Ms. Miller, did you agree to distract us?” he asked. “Was that your plan or Ivanov’s?”

  “I came here to play poker.”

  He lifted the purse. “Will our people find a tracker on your phone, maybe sewn into your purse, or...” He eyed me up and down, “...your clothes? Is Ivanov leaving Chicago or is he waiting to see where you will lead him? Is he listening now as we speak?”

  A bubble of dread formed in my throat.

  Could he be listening?

  My head shook. “I don’t know what he planned. He doesn’t confide in me. I came to play in the tournament. But you’re right; my phone has one of those GPS things. I don’t care if you turn it off. I just need to get to my daughter. I need to get to her before Andros does.”

  He handed my purse to another man. “Do what you need to do to this. I don’t want it leaving this building. We’re not playing a fucking game of hide-and-seek. If that asshole is still in our city, we’re hunting him, not the other way around.”