Page 62 of Cruel Russian Pakhan
He opened the back door and pulled out a bouquet of roses. Then he tucked my hand into the crook of his arm as we walked through the gates together.
We weaved between gravestones until we stopped at one. It was clearly well-maintained, unlike the others, which were choked with weeds.
The tombstone read: Stephanie Hudson.
I froze.
Hudson. That had been my last name before Daisy and Arnold adopted me.
My breath caught as I stared. Lev stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I leaned back into him.
“This is your mother’s grave,” he said softly.
A sob tore from my throat before I could stop it. His arms tightened around me.
“I had Timur dig into your background,” Lev said gently. “Then we had someone go to the orphanage and rummage through the old files. There had to be something, some clue. They couldn’t have just taken in a child without paperwork. Once we found something, we kept digging.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I cried, and Lev turned me toward him. I buried my face in his chest.
“I’m sorry you never got to meet your parents,” he murmured. “But they’d be so damn proud of the woman you’ve become.”
I pulled back slightly, sniffling.
“Thank you for finding her. They told me they had nothing…I just…” I buried my head in his chest again. “Thank you,” I whispered.
I finally had the names of my parents: Stephanie Hudson and Grigori Rykov.
As I stood in the cemetery wrapped in Lev’s arms, it felt like a missing piece of me had quietly slipped into place.
A part of me that had been broken…had healed. I couldn’t believe he did this for me.
Lev’s voice was soft against my ear. “I have another surprise for you.”
I looked up at him, my voice watery. “Is it going to make me cry, too?”
His lips curved into a smile. “Probably. But you’ll like it. I promise.”
Then he kissed me, tender and slow, and the longing I had for him stirred. When we pulled apart, he handed me the bouquet. I placed it gently on my mother’s grave. Kissing my fingers, I pressed them to the tombstone.
“Hi, Mom.”
That was all I could manage before I broke down again and Lev pulled me back in his arms.
We stood there for twenty minutes before I wiped my eyes. “I’m ready for the next surprise.”
He nodded, and together we walked back to the car.
We drove for another fifteen minutes in comfortable silence, my hand in Lev's, until we pulled up to a quaint two-story home. It was painted a soft blue, with a rose bed blooming just beneath the windows. As we stepped out of the car, the front door opened and a lady with short black hair who looked a few years older than Lev stepped outside with a warm smile.
Lev gave my hand a gentle squeeze as we made our way up the path and climbed the porch stairs. The woman’s eyes were misty.
“Mrs. Roxburg, thank you so much for accommodating us,” Lev said, offering his hand.
“Mrs. Roxburg is my mother—please, call me Martha. It’s a pleasure,” she said kindly.
Then she turned to me, holding out her hands. I reached for them, and she clasped mine gently. Lev’s hand stayed at my waist.
“Your mother and I had been best friends since we were ten. You’re just as beautiful as your mother always knew you’d grow up to be.”
