Page 22 of The Unseen
Valentina sighed and allowed herself to momentarily revisit the fantasy. In her mind she could see the dining room, lit with countless candles. The oil lamps were reserved for everyday use, but it would be candles for the party, long and white, glowing in the crystal chandelier suspended above the table and from the silver candelabras positioned around the room. The table would be covered with her mother’s best damask tablecloth and decorated with a gorgeous centerpiece contrived of flowers and vines. The footmen would bring out one dish after another, tempting the guests with delicious food and keeping their glasses full with champagne. A music quartet would play discreetly in the background during the meal, setting the mood, but not distracting the guests from their conversations.
The crystal and silver would glow in the candlelight and ladies’ jewels would glitter and sparkle, making even the plainest of women appear beautiful. Everyone would be talking and laughing, and having a wonderful time. Papa, ever the showman, would wait until dessert was ready to be brought out before getting to his feet, raising his champagne flute, and tapping his knife against the crystal until everyone was silent and paying attention. And then, he would announce Valentina and Alexei’s engagement and all the guests would cheer them and chant “Gorko.” Valentina had always liked that particular custom. It was reserved mostly for weddings, but the betrothed couple would be allowed one kiss. She wasn’t sure how the tradition had begun, but it was customary for the guests to cry out ‘Bitter, bitter’ and encourage the couple to kiss and make it sweet.
“I suppose we’ll be eating well for the next week. Mama ordered smoked sturgeon, beluga caviar, pheasant, and other delicacies for the supper. She won’t allow them to go to waste. You love blini with caviar,” Tanya said in an effort to lift Valentina’s spirits.
“The way I feel right now, I don’t think I’ll ever be hungry again. My stomach is in knots. The Tsar is the head of the Imperial Army. If he has abdicated, then what becomes of the regiments stationed in Petrograd? They’re outnumbered and without proper command.”
“If they are without command, then there’s no one to order them to fight against the rebels,” Tanya pointed out wisely.
“Yes, that’s true, but they still have their immediate commanding officers who might decide to act on their own. Imagine how celebrated they would be if they managed to put down the rebellion from within.”
“That would be rather heroic.”
“Heroic and suicidal.”
“Come, Valya, let’s practice our duet. It will take our minds off things,” Tanya suggested and took her seat at the piano,but Valentina eschewed the piano and curled up in a high-backed armchair instead. The chair was upholstered in butter yellow and the sunny color normally lifted her spirits, but not today.
Until last week, the most dramatic thing to ever happen to Valentina had been the death of their puppy, Dimok. They’d named him “Smoky” because of his fur, which was the bluish-gray color of chimney smoke rising into a winter sky. He’d been less than one year old when he’d foolishly run beneath the wheels of a carriage while the family strolled through the Summer Garden last spring. Kolya had been holding his leash but let go when Dimok suddenly bolted, having spotted something that interested him. Kolya had been inconsolable for weeks and refused the offer of a new puppy as a way of punishing himself for his negligence.
And now they were in the midst of a revolution that seemed to be happening right on their doorstep. Valentina wondered if the people in other large cities, such as Moscow, were affected by the revolt. They must be if the Tsar had abdicated. This revolution must be affecting the entire country.
Valentina wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her forehead on her knees. She couldn’t quite grasp the implications of the situation. What did it all really mean? What would happen to the royal family? Who would take the Tsar’s place? Who’d be in charge? And what would happen to everything the royal family owned: their palaces, carriages, jewels, and automobiles? What would become of the aristocracy without a tsar? What would become of her?
This should have been the most exciting time of her life. She was newly engaged, about to begin planning her wedding and her future with the man she’d loved since she was a little girl, but instead she had to worry about matters of state, and the war that raged somewhere out there, beyond the scope of her imagination, a war that had caused such discontent among the common people that it had finally tipped them over the edge of reason. Would the troops be recalled from the front or would they go on fighting? It was all too confusing to even contemplate.
Valentina abandoned her refuge and returned to her room. She rummaged under her pillow until she extracted a folded piece of paper, the note hastily written in graphite. It had been delivered four days ago by a young boy who had stood awkwardly before her, hand outstretched, until she gave him a few kopeks for his trouble. Valentina had breathed a sigh of relief when she recognized Alexei’s handwriting, and she’d retreated to her room to read the note in peace.
Dearest Valya,
I’m all right. Please don’t worry about me. Stay indoors and well away from the windows. I’ll come by as soon as I’m able.
Love,
Alexei (your future husband)
Valentina refolded the note and pressed it to her lips. Alyosha was all right, and that was all that mattered at this moment. As long as they’d be together in the future, they’d survive anything that life had to throw at them.
TWELVE
DECEMBER 2014
London, England
Quinn checked on Emma, tucked in Alex, who was sleeping peacefully, and climbed into bed, grateful to be off her feet at last. It had been a long day and she was tired. Gabe was already in bed, reading a book about Richard III. He marked his place, set the book aside, and switched off the bedside lamp. He turned to Quinn, watching as she settled in, leaving a wide gap between them.
She wanted to reach for him, but she felt tense as a spring, her body rigid and unyielding. Jill’s accusing words about Alex being her first priority and Emma’s earlier queries about sex had left her feeling hollow and weepy. Jill was right—it was all about the baby. His needs eclipsed everything, especially her need for intimacy. She and Gabe had made love twice since she’d recovered from the cesarean, but it wasn’t the same. Something was missing, and she knew it was on her end. She hadn’t felt a twinge of desire since the baby was born and had pretended to enjoy Gabe’s caresses to spare his feelings, but she was sure he knew, probably tipped off by the fact that she had lain there like roadkill, waiting for him to finish.
The thought of being touched upset her and made her want to curl into herself like a shrimp. Her body was no longer her own. Her breasts were engorged with milk, her nipples sore from nursing every three hours, and her belly marred by angry red stretch marks that flowed across her milky skin like rivers on a map. The incision had healed, but the scar was ropy and sensitive to the touch. She didn’t feel attractive and couldn’t see how Gabe could find her desirable. He was just going through the motions, taking care of his physical needs.
“Have you completely gone off me?” Gabe suddenly asked, as if reading her thoughts.
“No.”
“Then why do you shrink away from me every time I reach for you? You always used to snuggle up against me when you came to bed, but now you’re all the way over there, rigid as a plank, hoping I’ll turn over and go to sleep without bothering you.”
“Because I think you’re reaching for me out of a sense of obligation rather than desire. I’m afraid you find me repellent,” she muttered, wondering if it was a mistake to admit to her insecurity.
“Repellent?” Gabe gaped at her, clearly stunned by her words.
