Page 124 of Heartfelt Pain
Dad turns to Mom again, a pointed look dictating what should happen.
As much as I want to help Mom, I can’t defend her in this situation. Especially, when she digs the hole deeper.
“No.” It’s a startlingly simple word.
Dad’s jaw clenches and I notice Max’s mouth tighten.
“Yelena.” Lennie grimaces at the voice Dad uses. “You owe Russet an apology for slapping her. For physically harming your daughter-in-law.”
“No,” she states again.
Grandma makes a noise under her breath. Annoyed and unsurprised by her daughter-in-law.
“We agreed—”Dads voice hardens—“you would apologize.”
“No,” she yet again utters to our collective disbelief. “I did not say I would apologize. I won’t apologize.”
“Mom!” Max growls. Russet grabs his hand but doesn’t look up from the countertop.
It’s like Mom wants to piss everyone off.
“I will not apologize,” she tells us. Tells Russet without more than a glance in her direction.
“Yelena,” Dad says. “We do not slap our family members. It’s unacceptable to treat your daughter this way.”
Mom shrugs. Actually shrugs. I wish her facial muscleswould move. The mask she wears is nothing but a long, sad expression.
“I did not slap my daughter. I slapped the bitch Marissa made my son marry.”
“That is no excuse! Once she married Max we accepted her in the family!”
“Youaccepted her into the family.” Mom stands, crossing her arms. Not many dare to square off with Lev Zimin. “And how lucky you were she decided to shoot up Marissa’s stronghold and not ours.”
Russet’s lips part. There’s a quick, nervous glance around the island. “I wouldn’t?—”
But she had.
We just got lucky when she finally unleashed her fury it hadn’t been in our direction. When she finally put down her baking spatula and turned off theReal Housewives. When she finally picked up not one but two firearms and marched toward her mark. . . We got lucky we weren’t the intended target.
Dad doesn’t care about this argument. About whether Mom’s caution was justified.
“If you weren’t planning on making amends then why bring it up?” he asks.
That answers one question. We’d been sitting on the knowledge for almost two years because we’d never wanted this to happen.
“We cannot continue this way,” Dad argues. “The awkwardness and the lack of communication. You put Max and Russ in a terrible position. It’s affected our entire family. Bury this argument. Beg Russ’s forgiveness.”
Russ looks like she’d like to disappear let alone hold her mother-in-law’s fate in her hands.
And Mom agrees. The temperature drops. If Mom weremade of ice I’d be afraid she’d crack from how tense she holds herself.
“I told you—”her words are lethally low—“because you wanted an explanation as to why our children have started to avoid us. And I gave you an answer. Now answer me.”
We’re straining to understand what she’s talking about when she drags her hand behind her, digs into her waistband, and whips out a gun.
There’s a scramble. Dima’s up on his feet. Max and Elijah cover their respective partners. I’m dodging in front of Grandma who merely slaps me back.
“Let me see,” she demands peering around my shoulder.
