Page 173 of His Forced Bride
Older relatives offer final respects before departing, and gradually, the formal atmosphere gives way to something more intimate among those who remain.
My heart will never be the same now that my son is gone, but I've gained so much in the aftermath, it's hard to be angry at God for what he has allowed to happen.
Rosa approaches with a small plate of food, insisting that Inessa eat something despite her protests about not being hungry.
The maternal attention is exactly what Inessa needs, and I wink at Rosa in gratitude while she chides Inessa.
"She worries about you," I observe as Rosa moves on to badger other family members.
"There's still room for kindness and care in your brutal world,muzh."
Her words enflame my heart, the term of respect an endearment something I never thought I'd hear from her. Inessa takes a small bite to satisfy Rosa's concerns.
"I needed that reminder tonight."
Today has been a long day.
It's been a long few weeks. Inessa has been quiet and mourning, spending much of her time at her showroom or in her art room.
I've spent long days working tirelessly to align new strategies and help rebuild where needed, and other than nights filled with heat and connection, we've passed like ghosts in the darkness.
"Do you regret what happened with Viktoria?"
I ask, giving her permission to express doubts if they exist.
"No."
She doesn’t even hesitate to answer me.
"But I wonder sometimes what kind of person that makes me. Normal daughters don't plan their mothers' deaths."
"Normal daughters don't grow up in families where mothers orchestrate the murder of fathers and fiancés," I point out.
"You responded to an extraordinary situation with extraordinary measures."
"Is that how you justify the violence in your own life?"
Her question about my moral framework is telling.
She's wrestling with what it means about her as a human being and as my wife.
And I can't really reassure her or let her know what she did is okay, because I have no moral authority to absolve her.
All I can tell her is that I understand.
"I don't justify it. I accept it as necessary for protecting what I value."
I study her face as I speak, looking for judgment or disapproval.
"Some people create problems that can only be solved through elimination."
"Like my mother."
"Like your mother."
Average marriages will never have the bond we have, one shared over the dark lines we've crossed to fight for what we have.
My hand finds hers again and I squeeze it in reassurance.
