Page 100 of Vengeful Vows

After tugging Tillie under my arm, I continue for the elevator, my steps more a jog.

“I haven’t seen you in years,” my accoster continues, incapable of backing down even with me making it obvious I am not who she thinks I am.

Miskaela died years ago.

I am now Mara, a woman who will do anything to protect her child.

As I struggle to breathe through my panic, the stranger continues her trip down memory lane while I jab at the elevator call button, praying for it to hurry up. “What was it? Your twelfth birthday party, right? You had the jumping castle and a magician. All the children in the street were in awe.”

“You had a jumping castle for your twelfth birthday?” Tillie whispers, doubling the output of my heart. “I thought you said you didn’t have any parties when you were a child.”

With my cover blown and the thudding steps of my haggler announcing she will follow us to the end of Earth if it is the only way she will get answers, I lower my eyes to Tillie and murmur, “I said I didn’t have anymemorableparties. That’s different from not having one.”

Dr. Babkin’s grooming commenced at my tenth birthday party. My father blocked the only exit of his office two short years later.

I hit Tillie with a pleading look for us to leave our conversation until we’re not under scrutiny of someone who could irreparably scar her before I spin to face the voice surfacing the skeletons of my past faster than I forced Ark’s out of their hiding spot last week.

My scold is nowhere near as burning when I recognize the kind eyes of the lady approaching us. Mrs. Bombae was the neighborhood grandmother. If it wasn’t for her guidance and understanding, I doubt I would have ever had the courage to pack my bags and run.

I confessed to her before anyone else that I thought I might have been pregnant, and although the next person I told handed me a ton of repercussions I could have never anticipated, Mrs. Bombae was not at fault for that. She thought my parents were the good Christian people her and her husband were.

No one could have predicted how evil their blood runs.

My voice rattles with nerves when I say, “Mrs. Bombae… H-hello.”

She smiles, pleased I remember her, before her glistening eyes lower to Tillie. “Hello, dear. Who do we have here?”

“This is Matilda.” I tug Tillie in close like we’re not almost the same height before finalizing my introduction. “My-my daughter.”

“Daughter?” Shock registers but she is quick to mask it with delight. “How lovely. She looks just like you, Miskaela.” She bobs down to meet Tillie eye-to-eye like she did when I was her age. “Do you think you might play soccer like your mother? Did she tell you how she was almost scouted by a famous team all the way from Australia?”

“She did.” Tillie nods so fast that she makes me dizzy and almost sends the wetness in her eyes toppling down her cheeks. “That’s where she got my name from. She said since she couldn’t play for the Matildas, she’d raise one.”

Mrs. Bombae giggles. “That’s such a lovely story, Matilda. Thank you so much for sharing it with me.”

She stares and stares and stares until my stomach’s grumble pulls her from her thoughts.

“The Palkova genes are strong with this one, Miskaela…extremelystrong.” After another lengthy stare, she returns her focus to Tillie. “How old are you, dear?”

“I’m t?—”

“She just t-turned eight.” I pull Tillie in tighter, my clutch almost cruel. “She often f-forgets she just had a birthday, so she says sh-she’s turning eight. But she’s eight now. Just turned eight.”

I’m blubbering, but it can’t be helped. I know the look she is giving me. It is the same one my mother gave me after taking in the positive pregnancy test she bought me.

She thinks she is looking at my father’s child instead of his grandchild.

“We ne-need to go. It was lovely seeing you again,” I lie.

We make it four steps away before a confused whisper stops me. “If Matilda and you are the reason your father is visiting Myasnikov, why wouldn’t he just say that?”

Bile burns the back of my throat as I force words through the fear caked there. “My father is here?”

She nods gently. Confusion is all over her face. “I saw him last week. Friday afternoon in this very lobby. I assumed he was here on business, but when I approached him, he said his visit was personal and that he would appreciate it if I kept my knowledge of it on the down-low.”

I feel sick, incredibly ill. The Chrysler building is only blocks from Tillie’s school.

The monster from my childhood was within walking distance of my daughter.

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