Tears of Heaven - A Love Story

Tears -

Seven
I slept through the next couple of days, waking every now and then to take some flu medicine Grandpa had purchased. Occasionally I heard muffled voices, and despite the fog clouding my thoughts, I was sure I recognized Sergei's gentle voice among them. I felt very comforted.
By Thursday I was feeling a little better and managed to get up and shower, but I spent most of the day lying on the living room sofa under a light blanket. I still felt a little weak, but at least I was out of the bedroom.
I was able to watch a little television, when I wasn't dozing off, that is. Of course, even when I was awake, there really wasn't much on to watch.
I discovered that the Swedes really liked American television shows. Half the shows that were on were American with Swedish overdubbing. Watching them reminded me of watching Asian movies in America with English overdubbing. At another time it would have been amusing. I decided that lounging around with nothing to do was highly overrated and I vowed to start taking better care of myself.
Finding nothing that I really wanted to watch, I turned the television off. Sighing, both bored and fatigued, I scooted farther down on the sofa. I rested my head on one of the decorative pillows and quickly drifted to sleep.
When I awakened an hour later, I was greeted by the familiar smile that had only moments ago consumed my dreams.
“Hej,” Sergei said, his soft-spoken Russian accent giving the Swedish greeting an interesting sound.
“Hej,” I said back, actually allowing myself to be pleased to see him. I mentally reasoned that it was mostly out of gratitude for the kindness he'd shown to me through my illness. I sat up and pushed a hand back through my hair, trying to make it look a little better. Then I figured since he had already seen it in even worse condition, it really didn't matter much.
Sergei stood and moved his chair closer. “How are you feeling?” His sincere gaze held mine against my will.
“I'm better today.” I tried to pull my eyes away from his but wasn't able to this time.
“I am glad. I was very worried about you.”
What is it about this man that keeps tugging at a part of me I don't want touched, that I don't want any man to get near? I wondered. And why was the wall surrounding my heart beginning to weaken despite my best efforts? Pondering these questions, I suddenly felt the need to thank him for his kindness.
“I appreciate all you've done. Thank you.”
“I am glad that I could be here,” he said. The expression on his face seemed to silently add, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
I smiled back timidly and asked, “How was your trip?”
“It was good,” he answered, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs. “It is always good to see my family.”
“You went back to Russia?” I was genuinely interested.
He smiled and nodded. “The only way I get see them is if I go there. I do not think my parents or my sister and her husband will ever move away.” His smile faded slightly. “I do not think they will ever understand my need to move away, either.” He paused and smiled again. “Every time I talk to my mother, the first thing she says to me is, 'Seriozha, you should move back home. You need to be with family.' And my sister follows up with 'Serioque, come home.'”
“Seriozha? Serioque?” I questioned. “Are those nick names?”
His eyes met mine. “They are names used by people I am close to.”
Seriozha. Serioque. I ignored the slight skip of my heart as I repeated each name in my mind and pulled my thoughts back to what we had been discussing. “I take it you don't like Russia,” I said, glancing down at his clasped hands. I thought they were beautiful hands, strong looking but beautiful.
“I love Russia,” he said, his expression thoughtful. “I will always love Russia. But I love freedom more.”
I nodded, understanding and needing no other explanation. “Grandma said you've lived in Sweden for about a year now.”
“Da. This is true.” He smiled. “It was right after I moved here that I met Felicity and Karl.”
I grinned. “They grow on you rather quickly, don't they?”
“Ah, this is true as well,” he said with a grin of his own. “They are wonderful people.” He paused,  adding, “And they love you very much.”
Not knowing what to say, I looked away, again wondering just how much my grandparents had shared with him. If they did tell him about my past, I wondered what he must think of me. Did he think I was weak? Or just plain stupid, or even beneath him?
Why did I even care now?
If I didn't know any better, I would swear that my grandparents had been praying about me behind my back, because things that didn't matter before suddenly seemed to now.
I also wondered if Sergei could read my thoughts, because in that next instant, he leaned forward, covered my hand with his large, warm one and said, “I am sorry for what you have gone through, Heaven. No woman deserves to be treated the way you have been. No one deserves the sorrow you have experienced in your life.”
No, I won't do this now, especially in front of him! Be strong. Be strong . . .
I blinked furiously against the sudden burning behind my eyes, but a couple of tears managed to escape anyway. “Thank you,” I finally said, trying to smile.
When he reached out and wiped my tears with his gentle hand, the emotions I had been holding back for weeks came to the surface, and I couldn't seem to stop them. One by one, the memories came, each one marked by both emotional and physical pain.
The beatings.
The belittling.
The neglect.
The abandonment.
The feeling of aloneness.
Sensing my pain and my need for release, Sergei moved to the edge of the sofa, gently pulled me into the haven of his arms, and let me cry. I pressed my face against his warm chest and cried more at that moment than I had in my entire life. I think the tears that came at that moment were for my whole life, for every painful thing I had ever gone through.
I tried to get a hold of my emotions, but I couldn't. His strong arms tightened around me and I burrowed deeper in his embrace, soaking in the comfort he gave. It was like giving water to someone dying of thirst. I had been emotionally depleted for far too long.
Feeling like an idiot for letting my emotions get the best of me, I took a deep breath and slowly drew back. “I'm sorry,” I said, looking at the tear-stained spot on his shirt.
“Look at me, Heaven” he said, taking my face between his hands. When I raised my eyes, I saw the tears in his, and it surprised me.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He brushed another tear away with his thumb but kept my face in his hands. “But you need to learn to trust again.” Releasing my face, he took my hands in his. “There are evil people in the world, but there are also good ones.”
I closed my eyes briefly and sighed. “I know.” I looked at him intently. “But so much has happened. Trusting again will be very hard for me.”
Lifting a warm hand again to my face, he said simply, “Then start with me.”
Warmed by his compassion, I smiled. I had never known anyone like him before, except for the Copeland family and my grandparents, but this was different.
He made me feel different.
I was still afraid, but seeing the expectant look in his eyes, I nodded. “I'll try.”
Sergei remained silent for a moment, his eyes studying my face. When his brow furrowed slightly, I knew he was momentarily deep in thought. I ached to know what he was thinking at that moment but felt too shy to ask. I wanted so badly to lift my hand and gently smooth his brow.
Suddenly smiling at me, he wiped at my tears once more. “Can I do anything for you?”
“No, but I would like to talk some more, unless you need to leave.” I silently hoped he didn't.
“Nothing is more important than being here with you.”
I smiled shyly and moved my legs off the sofa to make room for him to sit, but as soon as he sat down, he lifted my legs and placed them across his lap, wanting me to still be comfortable.
And I was comfortable, even sitting with him this way. Strangely, it felt natural.
We talked for a long while. I shared more about myself and my life before moving to Stockholm, expounding on the things he already knew. I shared details about my mother, and Ross. Having released my emotions earlier, it wasn't as painful talking about those things as I thought it would be.
Sergei then told me about his parents, his sister, Martina, and her husband, Alexander. He shared with me stories of his childhood and growing up with very little. He also told me about his hockey career and the knee injury that ended it. He said he was sorry about the injury, but not about retiring. It had been time.
“Isn't hockey pretty dangerous?” I asked.
“It can be, especially if tempers are lost.”
“It seems like that happens frequently. Was it ever dangerous for you?”
“Hmmm, let me see.” He smiled slightly. “I remember scoring the winning goal in a game and the goalie of the opposing team got angry. After we took off our head gear he approached me, lost his temper and hit me.”
“No way! What did you do?”
He grinned. “I lost my temper and hit him back, of course.” When I laughed, he added, “He was not a happy loser.”
“Of course not,” I said, grinning at his smug expression.
During a lull in the conversation, Grandma entered, carrying a tray with two glasses of juice and some of her luscious pastries. Her eyebrows raised slightly at the sight of my legs across Sergei's lap, but I was too famished to care at that moment. Having eaten only broth and crackers for the past couple of days, the fluffy pastries looked wonderful.
“Tack,” Sergei said, taking the tray from her and placing it on the coffee table.
“Varsagod,” Grandma said in return and  I found myself grateful for the bit of Swedish I had learned. Of course, thank you and you're welcome were basic, but truthfully, I understood a lot more than I could speak.
After she left us, we ate and talked some more. I wasn't surprised to learn that Sergei was thirty-four, but with his ruggedly handsome features and perfect build, he looked younger. There was no need to tell him my age because my grandmother told him when she inquired about the housekeeping job for me. True, I was an adult, but compared to Sergei, in some ways I felt like a child. Still, I was twenty-one and had seen and experienced much. Naivety wasn't something I could completely claim.
“Did you enjoy your time in America?” I asked, taking a bite of a frosted cake.
“I did,” he answered. “It is a very beautiful country.”
I nodded. “What did you do while you were there?”
“Well, most of the time, I visited historical sites across the country and learned as much as I could. My favorite states were Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and of course, Utah because of the Church.” He paused and smiled. “I have always been fascinated with America's history.”
“America does have an amazing heritage.” I smiled, suddenly feeling a little melancholy. “I miss a lot of people there.”
“You miss the family that took you in,” Sergei stated, having read my feelings in my expression. When I nodded, he said, “Maybe you can go back to see them sometime.”
I blinked the sudden tears back and shook my head. In my heart I knew that wasn't possible. “Not as long as Ross is still around.”
Sergei gave me an understanding nod and took one of my hands in his again, caressing the back of it with his thumb.
“One day,” he said, looking into my eyes, “you will feel safe again.” He turned his body slightly and touched my face. “I want to help you feel safe again.” He pushed the hair back from my face and pressed his hand against my cheek once more. “Will you let me try?”
I looked away, not knowing what to say or how to answer. This man had burrowed his way into my heart without even trying, and I didn't know what to make of it.
When I said nothing, he said with fervor, “I will never hurt you, Heaven.”
Feeling warmth slowly surround me, I knew it was time to stop fighting and at least try to start trusting again. I lifted my hand and placed it over the one he held to my face. Then, looking into his soulful eyes I said, “I know you won't.” And somewhere deep inside me, I really did know.
As he continued to look at me, I felt an overwhelming need to apologize to him. “Sergei, I have been so distant to you, yet you never stopped being kind to me. I'm so sorry for . . .”
He pressed a gentle finger to my lips. “There is nothing to be sorry for. Truly, I understand.” He ran the same finger down my cheek and smiled.
I smiled back, feeling my cheeks warm and looked shyly away.
Sergei stayed and talked with me through the afternoon. At one point he looked at his watch and whistled, surprised at the time. So was I. He grinned.“Well, since I am here and it is dinner time, I would like to go out and get dinner for us and your grandparents. Would that be all right?”
I grinned. “You mean you aren't tired of listening to me yet?”
He smoldering gaze caused warmth to spread through me. Never in my life had I been so affected by a look.
“I could never be tired of talking with you, Heaven.” He squeezed my hand gently. “I could never tire of being with you period.”
I glanced down again, not knowing what to say. After a moment, I looked up and met his steady gaze again. “The feeling is mutual.”  He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there, and my heart threatened to thump right through my chest.
As Sergei left to go and get the food, I leaned back against the pillows and closed my eyes and sighed over these unexpected events.
Then I slowly smiled.
My heart told me there would be no turning back now.
And I felt okay with that.