Breakfast was painful. Valentina wouldn’t raise her eyes from her plate. Ekaterina had left to try to ease the tension. Murroh wish his wife had stayed. He needed her support. It was Christmas morning, the joyous celebration of a miracle child. Murroh’s miracle child would barely speak with him.
“Valentina, did you want to go ice skating today? Or maybe go on a handsome cab ride through the park?” Murroh offered. Those brown eyes finally looked up in a glare. She was scarier than Ekaterina.
“No. I want to talk about Tracker.” Valentina insisted. Since she first asked him, Murroh still had not given a straight answer. She refused to let the conversation move forward until she got her answers.
“How’s that school? Made any friends?” Murroh asked between sips of coffee.
“In my research I found links between you and Tracker. How do you know him?” She countered.
“I told you, Valentina, I have never met anyone named Tracker.” Murroh put his fork down a little too forcefully. “That is the honest truth.”
“Tracker wrote about you. It was you, Dad. Colonel Murroh Lytton, formerly of the US Army Rangers, and CIA agent. He knows you. So how do you know him?” Valentina frowned. Her deep brown eyes narrowed. She wanted the truth, and she deserved it. But he was telling her the truth when Murroh told Valentina he did not know a Tracker.
He stood up and walked back to the kitchen. While pouring another cup of coffee for himself he skipped the milk, and opted for Bailey’s Irish Cream instead. And the ratio was far more in the favor of alcohol than it was to the coffee. It was barely coffee at all. Murroh was just drinking a mug full of Bailey’s, really.
“Many people know me, Valentina. I was fairly famous headline fodder about twenty five years ago. But it doesn’t mean I know all of them.” He said, after his second mug of Bailey’s.
“No. This was different. He did psychological analysis of you. Amateur, but he did one and he nailed it. Alcoholic. Depressed. Inferiority complex. And he knew an Ekaterina too. Is she the same Ekaterina? Dad, this is getting ridiculous. I’m an adult and I want to know what’s going on. My mother wouldn’t hide things from me.” Valentina pressed the attack, standing up and cornering him in the kitchen.
Murroh laughed. “Your mother started this charade,” he thought to himself. But the look of incredulous rage on Valentina’s face made it quite clear that Murroh had been thinking out loud. Bailey’s for breakfast. What a terrible idea.
“Don’t talk about my mother that way! She’s not here to defend herself! What is that even supposed to mean?!” Valentina’s nails felt sharp as they poked at his chest through his t shirt. Now Murroh really wished Ekaterina had stayed.
“Do you want the truth, Valentina?” Murroh was a coward, but liquid courage started to course through his blood. “Are you really sure you want to crack open that particular Pandora’s Box?”
Her eyes widened, and Valentina backed away. He knew he was scaring her. And she was right to be afraid. Valentina was on to him. He had been keeping secrets from him, but she couldn’t fathom how far it went.
“What… What was Mom lying about?” Valentina’s fire had gone out. Her voice was meek, and her words were chosen carefully.
“Me. This family, Valentina. We’re all a lie.” Now he was drinking right from the bottle. And the bottle was whiskey. “Do you want to know why there are no pretty pictures of me and your mom? Why we never lived together? We were never married. Nope. Not even in love.” He was now drunk and his tongue was running on its own accord. “Guess what. I’m not even your dad. Yep. I’m your godfather, and I still love you Valentina, but I’m not your dad.”
Valentina’s lip was trembling. Tear were welling up in her big brown eyes. He felt terrible, but he couldn’t stop himself. He loved her, and he knew he was hurting her. She wanted the truth, and now it was all coming out, faster than he realized.
“And I think I know who this “Tracker” might be. Yeah… I did know him. I did. Yeah, my Ekaterina was his Ekaterina. Katya got out of that camp, and eventually found me. I took care of her. I listened to her. She sent me to this camp. I’m the one that rescued “Tracker” from that hell. I rescued him from a few more after that. He was my best friend. And…” Murroh couldn’t stop his mouth, and he couldn’t stop his tears. “And… He was my best friend, and he was your father. And he’s gone, and I couldn’t save him.”
Murroh knew he should stay and comfort Valentina. He’d just shattered his daughter’s entire world. He was vaguely aware she was crying, but he couldn’t see anything but his eyes. Those brown eyes, staring him down, seeing every failure on Murroh’s soul. Murroh rushed back to his room. He was there too. There was no escaping him. He stumbled to his collection of alcohol bottles. Murroh reached for the whiskey, but stopped. No. Whiskey got him into this. Vodka was always the alcohol that inspired Valentina’s father – her real father. Murroh raised the bottle of vodka to the picture of them.
“Mischa this is for you. I’m sorry.” He put the bottle to his lips and tipped it back. His lungs burned. And for a short time he could forget how much pain he had just brought into the world.
YOU ARE READING
Looking For A Legend (Book 1)
Bí ẩn / Giật gânA young telepath is unexpectedly left with leading his class when his teacher takes leave. One of Elijah's new students Valentina leads him down a path where mysteries only get more mysterious and nothing is as simple as it looks.
