Page 11 of The Breath Before Forever

Mira’s sober tone matched the heaviness in Vera’s chest when she said, “It’s okay if you do, though. And even better, if you can.”

Shoving her hands into the back pockets of her high-waisted skinny jeans, Vera replied, “Yeah, I guess.”

Mira didn’t press the topic. “Vaslav won’t be heading to the city for lunch, I suppose?”

One of the things Vaslav admitted to his new bride that he looked forward to the most once she moved in with him was that he wouldn’t need to depend so much on Mira. In fact, he wanted practically no one within breathing distance of him when his migraines made him sick, mean, and angry. Mira couldn’t really subdue her desire to help, but with Vera there, she didn’t have to feel so guilty about taking a step back.

“No, he probably won’t leave his bed today,” Vera settled on saying.

They could figure out tomorrow when it came.

Mira nodded at the news like it wasn’t surprising, but the glance she shot over her shoulder, her line of vision taking her attention beyond the door and across the hall to the master’s doors, gave her silent thoughts away.

That, or Vera had simply become more perceptive of those things in the time that Vaslav entered her life. His close scrutiny of people was not lost on her.

“Was there something Vaslav needed to know?” Vera asked.

Mira’s gaze quickly snapped back to Vera. Her initial hesitance made any rebuttal she might try weak before she could get the words out. “I—”

“Would he care if you didn’t tell him?”

That made Mira pause for even longer. “Actually,” she replied after more than a handful of seconds had passed, “he wouldn’t. He’s fine with where she’s found herself and how it will inevitably end. It can wait. God knows they’ve probably already been paid to see her through the end, if need be.”

It was the unidentified she that Mira mentioned which caused Vera to blurt out, “Well, I could always tell him.”

Who was this she? And why exactly did Mira talk about her predicament—whatever it was—like Vera should already know about it?

As it was, Vera did have a jealous streak. No, that wasn’t true. Possessive was more like it. Protective of her husband, too; that certainly fit the bill.

“Later,” Vera assured Mira, trying not to feel too guilty about her white lie. “I’ll tell him later if he’s in a better mood.”

Mira didn’t catch the lie. “Not even a better mood makes news about his mother easier to swallow. The hospital called with an update. Not that it was anything good.”

Oh.

Vera tried not to show her surprise that the cause of her irritation wasn’t exactly unknown. In a way. The few passing comments Vaslav made about his mother let her know the important things. They weren’t close, he didn’t care to be, and Vera should count herself lucky that she hadn’t met the woman personally.

“I didn’t realize she was so ... sick,” Vera said, choosing her words carefully.

Mira showed little sympathy. “Natalia spiraled quite badly these past few weeks. Eventually, every party ends.”

Given her age, Vera thought the woman might have said goodbye to the party decades ago.

“Either way,” Mira muttered in a sigh as she turned to face the bare, brown walls again, “she’s better where she is. And as Vaslav told me when the doctor first called, even that is more than she deserves.”

That statement should have ended whatever curiosity that remained in Vera about Vaslav’s mother. If even Mira, a woman who showed unwavering kindness, could say a woman deserved her agony without even her son knowing she was going through it, then who was Vera to argue with it?

Too bad curiosity didn’t work like that, though.

*

“H-hello?” Hannah’s groggy voice answered. After Vera’s second call. It almost went to voicemail like the first.

“Are you still sleeping?” Vera asked.

Crawling close to two in the afternoon, even that was a little long for Hannah to be sleeping in. Had that been Hannah in Vera’s shoes, she would have questioned it, too.

Hannah’s responding groan was only mildly annoyed. “I can hear you judging me, Vera.”