Saving Hope by Liese Sherwood-Fabre

Author:Liese Sherwood-Fabre
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Musa Publishing
Published: 2012-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

At her apartment building, she refused his offer to assist her inside.

“I know you’ve had a shock. We’ll talk again, later,” he said after scrutinizing her a moment longer.

As soon as she let herself into her apartment, she continued to the bathroom, pulled off her clothes, and stepped into the shower. Using the hottest water she could tolerate, she scrubbed herself until her skin stung to remove any traces of Vladimir’s cologne or the lingering scent of vomit. When her skin glowed red, she turned off the hot water and gasped as ice-cold needles of water numbed her further.

Afterward, she shuffled to the living room and sat on the couch, pulling the phone toward her.

Lena answered on the second ring.

“Can you call me back?” Alexandra asked her before she could say more than “hello.” “I can’t afford an international call.”

“No problem.”

While she waited for Lena to return her call, she pulled a business card from her purse and stared at the tiny Cyrillic print. Deep in thought, she jumped when the phone rang.

“Is Nadezhda all right?” Lena asked.

“Fine. She’s fine.”

“Then you aren’t. You wouldn’t be up at—what time is it there? Three?”

“I just…I guess…” she said, forming the words around the lump in her throat. “I’m just lonely.”

“Dear friend. Of course you are. I wish you could come here.”

“I’m working on it, but it seems to be further away than ever. I can’t believe I could be so wrong about so much.”

“You’ve always been an optimist. You see what you want, especially in people.”

“My blinders have been taken off tonight.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

She stared at the card in her hand again. “I have an idea.”

“I’ve got to go. Fred will be wondering about the phone bill. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll be busy.”

After she hung up the receiver, she let her hand rest on the hand set for a moment. Lifting it again, she dialed the number on the card.

“Nikolai Borisovich Kamovski?” she asked when a voice grumbled in response at the other end. “This is Pavlova, Alexandra. We need to meet to discuss my future employment…Two o’clock? I’ll be there.”

She replaced the receiver and stumbled to her bedroom. Curling into a ball, she pulled the covers tight and tried to sleep.

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