The Sanctuary (18 page)

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m going to get coffee.” I reached for my robe, which was hanging on the door. I placed my hand on the knob to open the door, but he blocked me, placing his hand over mine.

“Hey…” He looked me in the eye.

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you get that thing removed?”

I shook my head. “Not until after we get married.”

“Are you sure? We can start trying now if you want.”

“I’m sure. It’s not a good time. With my luck, I would get knocked up right as you were going on tour.”

I tried to move his hand out of the way, but he remained firm in his grasp. “You know,” he said quietly, “when you were holding Joy last night, it struck a chord with me.”

“How so?”

He rubbed my belly. “You know how fucking hot you would be pregnant?”

I groaned. “Is this a fetish I need to know about?”

“Maybe.” He kissed my neck.

“So, you’re telling me once we’re home you’re going to keep me barefoot and pregnant?” I said, laughing.

“If I can, yes.” He placed his fingers on my pussy, rubbing my clit.

I moaned in pleasure. “Stop, we’re going to get busted,” I whispered in his ear.

“Do you think I care?” he said, his cock poking through his pants.

There was a knock on the door. “Is it safe to come in?” Vicki asked.

“No, and the answer is not pregnant.” I opened the door, vexed our session was cancelled. I placed my robe on and headed to the kitchen.

Val followed. “I don’t like her.”

“Neither do I, at least not today.” I poured us coffee.

Vicki came marching in a short while later, “Aubrey cancelled your performance. She said something about your songs being too related to the depths of hell and not wanting any bad luck on her day.”

I laughed. This was so typical of her.

“Perfect. I didn’t want to perform anyway,” Val said, looking out the window.

“She realizes she still has to pay him?” I asked Vicki.

“Yes, she’s aware of it.”

The next few hours flew by. I sermonized to my staff and the vendors what I expected of them. I barked orders and threw out threats: things better go not as planned but better than planned. The bridal suite was a drama in its own, with Aubrey throwing a fit that her dress didn’t poof out enough and her hair wasn’t cooperating. She didn’t need me there at all. She had her own entourage taking care of her every whim. I felt like an expensive statue in the corner.

The cocktail party and reception went off splendidly. Unfortunately, there were too many behind-the-scenes fires to be put out, and I was stuck in the midst of the madness. There was no way I was going to be able to slip away unnoticed. I needed to stay until the cleanup crew arrived.

I walked into my apartment well after two a.m. I greeted Edward in the kitchen. “Where is Val?”

“He went to sleep about thirty minutes ago. He said he was tired. Can I get you anything?”

“Yes, please put on tea for me. I am going to take a bath.”

I took off my heels and tiptoed into the bedroom so I wouldn’t wake him. Val was sound asleep on the bed, sheets wrapped around him, pillow tucked under his head. He looked sweet lying there. I had never seen him sleep because I always fell asleep first. I stood there a moment to take it all in. Yes, I was in love, and he was the one. I leaned over and kissed him goodnight before unwinding from my exhausting day.

Val wrapped his arms around me from behind and kissed me softly on the neck. “Where are you off to so early?”

“I have errands to run.” I didn’t want him to know where I was going.

“Would you like company?” Val asked.

“You’re not showered, and I have to be somewhere at ten.” I looked at the clock. It was already eight thirty. It would take me awhile to make it into Queens.

“I’ll be ready in five.” Val zipped into the bedroom, reappearing within minutes.

I eyed his outfit. “I’m not sure you’ll want to come with me. I’m going to church, and the last time I mentioned that we got into an argument. So don’t feel obligated to come.”

“Why are you going to church?”

“I requested my records in case we get married. Plus, it’s the anniversary of my parents’ deaths in a few weeks. Then I’m going to the cemetery. Seriously, you don’t have to come.”

“This is important. I want to be there with you.” He paused. “Unless you don’t want me to be there?”

I didn’t want to argue. “I wouldn’t mind company, actually.”

The ride into Queens was uneventful. I spent it flicking though the radio in contemplative silence. We arrived in my hometown a bit earlier than I expected. I decided to swing by my childhood home. Perhaps he would understand me a bit better.

We pulled up to a dilapidated house. It had graffiti on the side and security bars on the windows and doors. The red brick was chipped and weathered. The neighborhood was quite undesirable, although no more than what I was used to as a child.

“This is the house I grew up in.” I looked at the old thing. It needed such a facelift.

Val’s eyes widened. “This is where you grew up?”

“Yes, and not much has changed since then. I moved out when I was eighteen. So, you see, I don’t come from money.”

Suddenly there was a tap on my window. I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Eve, is that you?”

I looked up and saw my old neighbor. She must have been eighty-five. “Mrs. Langone, are you still living here?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Where am I to go?” She smiled warmly. “It’s good to see you. Is this the young man I have read about?”

“Why, yes it is. This is Val, my fiancé. Val, meet Mrs. Langone. She was my next-door neighbor growing up.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The house was recently sold, and when they were doing renovations last month, the new owners found a box of old photos in the attic. I took them and was going to forward them to you, but I wasn’t sure of your address. Wait right here. I’ll go get them.” She walked inside and quickly returned with a box. “Here you go, dear.”

I flipped open the box and saw photos of myself as a child. I quickly closed it. “Thank you, Mrs. Langone. I appreciate these. We’re heading to church. Will we see you there?”

“No, we went last night. But I won’t keep you. It was lovely to meet you, Val.” She winked at me before departing.

I smiled to myself as I pulled away and headed toward the church, which was only a few blocks away. She was always so thoughtful. Holding a box of photos for me was just like her.

“What’s inside?”

“Just some photos of when I was younger, “I said as I parked the car. I stepped out onto the grounds of the church. A chill ran up my spine. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything, Eve.”

“Hold my hand.” I stopped in front of the doors to the church. It was a beautiful old church. It was sad because the last memories I had of it were burying my parents. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.

“We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.” He looked at me with caring, concerned eyes.

“I don’t want to, but I have to. It’s something I need to put behind me so I can move forward.” I held his hand for dear life and began my ascent up the stairs. Once inside, I saw the priest greeting the parishioners as they entered the sacred space.

I walked past him, attempting to go unnoticed.

“Eve?” I heard him call out. I gripped Val’s hand and turned around. I didn’t want to talk about my parents.

“Hello, Father. How do you do?”

“It’s so good to see you. When I heard we were having a mass in honor of your parents, I was surprised to find out the news.”

“I’m also here because I need copies of my records, so I can get married. As I mentioned yesterday to your secretary, I need them as soon as possible as I am leaving the country tomorrow.”

“I believe she already printed them. I’ll meet you in the rectory after mass so you can pick them up.”

I did not answer. Instead, I turned abruptly and pulled Val into the last pew. “I can’t do this. I need to sit.” My head was spinning. The mass proceeded, and I remained silent for most of it, going through the motions but none of the words registering in my mind.

As we knelt for the Eucharistic Prayer, the pastor went through the names of the dearly departed.

“Remember, Lord, those who have died and have gone before us marked with the sign of faith, especially those for whom we now pray, remembering Henri and Michelle Laurikkonen, John and Sarah Smith, and Paul and Ann Fiore. May these, and all who sleep in Christ, find in your presence light, happiness, and peace. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

I gritted my teeth and wondered why they could never pronounce the name right.

The mass proceeded without incident, and I quickly fled the church as soon as it ended. We entered into the rectory, waiting for Father John’s return.

“Ah, Eve, sorry to keep you waiting.”

“I just want my records so I may leave.”

“I understand. Let me retrieve them from her desk. It should only be a moment.”

Father John returned, records in hand, in a sealed envelope. “Here you go. I wish you both many blessings and God’s love.”

“Thank you.” I handed him a check to cover the fees.

“Which parish will you be getting married at?”

“I’m not sure if we will be getting married in the Catholic Church. But I wanted these records in case I needed them.”

“Unfortunately, I need to attend to another parishioner who needs assistance, but if you ever need anything, we are here for you. You may call me anytime. May God bless you both.” He shuffled out of the rectory past us.

We headed to the car and drove in silence to the cemetery. I didn’t know what to say. I was lost in my own world.

Val interrupted my thoughts. “I thought you said the mass was in memory of them?”

“It was.”

“But I didn’t hear your name mentioned.”

“It was. They pronounced it wrong.”

“How do you mispronounce Lauren? It’s such an easy name.”

We pulled through the gates of the cemetery and proceeded down the narrow, winding path. I ignored his question and stopped the car in front of a large oak tree.

“You can wait in the car. I’ll only be a minute.”

I stepped out and walked several rows inward to their grave. I heard the car door close in the distance, followed by footsteps. I brushed off the stone and sat down on the grass. The façade of the stone was weathered. I needed to make arrangements to get it cleaned.

“Eve?”

“Yes?” I stared at my mother’s and father’s names. I knew I would need to explain.

“Are you in the right location?” He knelt down next to me.

“Yes. These are my parents, Henri and Michelle Laurikkonen.” I looked at him. “I changed my name when I was eighteen.”

He looked at the gravestone and then at me. “You said they passed away when you were seven?”

“Yes…” My eyes welled up with tears.

He embraced me and kissed me softly on my temple. “I’m sorry, darling.” He paused, holding me tight. “Will you tell me about them?” he asked inquisitively.

I bit my lip. “I remember my father would always sing to me. I was his little girl. My mother hated his parents. She said they were too old-fashioned. But they were a hoot. Every time my grandmother would get mad, she’d yell at my father in…I don’t even know. It was a foreign language. When I was eighteen, I decided to go by the name Eve Lauren.”

Val took a seat on the grass next to me. “What was your birth name then?”

I laughed. “It sounds strange to say it now.” I shook my head and sighed. “Eveliina Saarah Laurikkonen. I cut out the middle of my last name. Eve Lauren flows much better.”

“I think your birth name is prettier.” He watched me intently, enthralled by my story.

“I like Eve Lauren better. It’s easier to pronounce.”

“You said your grandparents spoke another language? What do you know about them?”

“The only thing I remember Grandma saying was during the ’30s there was a lot of fighting. One night they escaped, and they fled to America. But that’s all I know.” I took a stick and began twirling it in my hands. “My father was their only child I believe. My grandmother mentioned a town, but I don’t remember the name, something with a V or a W. She was hard to understand sometimes.” It felt good to purge it all out of my system. I’d never told anyone about my family.

“Did you ever have any desire to find out your heritage?”

“No, my childhood wasn’t what I’d like to remember. I’d rather forget it.”

“I think you are Finnish.”

I looked at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Your surname is Finnish. It ends in a ‘nen.’ We were at war with Russia at the end of the ’30s. Does the name Viipuri ring a bell?”

“It sounds familiar.”

He nodded. “You must be Finnish. Viipuri was taken by Russia during the Winter War. Tell me again, why did you come to Finland in the first place?”

“I don’t know. I just had a desire to visit.”

I plopped my bags down, tossed my jacket onto the couch, placed the box of photos on the coffee table, and headed toward the bar to pour myself a glass of wine. It was good to be back home in Finland.

“Aren’t you interested to see what’s inside the box?” Val’s gaze told me he knew my thoughts were elsewhere. I hadn’t spoken much since we’d left the cemetery the day before.

I sauntered back to the couch and stretched out. I was tired from the flight. “It’s good to be home with you. Come cuddle with me.”

He sat down and pulled me toward him. “Why are you avoiding it?”

I sighed. “Of course I’m curious, but at the same time, I don’t want to open it. I’m not ready to relive memories.”

“And if you don’t, it will eat you up.”

He knew me better than I thought he did. I broke away from his grasp and pulled the box onto my lap. I placed my hands on either side and pressed my thumbs into the lid, slowly lifting the cover. I peeked inside. I saw a picture of my father holding me when I was a baby. The picture brought tears to my eyes. I handed the picture to Val.

“This was my dad, Henri.”

I flipped through more pictures of my grandparents, my first birthday, my parents’ wedding, and my baptism, and lastly, a picture of my parents, myself, and another couple with two young girls. “I have no idea who these people are.”