Broken Together (30 page)

He
retrieved his pen. “Does this put a strain on your relationship?”

Rafael
shook his head. “Not at all. I love Kristine regardless. I’ll stand by her
regardless. I am confident that God will work this for a greater good, and he
will see us through.”

A
single tear slid down my cheek. Rafael’s response loosened a vise on my heart,
one I hadn’t even known existed.

“Your
testimony reminds me of the message found in Corinthians 13:13,” Father Ramires
noted softly. “‘And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the
greatest of these is love.’ Clearly, you love one another very much.”

A
few more tears moistened my cheeks.

Rafael
tugged a couple of tissues from the box and handed them to me. “Are you okay?”

I
swiped at my tear stained cheeks. “Yes. I’m just… relieved and very happy.”

“You’re
crying because you’re happy?” He smiled and kissed the top of my head.

“There
is one more issue I’d like to discuss.” Father Ramires reached for our
compatibility tests. “Have you two discussed how many children you would like
to have?”

“No,”
we answered cautiously.

Father
Ramires chuckled. “Kristine, would you mind telling Rafael how many children
you would like to have?”

“Two.”
Two seemed like a fairly solid number.

He
nodded. “Rafael, would you mind telling Kristine how many children you would
like to have?”

“Five,”
he admitted softly.

“Five?”
The color drained from my face.

“I
thought maybe we could adopt some.” His expression remained hopeful.

I
stilled. “Are you serious?”

He
reached for my hand. “Yes, but only if you’re willing. I’d be ecstatic just to
have one, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to wanting at least five. Whether
they are ours or adopted doesn’t matter. I just want a house full of children.”

I
tried not to panic. “At
least
five?”

He
cringed. “I only wrote five because I was afraid to write eight.”

“Eight?”
I nearly leapt from my seat. “How will I work? Rafael, I
need
to work. I
cannot just sit at home all day wiping bottoms, and noses, and… and
stuff!
I need some sort of intellectual stimulation. I
need
to have a job.” I
didn’t dare look at the priest. I knew Catholics were supposed to want a lot of
children, but eight seemed a little extreme.

“I
could stay home,” Rafael offered.

My
jaw dropped. I spent a few precious minutes gathering my thoughts. “You can’t
stay home.” I glanced at Father Ramires, wondering just how much I could
reveal. My voice lowered to a mere whisper. “Rafael, you swore an oath. You
vowed to protect those in need. I vowed to support you in this, and I promised
to continue helping others. How can we do that when we’re raising eight kids?”

His
eyes brightened. “We could create our own NGO so we could both work from home.”

I
shook the confusion from my head. “What?”

He
leaned forward excitedly. “You wanted to help political refugees. We can create
an NGO that helps refugees. I could manage the security aspects and you could
serve as their advocate. We could both secure the necessary funding,
accommodations, and any support services they may need.”

The
air rushed from my lungs, right along with any arguments that may have been
lingering on the tip of my tongue. I glanced at Father Ramires. “I need to
think about this. I’m not saying this would dissuade me from getting married.”
I looked at Rafael. “I want to marry you no matter what. I just need to think
through how we might accomplish this… how we could manage all those children,
work, and… everything else.”

“If
I may…” Father Ramires interjected.

We
both nodded.

“The
Grand Master of the Knights Templar ensures that every Templar within my
diocese is on my prayer list. The same holds true for their wives, their
children, and their betrothed. Rafael has been on that prayer list for some
time. Kristine was added back in December. So I am aware of the vows you’ve made.
There was a time in our history when the Templar were required to take a vow of
celibacy. Thankfully, we have learned from our mistakes. Now, Templar are
encouraged to have children because we know they will pass their values onto them.
By having children and teaching them your values, you honor your vows to serve
and protect those in need… perhaps a bit more indirectly than you are
accustomed to, but you are still honoring them.”

Rafael
and I exchanged glances.

Father
Ramires continued. “Children are a blessing, and they are only home for a short
while. They are in school before you know it, so any sacrifice you might make
is temporary. I encourage families to savor that time before their children are
enrolled in school. Most find the experience incredibly rewarding.”

I
grasped Rafael’s hand. “I’m sorry I reacted so strongly. You know how much I
adore children. I want to raise a family with you, and I don’t mind adopting.
It’s just… the number was a little surprising.”

He
gently kissed my hand. “I’m sure we can settle on a number that works for both
of us. We don’t have to decide today or even next year. We’ll take it one child
at a time. I just… I don’t want you thinking you’re on your own in this. I plan
to take a very active role in raising our kids.”

I
grinned. “I can’t wait to see you change your first diaper.”

Father
Ramires chuckled. “I think I might like to see that as well.” He retrieved two
workbooks from the corner of his desk. “I’d like you to answer these questions
together. You can discuss the questions over the phone or the next time you’re
together. Flag any problem areas, and we’ll discuss them in March. Please bring
the workbooks in March.”

We
eyed the workbooks curiously.

“One
more thing.” He handed us the workbooks. “I want you to start praying together,
and I want to see you in church. You need to reserve a place for God in this
relationship.”

We
nodded dutifully. This was, perhaps, our greatest shortcoming.

“Shall
we pray?” Rafael and I were already holding hands, so he walked around the desk
and clasped our hands in his. “Heavenly Father, I lift this couple unto you. I
pray that you will strengthen them... guide them… and bring them peace. Allow
them to feel your presence in their relationship so that your light may shine
in them. We pray this in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the
Holy Spirit. Amen.”

*
* * * *

I
climbed onto the stool. My hair was still dripping from the shower so I
squeezed the ends with my towel.

Rafael
slid an omelet onto my plate before joining me at the breakfast bar. “Your
phone is blowing up.”

I
shut my phone off on Thursday and had been vigorously ignoring the outside
world ever since. When I turned my phone on this morning, the battery was
drained down so I plugged it in before jumping in the shower. I plucked it off
the cord, checked the screen, and frowned. “Maxim.”

Rafael
froze.

“I
have six missed phone calls and eight text messages from him.” I thumbed
through the messages. “He’s been trying to reach me since Thursday.” I paused
briefly so I could finish reading. “He’s threatening to send the Russian mafia
after me if I don’t respond by twelve o’clock today. He’s worried I’ve been
kidnapped or am lying in a pool of blood.” I met Rafael’s gaze. “I’d better
call.”

He
rose from his seat. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

I
grabbed his arm. “No. I want you to hear what I have to say.”

He
settled back onto the stool.

I
hadn’t a clue what the time difference was between Portugal and Ukraine, but I
figured Maxim would answer either way. I dialed his number without listening to
my voice mail, set the phone on speaker, and placed it on the counter.

He
answered on the first ring. “Kristine! Are you okay? Where have you been? Why
haven’t you called me?” His voice thundered through the room.

“I’m
fine, Maxim. I told you I was going away for the weekend with Rafael. Why? Is
there a problem?” I tried the ham and Gouda omelet and offered Rafael a thumbs
up. He made a mean omelet.

“I
thought you were dead. How could you not answer your phone?” Maxim demanded. He
sounded genuinely upset.

I
tried to keep my voice as even as possible. “I turned my phone off before the
meeting with Ms. Dickson and forgot to turn it back on. I was a little shook up
after everything that happened Thursday. I didn’t mean to worry you, I just
needed some time away from work, and school, and my phone.”

The
phone grew silent.

I
frowned. “Maxim, is everything okay? Did something happen? Are you okay?”

He
blew out a breath. “Nobody has made any assassination attempts, if that is what
you are asking. But no, I am not okay.”

I
glanced at Rafael.

He
shrugged while sipping his coffee.

“I
was calling to apologize. I did not mean to upset you on Thursday. I was so
pleased with how our meeting went, and when I saw how good we were together,
I’m afraid I got carried away.”

I
set my fork down. “Maxim, I want to help you secure this funding so you can
build the pipeline. I want to help you win the presidency because I believe you
would make a very good president. I care about you, Maxim, as a friend, but I
cannot offer you anything more than that. I don’t want you flirting with me,
and I don’t want you bad mouthing my relationship with Rafael. And, while I am
honored that you would think I am worthy, I do not want to be the First Lady of
Ukraine. I'm in love with Rafael. I’m engaged to Rafael. And I plan to marry
Rafael. If you have a problem with that, then I will be forced to remove myself
from this project. Do you understand?”

Rafael’s
jaw dropped.

I
waited breathlessly for Maxim’s response.

“I
do not believe Rafael is worthy of you. He is neglectful and absent from that
relationship. You deserve more. I want more than a simple friendship with you,
but my country remains unsafe. Even if I were elected president, I question
whether I could keep you safe. Our last president was driven from the country
after multiple assassination attempts. The previous president was poisoned and
nearly died. His Prime Minister, Yulia Tymoshenko, was incarcerated under
politically motivated charges and beaten relentlessly for two and a half years.
So, yes, while I believe you would make a worthy first lady, I do not believe
my country is worthy of you.” He sighed. “I will keep my feelings mute, not out
of respect for your relationship with Rafael but out of respect for you. You
see the good in me. Your faith in me has been unwavering. I do not wish to lose
that too.”

I
eyed the phone warily. Maxim had just bad mouthed my relationship with Rafael
again, but it appeared he was relenting. “So… we’re okay?”

“I
will abide by your conditions so that we may work together, but Kristine…”

Alarms
sounded in my head. “Yes?”

“If
I lose the presidential election on April 10
^th
, I will move to the
United States and pursue you relentlessly. Do you understand?”

“Yes,”
I gritted. As if I weren’t working hard enough to get the man elected.

“Yes!”
I leapt from my chair, grabbed a handful of air, and pulled it to my chest.

Shae
rose hesitantly from her chair. “Yes, what?”

“Yes,
this!” I turned my computer screen so she could see.

Her
eyes widened. “She sent you a grant application?”

I
smiled so wide it made my cheeks ache. “She sent me a grant application.”

Shae
threw her arms around me. “You did it!” She stepped back and shoved my
shoulder. Hard. “Holy crap! You did it.”

I
laughed. “Don’t get too excited. USAID still has to
approve
the
application.”

She
reclaimed her chair on the other side of my desk. “I guess I know what we’re
doing over lunch.”

“I
have to call Maxim.” I dug the cell phone from my purse, scrolled through my
contacts, and tapped on his name.

“
Dobroye
utro, kotyonok.”

I
rolled my eyes at his seductive tone. “I have good news.”

“You’re
leaving Rafael?”

“What?
No. I am not
leaving
Rafael. Maxim, could you please try to behave?” I
huffed out a breath, my excitement dulled. “Ms. Dickson e-mailed a grant
application.”

Shae
looked up from her phone.

“What
does that mean?” Apparently, Maxim had very little experience with grants.

I
opened the PDF file attached to Ms. Dickson’s e-mail. “It means Ms. Dickson is
seriously considering our request. We’re one step closer to funding the
pipeline and winning the election.”

“I’m
not so sure I want to win the election,” Maxim grumbled. “I think I may prefer
the alternative.”

“Maxim,”
I gritted. “Do you want me to work on the grant application or not?”

Shae
eyed me worriedly.

A
heavy sigh sounded over the line. “How long will this take?”

I
glanced back at my computer screen. “The grant application is twenty eight
pages. I have most of the information they need on hand. Shae’s helping so we should
be able to submit it tomorrow.”

“And
once it’s submitted?”

I
scrolled through the guidelines in the PDF file. “They have thirty days to respond.”

Maxim
did the math. “That would be twenty days before the election.”

“They
could ask for revisions, and there’s no telling how long it would take for them
to release the funds,” I warned.

“We’ll
make it work,” Maxim answered.

“Okay,”
I agreed. “I’ll e-mail you a draft before I submit it to USAID.”

“
Spasibo
.”

“
Pozhaluysta,
”
I answered softly. “I’ll touch base with you tomorrow. Be safe, Maxim.”

“What’s
going on between you and Maxim?” Shae demanded the second I ended the call.

“Nothing.”
I saved the PDF file to my hard drive and e-mailed her a copy.

She
raised a single eyebrow.

“I
don’t want to talk about it.” I folded my arms across my chest so she’d know I
was serious. “How are you coming along on Sierra Leone?”

“I
hate this issue,” she finally relented. “How do you
resolve
female
genital mutilation?”

I
cringed. As boring as it was, I was thankful I was working on human rights
violations in mining communities instead of secret societies and tribal
initiation.

Shae
leaned forward in her seat. “Did you know ninety-four percent of women over age
fifteen have been cut?”

I
shuddered. That was far more than I anticipated.

“Nearly
everyone living in Sierra Leone’s provinces belongs to these secret societies.
Anyone who refuses to join is threatened or beaten until they agree to become
an initiate. The initiates are forbidden to discuss society affairs with
non-initiates, so I don’t have a clue how we’re going to discuss these human
rights abuses with them,” Shae fretted.

“What
if we map the problem and ask them to identify solutions?” I suggested. “It
would be interesting to see if they can develop a strategy for resolving this.
If they’re unable to propose solutions, we could suggest strategies and see if
they can predict the outcomes.”

“So
no simulation,” Shae concluded.

I
shook my head. “I think that would be a bad idea unless we perform the
simulation as a model and they simply observe the process.”

Shae
frowned. “This issue could have a chilling effect on our dialogue.”

“Then
we should raise this issue last. How’s Cory coming along on vigilante
violence?”

“He’s
done mapping. He and Sammi are already working on their simulations.” Sammi was
working on the excessive use of force by law enforcement.

“I
should be finished with my simulation by the end of the week.” I glanced at my
computer briefly. “How are things going between you and Konstantin?”

“I
don’t want to talk about it,” she replied in kind.

My
eyebrows shot up. “What? Why?”

A
stubborn look settled over her face. “You first.”

“Fine.”
I huffed out a breath. “Maxim kissed me. Jase punched him. I had a coming to
Jesus talk with Maxim. He promised not to flirt with me or bad mouth Rafael
between now and the election. He’s also threatened to move to the United States
and pursue me relentlessly if he loses the election.”

“Wow.”
Shae studied me for a couple of heartbeats. “Has he?”

My
brow furrowed. “Has he what?”

“Stopped
flirting.”

I
barked out a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

Shae
sighed. “I’m questioning whether Konstantin has severed ties with the mafia.
He’s acting suspicious. He’s gone most evenings, and he refuses to discuss what
he’s doing.”

“Maybe
he’s out drinking. He is rather fond of his vodka,” I offered skeptically.

She
shook her head. “I don’t think he’s out drinking. He doesn’t come home drunk.
We hardly go out, although he sleeps over more often than not. The only thing
he seems interested in is…” Her cheeks flushed.

“Sex?”
I guessed.

“His
sex drive is…” Her voice trailed off again. “He’s really attentive in bed, but he’s
always seducing me. Every time I try to talk, he seduces me. Physically, we’re
fine, but emotionally? I thought we’d be closer by now.”

I
frowned. “Have you shared your concerns with him?”

She
nodded. “Every time I bring it up he apologizes, he starts kissing me, and we
end up in bed.”

I
reflected on the workbook that Father Ramires had given me. “Why don’t you
write him a letter, explain the problem, and tell him what you need. Sometimes
it helps for people to see it in writing, and he won’t be able to interrupt or
distract you if he’s reading. You should offer concrete examples of what you
need so it’s clear what he has to do to improve the relationship. Instead of
discussing it, ask him to write you a letter back, telling you what he needs
out of this relationship.”

She
gaped at me. “That’s perfect.”

I
laughed. “That’s in the marriage preparation workbook.”

Shae
rose from her chair. “I’d like to borrow that when you’re done.”

“I’ll
make a copy for you.” I glanced at my computer screen. “I e-mailed the grant
application. Let me know which sections you want to work on.”

She
stopped at the door. “Will do. Are we still going dress shopping this weekend?”

“Yep.
We’re meeting at my house, Saturday at ten.” I sat staring at the doorway long
after she’d left, wondering just how much danger my friend was in.

*
* * * *

Brady
sidled up to the center island. “What are you making?”

“Pear
and pomegranate mimosas.” I scattered pomegranate seeds into the bottom of the
champagne glasses.

The
doorbell rang.

“I
got it.” Jase jumped from the couch.

I
followed him into the foyer.

“Hey,
Jase. Ready for a little dress shopping?” Cenia teased. She gave each of us a
hug.

“Hardly,”
he grumbled. “I’d rather rip my toenails off.”

Marie
followed her inside the house. “Hi, Jase. It’s good to see you again. Kri, you
look beautiful as always.” She pulled me in for a hug.

I
stashed their coats inside the office and followed them into the family room. “I
hope you’re hungry.”

“I
am now,” Marie confessed. “Look at all this food!”

I
waved toward the scones, mini quiches, Andouille sausage, and chocolate dipped
strawberries. “Grab a plate. Would you like some coffee or a pear and
pomegranate mimosa?”

“Both,”
Cenia answered. “Kri, you didn’t have to do all this.”

“I
know. I just thought it might be fun.” I handed Cenia and Marie their mimosas
before pouring the coffee.

“I’ll
get it,” Jase yelled when the doorbell rang again.

Shae
followed him into the kitchen a few minutes later. “Sorry I’m late.”

I
hugged her tight. “You’re fine. Grab a plate.” I shoved a mimosa at Brady and
Jase.

Brady
glanced awkwardly at Jase.

Jase
shrugged. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

I
poured two more mimosas, handed one to Shae, and kept one for myself. “I have a
confession to make.”

The
room grew quiet.

I
took a deep breath “I’ve arranged for the bridal shop to bring the dresses
here. They’ll be arriving at ten-thirty.”

Marie’s
jaw bounced off the granite countertop.

“That’s
awesome!” Cenia shouted.

Shae
glanced at me, confused. “So we don’t have to schlep through the bridal shop?”

I
shook my head. “I thought this might be easier and a bit more fun.” I looked at
Cenia. “Jase has nightmares about scary face Barbie.”

Jase
shuddered. “That woman was truly frightening.”

Cenia
laughed. “Will you still serve as our judge?”

He
eyed Brady.

Brady
chuckled. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

I
patted Brady on the back. “You’re both serving as judges.” I handed him a
plate.

Marie
carried her plate into the family room. “How many dresses are they bringing?”

“I
asked them to bring ten different wedding and bridesmaid dresses in sizes six
and eight.” I bit into a chocolate covered strawberry. “Thanks for agreeing to
wear purple.” I was pretty certain I knew which bridesmaid dress they were
going to choose.

We
were just finishing up breakfast when the doorbell rang. I smiled when I saw it
was the dress consultant who’d assisted me at the store. “Hi, Gloria. Thanks
for coming.”

She
was carrying a portable tri-fold mirror. “Hi, Kristine. These are my assistants,
Emily and Nicole”

I
would have shaken their hands, but they were loaded down with dresses. “Do you
mind taking the dresses upstairs?”

“Not
at all,” Gloria assured me.

Brady
and Jase tried to lighten their load before they tackled the stairs.

“We
want to see the wedding dresses first!” Cenia called from the living room. “Do
you need help?”

“No.
I’m good. I’ll be back down in a minute.” I followed everyone upstairs. I’d
selected eight dresses at the bridal shop without trying any of them on and
then asked Gloria to surprise me with two additional dresses.

Brady
and Jase strode from my room. “We’ll be downstairs.”

I
removed my clothes while Emily and Nicole organized the dresses. Gloria slid a
delicate lace dress over my head. The lace edging above the bodice and down the
arms was so fine it looked air-brushed.

“That
looks gorgeous on you,” Emily cooed. “Are you wearing your hair up or down?”

“I’m
not sure,” I answered. Gloria was still buttoning me up.

“Let’s
pull it up and see how it looks,” Nicole suggested. She grabbed a large clip
from her bag, twisted my hair around her hand, and secured the roll against my
head.

I
smiled, utterly impressed. “Wow. That was fast.” And the up-sweep looked
surprisingly good.

Gloria
turned me toward the mirror. “How do you like the dress?”

I
admired the dress while turning to the right and left. “I love the bodice, but
the skirt is a little too filmy for me.”

Gloria’s
head tilted while she studied the dress. “Would you like to show your friends?”

I
nodded.

She
gathered the train and followed me downstairs. Stand with your back to your
friends while I position the train, then turn around.”

I
smiled sheepishly at Brady and Jase when I stepped into the family room. They
joined the girls on the couch. My friends studied me intently while Gloria positioned
me. All five of their heads ducked unexpectedly. I started cracking up when
they held numbers in the air. They’d recorded their scores on printer paper
with thick black Sharpies. “You’re scoring the dresses?”