“Brusilev. Anatoly Brusilev,” he answered, finding the words came out of his mouth as obediently as if God himself had asked a question.
“What are you doing here, Mother?” If Maggie had been tense before, she was more so now. He could hear it in her tone. There was bad blood here and Anatoly was standing right in the middle of it all.
The woman raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “Well, ‘mother’ is an improvement over you calling me Patricia,” she muttered scathingly. “I’m your emergency contact still, dear. Did you really expect me not to show up when my own flesh and blood is in the hospital after a terrible accident?”
Anatoly adjusted his stance so he could take in both women and was just in time to see Maggie roll her eyes like a bored teenager. He opened his mouth to excuse himself from the room, but Patricia, as she had called herself, turned her cutting green eyes to him and he snapped it shut again.
He could tell she was inspecting him, judging him, and he stood tall through the scrutiny. Her gaze scanned over his attire, landing on his white collar, and her eyebrows shot up. “My daughter doesn’t need a priest,” she sneered.
“I am afraid you misunderstand,” Anatoly said quickly. “I am consultant on police case. I was with Maggie in crash.”
“Were you now?” Patricia’s eyes narrowed as though she didn’t quite believe him.
Maggie took that moment to step in between them, her back to Anatoly. He saw the tension in her shoulders and couldn’t help but think that her mother’s presence had only made the situation worse.
“Don’t interrogate him, Mother,” Maggie commanded, folding her arms across her chest. She wasn’t as tall as her mother, but that didn’t seem to deter her.
Maggie stood her ground, blocking him from Patricia’s line of sight as though that were enough to keep her from doing as she liked. He’d known her for all of a few minutes and could plainly see she was not the sort of woman to be impeded.
Patricia gave her daughter a knowing look, then flicked her glinting gaze to Anatoly over Maggie’s head. “Has she confessed her sins, then? Told you all about her fling with Declan?—”
“Get out,” Maggie interrupted, all emotion gone from her voice.
“He’s a captain now, isn’t he?” Patricia pressed on, her eyes gleaming with a mix of disgust and anger. This was only the surface of the wedge between them and though Anatoly was used to seeing interpersonal conflict, even mediating it, he was taken aback by the sheer ferocity in which the older woman spoke to her daughter. “We both know finding religion won’t solve your problems, young lady.”
Maggie scoffed a callous laugh. “Believe what you want. We’re done,” she said it with such finality, but beneath the coldness of her tone, Anatoly could detect a hint of sorrow. To his surprise, when Patricia showed no sign of leaving, Maggie walked herself out without a backward glance.
Still not trusting she was safe to be on her own, Anatoly gave Patricia a quick nod and a polite, “Farewell.” Then, he strode through the curtain and cast his gaze about, looking for where Maggie had gone. She had moved quickly, but he caught a glimpse of her golden hair and started after her.
“You must think me a terrible person…” Patricia’s voice stopped him.
“Nyet,” Anatoly didn’t so much as glance over his shoulder and continued walking. He was more concerned with Maggie’s wellbeing than sticking around to absolve her clearly misguided mother.
It didn’t take him long to find where she had gone. A passing nurse was willing to point him in the direction of the stairwell, and sure enough, he found Maggie sitting alone on the steps, crying.
Chapter Eight
“Shit,” Maggie swore the second Father Anatoly poked his head into the stairwell to check on her. She wanted to send him away, but she also didn’t. She could tell by the concern etched across his features that he was being genuine. He was a priest after all; of course he wanted to comfort and care for her.
“I am sorry for intruding, Detective.”
“It’s fine.” She swiped at her face, turning her head away from him as he moved to join her on the stairs. He gave her plenty of space on the step they shared. She couldn’t express how much she appreciated that he wasn’t overbearing.
Anatoly laced his fingers together in his lap, his gaze focused on the landing below them. They sat in silence, Maggie fighting to stop crying now that the waterworks had started and Anatoly respectfully giving her the space she needed.
After a few minutes, she found that her tumultuous thoughts and emotions began to abate. She wasn’t sure if it was the priest’s quiet presence or if her attempts were bearing fruit, but each second that passed, she felt her control returning.
“I’m sorry, Father. You didn’t sign up for my fucked up family freak show,” she finally whispered.
“I am priest, not delicate flower,” he replied, his voice warm and friendly. “I can handle family freak show or two.”
Maggie couldn’t help but snort a chuckle, her eyes finally shifting to him. He must have felt her gaze, for he turned his head and offered a tentative smile. It took her by surprise, making her feel vulnerable and safe all at once. What was it about this guy? How did he keep managing to twist her up and straighten her out at the same time?
“As I was saying earlier,” he spoke and Maggie found it easy to listen. “I grew up in small village outside of Minsk, had good childhood until my father passed in accident. Then it was just my mother, my three younger siblings, and I. Grandparents tried to help, but they lived far away and so it fell to me to provide for family.”
His voice remained calm and soothing despite the dark subject matter and his eyes never left Maggie’s face. She didn’t shy away from him. Instead, she leaned in closer, hanging on every word as he shared his past with her.
“It is great burden to place upon young mind, and though I felt shame, I became mixed up in criminal element. I believed I had no other choice.” He finally shifted, adjusting on the step as a sorrowful frown knit his brow. “I took simple job from local crime boss but it was not so simple. It was priest who saved me, brought me to Christ that night, though the other boys who went with me were not so lucky…”
