by K. S. Ruff
Father Ramires eyed me curiously. “Are you willing to remain here indefinitely?”
I reflected on my family, my friends, and my position with Seeds for Peace. “Yes, as long as I can do something constructive with my time and visit my family and friends in the United States.”
Rafael turned so he was facing me. “Something constructive? Like work?”
“I could volunteer at the orphanage or work for that charity organization you’re affiliated with.” I was hesitant to mention them by name in front of Father Ramires.
Rafael smiled. He knew I was alluding to the Templar’s charity organization. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
Father Ramires penned another sentence. “How will you maintain your relationship over the next three months while you’re apart?”
“We’ll talk on the phone every night and travel to see one another every two or three weeks like we do now,” Rafael answered.
“Is that sufficient for you?” he asked me.
I smiled confidently. “We’ll make it work.”
His tone softened. “What is it about your past that concerns you?”
I sifted through my thoughts. “Sometimes my past taints my perceptions. I get scared easily, and those memories can make it difficult for me to see the things that are truly in front of me. And my instincts are off. I trust people I shouldn’t trust. I seem to swing between the two extremes… trusting and not trusting…scared and refusing to be scared. It’s like I’m overcompensating because I don’t want my past to limit me or dictate who I am.”
Father Ramires looked thoughtful. “You’ve endured a number of traumatic events. Have you sought counseling in the past?”
I nodded.
He set his pen aside. “Do you think you could benefit from additional counseling?”
“Maybe.” I admitted although I wasn’t sure when I’d find the time to add that to my schedule.
“Rafael?” he asked. “How do you feel about this?”
Rafael took a deep breath and slowly released it. “I’ve taken enough psychology classes to recognize that she’s struggling with PTSD. I think the worst of it is behind us, but I know there are certain triggers that increase her anxieties. Her coping skills have improved immensely, so I believe this will get better in time.”
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 i
n 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 10th, 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.
Chapter 6 – All of the Stars
“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.”
“P
ozhaluysta,” 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?”