In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(64)

Placing it on top of one of the boxes, she began rooting through the rest of it, placing some items that she planned to take with the rest of her things. Lifting out another set of sweaters, a book toppled to the floor.

It was actually a book upon closer inspection, but a leather bound journal. Lauren flipped through the pages, knowing that the hastily written words weren’t from her mother. Going back to the first page, she tried to read the doctor-style handwriting.

1992 August 5th

Today, we brought Lauren home after two weeks in the hospital. Having her prematurely, Susan worried and often cried believing it was her fault though I tried to convince her otherwise. There were no lingering affects on the baby and when she was discharged Susan cried.

Later that night, as my girls lay asleep, there was no father happier than me. Lauren opened her eyes, blinking up at me with all the wonder a newborn felt and the love I felt for her only grew. Though she was the splitting image of her mother, she had my eyes.

Abandoning her search, Lauren took the journal back to her room, engulfing herself in her father’s thoughts. The entries chronicled years, the last entry falling on the day he died. She couldn’t bring herself to read that one, reading everything but.

He was happy, at least that’s what she got from his writings, but after her fourth birthday, his writing style changed. It was like she could feel the despair in his words, an overwhelming sadness caused by his circumstances.

1996 June 21st

I’ve been called back to work for the Boss and few things have changed over the years. I willingly accepted this way of life because I had no choice, but now with Lauren, I don’t know how much longer I can continue.

“Is that your father’s journal?” Susan asked startling Lauren.

She closed it, running her hand over the front of it. “Yea, I found it in the garage. You never told me he had it.”

“It’s been years since I went through his thing. I’d forgotten it was out there.” Susan looked over to where her father’s sweater lay folded on her desk. The sight of it made her ache and Lauren almost felt guilty for not tucking it away. Just because she didn’t remember anything, didn’t mean her mom ever forgot.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I’m glad you found it, but maybe you’ll want to come down and help me cook, or was Thanksgiving a once in a lifetime event?”

She laughed. “Sure, I’ll be right down.”

In the kitchen, Lauren pulled out the pot, filing it with water before setting it on the burner. “Mom?”

“Hmm??

“Did father enjoy being a surgeon?”

“It was his life,” she said with a laugh. “He lived and breathed his work. Why?”

Plucking one of the napkins from the holder in the center of the table, she folded and unfolded it, forming different shapes. “When I was reading his journal, it seemed like he grew tired of it. He said he was having problems with his boss.”

The fork in Susan’s hands clatter on the countertop as she dropped it. She looked rattled momentarily. “Well, your father was a very private person, so he might not have told me everything.”

“Yea, I guess.”

“Oh, before I forget. Thomas called me. He wants to know if you want to have lunch with him tomorrow. He says you never answer your phone.”

Lauren cursed softly, grabbing her bag to hunt for her phone and plug it into the charger.

“I told him you have a habit of letting it die.”

“Haha. Tell him yea for me. Have you two decided to get together yet?”

“Lauren!”

“What?” She asked throwing her hands up. “You act like no one else is thinking. I’ve been waiting on ‘the talk’ for years now. Nether of you wants to cop to it though.”

For the first time in her life, she saw Susan blush. “Thomas and I are just friends.”

She giggled. “Is that why you’re always so formal when it comes to him? Thomas this, Thomas that. When I was little, you used to call him Ross too. That’s how I got started with that. Or do you call him detective when I’m not around.”

Lauren barely missed the dishtowel thrown at her. “What? What’d I say???”

Susan stirred the pot of noodles, shaking her head. “Where did I go wrong with you?”

“Do you remember that time in high school when I chopped off my hair trying to get that cool hairstyle everybody else had and I persuaded you to let me skip for a week?” She nodded. “I read every single romance book you had in the house. Seems all of them had a hot detective as the hero.”

“There were only two.”

“Like eight.”

“Four.”

“Definitely more than two then.”

This time, Lauren didn’t bother ducking when another towel came at her.

***

Later that night, when Lauren was fast asleep, Susan snuck into her room, taking the journal back to her office. Hitting the light switch to the overhead lamp that shined over her chair, she flipped through the book, running her fingers over the indentations in the pages lovingly, remembering how Cameron used to sit in his office for hours and write in it.

She flipped to the last entry in the book, the night of his desk. The words on that page had haunted her. With all of his stuff packed away, she had forgotten all about it until today.