Zoya

Paul gave the budding ballerina a tiny bouquet that night, and after Marina went to bed, chattering excitedly about how the recital had gone, he asked her the question Zoya had dreaded hearing from him for years. His wife had finally died of cirrhosis several months before, and he looked at Zoya quietly in the silence of the library after Nicholas was gone, back to his own apartment.

“Zoya … after twelve years, I can ask you now. Will you marry me?” He reached for her hand, and she looked into his eyes with the smile born of a love long shared, but never fully brought to fruition. They had been together for twelve years and she loved him deeply and valued his friendship, but that time was past for her. She had never wanted to marry again after Simon. She was happy watching Matthew grow up, and Marina dance. She still bustled around the store with almost the same energy she'd had before. At fifty-six, she was barely slowing down. But marriage wasn't what she wanted now, and she gently touched his fingers with her lips and shook her head.

“Paul, my darling, I can't.”

He looked wounded as he listened to her, and she tried to find the words to explain it.

I'm past that now. I'm too old to marry anyone.”

“Don't say that, Zoya, look at you! You haven't changed since the first time I saw you.” She was still so very lovely.

“Yes, I have,” she smiled pleasantly, “inside. I want to grow old quietly, to see Matthew on his way, and Marina become exactly what she wants to be. I want her to have the luxury of doing exactly what she wants to do, to be who she has to be … and that's what I want too.”

He had feared that, even before he asked her. He had wanted to marry her for years, but he couldn't. And now that he was free, the moment had passed for her. He wondered if things would have been different if Allison had died sooner. His weekends with Zoya were less frequent now, but they still went to his house in Connecticut from time to time, but in recent years the weekends were less important to her. It was their friendship she loved, and she would have wanted more than that of marriage. She would have wanted passion. The children were her only passion now. The children, and still, the store. Always that, in memory of Simon.

“I can't be anyone's wife again. I know that now. I gave everything I had to give to Clayton and then Simon, a long time ago. Now there's me. The children, my work, and you, when we both have time for it. But I couldn't give you enough of myself to justify marrying you. It wouldn't be fair to you. I want some time for myself now, Paul, as awful as that must sound. But perhaps now it's my turn to be selfish. I want to travel when the children are old enough, to be free again. Maybe to go back to Russia again one day … to visit St. Petersburg again … or Livadia …” She knew it would be painful for her, but it was a dream she'd had in recent years, and each year it was more possible. All she needed was the time, and the courage to go back. But she knew she couldn't do all of that with him, he had his life, his house, his work, his gardening, his friends. His life had slowed down considerably in recent years. “I think I have just grown up, finally.” At sixty-six, he suddenly seemed much older, but Zoya didn't say that. “I was so busy surviving for so many years. I finally discovered that there is a great deal more than that. Perhaps if I'd known that earlier … perhaps things might have been different for Sasha.” She still blamed herself for her daughter's death, and it was difficult to look back and see what she could have done differently, and it didn't really matter anymore. For Sasha, it was much too late, but not for Matthew, or Marina, or even herself. She still had some living to do, and she had chosen to do it on her own, no matter how much she loved Paul Kelly.

“Does this mean it's over for us?” He looked at her with sad, wintry eyes, as she gently leaned over and kissed him on the lips, and he felt the same fire he had always felt for her since the first day they'd met.

“Not unless you want it to be. If you can accept me like this, I'll be here to love you for a long, long time.” Just as she had been there for him during the years when he was married.

He laughed quietly, “Just my luck, the world has finally come of age, people are doing things that would have shocked the world twenty years ago, sleeping with each other openly, living in sin, and what happens? I offer you respectability a dozen years too late.” They both laughed as they sat comfortably in her library. “Zoya, you're too young for me.”