The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (19)

Katya sat, breathless, as people began to respond to his rousing talk. It was as if Tomas had looked inside her mind and vocalized all the things she couldn’t. They should be fighting back! They should be standing up for themselves!

Always a strong presence in the village, Tomas somehow had managed to avoid arrest thus far. Now, here he was doing the very thing the state officials hoped to prevent—uniting them.

“And if that doesn’t work?” A voice spoke out from across the room.

“We will fight for what is ours, and we will hold out as long as we are able. But if they force us to join their farm, then they will get nothing. They will not have our livestock.”

“Nothing? How?” Katya asked without thinking. Mama reached over and pinched her arm in warning, but she had to know. “What can we do to stop them?”

“Maybe we can’t stop them,” Tomas said. “But we can ruin what they want before they take it.”

“But they want the horses, the cows, and the chickens. How will you ruin them?” Tato asked.

“Kill them. Salt the meat and store it or sell it. They can’t run their collective farms without any livestock. They want our farm tools, too. So, break the tools, ruin the plows, burn your implements. If they don’t have what they need, the collective farms will fail, and then maybe they will give up this ridiculous plan.”

Her mother gripped her arm. “Come, Katya, it’s getting late, and we must get you home.”

“I’m fine, Mama,” Katya protested, but the daggers shooting from her mother’s eyes left no room for discussion.

Pavlo squeezed her hand. “I’ll meet you later, all right?”

Katya barely had time to nod a reply to him as Mama dragged her out of the house. Tato followed, offering apologies.

Mama crackled with anger. “We should have never gone there. I didn’t know that he was going to talk about a revolt.”

Tato scanned the area. “I never met that young man who sat near the door.”

“Lavro said it was his cousin, but still, how do we know we can trust him? How can we trust anyone these days? Everyone in the village is turning against each other.” Mama shook her head. “And with Katya there! I thought it was a simple gathering of friends, not a call for resistance.”

Katya kept her voice even. “I’m not a child anymore, Mama, and I think Tomas was right. We should have stayed longer to see if they plan anything.”

“No!” Mama clutched a hand to her chest. “It’s far too dangerous!”

“What’s dangerous is sitting back and doing nothing while they take everything from us,” Katya said, careful to speak clearly and make her point. Lavro’s horilka left fuzzy thoughts competing for attention in her head.

“Hush, Katya. Your mother is right. We should have left even earlier. I’m only glad Alina stayed home with Kolya and his parents.” Tato frowned. “I should have made Pavlo come home, but he’s old enough now to make his own decisions.”

Katya’s shoulders tensed. “And I’m not?”

“No, you’re not,” Mama snapped.

“I agree with a lot of what Tomas said, but to say it in front of everyone like that is foolish. Nothing good will come of what happened tonight,” Tato said. He put an arm around Mama’s shoulders, and Katya could see that her mother was struggling not to cry.





The next morning, Lavro’s knocks woke them. Katya strained to hear what he said to Tato, but she couldn’t make anything out.

“What is it?” Mama asked as Tato closed the door, the creases between her eyes deepening inside her furrowed brows.

Tato rubbed his chin. “They came and took Tomas away in the middle of the night.”

Mama’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the room for a minute. Katya’s bravado faltered as she watched awareness transform her mother’s face from sleepy to terrified. They were at the meeting with him, so they would also be on the list of traitors.

Mama wrung her hands. “At least Alina wasn’t there, so she should be safe.”

Alina sat on the edge of their bed, hugging a shawl to her chest with wide eyes.

Tato snorted. “You think that matters? She’s part of this family, and if they label us as enemies of the people because of last night, they will label her as one too.”

“We must prepare, just in case.” Mama got to her feet. “Katya, Alina, gather your warmest clothes and whatever food we have into bundles. If we’re to be deported to the cold of Siberia, we’ll be ready.’

Nausea rolled over Katya, and her legs dragged like lead weights as she hurried to do her mother’s bidding. She made small bundles of extra clothes, blankets, and some dried fruit and bread, and, with shaking hands, stuffed them into old flour sacks. Last night, she’d wanted to fight back, and now, she only wanted to disappear.

When she’d finished, she paced the room. “Do you think they’ll really deport us?”

“I don’t know. Sit down, Katya,” Mama said. “You’re making me nervous.”

“Sorry, Mama.” Katya dropped into a chair next to Alina, who’d taken up some mending. “How can you sew in a time like this? I can’t even think straight.”

“I sew because I have a hole in my good skirt, and it needs to be repaired.” The forced calmness in Alina’s voice only made Katya more anxious.