The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (27)
She dropped to her knees at their sides. A trickle of sweat ran down between Katya’s shoulder blades, and her hands shook as she pulled the older woman onto her back next to her son. Her eyes, the same color as Pavlo’s, stared up, wide with surprise. Streaks of Pavlo’s blood smeared her face and hair. With soft fingers, Katya closed her eyes. Her hand came away wet with blood, and a small cry of anguish slipped past her quivering lips. She wiped it off on her skirt, but the skin on her fingers throbbed where it had touched.
A jagged pain tore through her gut as she dragged her eyes to Pavlo. Although she could see his body lying there in a pool of blood, the idea that she would never talk to him again was so foreign that it felt impossible. How could they not stare up into the clouds together and pick out pictures? How could they not fight over the names of the ten children they wanted to have together? How could she have a future without him in it?
She took a deep, shuddering breath and willed herself to go on. I can do this. I must do this. She gripped his good shoulder with a tremulous hand. Despite the cold day, his skin still felt warm through his shirt. She paused, closing her eyes and gathering what strength she had left, then, resolutely, pulled him toward her. His head rolled, landing next to her lap.
Katya stared down into the face of the man she loved and gasped as his eyelids fluttered. A tiny glimmer of hope rushed through her, and she jumped to her feet in disbelief.
“Kolya, come quick! Pavlo’s alive!” Katya fell back to her knees and ripped open Pavlo’s shirt to reveal the bullet hole: a clean shot into his upper back with an exit wound out of his shoulder.
“He’s alive?” Kolya dropped down next to her and peered at the wound. “The bullet went right through him. Maybe it didn’t hit anything vital.”
“Let’s get him on the bed,” she instructed, her voice shrill.
With Katya at his feet and Kolya gripping under his arms, they moved Pavlo’s limp body to the bed on the pich.
“Go fetch hot water!” Katya grabbed a sheet and began ripping long bandages. Together, she and Kolya carefully cleaned the wound, then splashed it with some horilka that had been set aside for the wedding celebration. Pavlo thrashed as the liquor burned his wound, but he didn’t wake up.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Kolya said as Katya dried the skin around the gash.
“He’ll be fine.” Katya glared at Kolya, daring him to disagree. “Now prop him up so I can wrap this bandage around him.”
“His head is bleeding, too. Where they hit him.” Kolya tilted Pavlo’s head so Katya could view the large knot behind his ear, seeping blood. “That’s probably why he’s unconscious.”
“Maybe he passed out from the pain,” she said.
Kolya snorted. “Not Pavlo. He is as tough as old leather.”
“That’s why he’ll be fine now,” Katya said with a firm nod. Nothing could make her think otherwise. She’d thought she’d lost him forever, but this mercy, this reprieve, had given her another chance with him, and she’d be damned if she let him slip away again.
Mama and Alina burst into the house, but before they had a chance to speak, Katya shouted, “He’s alive! Pavlo’s alive!”
Mama rushed over and examined him. “You’ve cleaned it well, Katya? We cannot risk infection.”
“Yes, like you showed me when Tato cut his hand. Where is he?”
Mama straightened. “He’s being held.”
Katya’s heart sank. Mama pressed her lips tight, the look on her face warning Katya not to ask any more questions.
“We can’t prepare them for burial like normal, so we’ll have to make do.” Mama bustled around the room, directing Alina and Kolya. She told Katya to stay with Pavlo, which she would have done regardless of her mother’s orders, but Katya had never been more grateful to have her bossy mother take charge again.
Kolya hovered at Katya’s shoulder, touching and checking Pavlo every few minutes. “I need to be the one to tell him. About our parents.”
Katya nodded. She had no desire to be the bearer of that bad news.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Nobody spoke of it, but fear worried them all. On top of everything that had happened, the knowledge that the OGPU could come back after any one of them in this house for being relatives of the deceased and arrest them as enemies of the people hung over their heads.
Pavlo woke as they finished the last of the cleaning up.
“Katya,” he moaned. “Is that you, or am I dreaming?”
She dropped the rag she’d been using to wipe blood off his arms and leaned over him.
“It’s me, my love. I’m here.” She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, full on the mouth in front of everyone. He groaned as their lips met, whether from pain, pleasure or both, she didn’t know. “I thought I’d lost you!”
“You’ll not be so easily rid of me.” He gave a weak smile and winced as Katya pulled away.
“It’s good to see you awake, brother,” Kolya said. His eyes glistened.
Pavlo struggled to sit up, his face pale and drawn. “Where are our parents?”
Kolya gripped Pavlo’s good shoulder and dropped his gaze. “They’re gone.”
Pavlo stretched his head up and looked toward his parents, laid out on the table, then squeezed his eyes shut and dropped back into the bed.