The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (29)

“Maybe you could ask a neighbor to help?” Mama said.

“It’s best if we don’t involve anyone else in this,” Kolya said. “I couldn’t bear any more blood on my hands.”

“Your hands?” Katya stared at him in disbelief. “This is not your fault, Kolya. You must know that!”

“Maybe it’s not my fault, but I didn’t stop it. And nothing you can say will change that. I have to live with it.” He pushed back from the table and their meager dinner.

Pavlo grabbed his arm. “Kolya, you couldn’t have stopped this from happening. Don’t you know how happy it makes me that you stayed safe?”

Kolya pulled away from Pavlo and put on his coat. “I need to finish this.”

“Alina and I helped you make the coffins.” Katya stood and rested a hand on Pavlo’s shoulder to calm him. “We can help you dig the graves, too.”

“No. I’d like to do that myself.” Kolya kept his eyes trained on the ground. “I need to do this part alone.”

“Not alone,” Pavlo said. “I’ll come with you.”

“No!” Katya fought down the panic rising in her chest at the idea of Pavlo leaving her sight. “You’re not well enough to dig!”

“Maybe not, but I’ll not let my brother bear this burden alone. I won’t dig much, if you’ll forgive me that, Kolya, but I’ll be there with you.”

Kolya gave Pavlo a quick nod and left, slamming the door behind him.

Katya started to protest again, but Mama touched her arm. “Leave them, Katya. They mourn.”

Katya threw her hands in the air and sat back down. “Fine, I’ll do the chores here, and I’ll go take care of your animals, too. If I just sit here, I’ll go crazy.”

“Thank you.” Pavlo pressed his cool lips against her cheek and she forced herself not to hold him there with her, where she could keep him safe. He winced when his heavy coat fell on his wound, and Katya cringed with him as if his pain were her own.

Mucking stalls, scooping feed, milking the cow, then trudging back across the field to do the same at Pavlo’s farm kept Katya busy, though her mind kept wandering to her gentle father, locked up in a cold cell. She shivered as she tried to remember how warmly he’d dressed yesterday. Surely they would let him go soon, she told herself. He’d done nothing wrong. Then again, neither had anyone else. Nothing made sense anymore.

Vasyl was the only other person besides them who came to say goodbye to their loved ones. Of course, everyone in their small village had heard what had happened, but nobody asked about the funeral or offered to help. The risk was too great.

Vasyl read prayers over their bodies, then helped them carry out the coffins. They stopped and tapped the end of each coffin on the doorjamb three times to allow the deceased to part with their home, then made their way to the cemetery. Mama walked at the head of the procession, holding in a rushnyk the remnants of a holy icon picture Prokyp had smashed. Kolya, with Pavlo beside him, drove the wagon with the bodies, and Vasyl, Alina, and Katya followed behind on foot. Despite the cloak of darkness, fear of discovery amplified every creak of the wagon and kept everyone silent and on their guard.

Vasyl said a few words, then they lowered the coffins into the ground. Pavlo used his good arm, but still leaned heavily on Katya afterward, so she braced her strong legs, wrapped her arms around Pavlo’s waist, and held him up while silent sobs for his parents racked his body. The short service ended moments after it began; even the ability to truly mourn their loved ones had been taken from them.





A cold gust of air followed Mama into the house as she dropped into the chair by the pich. Her blank face gave Katya no clues as to what she’d learned on her trip to the village that morning to coerce the guards to let Tato go. She’d insisted on going alone in case they got angry and arrested her, too.

“What did you find out?” Katya asked, trying to ignore Mama’s puffy, tear-stained face and the sinking feeling in her belly. “A few more days and then they’ll let him go? Right?”

“He’s not there.” Mama tried to control her emotions, but it was a futile effort. A low sob slipped past her lips and she fell to the floor. “They deported him last night. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“No, Mama.” Katya shook her head. “Not Tato. That can’t be right. Maybe they are lying to you.”

Alina dropped to her knees and embraced their wailing mother. Katya knew she should go to them, to mourn together the absence of their father, but she couldn’t make her feet move. Instead, she squeezed her hands into fists so tight her fingernails cut into her skin as she contemplated a life without Tato’s gentle smiles and wise guidance.

“We will go tell Vasyl to wait,” Alina said, after Mama’s wails had subsided. “We cannot marry on the heels of Tato’s deportation.”

Mama’s head snapped up. “Do you want to marry this man?” She wiped her eyes with one hand and jerked the other toward Kolya.

“Of course,” Alina said. She glanced over at Kolya, and her eyes softened.

“And you, Katya?” Mama turned her steely, tear-filled gaze on her younger daughter. “You want to marry Pavlo, right?”

Mama’s voice shook Katya out of her daze, and she looked up at Pavlo. Her pulse quickened. She did want to marry him, with all of her heart. But to marry without Tato here? To celebrate her love for Pavlo while her father moved further away from them by the minute? This wasn’t the plan. “Yes, Mama, but—”