The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (30)

“Then you have to marry today.” Mama held up a hand to silence Katya. “I pray you can have a small piece of the happiness I shared with your father, and if you want that, then you must take it now. You saw what happened to the church. It’s nothing but a building for Party meetings. No, you must marry now while we still have a priest in the village to do it, because God knows how long it will be before they take him from us, too.” She crossed herself and said a prayer under her breath.

So, only a few days after the funeral, and the day after Tato had been deported, Kolya and Alina and Pavlo and Katya married in their house. For those brief few minutes, as the priest bound their hands together with the rushnyk Mama had made for them, Katya stared into Pavlo’s face and felt whole. Love welled up in her for the man she was now connected to for life, but when her eyes fell on her mother, standing alone, wringing her hands and biting back tears, reality came crashing back down and tainted any joy she’d felt.

“Your father would want you to be happy today,” Mama said afterward as she hugged them. “What does he always say? ‘Look to the future.’’’ Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her handkerchief.

The smile trembling on Katya’s lips fell away.





11





CASSIE





Illinois, May 2004





Cassie rubbed her eyes and yawned as the delicious smell of pan-fried dough and fruit wafted into her room. Anywhere else, that smell would mean coffee cake or pancakes, but here, it only meant one thing. Blintzes. Her mouth already watering, Cassie jumped out of bed and headed toward the kitchen.

Bobby and Birdie sat at the table, elbow to elbow, working. In front of them rested a platter of thin crepes Bobby must have already fried up. Next to it lay a bowl of a sweet farmer’s cheese mixture to stuff them with.

“Now you fold this part over, see?” Bobby demonstrated. Birdie, squinting in concentration, carefully folded the last bit of the crepe over the filling and then smiled widely at the finished product. Her eyes glowed with pride, and she held it up for her mother to inspect.

“Beautiful!” Cassie smiled, relieved to see both Bobby and Birdie in such good spirits again. Birdie’s presence seemed to cheer up Bobby, and in the last couple of days, she hadn’t spoken about any more harbingers of her death.

“When I was a girl, we called them nalysnyky,” Bobby told Birdie. “My favorite kind are with cherries, but we will have to make do with putting strawberries on top today.”

“I’d love to hear more about when you were a girl,” Cassie said, sitting at the table. Maybe if she could get Bobby to talk openly about her past, she wouldn’t drift away into it so often. Her gaze dipped toward the canister where she’d found the cache of hidden notes. She still hadn’t figured out a way to translate them.

Bobby pursed her lips, and Cassie readied herself for the expected refusal, but instead, Bobby said, “Maybe. I’ll think about it. After all, I don’t have much time left here.”

Cassie inhaled sharply. The idea of losing Bobby, of losing another person she loved, made her stomach roll.

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that, Bobby. I hate it.”

“I’m sorry.” Bobby patted Cassie’s hand. “But I’m not a young woman. I won’t be around forever.”

Cassie swallowed hard. “I know that, but there’s no need to dwell on it.”

“I’m not dwelling. I’m stating facts.”

“What if we talk about when you were young, while Birdie naps?”

Bobby didn’t reply, and Cassie knew she should stop there, but she didn’t. “Maybe you could even show me your journal?”

Bobby froze for a few moments. Then, as if she hadn’t heard Cassie, she started to rise from her chair. “We need more strawberries.”

“I’ll get them.” Cassie jumped up as she cursed herself. She’d pushed too hard. “You should be resting.”

“I’m fine!” Bobby said, but she sat back in her chair. “Like I told your mother and those doctors.”

“I know, but I’m here, so I may as well help.” Cassie set the strawberries down on the table and tried to smooth over her gaffe. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I had blintzes.”

“You don’t make them?” Bobby narrowed her eyes at Cassie.

“Not really.” Cassie gave a weak smile and shrugged. “It’s not the same, doing it without you.”

Bobby snorted her disapproval. Cassie hadn’t fooled her.

“Honestly,” she said, sitting in the chair next to Bobby and lowering her voice, “I don’t want to do much lately. Ever since Henry…”

Bobby’s eyes softened. “That, I understand. But life goes on, and so we must look to the future, yes? And little girls must eat, so we make blintzes! Here, see if you remember how.”

She handed Cassie a crepe and demonstrated again how to spread the filling and fold the crepe around it so nothing would leak out. Her old, arthritic fingers flew, despite her swollen joints, and the end product was perfection.

Cassie tried to follow suit, but when she made her last fold, sweet cheese dribbled out of one corner.

Bobby made a clucking noise and shook her head. She glanced over at Birdie’s work. “Try again. See, like Birdie. She is making beautiful blintzes!”