The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (34)

Nick furrowed his brow as he read the notes aloud. “Two cans of peas, side table. Three cans of sardines, south flower bed. One box of crackers, behind blue couch.”

He flipped the paper over and continued. “Dried cherries, small desk. Pickled beets, guest bedroom closet.” He looked up at her, his eyes wide, then paged through a few more of the notes. “They’re all like this. Food items and locations. What is it?”

Cassie shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

Nick’s smile quirked the corner of his lips, but he didn’t push. He then looked at the old picture and flipped it over. “Nothing on the back here but the date: September 1929. Pretty neat photo. Who is it?”

“I don’t know that, either.” Cassie tried to hide her disappointment.

“I like a good mystery,” Nick said. “If you need me to read anything else, let me know. I’m glad to help.”

She wanted to say: Can you wait here while I go steal my grandmother’s journal? You can read it to me so I can pry into her past to figure out what’s going on with her now.

Instead, she gave him a generic, “Thanks,” and struggled to pull something polite from her distracted mind. “So, um, you live down the street? How’s that going?”

“Yeah, in my Baba’s old house. It needs some updating, but it’s got a lot of potential.”

“That was nice of her to leave it to you.”

Nick looked down at his hands. “She was always looking out for me.”

“It’s what they do best,” Cassie agreed.

“Definitely. Well, thanks for the lemonade and cookies.” He stood and glanced around, then picked up the notepad Bobby kept by the phone. “I should get going, but before I forget, let me give you my number in case you need anything.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you,” Cassie protested, but Nick had already started writing.

“It’s no trouble.” His blue eyes met hers, and the corners crinkled as he smiled. “We’re neighbors, right? That’s what neighbors do.”

He held out the paper, and Cassie’s fingers brushed his as she took it. She jerked her hand back, her skin burning from the contact. “Thank you.”

Nick left his hand suspended for a moment, as if he’d felt it, too. A perplexed look flashed across his face so fast that Cassie couldn’t be sure she saw it before his signature grin reappeared. He offered his hand up to Birdie for a high five, and surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, given her sudden affection for him, she responded with a resounding smack and a wide smile.

He paused, then bent over and picked something up off the floor. “Oh, I missed this one.”

Cassie stepped closer and peered down at the short note. “I’ve never seen this. Maybe Bobby dropped it when she was sitting here. Looks like someone spilled coffee on it.” A dark brown stain leeched across the yellowed paper, nearly marring the words.

Nick read the note aloud:

“You’re so beautiful when you sleep that I couldn’t bear to wake you. I love you. I’ll see you soon. P.”





“Wow.” Cassie’s hand fluttered to her chest in a vain attempt to quell the sudden ache piercing her heart. Henry had been romantic like that, always leaving little messages around the house for her to find throughout the day. “I wonder who ‘P’ is.”

Nick held the paper up to his face and squinted. “I don’t know, but this isn’t a coffee stain. I think it’s blood.”





12





KATYA





Ukraine, March 1931





Normally, a bride moved in with the groom’s family after a wedding, but with their extenuating circumstances and no further information on Tato’s fate, the family had decided that Alina and Kolya would move to his parents’ farm and Pavlo and Katya would stay with Mama.

They went on, existing in a state of borrowed happiness mixed with grief and fear. Katya never stopped thinking about Tato, worrying if he was safe, if he was alive, but she reveled in her new role as wife to Pavlo. To be free to touch and talk to him anytime she pleased fulfilled her in ways she’d never anticipated. Marriage to him was everything she’d dreamed. She tried her best to focus on that and forget that, in every other sense, their lives had changed drastically for the worse.

“Katya, we need to talk.” Pavlo touched her arm as she walked by with an armful of hay for the evening feeding of the livestock.

“About what?” Katya unloaded the hay into the cow’s manger and gave her a scratch on her head.

“I’m leaving.”

Katya’s hand jerked back from the cow, who blinked up at her, then continued chewing.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? For where?” She whirled and glared up at him.

“I talked to my cousin from the next village over. They’re trying to put together a resistance, and I want to be a part of it.”

“But you’re not even completely healed.” She touched his wounded shoulder tenderly, and then punched his healthy one. “What are you thinking? You’ll be no help to them when you’re injured.”

“I’m nearly well, and you know it. I’ve been working like I used to. I’m plenty strong enough to wield a weapon and fight.”