The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (41)

“Hey, Cassie,” Nick said. Dressed in his navy fire department pants and shirt, he held a stack of plastic food containers. “I wanted to stop by and return these.”

“That’s a lot of dishes.” Cassie took them and set them on the side table.

His face reddened. “Your grandmother likes to send food home with me, and I never say no.”

“Heading into work?” Cassie nodded towards his uniform.

“Yeah, for a couple of hours so a guy can take off to see his kid’s t-ball game.” He eyed her quizzically as she stepped toward him, blocking the doorway.

“That’s nice.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and glanced over her shoulder.

“Are you going to invite him in?” Bobby called from the kitchen.

“He can’t stay!” she yelled back. She put her hand on Nick’s arm, guiding him onto the front porch, all while resisting the sudden and startling urge to squeeze his thickly muscled bicep. Focus, Cassie. “Uh, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

She pulled the door closed. His proximity made her feel quivery inside, but, to her surprise, she didn’t step back, and neither did he. She dug into her jeans pocket and pulled out the wad of papers.

“Another translation?”

“If you don’t mind?” She could smell his cologne and a trace of smoke. “Did you go to a fire?”

He cocked his head as he pondered her question, then blushed. “Yeah, last night. Sorry. Do I smell like smoke? I feel like it oozes out of my pores sometimes, no matter how much I shower.”

“I don’t mind. It’s kind of nice. I mean, it’s not offensive.” She cleared her throat and held out the papers.

His eyes stayed locked on hers for a few beats before he unfolded the sheets and started reading.

“Forgive me, Alina. Forgive me, Alina.” He scanned the page, then turned it over and read the back. “That’s all it says. Over and over.” He flipped through a few more. “I think they all say that.”

Cassie wrapped her arms around her middle. “Oh, man. This is getting weirder and weirder.”

“Who’s Alina?” Nick asked, concern etched on his face.

“I don’t know,” Cassie said. “And I have no idea why Bobby wants her forgiveness so much.”





14





KATYA





Ukraine, May 1931





Four more excruciating weeks of hard work passed without any news of Pavlo. Katya ached to feel his long body pressed against her, to have him tease her out of her bad moods, to talk with him when the world seemed so bleak. Some days, she thought her time as his wife had been imagined. A beautiful dream she’d created as a welcome alternative to the bone–weary drudgery of her days.

Today, she’d worked in the collective stables, mucking stalls and hauling manure. It was back-breaking work, but she appreciated the mindlessness of it. As dusk fell, she walked over to Sasha’s old home. Luckily, their place was far enough out from the village that the activists hadn’t seized it for their own quarters. Every night, she made this trip to put Honey out to graze, and every morning, she woke before dark and hid the goat back in the barn, always wondering if the goat would be waiting for her, or if someone would have found and stolen her.

Eerie silence clouded the abandoned homestead. Dried out remains of Aunt Oksana’s flowers from last season spiraled in unruly tangles out of their beds. Young weeds choked out the wooden fence, giving the yard a dark and forlorn ambience. Even the cold, empty house seemed sad with its broken windows and front door hanging crookedly from the hinges.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Oksana,” Katya said. “I’d tidy it up for you, but I need it to look deserted so no one suspects our goat is here.”

She turned her back on the bleak sight and pushed open the barn door. Honey bleated out a greeting, bringing a relieved smile to Katya’s face as she scooped up an armful of hay. The goat’s belly, thankfully growing fat with a kid, served as a reminder that soon, they would have goat’s milk to supplement their food again.

“What would we do without you, Honey?” Katya gave the animal a scratch between her horns as she kicked the door shut behind her. “I know you’re lonely out here, but at least you’re safe. Hopefully.”

Her words tapered off as the door swung open. The dusky evening glow highlighted a large frame, and her fear turned to joy as she recognized her husband.

“Katya, I’ve missed you.” His voice came out in a low groan as he pressed his lips to hers. “Your mother said you were out here.”

She melted into his embrace, pulled back to look him over, and then kissed him again, while trying to speak. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his mouth moving to her neck.

Their words faded away as they came together in a frenzy of fear, longing, and love. Katya’s body sang under Pavlo’s attentiveness and all thoughts of their time apart faded away.

Afterward, he cradled her against his chest and ran his fingers through her hair as he talked.

“The surrounding villages are fighting more than our village ever did. They’ve been more secretive about their plans, not as open and foolish as Tomas was.”