The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (46)

Curious, she opened the next two drawers and found them packed to the brim with bags of prunes and raisins, cans of diced pears, and boxes of macaroni and cheese. Cassie cursed and grabbed a can of pears.

“Here you go.” She set the pill bottle on the table. “So, what did they say at the appointment?”

Anna gave a tight smile. “Her doctor wants to do further testing.”

Bobby glared at Anna. “I’m fine!”

“Bobby, we aren’t doing this to be mean.” Cassie held up the can of pears she’d tucked under her arm. “We’re worried about you. Why are you hiding food all over the house? Why are you wandering around the yard at night burying it?”

Bobby paled. “Where did you find that?”

“In your nightstand. Along with a bunch of other stuff.”

“Who put it there?” Bobby demanded.

Cassie cocked her head. Did she really think someone else had done this? “You did. Don’t you remember when I found you the other night out in the yard? You were burying food. Barefoot. At four in the morning.”

“No. I didn’t do that.” She pushed away from the table, her eyes clouded, as if she’d disappeared into some distant part of her mind and couldn’t be reached. “I haven’t had to do that in a long time,” she said as she walked into the living room.

Cassie frowned. “There’s got to be something else going on that we’re missing. Some kind of trauma she went through long ago that’s exacerbating this whole thing. Maybe it’s related to those notes I told you about? The ones asking for forgiveness from Alina?”

“I wouldn’t know since she won’t talk about it. My whole life, I’ve had no idea who my grandparents were or if I had any cousins, or aunts and uncles. It was just us.” Anna crossed her arms. “Let’s give her some time. Today took a lot out of her.”

“And you, too, by the looks of it,” Cassie said. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest? I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Anna scrubbed her face with her hands. “Thanks, I will. I’ll check back in later.”

After her mother left, a strangled cry rang out from the living room. She ran in and found Bobby kneeling on the ground next to her holy icon corner.

“It fell! Do you know what that means?” Bobby said.

Cassie dropped to her knees and gathered up the fallen picture and rushnyk. “I’m sure it’s nothing. The nail probably slipped out. I can rehang it for you.”

“No.” Bobby shook her head and fixed her glassy stare on Cassie. “When an icon falls, death is coming. I’m running out of time.”

“Bobby, stop talking like that. I can’t think about losing you.” Cassie’s stomach knotted as she pulled Bobby to her feet. “Now, come on. Let’s get you into bed so you can rest.”

Cassie tucked Bobby in, then sat on the edge of the bed and held her grandmother’s hands. “I’ll sit here with you until you fall asleep.”

Arthritis had long ago deformed Bobby’s joints, but her left hand was far more swollen than her right. Cassie ran her fingers over the crooked fingers and bulbous knuckles that required ice on bad days.

Bobby’s voice startled her. “Do you know death is not the end? It’s just another reality. In the old world, we knew that. We welcomed the dead into our homes. We set places for them at the table at Christmas. Held feasts in their honor. But here, I’ve forgotten those ways. I need to prepare, so I’m ready for my death.”

“Stop, Bobby.”

“I’m not afraid of death,” she went on. “Only of disappointing her. I never got the chance to tell her what I needed to. I never got the chance.”

“Who are you talking about?” Cassie gripped Bobby’s gnarled hand tighter.

“You must do something for me,” Bobby demanded, her voice suddenly strong and decisive. “Go to my closet. Behind my clothes on the middle shelf, there’s a box. Take it.”

Cassie retrieved the box without mentioning that she’d already looked through it. She set it on the bed, and Bobby turned her head away. “I can’t look at it anymore. I tried, but it hurts too much. You and your mother have always wanted to know about my past. Everything is in this box.”

Both excitement and guilt coursed through Cassie as she flipped through the contents. Maybe Bobby would finally explain all of it so she could actually understand. Bobby stilled her hand.

“Not with me here. You’ll need Nick to help you. It’s all in Ukrainian, but he’s a good boy. He’ll help. He likes you, you know.”

“He does not,” Cassie said automatically, but she was only half listening. Her mind was already focused on the treasure trove of information sitting in front of her—her key to helping Bobby.





The next few days passed by smoothly without any more incidents. Birdie seemed to be settling into their new life, and Cassie had to admit her mom had been right. She felt happier here than she had at her old house, as if she’d shed the hard outer shell of her grief. Cassie found herself smiling and laughing more, like she was slowly waking up from a long hibernation.

The box was her one source of frustration. She’d spent hours staring at the journal, running her hands down its worn leather cover, and trying in vain to decipher the words within. She’d even tried looking online, but it was impossible to type the Cyrillic letters into the search engine. When she got tired of that, she’d pored through the black and white photos and looked for glimpses of Bobby in the young women.