The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (68)

He steadied her with one hand and held up a lantern with the other. “Where have you been? I was getting worried.”

Katya shoved down the shame and fury twisting inside her and focused on what was important. “I have food for Halya.” She set four potatoes on the ledge next to Kolya and let the shadow of a victorious smile stretch her bruised mouth.

Kolya stared at the potatoes for a moment, then let his gaze move up her body. Color flooded Katya’s skin as he took in the blood on her legs, the torn skirt, and her swollen face.

The concern in his expression morphed into rage. “What happened to you?”

“I left potatoes hidden in the fields during harvest, so I went back for some. I’m fine.” Katya’s voice wavered despite her bravado.

“You’re not fine!” Kolya scrubbed at his face with his hands. “And what if they come for you like they did for Alina?”

“They won’t.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the activist’s voice. I’ll let you go this time, but it will cost you. And if I catch you again, I won’t bother arresting you. I’ll shoot you on the spot.

Kolya hung the lantern on a hook and gripped her chin. Tilting her face to the light, he traced a finger over her puffy cheek with such tenderness that the tears she’d fought to contain spilled over and ran down on his fingers.

“You’ll have a black eye,” he said.

A black eye was the least of her concerns. Food was the priority. Feeding Halya was the priority.

“At least tell me who did this to you,” he demanded.

“It doesn’t matter.” She pushed his hand off. “There’s nothing to be done now. Any retaliation would only get you killed, and I can’t be responsible for another death.”

He sagged and closed his eyes. “Nobody blames you for what happened to Alina.”

“Then why can’t you say that while looking at me?” Katya barely heard her own voice, it came out so low. “Why can’t you ever look at me?”

He opened his eyes and stared at her. “Most days, I can’t look at you because you remind me of my dead wife. Now, I can’t look at you because I see my inadequacy in your bruised face and ripped skirts. I can’t look at you because I see how close we came to losing you tonight, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. That terrifies me. I don’t know what any of us would do without you. Especially Halya.”

Stars danced across Katya’s vision and her knees gave away. Kolya caught her before she fell and held her against his firm chest. She took slow breaths in time with his heartbeat and let the heat and strength of his body seep into hers until he kneeled and placed her in the soft hay. When he let go of her, the cold and despair flooded back in, and she had to stop herself from reaching out to him.

“He hit you pretty hard. You should be in bed,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. He backed away from her and wiped his hands on his pants, as if trying to remove any trace of her essence from him.

“I don’t want my mother to know what happened.” She hated how weak she sounded, how broken she felt.

“Fine. Maybe we can tell her we were hauling wood, and I accidentally turned and hit you with a piece I had on my shoulder.” Kolya’s expression hardened, and he turned and spat on the ground. “But you must swear to me you will never do anything to put yourself in this position again!”

A shrill laugh escaped her cracked lips. “Do you think I willingly bartered my body for potatoes? You have some nerve, Kolya. My choice was this or my life. I chose life. The potatoes were a bonus he let me keep. Lucky me.” It was her turn to spit on the ground as she glared up at him.

He dropped his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. You have no idea what it’s like to be a woman. Men think they can take whatever they want, whenever they want from us. We never have a choice in that.”

Katya stood and brushed herself off. “Let’s go in and eat.”

She didn’t tell him that she’d search the fields again. She’d pay any cost to keep Halya alive, because her survival was Katya’s sole purpose for existing.

“Not all men,” he said, his voice so soft Katya could hardly hear him.

“No, maybe not all men.” She pulled herself up to her feet. “Now let’s go in the house. The baby needs to eat.”





That night, as she lay in bed, Katya flipped through the tear-stained pages of her journal. She’d written about losing Pavlo and Viktor, and she would write about what that vicious man had done. She’d promised Pavlo she would record their story, even the unbearable.

She picked up her pencil and began. The words flowed in a monotone voice, documenting the horror of that night as if it had happened to someone else. In her recounting of the incident, she felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Maybe my heart has finally given up, she thought. After all, it can only take so much, and I think I have far surpassed what most hearts can endure. Perhaps it is only an empty shell now, incapable of feeling anything.

She finished the entry and looked over at the sleeping baby. Halya, her lashes thick against her pale cheeks and her dark curls framing her thin face, sighed and turned toward Katya in her sleep. A fierce and desperate love surged through Katya, and she reached out and pulled Halya close. As Halya’s warm body snuggled into hers, Katya knew she was lying to herself. Her heart could never give up while this sweet child still needed her.