The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (70)

Katya hesitated when they reached the door. The large wooden slab closed off the tiny house, a physical barrier between her and the memories inside. Now, as she stood there in front of it, her stomach rolled at the thought of entering. She took a step back.

“It’s fine, Katya,” Kolya said. “You can wait here. I’ll be only a minute.”

Grateful, she walked off to wait for him near the old barn site. She couldn’t even bear getting a glimpse of the interior. Squeezing her eyes shut, she instead thought about one of her favorite memories with Pavlo.

“Pavlo, wait for me!” She laughed as she chased him through the hay field.

“Come on, you’ve got to keep up,” he shouted back. His long legs carried him so far ahead that she lost sight of him, but she followed blindly anyway. She would follow Pavlo to the end of the earth if he asked.

When she finally reached him, he was sprawled under an old linden tree, his hands folded under his head, creating a pillow.

“Katya, come lie with me and watch the clouds pass us by.”

She sat down next to him, gasping for air. “All right, but I can’t stay long. I need to get back and help my father with the chores.”

Pavlo leaned up on one elbow and stared at her with a grin playing on his lips. “Do you realize how much you need me in your life? You would toil away all day without any fun if it weren’t for me. I balance you out to make you the well-rounded woman I’ve grown to love.”

“If you had your way, we would run around all day and get nothing done,” she laughed. That was far from the truth. Pavlo was one of the hardest working men she’d ever met.

“And if we lived your way,” he countered as he reached out and twirled a lock of loose hair around his finger, “we would work the days away to an early death and never enjoy life along the way. Admit it, you need me.”

“Maybe,” Katya allowed. “But if that’s the case, and I do need you so much, then tell me, Pavlo. What do I do for you?”

The smile dropped from his face. “Absolutely everything. You are my life, and I can’t imagine living without you.”

Katya took a shuddering breath.

But now, I am living without you. The words surged up from within her so hard and fast she almost screamed them out loud.

“Katya?” Kolya touched her arm. She jumped, and her eyes popped open. The first thing she saw was Kolya’s concerned face, and for one brief, amazing moment, she thought it was Pavlo. Then she blinked, and the illusion shattered.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I know this is hard for you, but you seemed fine when we came to tear down the barn.”

“I’m just resting my eyes.” Katya searched his face for any sign of pain. She’d never understood how he and Alina could live in that house after he’d lost so much there. But his eyes were no more haunted than they were every day. Perhaps he carried his pain everywhere with him and no one place could make it any worse, whereas Katya shoved the hurt deep into her soul and only faced it when she was forced too. Like now.

“How do you do it?” She touched his arm, needing to feel a solid human presence here and now more than ever.

He stilled and stared at her hand on him. “Do what?”

“Come here. Where you’ve lost so much.”

“I do it because I have to. For Halya. For your mother.” He put his hand, warm and heavy, over hers and squeezed. “For you.”

Her hand burned under his touch. She gasped at the startling sensation and jerked away. “Did you find what you came for?”

Kolya stepped back from her, his face red. “Yes.”

He pulled a pair of gold earrings, a silver cross, and a gold ring from his pocket. Katya recognized the ring as the one his mother had worn for special occasions. It had been handed down through her family for generations, as Katya was sure the other pieces had been, and as her own family ring had. Before all of this, those items would have been passed down to Halya. Now, their loss to the family would help keep her alive.

“Let’s go, then.” Katya turned her back on the sad little house. “It’s a long walk.”

“I’ve never thanked you.” His words stopped her.

“For what?”

“For taking care of Halya. Feeding her, after losing Viktor.” His voice faltered. “It can’t be easy for you.”

At the mention of Viktor’s name, her stomach twisted. Of course it wasn’t easy. But Kolya didn’t know that sometimes Katya closed her eyes and pretended Halya was Viktor. Or that other times, she’d imagine that Halya was the baby born to her, and she’d never experienced the losses of her child, sister, and husband. If she could pretend Halya was truly hers, Katya could forget how they’d really come together. How grief and death had forged a bond between them that couldn’t be fully described. Katya didn’t love Halya any less or resent her for surviving when Viktor didn’t. Instead, she clung to the baby like a drowning person grips a raft. Halya gave her purpose and motivation to get up every morning. A reason to find food at any cost so Katya’s body could keep making food for her. Halya’s survival had become Katya’s sole purpose in life.

Instead of saying any of those things, Katya replied, “I love her like my own. And Alina would have done the same for me if she could have.”