The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (74)

“It was my job,” he said. “I had to do it, or they would have killed me.”

“You relished every second of what you did to my family, and to all the others as well, I’m sure.” Katya spoke through gritted teeth as fury coursed through her. Her left hand throbbed with pain, as if he had slammed it in the door only yesterday. “You are a monster!”

Kolya grabbed her arm. “He’s not worth it. Look at him. He’ll probably be dead before the day is done.”

Kolya spoke the truth; Prokyp looked half-dead already. Katya’s fists itched to strike out, but she allowed Kolya to lead her around Prokyp, who looked at them with undisguised hatred. As they drew past him, Katya mustered up every bit of saliva in her dry mouth and spat at his feet.

Enraged, he uttered a snarl and turned to come after them, but he moved slowly on weak legs. Kolya drew back and dealt Prokyp one swift punch in the face. Katya didn’t know how much force Kolya could have put into it, for he too, lacked his normal strength, but Prokyp’s emaciated body was no match for a man half his age, even a starving one.

He squealed as he crumpled to the ground, and Kolya scowled over him, his chest heaving, until Katya shook his shoulder.

He stared at her, dazed, as if surprised at what he’d just done.

“We need to go,” she said.

He finally nodded, and they walked as fast as they could without drawing attention to themselves, not speaking until the town was far behind them and out of sight.





23





CASSIE





Illinois, June 2004





“Birdie’s down for the night.” Cassie slumped onto the couch next to Bobby. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at this pysanka.” She rolled the egg between her arthritic fingers, then held it out toward Cassie. “Your mother made this one.”

Cassie took the finely detailed egg, dyed in the traditional way using wax to create intricate designs in layers of different colors. Pysanky eggs were an integral part of Ukrainian Easter celebrations.

“We haven’t made any in years,” Cassie said. “I loved helping when I was a little girl.”

“We could teach Birdie,” Bobby said. The phone rang, and she reached over to answer it. “Hello?”

Cassie’s curiosity piqued as Bobby’s eyes grew wide.

“Yes, yes, I’ll give money. Wait, I’ll get my wallet.” She tried to pull herself up from the couch, but Cassie put a hand on her arm.

“Who’s on the phone? Who do you want to give money to?”

Bobby pushed at her. “Go get my wallet. It’s the state police. They need money.”

“Let me have the phone.” Cassie held her hand out.

Bobby gave her a dirty look but acquiesced.

“Hello, can I help you?” Cassie said.

She listened for a few moments. “No, thank you. Please take us off your list.”

As she set the phone back on the receiver, Bobby grabbed her hand. “When they call, you give them money! If you don’t, they will come for you in the night. Take you away and no one will ever see you again!”

Cassie’s mouth dropped open. “Bobby, they were asking for donations for the state troopers’ scholarship fund. You don’t have to give money to them. Nobody will come get you in the night. This isn’t Ukraine.”

“That’s what they want you to think! They come when you aren’t ready, but I was always ready. I had a bundle packed.”

“Ready for what?” Cassie asked, even though she knew the answer from her time with Nick and the journal. Siberia. Sasha. The deportations. Bobby was flashing back to her time in Ukraine again.

Bobby wrung her hands and ignored the question as she scanned the room like a caged animal.

Cassie’s mind raced for a distraction. In a light voice, she said, “Tell me what you would pack to be ready.”

Bobby’s terror-filled eyes locked on hers. “I packed warm clothes and blankets. They put you on cattle cars and send you to the gulags. It’s very cold. They don’t give you blankets.”

“That was smart to pack blankets. Here, why don’t you lie back and rest, and I’ll go look for a bag.” Cassie spoke in a calming tone as she dimmed the lights.

“I packed food, too,” Bobby went on, but her voice had quieted. “When I could. But we didn’t always have food to pack.”

“That must have been very hard.” Cassie leaned over and smoothed her hair. “How about I take care of all that? Why don’t you close your eyes and rest, okay?”

“For a little bit,” Bobby agreed. “I am tired. But don’t forget to pack our things.”

“I’ll sit here with you until you fall asleep, then I’ll pack.”

“Thank you, Alina,” Bobby mumbled.

Cassie startled. Alina. Her sister. What had happened to Alina and why did she still haunt Bobby?

After a few minutes, Cassie crept down the hall to peek in on Birdie. She slept peacefully, one arm slung over her head, legs dangling off the bed. Cassie planted a soft kiss on her forehead, then straightened at the sound of Bobby talking.

On tiptoe, as to not startle her grandmother, she crept back down the hall and stopped when she saw Bobby sitting up on the couch.