The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (76)

“Grammy, are you coming?” Birdie walked back in the kitchen, a stack of books in her hands.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ll be right there.” Anna started after Birdie, then turned back to Cassie. “Fine, we can wait, but please move it along. If this is what really happened to her, I can’t stand thinking of her reliving it.”





The next morning, Cassie peered out the front window, watching as Nick dug through the bushes and found the newspaper. He’d continued the practice after she’d moved in, even though she was quite capable of getting the paper out of the bushes herself, but she didn’t complain.

She yanked open the door right as he got to the front porch. “You know, I can do that.”

Nick jumped and grinned sheepishly. “You startled me! I know you can. It just got to be part of my routine to stop by and bring it up. The paperboy always throws it over in the bushes, and your grandmother had a hard time getting it.”

Cassie grabbed the coffee cups she’d set on the front table and held one out to him. “Coffee?”

“Sure. Thanks.” He took the cup and followed her as she sat on the low bench hugging the front of the house. He glanced down at the cup, and his lips curled into a smile. “Were you waiting for me?”

Cassie bit back her own smile and played coy. She shrugged. “Maybe. I have a couple of questions for you.”

Nick raised the mug to his mouth and sipped. “Good coffee. All right. I can be bribed.”

“How old was your grandmother when she came to America?”

Nick pursed his lips. “Not where I thought this was going, but I’ll play along. I think about twenty-five. She came after World War II.”

Cassie leaned forward. “Did she ever mention anything about a famine?”

“You mean the Holodomor? Of course. I thought you realized that’s what we were dealing with in your Bobby’s journal.”

“No. You say Holodomor like it’s common knowledge.” Cassie plucked at the hem of her shorts, her cheeks burning. “But I’m mortified to say that until yesterday, I had no idea about it.”

“It is common knowledge for Ukrainians. We learned about it in Ukrainian school, but my grandmother didn’t live through it. Her family was in western Ukraine, which, during the time between the World Wars, was occupied by Poland. They didn’t have to deal with Stalin till World War II.”

“What did she say about it?”

“She said it was horrible. Some people managed to escape into her village, and they told stories about whole villages in eastern and central Ukraine being wiped out. People were deported by cattle cars to Siberia, like we read about in your Bobby’s journal, or forced to starve in their own homes after Stalin exported all of the food. Children were left at train stations by their parents in hopes someone would take pity on them and bring them home and feed them, but they rarely did. People died in the streets waiting for a crust of bread.” He lowered his voice. “The worst were the stories of cannibalism. People spoke of being so desperate they ate dead bodies, and in extreme cases, killed other people to eat them.”

Cassie’s jaw dropped. “That’s unbelievable. I feel so dumb. I’m of Ukrainian descent. I should know what my family went through. How have I never heard of any of this?”

“Well, the famine was covered up pretty much until the Soviet Union fell, and there are still people who insist it never happened,” Nick said. “Stalin put on a good show, made collectivization sound great, and the press and his allies either bought it or ignored it. Some even lied. Walter Duranty, from the New York Times, completely refuted that a famine was happening. Hell, he won a Pulitzer for his articles on it. Nobody wanted to believe the ‘breadbasket of Europe’ was being starved to death.”

An ache swelled in Cassie’s throat as the pieces clicked into place. Bobby hiding food. The terror. The grief.

“This explains so much about Bobby.”

“She may have some major survivor’s guilt. It’s not always easy to talk about traumatic things. That’s probably why she gave you her journal instead of telling you herself. Speaking of, when should we read some more? Maybe it will tell us exactly what she went through.”

“What about now?” Cassie turned to face him. “Please. My mom was going to go to the park with us this morning. I can probably get out of it and stay here with you.”

“It’s a date. Let me run home quick and clean up from work.” Nick smiled at her. “Two dates in one day. Watch out. You might get sick of me.”

“Oh, my gosh, I forgot about tonight. I’m sorry. I’m monopolizing all of your time.” Cassie waved him away. “Go, get on with your day and forget I asked.”

Nick chuckled. “There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing, though I am a little disappointed that you forgot about tonight.”

Cassie flushed and stared into her coffee. “I didn’t forget, exactly. I got distracted, and I want to read more of the journal so much.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m only teasing.” Nick stood and handed her the empty coffee cup. “I’ll be back in a half hour.”





While Bobby, Birdie, and Anna walked to the park, Cassie and Nick worked. They’d found their rhythm, and Cassie typed as quickly as Nick translated, not pausing until Alina’s death. Cassie could feel him watching her, but she kept her eyes on her screen, reading the last words over and over.