The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (81)

They sat silently, Vasyl’s words hanging in the air around them. That Vasyl had survived and made it all the way back was a miracle.

Kolya ran a hand down his face. “Did the two men you left with survive as well?”

Vasyl shrugged. “The man who first attacked the guard walked with us for a while, but we woke one morning, and he was gone. Wandered off in the night, I suppose. The other man made it with me to Moscow. We worked there together for a time, and then parted ways.”

Katya took Vasyl’s skeletal hand in her own. “You have suffered so much! Why come back here now? They could do the same thing to you again.”

“I came because you are my people. I came to warn you that they will not quit until we are all dead. Kulaks, peasants, everyone.”

“And after you warn us, then what?” Kolya asked.

A small smile touched Vasyl’s lips. “After I have done all I can here, I am going to try to sneak out of the country and go to America.”

“America?” The idea of the continent on the other side of the world felt so surreal to Katya, she could hardly imagine it.

“It is a land of opportunity,” Vasyl said. “With food and jobs for anyone willing to work for it.”

America. Katya rolled the idea over in her mind as her father’s voice echoed in her head. Look to the future.

Mama, lying on her bed asleep for most of the morning, spoke for the first time since Vasyl had come into their home and stopped Katya’s musings in their tracks. “Dear Vasyl! I’m so pleased to see you. Have you come to marry Kolya and Katya? It is all I wish, and they promised me it would happen soon.”

Katya froze. Kolya turned his back on everyone. His shoulders sagged as Katya shakily pulled herself to her feet, walked over to Mama, and rested a hand on her hot forehead.

Katya’s voice cracked. “Hush now, Mama, you just need a bit of food. I set some of the meat aside for you; let me fetch it.”

“No, Katya!” She sat up in her bed. A violent fit of coughing racked her body. When she finally stopped, she pointed her finger at Katya. “You promised me, daughter, that you would marry Kolya and give Halya a proper family before I go. It is God’s will that this is so. Why else would Vasyl appear on our door right now, of all times?”

She turned to Vasyl. “Please, marry them. It is my dying wish.” Another fit of coughing forced her back onto the pillow.

“Of course, cousin,” Vasyl replied. His eyebrows curved into question marks as he looked at Katya and Kolya. “If that is what they want.”

Katya sank onto the bed and buried her face in her hands. She didn’t want to get married, but how could she refuse her mother’s last wish? What kind of daughter would that make her?

But then, what kind of sister would it make her if she married her brother-in-law? Confusion made her head throb as Halya cried out from the bed. Katya scooped up the baby, and, slowly rocking, she walked the floor and avoided Kolya’s probing stare. Let him speak. Let him refuse Mama if he wishes, then at least it’s not on my shoulders.

Eventually, he did speak, although what he said surprised her.

“Let us get married tonight then, Katya. Neither of us have anything left in our hearts, anyway.” The bitterness and disappointment he radiated hung thick in the air. “Really, what difference does it make? It’s all for Halya, right? Everything we do is for Halya, so what is one more act?”

A lump lodged in Katya’s throat. He made sense, but the betrayal of Alina, of Pavlo, still screamed inside of her. She closed her eyes and nodded.

A few minutes later, they were standing together in front of Vasyl. Katya couldn’t tell what he said, or if Kolya spoke false words of promise and love to her. She couldn’t even say if she returned those words. Katya supposed she must have, for Vasyl wrapped a rushnyk around their hands and pronounced them married. The whole time he spoke, she could only think of Alina and how it should have been Pavlo there with her, not Kolya. She cringed as she remembered watching Alina marry Kolya right here in this same room. How her face had shone with radiance and love.

Katya couldn’t even bring herself to smile. The sick feeling in her stomach clouded her thoughts, and the event passed by in a blur. She supposed it was better that way.





25





CASSIE





Illinois, June 2004





Cassie stood in front of the mirror and, for the first time since Henry died, honestly appraised herself. Usually, she barely gave herself a glance. What was the point? She had no one to impress.

Her long brown hair hung in lanky waves around her shoulders. It desperately needed to be cut and shaped. Her pale face looked skinnier than it did in the pictures she had from before the accident, pushing her cheekbones into prominence and making her blue eyes appear huge. Clothes that used to fit hung loose on her willowy frame. She’d lost weight in the last year.

Her mom leaned into the bathroom. “I know a fabulous hairdresser. I can get you an appointment, maybe even before the date tonight. I’ll stay with Bobby and Birdie.”

“Mom! Jeez, how about some privacy?”

“Oh, come on, you didn’t even have the door closed all the way. It’s like you were crying out for help”—Anna waved her hands around her head as if she were a genie—“and poof, here I am!”