Daughters of the Night Sky(20)
He descended from the truck. Rather than waiting for him to open my door, I followed him out the driver’s side and laced my fingers in his.
“Everything is hurried these days,” I said. “Why should this be different?”
“I am sorry we haven’t time to change—”
“Soldiers marry in uniform, Vanyusha. It’s better than a silk gown. And better my dress uniform than my flight suit.”
Vanya’s tension eased into a weak chuckle as he leaned over to kiss my temple. It took ten minutes for us to show our identification, fill out the forms, and speak our vows. He placed on my ring finger the small signet ring with a bold S that he wore on his little finger, and we were man and wife. We sealed our union with a kiss, though the clerk hadn’t included it in our vows.
“Well now, sweet husband, I don’t think we can rush back to the barracks and announce our marriage, can we? What shall we do with our evening? I can’t imagine you haven’t concocted a plan.”
“I’m afraid I can’t give you a proper honeymoon, dearest Katyushka, but we can have tonight. I told Rushkov we needed leave until morning.” My stomach lurched as I realized the brass would find out, sooner or later, that we’d married. Would that disqualify me from finishing my program? I didn’t want to find out, but we would only have to keep the secret for a few weeks.
“You whisked me off my feet so quickly, I hadn’t time to expect a honeymoon, let alone be disappointed by not having one.” I reached up to kiss his cheek, thrilled that now not a soul alive could object to me showing my affection for him.
“So much the better. But you shall have one someday. Cannes, Florence, the Greek isles. Weeks and weeks in the land of endless sunshine.”
“I can’t imagine heaven itself could be more pleasant,” I said. “But what about tonight?”
“A wedding feast,” he said, ushering me past the army truck and continuing on the sidewalk past the registry office onto the block in Chelyabinsk that housed the few nice restaurants and the hotel where we’d spent our one evening together.
I let him take my hand and escort me to the hotel’s posh restaurant. As the ma?tre d’ took us to our table, I scanned the small dinner crowd. There were several men in uniform, but the women were all dressed impeccably in fine dresses and furs. I was glad my uniform was crisp and neat, at least, as I took in their finery. They aren’t serving their country. I may not be as elegant as they, but I am useful.
“I wish you could have worn a lace gown to our wedding, soldier or not,” he whispered. “But you’re the loveliest woman here.”
“Tonight I feel it,” I whispered in return.
Vanya ordered a whole host of dishes, this time straying from the familiar rustic fare and venturing into the world of caviar, fine wine, smoked herring mousse, and other foods I’d only heard of. The waiters served small portions of what seemed like dozens of dishes, each providing a few bites before we moved on to the next delicacy. In some cases I was glad to move on, but most of the courses placed before us were beyond what I had imagined food could taste like. The idea of eating fish eggs had repulsed me, despite my mother’s assurances that caviar was quite good. The explosion of flavor—a burst of seawater and the most delicate fish—was an experience unto itself. I knew the meal had to cost a small fortune, and I offered silent thanks to Antonin Solonev and his deep pockets.
“I hope you don’t mind me throwing this together without telling you first,” he said after the waiter cleared away the poached salmon.
“I’ll forgive you on one condition,” I said. “You will not spend one minute of this evening discussing war or trying to persuade me not to do my part. Let me enjoy one night in peace as your beloved wife.”
“How delicious that sounds,” he said, unable to keep the smile from his face. “But, agreed. Tonight isn’t meant to be spent on such matters. God, I wish we’d had more time, though.”
“I know, but we can’t speculate on the ‘woulds’ and ‘shoulds’ these days. We should be grateful for the time we have.”
I woke up nestled in Vanya’s arms in the moments before dawn. I could have luxuriated in his caresses for a lifetime, but we had to face the morning. Rushkov’s goodwill would only last until the morning bell signaled the beginning of classes.
“I wish you’d weaseled a full week out of him,” I moaned into his chest.
“Unfortunately for us, I did not catch Rushkov in the act of murdering a party official, so one night was the best I could do. Comrade Soloneva, let your husband admire you one last time before you dress,” he purred from the comfort of his down pillows and thick bedding.
I obliged, standing in the brisk morning air, opening a curtain to let the light shine on my pale skin.
“I love to see you when you’re thinking like an artist,” I mused, unabashed by his gaze on my bare flesh.
He gave a slight start. “How can you tell that’s what I was thinking?”
“You expect your wife to betray all her secrets on the first day of wedded bliss? I don’t think so.”
He pounced atop me, tickling me with fingertips and tender kisses until I begged for mercy.
“It’s your expression,” I confessed, breathless from his playful assault. “You look both focused and relaxed. Except the time I saw you painting, you’ve only managed one of those expressions at a time.”