The Russians Collection

by Michael Phillips

  Help from the field hospital arrived after lunch—another physician, a feldsher, and a female nurse. Those who had been working the longest took the first breaks. The men wanted to defer to Mariana, and she was tempted to comply. After working around the clock, she was bone tired. She desperately needed a bath and a change of clothes, too, for her uniform, besides being wrinkled and smelly, was also liberally stained with blood and grime. She didn’t even want to look at her smudged face and her greasy hair which kept falling in her eyes. But she insisted she be given no special treatment, either, because of her gender or her inexperience. Kask was the only one who refused to take a break. Mariana decided she would not go before him.

  Her physical limitations, however, overpowered her good intentions. As she was taking a patient’s temperature, the thermometer fumbled from her hand. At least the soft canvas floor had kept the delicate glass instrument from breaking.

  “No offense, miss,” said her patient, “but you look worse than me. Why don’t you take a rest? I don’t got a fever, but I’ll tell you if I get one.”

  The other nearby patients heartily agreed.

  “What kind of hospital is this,” she said with a good imitation of a smile, “that the patients have to care for the nurse?”

  They laughed, but they still insisted that she get off her feet for a few minutes.

  “No . . . no, I’ll be fine.” She reached for disinfectant to clean the thermometer. She had been inhaling the odor all day, but this time the pungent smell must have been too much for her—at least that was the way she explained it. A sudden light-headedness assailed her, she swayed on her feet, and the thermometer fell again—this time on the hard instrument table. The glass split in two, sending beads of mercury everywhere.

  Kask reached her in a few steps.

  “You are a stubborn young woman,” he said gruffly, catching her just before she fell. “You will take a break—now!”

  “You’ve been working longer,” she protested weakly.

  “Go, or I shall carry you away!”

  “Well, perhaps for a few minutes . . . I’ll just go out and get a bit of fresh air. That’s all I need.”

  Mariana made her way outside, wondering at one point if she would need to be carried. She sank down on the grass and leaned against the trunk of an old tree. She didn’t need to go to the tent that had been cleared to provide quarters for the women; she would only rest a moment or two. In a few seconds she was sound asleep.

  An hour later, Mariana woke, feeling disoriented and sluggish as if she had slept the night through. Her slumber had finally been disturbed—not by gunfire, but by a single voice that seemed to have come straight out of her dreams.

  “Mariana!”

  “What?” Mariana said dully, removing her glasses and rubbing her eyes, hoping to clear her head.

  “It is you! I couldn’t believe it when I heard your name at the field hospital—” The newcomer stopped abruptly. “I woke you up, didn’t I? I’m really sorry. I guess I’m still the same insensitive clod—”

  Mariana’s eyes opened wide and she sat bolt upright.

  “Daniel!” She scrambled to her feet. “I . . . I—what a surprise!”

  “No less for me. Just when I thought—” He stopped speaking and went to her, taking her hands in his. “You look wonderful!”

  Mariana smiled. She didn’t care if she looked and smelled like a street vagrant, and she knew he was just being polite and didn’t mean a word of his compliment. All of her fatigue simply fell away, replaced by an unexpected surge of emotions. She couldn’t quite identify the feelings, and perhaps she was a little afraid to examine them too closely, anyway. The only thing that seemed important was that Daniel Trent had suddenly stepped back into her life.

  7

  Mariana brushed a damp strand of hair from her eyes while Daniel held tightly to her other hand. Around them orderlies were busy moving stretchers onto the dvukolks that had just arrived. But in that moment Mariana thought only of Daniel’s impish grin and her own sweet memories of picnics at the Summer Gardens, pleasant walks along St. Petersburg’s quays, and quiet evenings talking in Madame Durocq’s slightly threadbare parlor. It felt as if hours instead of years had passed since she and Daniel had last been together.

  The sharp cry of a patient jarred her back to the present.

  “I . . . I better help them,” said Mariana.

  “Oh, yeah, of course,” he replied with obvious reluctance. But when she started to turn, he held on to her hand a moment longer. “Gosh, I feel as if it were only yesterday.” Then, slightly flustered at his sentimentality, he dropped her hand.

  Mariana returned to work, struck by the incredible realization that they had been feeling the same thing. It had been four years since they had parted in her father’s parlor. They were now in a foreign land in the middle of a war, yet she felt as if they could just as well be back in St. Petersburg, strolling along a wooded path.

  Surely they were not unchanged in all that time. She knew she had changed immensely, and she could only assume—or perhaps hope—that Daniel had too. But standing there, looking into his eyes, she had felt the same friendship and affection she once had for him. For nearly two years they had enjoyed a special relationship in which they both—yes, even Daniel!—had opened up their hearts to each other. He had been a friend and confidant when she had needed someone to lean on—someone to help her make the adjustment from her peasant life in Katyk to the aristocracy of St. Petersburg. She had trusted him. Yes, he had taken advantage of her trust and published that article without her knowledge. He had made her life into a public spectacle.

  But later, when she thought about their falling out over his article, she had to admit that she had been somewhat unfair in her accusations. His affection for her couldn’t have been merely a sham, a role he played to get her to open up for his article. The laughter, the joy, the moments of tenderness simply could not all have been a ruse. He had been deceptive and insensitive, it was true—but there was more to Daniel Trent, more to their relationship, than that.

  Mariana wondered why he had never written to her. Now that time had passed and the wounds were healed, she began to realize that perhaps she had hurt him, too.

  Still, he didn’t seem resentful toward her. He was genuinely pleased to see her. They were, after all, four years more mature. They had both made mistakes and let their pride get the better of them, but that didn’t negate all the good in their friendship.

  Stubborn. Kask hardly knew Mariana and he had called her stubborn. Her father had said so, too. They were probably right. She was so stubborn that she had let someone she cared about slip away from her. Daniel meant more to her than her actions had indicated, for he had nagged at her thoughts frequently in the past four years.

  Was this sudden, unexpected meeting her second chance? Was this the reason God had kept her from relationships with other men? Was Daniel the man she was ultimately going to marry? Startled at the question, she glanced toward where she had left Daniel.

  He was gone.

  She stopped her work briefly and looked around the compound. Finally she spotted Daniel, notebook in hand, talking to the captain. Mariana smiled to herself. Well, he was a reporter, and he had come to Manchuria to report on a war, not to court an old flame. She couldn’t expect him to wait around like an adoring puppy until she found time for him. They both had work to do, and if they were to have a second chance, their relationship was going to have to fit in around very demanding schedules.

  Mariana returned to the dressing station tent. As the fighting had diminished, things had quieted somewhat. The carts removing the wounded were finally able to keep up with the influx, and soon the crowd in the tent began to thin out. Mariana was pleased to note that Kask had gone to rest, and he remained away for two hours. When he returned he looked much better, but there was still no merriment on that cherubic face.

  “Well, Mariana Remizov,” he said, “it appears I must let you go.”


  “What do you mean?”

  “I had to inform headquarters, of course, about our stray nurses. They gave me permission to keep you until the battle ended. Since our troops are in retreat, it is safe to assume the Battle of Telissu is as good as over.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that—I mean about the retreat.”

  “We’re getting used to it.”

  “I suppose I should find my things and be on my way while it is still light.”

  “Of course.” Kask turned to go and Mariana was about to be on her way when the feldsher paused and swung back around. “Thank you, Miss Remizov. You are a fine little nurse.”

  Then he hurried away before Mariana had a chance to respond.

  The only hindrance to her leaving now was transportation. The wagons were filled with wounded, and the prospect of walking five miles to the field hospital was not at all inviting. It was, however, her only choice.

  When she stepped outside the dressing station tent, Daniel ambled over to her, carefully putting his notebook and pencil into his coat pocket.

  “The battle is over and lost,” he said. “That must be the cause of the woebegone expression on your face.”

  “It didn’t go well for us.”

  “Would you like to see why?”

  Daniel took her hand, and she followed him to where a company of soldiers was parading before their officers. One of the officers was mounted and—if it could be judged by the ornate, medal-bedecked uniform he wore—was a man of importance.

  “That’s General Stoessel,” Daniel whispered to Mariana. “Governor of the Kwantung Peninsula. Heaven only knows what he’s doing here, but he should have—”

  Before Daniel could finish, General Stoessel began to speak to the assembled troops. “I have never seen a more pathetic assemblage of brigands in my life!” His voice shook with rage, his eyes bulged.

  “What did they do?” Mariana quietly asked Daniel.

  “They retreated—after fighting their hearts out.”

  The general continued to rail at the troops. “Traitors, all of you—do you hear! Why, I’ll have each and every one of you up for a court martial. Thank God the defense of Port Arthur doesn’t rest on such worthless excuses for soldiers!”

  Mariana nudged Daniel. “Let’s go. I don’t want to hear any more.”

  As they walked away Daniel took out his notebook and jotted down some notes.

  “Are you going to write about that?” asked Mariana. When he nodded, she added, “You won’t make them look bad, will you? The troops, I mean. So many suffered and died, Daniel. They weren’t traitors.”

  “Anyone with an ounce of sense knows that,” said Daniel. “It’s men like Stoessel I’d like to expose. Arrogant, inept fools. But I doubt anything I’d write would get past the censors.”

  “I feel so bad for the men,” said Mariana.

  “No wonder they’re always talking about revolution.”

  “Here?”

  “Sure, they talk about it a lot. But the conditions of war make it a pretty risky business. In Russia they can only get exiled for such talk; here they could easily get shot for treason.”

  “How will we ever win the war?”

  “That’s a very good question. If I were a betting man, I’d put my money on the Japanese.”

  8

  “I’m afraid I put a cloud over our reunion,” Daniel said after a gloomy pause.

  “This is not the best setting in which to meet an old friend.”

  “Nevertheless, I’d like to do something to cheer you.”

  “Well, if you could produce a carriage so I wouldn’t have to walk to my next assignment, it might help.”

  “You would ask the impossible! I’d offer you a ride on my own shoulders if I thought they were strong enough.”

  She chuckled at the image that presented, then taunted playfully, “Since when have you become so chivalrous?”

  “How quickly you forget! But I do recall defending your honor once, in the face of a grizzly bear of an opponent.”

  “Yes, I had quite forgotten that.” Mariana smiled at the memory. Stephan Alexandrovich, her first love and unofficial fiance, had found her and Daniel together. Daniel was trying to make it up to her after she found out about his unauthorized article. Stephan had jumped to the wrong conclusion and heaped accusations upon Mariana, and Daniel had defended her reputation. Had Stephan chosen to take up Daniel’s challenge . . . well, Mariana didn’t like to think what might have happened to Daniel; Stephan was indeed a formidable opponent.

  “Unfortunately,” Daniel went on, “my shoulders aren’t nearly as broad as that other fellow’s, and I fear even your slim, lithe figure would break them. However, I will gladly offer you my arm and whatever company I can give as I walk at your side.”

  “I suppose that will have to do—the walking part, I mean.” Then, flustered, Mariana added, “I’d like nothing more than your company; I just wish it didn’t have to be on foot. I’ve had only an hour of sleep since yesterday morning.”

  He gave her a look of sympathy, seeming to contemplate once more the feasibility of carrying her, then shrugged apologetically. “At least we can catch up on our lives as we go. Perhaps that will take your mind off your fatigue.”

  “That would be nice.” She smiled and took his arm.

  But he hesitated before going on. “Mariana, I’m glad you still consider us friends, and a little relieved, too. But I have to admit I had given up on us when you never answered my letters.”

  “Letters?”

  “I wrote you several times—you mean you never received anything?”

  “Honestly, Daniel, I never did.”

  “No wonder you stopped writing after that first letter.” He frowned. “Do you mean that we drifted apart because of the postal service? It makes a person think, doesn’t it?”

  “What might have been . . . ?” Mariana sighed, then shook the musing away with a smile. “Perhaps we can forget all about the past.”

  “I’d like to try.”

  Mariana retrieved her few pieces of luggage and managed to convince one of the dvukolk drivers to tuck it away in a corner of his cart. By the time she and Daniel finally set out, it was late afternoon—the hottest, most stifling part of the day. They hurried to catch up to the ambulance wagons. Walking alone in the countryside was unwise, even if the battle was officially over. At least the Red Cross flags on the wagons offered minimal protection.

  The rush left Daniel and Mariana breathless and sweaty. But once in the company of the wagons, they slowed their pace and proceeded to resume the much-anticipated discussion. Mariana was dying to hear from Daniel, but he insisted that she go first.

  She thought she didn’t have much to tell. But once she got going, helped along by Daniel’s probing questions, she found herself discussing feelings she had only thought about before. He listened so attentively that for a moment she wondered if he was merely trying to find some—as he would say—“angle” he might use for his benefit. She chided herself immediately for the unkind thought. He had thus far shown himself to be completely sincere. But hadn’t he seemed that way before?

  She sighed, frustrated both with herself and with the position their mistakes had put them in.

  “Something wrong?” asked Daniel.

  “Oh, no, just the heat—” Mariana stopped abruptly.

  Deception and misunderstanding had caused their problems in the first place. Wasn’t it best to have everything out in the open? Part of her wanted to sweep the past neatly under the mat and move on, but she wasn’t sure that was possible if the past kept getting in the way. Her papa Sergei was fond of saying, “He who dwells on the past is bound to lose an eye. But the man who ignores the past will lose both eyes.” She had to be honest with him, no matter what the cost.

  “I never knew the heat to trouble a person so,” Daniel prompted when her hesitation lasted a moment too long.

  “I guess it’s not just that,” Mariana replied with resolve. �
��I know we agreed to forget the past. More than anything else, Daniel, I want to start over with you—to be the way we were when we first met. You were one of my best friends.”

  “But you can’t keep from wondering if I’m not just sizing you up for another sly article. I don’t blame you. Let me assure you that you are completely safe with me now; I do very little human interest these days—”

  “Otherwise I’d still be fair game?” Mariana couldn’t keep the hard edge from her words.

  “That’s not what I meant. How could you think—?” He stopped and gave an indignant shake of his head, causing his glasses to slide down his nose and a lock of hair to fall into his eyes. He adjusted his glasses and tried to fix his hair, but that unruly brown strand fell forward again. The action, however, seemed to calm him and clear his thoughts. “I guess there isn’t any reason for you to think differently,” he said finally.

  “I want to believe in you, Daniel. I’m sure you really felt bad about what happened before.”

  “I’m so incredibly dense when it comes to saying what I feel.”

  “But I would like to hear nothing more, Daniel.”

  “And I believe you.” He started walking again, and Mariana kept at his side. “Mariana, since I left Russia, you have never been far from my thoughts. I came to realize just how important you were to me, and I never stopped regretting how my selfish actions spoiled everything.” He turned toward her. “Do you want me to be completely honest with you?”

  She nodded, unwilling to speak lest it deter him from finishing.

  “I’ve thought and thought about this, always hoping that one day I’d see you again. First, I have to tell you that I would still do almost anything for a story—and, to tell the truth, in the last four years I have done some pretty outrageous things, even worse than I did with you, to get the news.” He stopped walking again, then placed his hands on her shoulders and gazed intently into her eyes. “But, Mariana, I would never, never again willfully do anything to hurt you or deceive you. To me, you are sacred ground. I know you only have my word on that, but now that I have this second chance with you, I plan to do everything in my power to prove my faithfulness to you, to our friendship.”