“Then, who invited him?”
“I don’t know.” Yuri cast a quick glance at Katya, who was busy talking to another guest.
With a chuckle Vladimir said, “I guess you can’t kick the tsar’s personal friend out, can you?”
Rasputin might have spoiled the affair by stealing all the attention with his drunken laughter and his preaching. But he left the reception early. And everyone, even Katya, seemed to let out a sigh of relief.
Just as the monk was departing, another guest arrived. Anna glimpsed the fine red cloth of his uniform out of the corner of her eye, but before she could turn to fully assess the newcomer, Yuri’s exuberant voice identified him.
“Uncle Misha!” Yuri hurried up to him and embraced the Cossack. “What a surprise!”
“Do you think I’d miss your wedding, son?”
“The mail’s wires are so jammed up with the war, that I didn’t know if you got my telegram. I’m so glad you came.”
Yuri introduced Katya to him, and there was a flurry of attention around Misha for several minutes. But Anna hung back, her old shyness suddenly gripping her. She felt a bit silly, like that shy young girl of many years ago, but her heart had actually leaped when she saw him. And she felt a little pang of jealousy toward Yuri for being free to embrace Misha so warmly. She longed to embrace him too, but her feelings went deeper than those of a friend.
At last the welcoming clamor around Misha seemed to quiet, and he turned toward her. Their eyes met, and Anna rebuked herself for her shyness. Had she acted quickly, an embrace would have seemed quite natural. Now she felt constrained, as if her emotions would be obvious to everyone.
“Anna!” Whether Misha gave it any thought or not, Anna couldn’t tell, but he strode up to her and threw his strong arms around her, lifting her off her feet as he held her. When he set her down, he gave her a good appraisal. “Anna, you’re all pale, just like the frightened maid who didn’t know enough to bow before the tsar.”
“I’m just a bit shocked, that’s all. It’s been so many years.” She had not, in fact, included Misha’s name on the guest list. Apparently Yuri had noted the omission and, thinking it only an oversight, had taken the matter into his own hands. But when she glanced at her son, he was grinning.
“I thought it would be a grand surprise, Mama.”
She frowned slightly, trying to interpret the meaning of that grin and the glint in his eyes, then she laughed. “It is a grand surprise! Now come, everyone, let’s continue to enjoy these fine refreshments.”
Misha’s hand on her arm gently restrained her.
“Anna, are you faint with hunger?” Misha asked.
“Not really.”
“I don’t need to eat right away, either.”
“Why don’t we try to catch up on lost time . . . ?”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“I am told there is a nice garden in this house. Would you like to take a look at it with me?”
He smiled and took her hand, and they slipped out of the parlor. After asking a servant for directions, they eventually found the garden, shrouded in darkness and chilly, with a slight breeze penetrating the garden wall. The sky was full of stars, far away and tiny, and although there was no moon, several lanterns lit the garden path. Anna’s initial shyness wore off quickly, and within minutes she was chatting easily with her old friend. She filled him in on everything that her stilted letters had so poorly conveyed, and she wept a little when she told him about Andrei.
“I think he is all right, but Paul heard a rumor that he is with the Bolsheviks. It wouldn’t be so bad if I knew he was happy, but I think he is where he is because he was running away, trying to escape things that hurt him. You and I know that never works.” The words were out before she realized what she had said, then she brought her hand to her lips and let out a little gasp. “Oh, dear.”
“No, Anna, it doesn’t work. Not when the things that hurt us are also the things we love.”
“I wish you hadn’t stayed away so long, Misha.”
“I didn’t know you felt that way, Anna.”
“I could have said it many times in a letter, but . . .” She shook her head sadly. “Letters can be so inadequate.”
“I could have come back,” said Misha. “It was stubborn of me to stay away like I did.”
“That’s a side of you I’ve never really known.”
He shrugged, obviously flustered.
“What brought you back, Misha?”
“Weddings,” he said, “are so romantic, don’t you think?”
She smiled. “Perhaps for young people. But I am an old grandma.”
“And I am an old Cossack.”
“What a life we’ve had, Misha! Together we have traveled a long, long road. You were part of everything important that ever happened to me. It’s mind-boggling when I think of having a friend like you. We’ve been as close as any husband and wife.”
“As close as you and—?” He stopped and shook his head in frustration. “That was an unfair remark.”
“A remark you didn’t make.”
“I said enough.”
“Misha, Sergei will always be a fundamental part of who I am and of the memories I hold most dear. But Sergei is gone now, and the hold he has on me is no longer the death grip it once was. Do you understand?”
“I . . . I think so.”
“Tell me, Misha, do you think a couple of old folks like us could really find romance? Wouldn’t we feel just a little silly?”
“I do feel a bit ridiculous, Anna. But I can’t help it. I love you as if I were a twenty-year-old boy. As a matter of fact, a twenty-year-old could never feel the extent of love I feel for you, because it has only been made richer and deeper by the years of experiences we’ve shared.” He gazed down at her with all the intensity of his fierce Cossack nature. And in his eyes she saw the glow of young love, despite the crow’s-feet around his eyes and the gray in his hair and beard.
“I’m feeling a little silly myself,” she said. Silly, and lightheaded, too, she thought, rather bemused by it all. “I do love you, Misha!” It was the first time she had ever said those words to him, and she meant them in every way.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
She nodded, grinning and still light-headed. “Now what?” she breathed.
“I’m going to war myself, you know. In a few days. Yuri and I will probably travel together.”
“I feared you would be going. I do feel a bit better, knowing you will be there to look after Yuri.”
“I do, too.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes. Anna hardly noticed the beautiful plants surrounding them. She was too intensely aware of Misha’s presence. She had almost forgotten what it was like to be close to a man—a man she loved. It stirred things within her that she had thought long dead.
Misha spoke, “Anna, to be honest, it is the war that really brought me back. I couldn’t go without seeing you once more. If I die now, I can be completely content.”
“Completely, Misha?”
His lips slanted into an ironic smile. “I should have said, I thought I could be completely content. It doesn’t really work that way though. Seeing you only makes me want more. God knows, I am ready to die for my country, but I don’t want to die—not now. Still, we both know it could happen.”
“Let’s leave it at that, then.”
“Anna, I want to marry you.”
“Before you leave?” She said it with a teasing tone.
He laughed. “Why not?”
“Because I couldn’t face losing another husband.”
“I’ll have to die eventually.”
“Maybe I’ll die first.”
He touched her cheek and ran his finger along the line of her jaw. “I don’t think you will ever die, dear Anna. You are ageless, immortal.”
“My, this wedding is bringing out the romantic in you,” she said lightly.
He slipped an arm around her waist and nudged her c
lose to him. “Can you blame me? I have loved you for thirty-five years. I long ago gave up the hope of ever having you feel the same about me. So I don’t care if I do appear a love-struck fool now. To finally have you . . .” He closed his eyes, and she saw moisture seeping through the corners. “It’s more than I could have ever hoped would be possible.”
“And now I’m asking you to wait even longer,” she said. When he said nothing, she added hopefully, “But a marriage ceremony wouldn’t change the bond between us—”
“Don’t be naïve, Anna.”
He wrapped his powerful arms around her and bent down so that his face was a fraction of an inch from hers. Anna closed her eyes, and when his lips met hers, it was like the fulfillment of dreams she didn’t even know she had. She felt the passion that had simmered within him for over three decades. But that was not the most profound sensation in that explosive moment. What was truly incredible, truly miraculous, was the power of the love she felt.
“Misha . . .” Anna murmured. “There is a priest at our disposal for the rest of the evening . . .”
He threw back his head and laughed. “My! When tentative little Anna makes up her mind, she does it with a vengeance. But I can wait until tomorrow so Yuri and Katya can have their day all to themselves.”
“Dear, patient Misha!” She took his hand. “Well, let’s at least give everyone the shock of their lives and make our announcement.”
43
They weren’t the only lovers saying farewell that day at Warsaw Station. Everywhere men in uniform said their good-byes to teary-eyed women. Anna was not ashamed of her tears, not when she had to part with both her son and her new husband.
Her husband!
It was still nearly inconceivable that she and Misha should actually be married. And even more remarkable was that she had found in her lifetime two men to love her so deeply and completely. But she had a new ring on her left hand, and a glow in her heart, as incontrovertible proof. The wedding had taken place four days ago, and since Misha insisted on a honeymoon, they spent their last days together at the Astoria Hotel in downtown Petrograd adjacent to St. Isaac’s Cathedral. Anna balked at the expense, for it was the most opulent hotel in town.
“I have the money,” Misha said. “In thirty years I’ve had nothing else to do with my money but save it!”
Anna felt like a true princess. Keenly aware of the fact that it must soon end, she let herself enjoy every minute. And now it was time to part at Warsaw Station.
“Misha, we did the right thing, didn’t we—marrying suddenly like a couple of crazy kids?”
“Unlike young people, Anna, we know how fragile and fleeting life is. Our mortality clings to us like ill-fitting clothes. We part knowing full well what may lie in our future.”
“It makes it no easier.”
“I never said it would.”
“Well, you must come back to me, Misha. I didn’t marry you just for four days in a fancy hotel.”
“We will have the rest of our lives together.”
He said it with such confidence that she choked back a sob. If only she could feel the same way!
“Take heart in this, my dear wife,” he added. “When I return, I will not leave again. I plan to retire from the military. For better or worse, you will have me around every day, all day.”
“That’s why I married you.”
He bent down and kissed her. “It is real, then? We are married!”
“Until—” She paused, unable to say, until death do us part. Instead, she murmured the word she wanted to believe: “Forever!”
Yuri had hardly let go of his new wife since their wedding day, and now he held her even closer. They were an island in the midst of the busy train station, but they were not a calm island. Katya clung to him, weeping. And he felt close to tears himself. It did seem too cruel that he and Katya should finally come together only to be separated once again.
“I’ll just be in the Medical Corp,” he tried to comfort her. “I won’t be at the front lines.”
“I’ll be counting on that. Please, don’t be a hero, Yuri.”
“Me? Never! I tremble at the thought of getting too close to a bullet.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute.”
“Believe this, then, Katya—that I love you, and I will do nothing to jeopardize our future together.” He kissed her again . . . and again. It was the only way to keep their minds off their fears. “It could be worse,” he said as he glanced over to where his mother and Misha were saying their good-byes. “We could be like my poor uncle Misha who waited thirty-five years to marry the woman he loves, only to be parted from her after four days.”
“Yes . . . that is too bad.” She seemed relieved for the distraction. “What a surprise their announcement was! At least, I was surprised. I didn’t think people that old could still fall in love.”
“Just wait until we’re that old! I will fall in love with you again and again! But those of us who know Mama and Misha shouldn’t have been surprised. They have been friends forever. In fact, when Papa died I remember thinking that maybe Misha would someday take his place—not that anyone really could take Papa’s place, but you know what I mean. I thought when the period of mourning ended, he would certainly marry Mama. Instead, he left. Mama just told me that back then she wasn’t ready to remarry. Her love for Papa was too strong. When she finally was ready, Misha was already gone.”
“You didn’t get your persistence from your mama, then,” chuckled Katya.
“That is definitely from my papa.”
“But they loved each other all that time and did nothing . . . it’s hard to comprehend.”
He shrugged. “I suppose old folks are not as impetuous as the young.”
“Thank goodness for impetuosity!” For the first time that morning, she smiled.
A ripple of warmth ran through Yuri as he saw the glow in her eyes. That’s exactly how he wanted to remember her.
The train whistle shrieked loudly, and instantly their smiles vanished.
“All aboard!”
For a brief moment the entire station seemed to freeze, like a still frame of a moving picture. Not a soul in that place was immune to the fateful call.
In another moment, the celluloid started moving again, and the station erupted in a frenzy of activity.
Yuri wanted to fight it. He wanted to keep still, keep holding his wife. He did not want to be a part of the dreaded flow toward the waiting cars. But people continued to shove past them, jostling them. He lost his hold on her, and for a terrible moment they were forced apart.
“Katya!”
He pushed against the movement of the throng reaching out his hand. A soldier stumbled between them, and Yuri almost knocked the man down. Finally, his and Katya’s hands clasped, he held on as if to a life preserver. In another moment, the pressing crowd pushed them so close together their noses touched. Their panic turned to laughter at the irony. Arms around each other, they let the crowd propel them along.
But they reached the open door of the car too soon. Yuri only had a brief instant to kiss his wife before he was forced to climb the steps of the car. He twisted around trying to see over the heads of the other soldiers that pushed in after him, but the crowd had swallowed her up.
“Yuri!” came a familiar voice.
“Misha?”
“Come with me.”
With Misha’s big body, in the intimidating uniform of the Imperial Cossack Guard, shouldering a path through the packed railcar, Yuri followed silently. The passengers gave way before them, and they reached the back of the car, where they had a clear view from a window of the platform outside.
Anna and Katya were standing side by side, waving toward the car. Misha lowered the window and shouted, drawing their attention. It was such a small thing, but Yuri could not express how much it meant to have those few more moments of eye contact with his wife as the train lurched into motion.
“Thank you, Uncle Misha!”
Yuri kept his gaze fixed on the window. He didn’t want the mighty Cossack to see the tears welling up in his eyes. Then, in the reflection from the glass, he caught a glimpse of Misha’s ruddy, tear-stained cheeks.
44
The war brought separation, but it also brought a very special reunion for Anna. Her daughter, Mariana, returned to her homeland from America. When her husband, Daniel, was dispatched to the Front to cover the war for his newspaper, Mariana, to be nearer to him, traveled to Russia with her children.
Anna had not seen her grandchildren since Yuri’s graduation from medical school. The two oldest, John, now eight, and Katrina, five, were no longer toddlers. John was a studious boy whose strong resemblance to his father ended with external appearance. He was quiet and thoughtful, without that mischievous glint his father always had in his eyes. Katrina, even at five, was a tall beauty with wavy auburn hair and matching eyelashes. She was more talkative than her brother and—like her maternal grandmother and namesake, Princess Katrina—far more self-possessed. The baby, two-year-old Zenia, whom Anna had never seen, was a chubby bundle of energy with a thick mop of yellow curls and a happy-go-lucky personality.
Mariana arrived in time for Christmas, turning a holiday that otherwise would have been quite dreary into a festive time. The Holy Synod had banned the use of Christmas trees because it was a German custom, but nevertheless the four children—Mariana’s three and Katya’s little Irina—filled Anna’s flat with delight. The adults let themselves forget, for a time at least, the war that constantly hung over them. And Katya brought even more joy to the day when she announced that she was expecting Yuri’s child.
“Have you told Yuri?” asked Mariana.
“I just wrote him. He probably hasn’t gotten my letter yet.”
“How I wish I could see his face when he hears of it! Imagine, Yuri a papa!”
“I can’t wait, but August is such a long way off,” said Katya. “This stupid war had better be over in time. I want Yuri here when the baby comes.”
No one commented. But soon the women were chatting about babies and telling stories of their pregnancies. Mariana enlightened them on the different medical practices in America and the social differences in how Americans treated their children.
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