Daughters of the Resistance

by Lana Kortchik

  ‘But the Nazis are furious,’ said Zina with a frown and a roll of her eyes. ‘They are threatening hell to everyone responsible. There are notices about it all over Kiev. Promise you’ll be careful.’

  ‘I promise,’ said Maxim, his gaze not on his mother but on Irina, whose insides were numb with fear. ‘Don’t worry. They’d have to find us first.’

  She looked into his breath-taking face, longing to touch him. Yet, on his left was his mother, her hand on his arm, her eyes red from tears. And on his right was his father, watching him with a proud smile. ‘But you are not always hidden. Sometimes you come out. To attack trains, for instance.’

  ‘We attack when they least expect it. By the time they realise what’s happening, we are long gone.’

  ‘That’s right. It’s the Nazis who should be afraid,’ said Kirill, nodding his approval.

  The Nazis were afraid, thought Irina. And that was the problem. She never read the articles in the Ukrainian Word describing the horrors inflicted on the partisans caught by the Germans. She couldn’t bear it. But there was no escaping the gossip at work and in the village as she bartered her valuables for food. Sometimes she wished she was blind and deaf, so she couldn’t see or hear what Hitler’s hordes were doing to her country.

  Zina said, ‘I don’t think you should stay with the partisans anymore. It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘There’s a war on, Mama. No matter what you do, it’s dangerous. And I want to make a difference.’

  ‘One man can’t make a difference.’

  ‘If everyone thought like you, we would have lost this war a long time ago,’ said Kirill.

  ‘Don’t tell me how to think.’ Zina glared at her husband. ‘I just want my son back. I didn’t stay up nights with him when he was little and hold him in my arms when he was sick only to lose him in this war.’

  ‘You didn’t bring me up to sit back and do nothing,’ Maxim said quietly but firmly. This wasn’t the first time they were having this conversation. And it wouldn’t be the last.

  So many emotions passed over Zina’s face – the debilitating fear for her son’s life, the mind-numbing loneliness of long days without him and the desperate desire to save her child the only way she knew how, by keeping him close. As a mother and a wife, Irina understood perfectly. She couldn’t believe it, but she felt sorry for her mother-in-law. Her heart was breaking for her. For all of them.

  Zina pulled on Irina’s sleeve. ‘Can I have another cup of tea? And can you bring my glasses from the bedroom, please? I need to tie them around my neck because I keep losing them.’

  Irina was about to get up when Maxim said, ‘I’ll get your glasses, Mama. Let Ira relax. In her condition, she needs rest.’

  ‘In her condition?’ Zina’s face darkened but she quickly recovered and smiled at Maxim. She wore her smile like a mask over her face, while her eyes darted from her son to her daughter-in-law.

  ‘Yes, we are having another baby. And I want you to look after Ira for me.’

  ‘I’m so happy for you both.’ Kirill jumped to his feet and hugged Maxim and Irina.

  After breakfast, Irina watched with her heart in her throat as Maxim gathered his belongings, getting ready to leave. It seemed like he had just walked through the door five minutes ago. And now he was going. And she was staying here, alone with Zina and the terror on the streets and inside her head. ‘We shouldn’t have told them yet. In case something goes wrong,’ she said quietly, uncertainly.

  ‘Nothing will go wrong. Can’t you see? After everything we’ve been through, this baby is going to bring us luck.’

  ‘Still, we should have waited.’ She didn’t want to share their secret with Zina. She wanted to keep it to herself, if only for a few more weeks.

  ‘Didn’t you see how happy they were?’

  The four of them crowded into the narrow corridor to watch Maxim put on his coat and boots and walk away from them. Sonya was crying, as if she could sense something sad was happening. Zina’s lips trembled. Kirill was grim and mute. And Irina could barely hold herself up, leaning on the wall with her hands to her chest.

  ‘Can’t you stay a little bit longer? Just another hour,’ she pleaded.

  She wanted to say how much one hour with him would mean to her but didn’t get a chance. Zina hugged Maxim and wailed, ‘Yes, stay. And not for an hour but for good.’

  ‘Mama, we talked about this.’ He turned to Irina. ‘I wish I could stay but it will be just as difficult in an hour.’

  ‘Please, be careful. Keep yourself safe,’ said Kirill.

  After what seemed like a thousand kisses and a river of tears from his mother, Maxim was finally leaving. ‘I will walk you out,’ said Irina. ‘Kirill, would you mind looking after Sonya for me, please?’ She desperately needed a minute alone with her husband, away from prying eyes, so she could tell him that he was her whole world, so she could hear him say it back to her. She needed those words to pull her through the next few weeks without him.

  ‘What a great idea! I’ll come too,’ said Zina.

  ‘I need your help with the candlesticks, woman,’ said Kirill, coming to Irina’s rescue as she stood with her boots in her hands, unable to speak.

  ‘What candlesticks?’

  ‘The candlesticks I’m taking to the village to exchange for food. You said I could take some of your jewellery too. You need to show me what to take. I don’t want to hear your crying later if I give away the wrong thing.’ Kirill winked at Irina.

  ‘Can’t it wait?’

  ‘If you want me to get back before curfew, we need to do it now.’

  Zina complained loudly but stayed home. Before she changed her mind, Irina dashed through the door after Maxim. She couldn’t wait to feel his arms around her. She didn’t have to wait long. The minute they were alone together, he drew her to him. German shouts filled the air. Somewhere, a car honked. Nazi planes were buzzing overhead like a hive of angry bees, the indifferent observers to the misery of Kiev. Irina barely noticed. All she could see was Maxim.

  He kissed her face, her eyes, the tip of her nose, ran his hands through her hair. ‘Where is your hat?’ he whispered, his voice hoarse. Irina shrugged. She was in such a rush, she completely forgot. Her ears felt numb from the wind and her hair was wet with snow. ‘Here, wrap my scarf around your head. You need to start taking better care of yourself. You have our baby to think about.’ He enveloped her in his scarf and lifted her collar to protect her neck from the cold. Instantly she felt warmer, and not just because of the scarf.

  ‘I’ll look after myself, and you need to promise to be careful. Our baby needs its father. So does Sonya.’

  ‘I promise I won’t do anything reckless.’

  Their arms around each other, they meandered through the back streets to avoid the Nazi patrol and stopped at the corner of Rezervnaya and Avtozavodskaya Streets, where the truck would pick him up. To delay the inevitable goodbye, she walked as slowly as she could. ‘What do you have planned this week? Wait, don’t tell me or I’ll worry. I just want you to know that I think about you all the time.’

  ‘I know. And it means so much. Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me through the day. When things get rough, I close my eyes and think of you and Sonya. I tell myself I’m doing it for you and it makes me feel better.’

  ‘You are our hero. I want everyone to know how proud I am of you.’

  ‘If you want to live, if you want my parents to live, don’t tell a living soul.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Irina shivered, thinking of Katerina and her insinuating whisper. She pulled her scarf tighter around herself, trying to get warm. But it was impossible. Where was the mild Ukrainian winter? In January 1943, the wind was unprecedentedly harsh and the temperatures plummeted to minus twenty. The only warmth was coming from his hand in hers and his loving gaze.

  ‘What are we going to call our new baby?’ He pressed her to himself and hid his face in the scarf covering her hair. ‘How about Alexander? Don’t you think
it’s a fitting name for a warrior? Like Alexander the Great.’

  Looking up into his face, her heart breaking with love, she replied, ‘I was thinking, Tanya.’

  ‘Tanya?’ He laughed as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘What a strange name for a boy.’

  ‘What makes you think we are having a boy?’

  ‘We already have a beautiful baby girl. This time I know it will be a boy. Our son. But I don’t really mind. I’ll be happy with either.’ Ignoring the passers-by, he kneeled in front of her, opened her coat and kissed her stomach through three layers of clothing. ‘You are amazing, you know that? You think you are proud of me? You have no idea how I feel about you! Building life inside you, carrying our baby, protecting him from the world. I’ve only been this happy once before, when we found out you were pregnant with Sonya.’

  ‘It wasn’t war then. Everything was different.’

  ‘Yes, it was. But the war is not forever. It will be over soon—’

  ‘Will it? It feels like it will never be over. I suppose I’m lucky. Other women have husbands at the front. They haven’t seen or heard from them in over a year. They don’t know if they are dead or alive.’ Irina saw them at work every day. Lonely women with no means to support themselves, persecuted by the Nazis for having a husband fighting on the Eastern Front.

  ‘Mark my words, Kiev will be free before the end of the year. The Red Army is advancing. Once the Nazis are out, these women’s husbands will come back.’

  ‘Not all of them will come back,’ whispered Irina.

  ‘No. But I will come back to you. We’ll be happy, we’ll finally be able to live our life, together.’

  Occasionally he glanced at the road that remained empty – thank God. Silently Irina prayed the truck would be delayed, so she would have another minute with him, and another. Maybe it wouldn’t show up at all and her husband would stay home with her. She couldn’t bear to say goodbye and watch him walk away from her again. Every time he left, she wondered if it was going to be the last time she saw him. What if this was all they had? What if he stepped on that truck and never came back, like so many other men across the Soviet Union?

  She blinked rapidly, chasing her tears away. I’m not going to cry over him as if he’s already gone, she thought.

  But when she saw the truck turning the corner and making its way towards them, she could no longer help it. The tears ran down her face, even though her skin was raw from the wind, even though he was squeezing her tight and telling her he would see her soon. ‘Not soon enough,’ she kept repeating, her voice barely a whisper. ‘Not soon enough.’ He kissed her one more time, a lingering kiss of longing and regret, and before she knew it, before she could ask him not to go, he was in the passenger seat, waving goodbye. She watched silently as the truck carried her husband to war, towards bullets and explosions and death, while she remained in the middle of the street, helpless and alone.

  Irina stood under a streetlight for a few moments, pulling his scarf tight over her head and kissing the material that had touched his neck, then turned around and walked slowly back. She didn’t want to go home. What she wanted more than anything was to take Sonya and jump on that truck with Maxim, come what may. She was ready to follow him to hell and back if it meant they could be together.

  When she returned, Kirill and Zina were arguing over a golden necklace, while Sonya was crawling in circles on the carpet, pulling books off the shelves. ‘You gave me this necklace on the day Maxim was born. The only way you are taking it away from me is if I’m dead,’ grumbled Zina.

  ‘We need to eat, woman. Be reasonable. We can’t eat a necklace.’

  ‘Just listen to yourself. You’d sell your soul for a piece of bread. And your family too. Where is my wedding ring? I took it off because it was too small. Now it’s gone. Please don’t tell me you gave that away too. Is nothing in this house sacred anymore?’

  Irina picked up her little girl and sat in a chair, hugging her close, searching for comfort in her warmth. She felt so empty inside, so sad and lonely, even though she was surrounded by people. She wished her mother was alive. Everything would have been different if only her mother was alive. Missing her mother was like a dull ache inside her chest that never went away. Mama could always tell when Irina was upset or worried or frightened. She had a sense for such things and knew just the right thing to say to make her feel better. What would Mama say if she could see her now? Irina closed her eyes and felt for her mother’s soul out there, trying to imagine her beloved face. Grit your teeth and wait, she would say. Better times will come, if only you wait long enough. Every cloud hides sunshine behind it.

  But Irina’s only sunshine had left in a military truck and all she could do was wait and pray that one day he would come back to her.

  ‘You should have been more careful,’ she heard. It took her a few moments to realise Zina was talking to her.

  ‘Careful?’

  ‘It’s a bad time to have a child. We barely have food for one. I think you should get rid of it.’

  Horrified, Irina said nothing.

  ‘Zina!’ exclaimed Kirill. ‘What are you saying?’ It was the first time Irina heard her kind and gentle father-in-law raise his voice to his wife.

  ‘I’m only thinking of her. Trying to spare her the heartbreak. You know what happened to a friend of mine? Her daughter had a baby a few weeks ago. Then the Nazis marched in and dragged her away, put her on the train to Germany. Without her mother’s milk the little girl died. There was nothing they could do. They tried to give her cow’s milk but it made her vomit.’

  Irina put her hands over her ears, not wanting to hear Zina’s cruel words. She wanted to scream.

  ‘This is not the time to have another baby,’ concluded Zina. ‘When the war is over, by all means, have as many as you want. But not now.’

  Irina stood up with her daughter in her arms. ‘I don’t think it’s up to you,’ she said as calmly as she could. Then she walked out, her head held high.

  In the kitchen, she placed Sonya in her highchair, giving her a piece of roasted beetroot to chew on and her favourite doll to play with. When the girl was happily mumbling to herself, Irina put her head in her hands and cried. This baby was supposed to be a secret for her and Maxim to share, one beacon of light in the darkness of war. Her pregnancy was the hope she desperately needed to survive. It was God’s way of telling her that life went on, despite everything. She tried to imagine Maxim’s face as he held her in his arms and told her how happy he was. That nothing bad could happen to them now. But all she could hear was Zina’s heartbreaking words.

  Irina didn’t want to admit it to herself, but Zina’s voice sounded just like the one inside her head. At work she heard hundreds of terrifying stories. She saw women driven to despair by their impossible choices. More than anyone she knew the risks. By speaking of her fears out loud, by giving them a voice of their own, Zina had made them real, and suddenly the hope and the joy were gone and only the dread remained. That was what Irina was crying about at the kitchen table, surrounded by dirty dishes, while her daughter was giggling in her highchair. Not Zina’s hurtful words but her hope melting away.

  What was she thinking, having a wartime baby? Zina was right. She of all people should have known better. While their country was torn apart by Hitler, there was no chance of a normal life for her and Maxim, no matter how much they lied to themselves and pretended otherwise.

  She put her arms around her stomach and whispered words of love to her unborn baby. Maxim’s unborn baby. What Zina suggested was unthinkable. How could she look Irina in the eye and say such heartless words? How could she think such heartless words and not be ashamed?

  The door opened and Irina saw Kirill. Self-consciously she wiped her tears away but it was no use. After crying for so long, she knew her face was as red as the beetroot Sonya was chewing on. Kirill closed the door and sat next to her, taking her hand in his and squeezing it with affection. ‘That was a terr
ible thing for Zina to say. I’m sorry you had to hear that.’

  Irina sniffled and nodded. She couldn’t speak. Instead of calming her, his kindness made her cry harder.

  ‘Forgive her. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.’

  ‘How can she be so cruel?’

  ‘I’m not trying to make excuses for her, but she’s just worried about everyone. She loves everyone so much.’

  ‘Not me.’

  ‘Yes, you. Of course, you.’

  ‘She never accepted me. Never thought I was good enough, as a wife to her son, as a mother to her granddaughter. All I ever get is criticism.’

  ‘She just wants everything to be perfect. In her heart, she loves you. And that’s what matters.’

  ‘I don’t believe that.’

  ‘You know I’ve been with Zina since we were at school. Childhood sweethearts, we were. We met what feels like a hundred years ago at a school dance. When I first saw her, she was screaming at the top of her voice at two teenage boys. I can still see her face, twisted and red from anger. They were bullying her next-door neighbour, a tiny boy with glasses. She said if she ever saw them near him again, she would pull their legs off one by one and feed them to them for breakfast. Those were her exact words.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Through her tears Irina smiled.

  ‘The boys were bigger than her, but I’ve never seen anyone run so fast. I think that was the moment I fell in love with her. She was fearless, standing up for what she believed in, protecting someone close to her, even though she was outnumbered and weak. Believe it when I say this, Zina has a loving heart. Unfortunately, it comes with a sharp tongue. She truly cares about you and Sonya. And she would do anything for you. How many people can you say that about these days?’

  Irina shrugged. Hardly any, she thought to herself. ‘Then why does she say such hurtful things?’

  ‘We always hurt the ones we love the most. She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. She sees doom and gloom everywhere. Don’t listen to her. God will protect you and the baby. Everything will be all right. You’ll see.’