Daughters of the Resistance

by Lana Kortchik

  But every morning and sometimes in the afternoons, she would look up from the dirty plates and see Maxim. And when she would catch a glimpse of his tall silhouette across the cafeteria, her heart would skip with joy and she would forget about everything. She would forget about her fears and her hunger, about the dwindling provisions and her aching back. In the evening, after the work was done, she would lie on her back with her legs dangling off her little bed and think of him and everything he had ever said to her. She would think of the difference between the Soviet and the Japanese rifles, of how to make every shot count and how to hide your tracks in the woods, of the Red Army’s position and what a great support the partisans were to them. She would feel proud of herself for being here, for doing her bit because he had once told her he was proud of her. She would think of the way his forehead creased in concentration as he watched her take aim all those months ago when he was teaching her how to shoot, of the way his lips curled upwards when he smiled.

  Lisa wanted to tell everyone about her feelings for him because if she didn’t share it with another human being soon, she might suffocate. She longed to tell her sister, remembered they were no longer speaking and felt sad. She longed to tell Masha but something stopped her. What if she confided in her friend and Maxim rejected her? Though it seemed impossible to Lisa, for how could he not want to be with her, when she felt this for him?

  But one evening, Masha came to the dugout late at night, perched on Lisa’s bed, where she was busy thinking of Maxim with her hand pressed to her heart, and said, ‘I saw the two of you together.’

  Lisa sat up in bed and looked around. She hoped Anna wouldn’t walk in and hear this conversation because she had a big mouth and loved to gossip. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You and Maxim. You were in the cafeteria, sitting close together. You were so absorbed in him, you didn’t even see me.’

  ‘We were just talking. He was telling me about yesterday’s ambuscade. They liberated three more villages this week.’

  ‘When were you going to tell me?’

  ‘Tell you what? There’s nothing to tell.’ Lisa, who wished with all her heart there was something to tell, looked Masha in the eye and smiled.

  ‘It’s the expression on your face when you are with him. You look so happy.’

  ‘There’s nothing going on between us.’ Yet, she wanted to add but didn’t.

  ‘But you wish there was, don’t you?’

  ‘Why are you saying it like it’s a bad thing? Like I’m doing something wrong? We are both free and can do as we please.’

  ‘You might be free, Lisa. But Maxim isn’t. He’s married. He has a wife and a daughter in Kiev – or didn’t you know?’

  While Masha spoke, Lisa was thinking of walking through the woods with Maxim. She was remembering what it felt like when his hand brushed hers accidentally just before they said goodbye the day before. Then Masha’s words cut through her reverie, dragging her back to reality. One moment, she was planning her future with Maxim. The next, she was hearing words like married and wife, random words that couldn’t possibly have anything to do with him. She was grateful for the darkness inside the dugout. She didn’t want Masha to see her face. All she managed in reply was a hoarse and disbelieving, ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Anna told me.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s true. Anna is a terrible gossip. When she has nothing to say, she makes things up.’ Lisa clasped her fists and shook her head. Her vision became blurry.

  ‘I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but it’s better if you know sooner rather than later. Before you get in too deep.’

  Lisa didn’t want to admit to Masha that she was already in too deep. She was in big trouble because she couldn’t take a breath without him in her thoughts. That night, as she lay flat on her stomach and stared into space, she felt angry and betrayed, as if he had cheated her or lied to her, as if the mere fact that she had feelings for him meant he owed her something. Because she could never hate him, she hated his wife, the faceless woman who only a few hours ago she didn’t even know existed.

  Everything she had ever read told her this wasn’t going to end well. Anna Karenina fell in love with a man who was not her husband and threw herself in front of a moving train, begging God to forgive her. La Mole fell in love with the beautiful Queen Margot, married to the Protestant prince, and was tortured to death in a dark dungeon. Scarlett O’Hara fell in love with someone else’s husband and lost everything. But Lisa wasn’t Scarlett and Maxim wasn’t Ashley. She knew he had feelings for her too. A girl could always tell. If he still cared about his wife, he wouldn’t smile at Lisa with that expression on his face. Maybe in fiction married lovers were doomed forever. But real life wasn’t fiction. Lisa and Maxim were going to write their own story.

  Lisa wished she could speak to Maxim openly and ask him … Ask him what? How dare he fall in love with someone else all those years ago? Didn’t he know Lisa was about to come into his life? How dare he promise himself to someone else when she couldn’t see herself without him?

  ‘I’m sure their relationship is practically over,’ she said to Masha the next morning as the girls were getting ready for work. Lisa’s head felt heavy after a sleepless night. She brushed her teeth listlessly, not looking at her friend. ‘He never talks about her. Not once has he mentioned her to me. If he loved her, he would have said something. When we love somebody, we think about them all the time.’

  ‘Just because he didn’t say anything, doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about her. He doesn’t share his every thought with you, does he? Remember what Anna told us? He’s a very private person. Never talks about his personal business.’

  ‘We spoke about our families and he didn’t say a word. They’ve probably been married for a while now and he’s tired of her.’

  ‘That’s just wishful thinking on your part. You know nothing about them. But what you do know is that he’s married. It’s a fact and you can’t change it, no matter how much you might want to.’

  ‘Maybe he doesn’t want to be married anymore.’

  ‘They have a child together. If you try to come between them, you’ll be breaking up a family. That’s selfish, Lisa.’

  ‘Everyone is selfish. When it comes to love, everyone is out for themselves. And just because he’s married, doesn’t mean he’s happy. How many happily married people do you know?’

  ‘My husband and I.’

  ‘That’s because you are newlyweds.’

  ‘I’m not trying to upset you. I just don’t want you to get hurt. Even if you manage to attract him, you’ll never keep him. Married men don’t leave their wives.’

  ‘We’ll see about that.’

  Wide-eyed, Masha watched Lisa as if she had never seen her before. ‘Even if he does leave her for you, why would you want a man who can get tired of someone after a few years? How could you ever trust him?’

  ‘I’m not just someone. Why would I feel this way about him if it wasn’t meant to be?’

  ‘People often fall for someone they are not meant to be with. Otherwise there wouldn’t be so many songs and books about unrequited love. You can’t build your happiness on someone else’s heartbreak.’

  ‘Don’t you understand? If I don’t do anything, it will be my heart that’s broken.’

  Masha put her jacket on and turned towards the exit. Not looking at Lisa, she said, ‘You are my friend, but I can’t support you in this. It’s a sin. What if someone did this to me? If my husband left me for someone else, I don’t know what I’d do. It breaks my heart to know you would do this to another woman over a silly crush.’

  ‘It’s not a crush. It’s once in a lifetime. I can think of nothing else, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. I feel like I’m burning inside. If only you knew what I feel. And I am going to fight for him, Masha, I swear.’ But her friend could no longer hear her. She had stormed out of the dugout without a backwards glance.

  Chapter 16

  Two days
after Zina and Kirill had disappeared, Irina was playing with her daughter in the garden behind Tamara’s house, a tiny square of paved land where nothing grew but tufts of grass peeking between the concrete slabs. Undeterred by the unforgiving terrain and determined to have something green to look at, Tamara had filled the space with potted plants, arranging them in a straight line like soldiers on parade. But like most of Tamara’s passions, this one was short-lived, and the tulips and geraniums had quickly been forgotten. All that was left of them were some dry twigs desperately begging for water.

  Sonya was jumping up and down and trying to push the pots to the ground. Irina was glad Tamara was out looking for food and couldn’t see it. She would have been horrified at such treatment of her once precious possessions.

  ‘Grandpa! Want Grandpa! Horsey!’ cried Sonya.

  Irina’s breath caught. Her little girl was missing her grandparents. She didn’t understand why they were gone, and neither did Irina. They had done nothing wrong. Their only crime was having a son who hadn’t given up. And why should he? The Nazis had marched into Kiev, razing the city to the ground, enslaving, murdering and starving its people. Who could blame Maxim for standing up for what he believed in? Who could blame his parents for bringing up their son to be a man they could be proud of?

  She wondered where her husband was. Despite Dmitry’s best efforts, they hadn’t been able to get in touch with him. He still didn’t know his beloved parents were gone. The thought of having to tell him filled Irina with trepidation. Would he blame himself? Would he feel responsible for what had happened?

  ‘Horsey, horsey,’ repeated Sonya, pulling her mother by the sleeve. The little girl’s dark hair was longer than it had ever been. Her dark eyes twinkled at Irina with mischief.

  Irina shuddered as if woken from a bad dream. Crouching next to Sonya, she put her arms around her and said, ‘Would you like Mama to be horsey today?’

  ‘No, no, Grandpa!’

  ‘Grandpa went away for a little while. He’ll be back soon.’ Tears in her eyes, Irina forced her face into a happy smile for her daughter’s sake. ‘And while we wait for him, Mama will be horsey.’

  ‘Mama horsey, Mama horsey.’ The girl continued to jump, her excitement unabated.

  Irina lifted her daughter gently and placed her on her shoulders, with both her chubby legs dangling, the way Kirill would do, then she started prancing around the garden, doing her best to imitate a horse. After five minutes of this, she was out of breath and exhausted. Her back was killing her. No wonder Kirill looked like he was about to fall down every time she saw him.

  Up and down they bounced, Sonya squealing in excitement, when one of Tamara’s potted plants tripped Irina up, and the two of them went crashing to the ground. Irina groaned out loud from a sharp pain in her foot but soon forgot all about it because her daughter was crying. Ignoring her throbbing ankle, she lunged for Sonya and picked her up. The little girl continued to cry, her face scrunched up like a prune. Her arm was bleeding where a broken flowerpot had cut her, and her left knee was grazed.

  As fast as she could, Irina carried the distraught child inside the house, placing her squirming, kicking body on the couch and examining her. Then she rushed to the kitchen, where she fetched some water and a cloth. What she needed was some iodine and a bandage. She remembered seeing a medical kit in Tamara’s bedroom one day when her friend had cut her finger while peeling potatoes for dinner. Irina lifted Sonya in her arms, not wanting to leave the crying girl alone while she was searching for bandages, and ran across the hall to the bedroom, where she placed her daughter on the bed and rummaged through the drawers of her friend’s wardrobe.

  She spotted the familiar medical kit under a messy pile of clothes. When she picked it up, she noticed a thick stack of money underneath. She was in such a rush to help Sonya, her brain didn’t register what it was she was seeing, only that it looked out of place, like it didn’t belong in the drawer, didn’t belong in the house at all. She put it to the back of her mind and rushed to Sonya.

  The little girl was screaming hysterically, her legs and arms flailing. Irina quickly dabbed some iodine on the cut, provoking a new outburst of inconsolable crying from Sonya and making Irina feel terrible for inflicting more pain on her daughter. Then she applied a bandage and picked the girl up carefully, rocking her like a newborn baby, kissing her wet face, singing a soothing rhyme, while her own tears rolled down her cheeks into Sonya’s hair. She felt like the worst mother in the world. How could she have been so careless? Because of her, her little girl was hurt.

  At first Sonya was whimpering like a frightened puppy. Then her breathing slowed down and she fell asleep. Irina stayed with her for a little while, whispering over and over how much she loved her. ‘Everything will be all right,’ she repeated. ‘You and I are going to be just fine. Everything will be all right.’ Who was she trying to convince, herself or her daughter?

  After half an hour of rocking and singing, she placed the sleeping girl on the bed. Gathering the bandages, she shoved them back into the medical kit and carried it to the wardrobe, remembering the sense of unease she had experienced when she was going through her friend’s drawer. Holding her breath as if afraid of what she was about to find, she moved Tamara’s clothes to one side.

  Under the clothes were Nazi Reichsmarks.

  Stunned, hardly believing her eyes, Irina reached for the rolls of notes. She had never seen so much money in one place in her life. Her heart plummeted in a sudden premonition. Why would Tamara keep German money hidden in her apartment? She was about to count the money when she heard the key turning in the front door. Placing the Reichsmarks in her pocket, she walked out of the room to meet Tamara.

  Her friend breathed in with a smile on her face. ‘Wait till you see what I’ve found for dinner.’ She lifted her string bag and Irina saw half a dozen eggs and some carrots. She wondered if Tamara had paid for them using money from her drawer. Involuntarily she took a step back. Tamara didn’t seem to notice. ‘It’s warm like summer outside. I hope it’s still nice next week.’ She paused, as if waiting for Irina to ask what was so special about next week. When Irina didn’t say anything, she continued, ‘Dmitry wants to go to the registry office next Tuesday. Finally, we are doing it. I’m going to be a married woman. Can you believe it?’

  ‘I can believe it,’ said Irina, her hand on the money in her pocket.

  ‘You are so pale, like you’ve seen a ghost. Is everything all right?’ Tamara came close to Irina and drew her into a hug. It took all of Irina’s willpower not to pull away.

  ‘Sonya had a bad fall in the garden.’

  ‘Oh no! The poor little mite, how is she?’

  ‘Better now. I just got her to sleep.’

  ‘Sleep is the best medicine.’ Tamara paused, watching Irina. ‘We need some tea. Everything is better after a cup of tea. Can I make you some?’ Irina shook her head but Tamara pulled out two cups anyway and filled the kettle. ‘I can’t wait to marry Dmitry. If only I had something nice to wear. I can’t possibly marry him in the same old dress I’ve been wearing everywhere. But I don’t have the money to buy anything else. And even if I did, no one sells or makes anything anymore.’

  ‘Money? What about this?’ Irina took the banknotes from her pocket and threw them on the table. She didn’t say anything but watched her friend’s face carefully, for clues, for an explanation.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ exclaimed Tamara. Her smile vanished.

  ‘I was going to ask you the same question.’

  ‘What are you doing, going through my things?’

  Suddenly, Irina knew. It wasn’t finding the money that had alerted her that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t even the improbability of Reichsmarks appearing in her friend’s drawer as if out of nowhere, the Reichsmarks that were clearly a payment for something she had done, something that benefited the Germans and therefore could only be a betrayal of her own people. No, it was the expression of guilt on Tamara’s fac
e. ‘It wasn’t Katerina, was it? It was you,’ Irina said quietly, hardly believing herself and yet realising it was the only plausible explanation. Her insides froze in horror. How could this be?

  ‘What are you talking about? Who is Katerina?’

  ‘You were the one who betrayed us to the Gestapo.’

  Irina was hoping Tamara would deny it. Then she could believe her, apologise for doubting her and explain it away by the stress she’d been under lately. They could laugh about the misunderstanding and go on as before. But Tamara didn’t deny it. She lowered her head as if in shame and looked away. Her voice didn’t waver when she said, ‘I didn’t betray you. I betrayed Maxim’s parents.’

  ‘They are my family. How could you, Tamara? We’ve been friends since kindergarten. You are like a sister to me.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to do it. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do it!’ Tamara slid into a chair and placed her elbows on the table, wringing her hands. All the while, she repeated the words like a prayer. I didn’t mean to do it.

  Irina put her hands over her ears as if to shield herself from her friend’s excuses. ‘You betrayed them for a handful of Reichsmarks.’

  ‘It’s not about the money. I wasn’t even going to keep it.’