Gone by Nightfall

by Dee Garretson

  Osip shook his head. “I suppose because I made myself noticeable when I laughed at Miles. Servants aren’t supposed to do anything that draws attention to them. At least that’s what Archer tells me all the time. That won’t be true much longer.”

  “Watch your words.” Archer’s voice rang through the hall. I hadn’t heard him come in. He was wearing a coat and a hat, which struck me as odd. I rarely saw Archer leave the house. “I have never seen the Cherkassky name so disgraced,” Archer said. “I will speak to you later. I will be out for about an hour. See to your duties.” He walked out the door, not acknowledging my presence.

  Osip made the same rude gesture at the door he’d made earlier. “When revolution comes, he will regret all he’s said to me.”

  “Do you really think there will be a revolution?” I asked. I didn’t know why I was asking Osip. He wouldn’t have a better idea of the situation than anyone else, but I wanted to hear something that would convince me we weren’t always going to be stuck waiting and wondering.

  “How could there not be? The people are done with being crushed under the czar’s rule. Everyone talks of nothing else.”

  I decided I could trust Osip. I told him about the man watching the house. “Would you let me know if anyone approaches you asking questions about us? The baron has this bizarre idea that I’m one of the dissidents working for revolution.”

  Osip laughed. “You! Doesn’t he know you spend all your time at the hospital?”

  “You’d think he could find that out. If he comes back, you should be careful too. I’m afraid he’s working with the Okhrana. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.”

  “I’m not afraid of him!”

  “I know, but that may not matter.” I had a question that needed to be asked no matter how odd Osip thought it sounded. “What time did the tutor return last night?” Someone at the Tamms’ had to have reported the playwright almost right after he’d spoken those words. It sounded as if he was arrested right after the party and interrogated so quickly. I really didn’t want Dmitri to have been that someone.

  Osip didn’t act like he thought the question unusual. “He came in around four o’clock and then was back out early this morning. From the pain on his face when he walks, he should stay in one place more.”

  I thought so too, but I couldn’t exactly demand he not go out. Even though Dmitri didn’t seem to be friends with the baron, that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t both working for the secret police. It was a giant organization, and I’d heard they purposely kept the knowledge of who was working for them secret, even from their own members.

  Was Dmitri that good an actor that he would come into our home and pretend to want to tutor my brothers as a means to spy on us? I didn’t think he was, but I wished I could be sure. If I was wrong, it could be disastrous for all of us.

  Chapter Nine

  I FILLED ANOTHER basket with food to take to the hospital and went out. I assumed I could take a tram partway, but none of them were running, and there were no droshkies on the streets. There should have been droshkies everywhere. I stopped a woman passing by a tram stop and asked her if she knew what was happening.

  “The drivers for hire are afraid to come out on the streets. They’re afraid something is going to happen. And the trams have stopped because they aren’t getting paid enough.” She noticed my nurse’s veil under my hat. “Do you have any news about the war? Do the soldiers tell you how it’s going? I haven’t heard from my son in months.” Her voice broke and she covered her mouth with her hand.

  “No, I’m sorry. Our hospital only treats women.”

  Her shoulders sagged, and she shuffled away from me without another word.

  There were so many soldiers around, the city was almost like an army base. One of the squares had been turned into a drilling ground for new recruits. As I walked, I watched them take turns racing at a bizarre stuffed figure that had wooden poles sticking out all over it. Each time a recruit reached it, he would try to stick it with his bayonet without barreling into one of the poles.

  I couldn’t watch. I knew what damage a bayonet could do to an actual human being. The squares should have been full of vendors out with little carts selling fruit from the south and handmade toys and baskets, and people laughing and talking with their friends. There was no more of that, and the only sounds were the shouting of the officers. Our city had been turned into something so ugly I barely recognized it. I was beginning to fear that Papa was wrong about everything returning to normal soon.

  When I got to the hospital, Galina came to find me as I was putting the food away in the pantry. “Charlotte, Irina Igorneeva’s husband is here. He’s demanding his wife come home. She’s crying.”

  I tried to contain a sigh. We’d had this same sort of situation too many times before, even the very first day the hospital opened. I remembered my mother getting angry at a man for ruining the little celebration we’d had.

  As I followed Galina into the ward, I heard the man before I saw him. He was shouting, of course. They always shouted. The other patients were trying not to notice the scene playing out at Irina Igorneeva’s bed. Her husband was not a big man, but I stopped when I saw his black uniform. He was a policeman. We’d never had to deal with a policeman husband.

  I didn’t want to approach him, but I knew the others would be waiting for me to do something. It had always been my mother’s job, and they had just expected it to become mine. Because my mother and I were foreigners and patrons of the hospital, the husbands were less likely to try to bully us.

  The man turned on me when Galina explained who I was. “She needs to come home now!” he said. “Other women have babies and get right back to work.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to sound stern. “Not all women can get out of bed right away. It will just be a few more days before she’s home.”

  He made a sound almost like a snarl and motioned to his wife’s breakfast tray. “It’s her job to stand in line for food and get something on the table for me. She’s just lying here being treated to all this food while working men don’t have enough.” He grabbed a hunk of bread off the tray and stuffed it in his pocket.

  I’d learned from watching my mother that harsh words were the best way to stand up to these sorts of men. “If she leaves now, she’s likely to collapse at home,” I said. “Then what will you do? Now I want you to leave. We have work to do and your wife needs to rest.” I moved so that I stood directly between him and the bed and crossed my arms over my chest. I was too close to him, and I could feel sweat forming on my back.

  He glared at me, and I forced myself not to shift my eyes away from him. After what seemed a long time, he gave a snort, then mumbled a few derogatory words about women as he spun around and marched out of the room. I waited until I heard the sound of the main door closing to find the nearest chair so I could sit down.

  “Now, don’t cry,” Galina said to Irina Igorneeva as she adjusted the woman’s blanket. “I’ll bring the baby to you. You don’t want to upset the child.”

  The woman gave a weak smile and wiped her tears. I got back up and hurried out of the ward, wanting to go hide in the office, not trusting my voice to speak to anyone. I could manage to stand up to those men, but once they were gone, I always felt sick to my stomach, the sort of sick I got that threatened a major headache. I didn’t want any of the other nurses to know. They expected me to be just like my mother, but I was not nearly as strong as she had been.

  I had only been in the office a few minutes when Galina came back. “There’s someone to see you.” She was smiling. She wouldn’t be smiling if it were another problem person.

  I had to make sure. I didn’t think I could face one more. “Not another husband, I hope.”

  “No, a young American. I think he said he met you at a party last night but his French is very bad. He’s, um, quite an energetic young man. He shook my hand so hard I thought my teeth would come loose.”

  A y
oung American. The journalist. How had he found me? And why?

  “I’ll go talk to him,” I said as I got up. “Thank you.”

  When I reached the main hall, the man saw me and broke into a grin. “Hello, Miss Mason! Carter Jenkins. From the Tamms’ party?”

  “Yes, hello, Mr. Jenkins. I’m … I’m surprised to see you here.”

  His grin grew bigger and he did a little motion with his feet like he was dancing a few steps of a jig. It was a strange action, but he acted like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “I did some investigating,” he said. “That’s what I do, you know, and I heard all about this little hospital. I thought it would make quite a story for the folks back home, about your mother starting it and all. Since she was an American and here you are an American too, still running it and just a girl. That’s sure something!”

  The man radiated so much energy it was a bit overwhelming. “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think it’s all that interesting.” I’d have thought he would want to be covering political news.

  “Oh, it is interesting. Most Americans have no idea how many of their compatriots are even living here. And with revolution about to break out any day, you just carry on. I like to do special-interest features. My father—he’s the editor—says I have a real knack for them. I wouldn’t bother any of the patients. When you have time, I could ask you a few questions and maybe look around a little to be able to describe the place?”

  “There’s not much to see. It’s a very small hospital with room for sixteen patients and their babies, and right now we only have a few patients.”

  “That’s still something! And having a hospital in a mansion is something too.” He pointed up at the intricately decorated ceiling. “This doesn’t look like any hospital I’ve ever seen!” One of the nurses walked by, and Carter stuck out his hand. “Hi there. I’m Carter Jenkins. Nice to meet you!”

  The poor woman gave a start. Americans were so much more effusive than Russians, and I didn’t know how many Americans this particular nurse had ever met. She took his hand somewhat gingerly. He got a firm grip on it and pumped her arm up and down. “I hear you are doing good work here.”

  “She doesn’t speak English,” I said, and then translated his words to her, adding, “Don’t mind him. Think of him as a big American puppy.”

  “I hear a baby crying,” she murmured to me, pulling her hand out of his and hurrying off.

  “I need to learn me some Russian,” Carter said. “We don’t have to make it a formal interview, Miss Mason. What do you like to do for fun? Say, do you like skating? I hear that’s very popular here. We can go skating and I can sneak in a few questions along the way.”

  I loved skating, but I hadn’t had time for it in a long time. I was about to say no when Hap’s words came back to me. Dmitri thought you were old. We told him you used to be fun.

  All of a sudden I really wanted to go. “Tomorrow,” I blurted out. “Yes, I’ll go skating with you. Tomorrow.”

  “Well, that’s wonderful!” Carter said. “I’ll come by your house. Just tell me an address.”

  “We’re on the French Embankment, number twenty-four.”

  He wrote it down in a little notebook. “Now, how about I have a little look around?”

  The man was so eager I gave in and showed him around the hospital. Though none of the patients spoke any English, they didn’t appear to mind his presence. They actually seemed to enjoy it, because he really was like a large puppy, excited over the smallest of things. He asked so many questions I eventually had to shoo him out the door so we could get some work done.

  After he left, I spent the next several hours getting the books in order. When I finally headed home, the streets were still crowded, which was strange because it was so cold. Many people didn’t appear to be going anywhere. They were just milling about in small groups. Some had started fires on the sidewalks and were huddled around them. There were no sounds of laughter or even loud voices. I walked faster, wanting to be home in the light and the warmth.

  A small group of men from the Horse Guard rode by in perfect formation, not speaking, the only sound the clinking of the bridles and the soft clopping of the horses’ hooves muffled by the snow-covered streets, which for some reason no one had attempted to clear.

  I had a hard time imagining Dmitri among those men. Did he miss the comradeship? Pavel had spoken of his fellow soldiers all the time. They were closer to him than his own family. Dmitri seemed too aloof for that, but perhaps it was because he’d been at university first.

  I was still thinking about Dmitri when I reached home. As I went in, I hoped I would be able to get to my room without anyone needing me, but Hap was waiting for me.

  “Finally!” he called as he came out from the sitting room. “Miles and Stepan and I have a new song to practice.”

  “I’m so tired I don’t know if I can learn anything new,” I warned.

  “Don’t be an old lady! You can’t be that tired. We want Dmitri to hear the song.”

  So Dmitri hadn’t gone out again. I decided I wasn’t that tired, so I followed Hap into the sitting room.

  Dmitri sat by the fire with a sketchbook in his hand, his injured leg stretched out in front of him.

  When he saw me, he stood up. “No, please, sit back down,” I said. “Unless you’d rather not hear us make a racket while we are practicing.”

  “I like music. I’ll stay if you don’t mind.” He sounded very formal.

  “No, I don’t mind at all.” I felt like I should sound formal too, though it made me feel awkward. “I didn’t know you were an artist.”

  “I’m not,” he said. “But I draw plans for buildings I’d like to build some day.”

  I could see the outline of a building that looked like it was surrounded by huge gardens. “What kind of building is that?” I asked.

  “It’s a dacha,” he said. “Not very interesting, I’m afraid.”

  I moved closer. “May I see?”

  He handed the sketchbook to me, though I could tell he was reluctant. “I love our stepfather’s dacha,” I said. “It’s so wonderful with all the big windows and the open rooms and the breezes blowing through. There are wonderful gardens there too, and a fish pond and…” I realized I was talking too much.

  Dmitri’s face lit up. “That’s exactly the kind of place I want to build. These buildings in Petrograd are beautiful, but sometimes it feels like we all live in the past or in a museum.”

  I’d never seen his face so open and happy, and I was intrigued that architecture was such a passion to him. But once again I was puzzled that Dmitri seemed to be planning to go back to school, as if he could leave the Horse Guard. I wished I knew him well enough to ask him about it.

  “Lottie, stop talking and let’s play,” Hap grumbled.

  I handed the sketchbook back to Dmitri. “I’d like to look at more of these sometime, if you don’t mind.”

  “I would be happy to show you, if you’re sure it won’t be dull.” His eyes held mine. I couldn’t look away.

  “Lottie!” Hap’s voice again.

  “It won’t,” I said.

  I sat down at the piano, trying to clear my head. I had stopped taking lessons when my mother was sick because I couldn’t concentrate on practicing the long classical pieces anymore. Every time I did, thoughts of what I needed to do at the hospital or complaints from Archer about the boys or the twins filled my head until I couldn’t hear the music.

  At least the pieces Hap liked were short and easy, and I thought I could manage them. But once we started to play, I fumbled far more than usual. Both Hap and Miles grew exasperated with me until I forced myself to shut down all my other thoughts.

  When we’d finished playing all the way through without a mistake, I got up. “Enough for tonight.”

  Dmitri had gone back to sketching, or at least holding the pen, but he didn’t seem to be making any marks on the page. I really, really wanted to see what he had drawn. I wasn’t
paying attention to the boys’ talk until I heard Stepan say my name.

  “Charlotte, Archer says you all should go back to America now,” he said as he moved over to the piano, plinking at one note a few times. “But you won’t go without me, will you?” His voice wobbled.

  “What?” My heart clenched at the worry in his voice. “Don’t listen to Archer,” I said, trying not to let my irritation show. “He’s always trying to get rid of us, you know that.”

  “He says you should go because the Germans will be here soon and murder us all in our beds.” Stepan didn’t look up from the keyboard.

  I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. “Archer told you that?” I wanted to go find the man and demand what he thought he was doing scaring a little boy like that.

  “Not to me, exactly. I overheard him telling Zarja that.” Stepan plinked another key.

  “It’s not going to happen.” Dmitri shut the sketchbook with a loud thump. “We’ve had some setbacks, but we’ll never stop fighting. Archer has no idea what he’s talking about.”

  Stepan looked up at Dmitri. “He says you shouldn’t be here either. He says you should be with your regiment at the front even if you can’t fight because it would be more useful than wasting your time with Miles and Hap because they aren’t worth your time.”

  Dmitri went rigid. His eyes narrowed, and I could almost see the anger radiating off him.

  I struggled to keep my own anger in check. “Stepan, you know how Archer is. He always thinks the worst is going to happen.”

  “I know he’s like that.” Stepan’s voice trembled. “But maybe sometimes the worst does happen.”

  I went over to him. “The Germans aren’t going to get here. And you don’t have to worry about it. That’s not your job. Dmitri knows what he’s talking about. Archer doesn’t. We’re all together and we are safe.”

  I heard giggling from the hall. The twins. They should have been in bed long ago.

  “Hello!” Nika called out as they bounded into the room. “We have a surprise!”