Karena leaned forward. “It’s been my ambition all my life. I’ve applied for the medical program, but my mother is Jewish, which means the quota allowed each year is very small. I’ve been turned down each time.”
He said after a moment, “Well, Miss Peshkova, your determination is to be commended. I’ll speak to Dr. Lenski when I return to St. Petersburg. Perhaps something can be done.”
Excitement and joy flooded her heart. All traces of weariness and fear fled away.
“Dr. Zinnovy, if I’m accepted into the program, I shall be the happiest woman in Kiev!”
She became confused for a moment at the sad, almost apologetic flicker in his smile.
“Then we must see to your happiness, Miss Peshkova. Rest assured, if your parents agree, I shall do what I can to assist your acceptance.”
Karena could have thrown her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, but she did not. She sat primly, her hands clasped so tightly they tingled.
She laughed. “And I thought tonight was going to be the most harrowing of my life! Amidst darkness, there is light. Who would have believed it?”
Dr. Zinnovy made no comment but smiled with pleasure. Her happiness appeared to affect him deeply. What a kind and generous man! I shall become one of his best students.
“I saw you there on the edge of the crowd,” she said.
“Yes. I was out walking. I stopped for a few minutes to see what was happening. I recognized Petrov on the soapbox. Dr. Lenski would be grieved to have heard him. She’s an ardent supporter of the Romanovs, and she’s disowned her son for turning to the Bolsheviks. I’m certain she didn’t know Ivanna accompanied him to Kiev.”
Despite the tragic situation of the Lenskis, Karena could hardly keep her excitement from brimming over. Only when she remembered Sergei were her emotions dampened. Had he gotten away? If he’d not taken the horse, then who did?
“Anna,” she breathed suddenly.
“Anna?”
She looked at Dr. Zinnovy. “A peasant. She works our land.” Karena hesitated, wondering how much she should reveal. Since he was a doctor, she didn’t feel it necessary to keep Anna’s plight hidden.
“Anna’s just a girl, but she’s in love with Sergei. Sadly, they’ve made a serious mistake. She’s going to have a child. The horse Sergei and I came on is missing. If Anna rode the horse, it could bring on early labor.”
“Yes, if she was frightened, she might not consider the consequences.”
“She came to the meeting tonight. If she was arrested—”
“Yes?”
“I think she would talk, despite her loyalty to Sergei.”
He frowned. “I shall look into the matter. You will want to know your brother escaped with Petrov before the police could encircle them.”
Relieved, she lapsed into silence while the carriage approached the manor.
Dr. Zinnovy was peering out the window. “This peasant girl, Anna. I think it wise that I discover how she’s faring. Is her family’s bungalow nearby?”
“It’s not far at all. Shall I inform Madame Yeva to come and assist you, Doctor?”
He looked toward the manor, his face solemn. “No. I think it best not to disturb her. Anna may not have taken your horse. Even if she did, it doesn’t necessarily mean she will go into early labor. It depends on her health and how she rode.”
“I could go with you and assist,” she offered.
“I gather you have had training?”
She smiled. “From the time I was a small child, I followed my mother in her medical mercies whenever she ministered to family, friends, and peasants in the fields, although I’ve not delivered a child on my own yet.”
“If you could carry the lamp for me, my dear, and calm her down when we arrive, that will be of great help to me.”
“It will be an honor, sir.”
“She may not want her family to know she’s been out tonight. We shall use appropriate discretion. We had best waste no time.”
I’m actually going to assist the great Dr. Dmitri Zinnovy. Mother will be amazed.
He hadn’t wanted Madame Yeva to come with him, although she was by far the more appropriate assistant …
Maybe he simply wants to give me the experience and privilege of going with him.
But why? Then again, why had he helped her at all?
EIGHT
Doctor’s Assistant
The oil lamps cast shadows on the walls of the peasant bungalow with a gently sloping roof and thickly dressed logs. The small room, the gornitsa, held a bed and an undersized stove. It was usually reserved for guests, but Elena Lavrushsky used it for her sister-in-law, sixteen-year-old Anna.
Both Elena and Yuri, Anna’s brother, wore grim faces when Karena was ushered inside. Did they know about the meeting and the police raid? Karena believed they did and that Anna had alarmed them, coming home in such a hurry. Elena was pale and tense. Yuri kept rubbing his palms against his trousers and looking out the window.
“How is Anna?” Karena asked in a low voice.
“She is well. Why do you ask?”
“You need not fear, Elena. You know she was out tonight, don’t you?”
She sighed. “Yes, I tried to stop her from going, but she left anyway. She came back in tears, saying there’d been a police raid at the college green. Something about revolutionaries.”
Karena explained that Dr. Zinnovy was waiting in the carriage and why they had come. Elena’s eyes widened with alarm at the mention of the horse ride. She brought Karena immediately to Anna’s bed. The girl was awake, and Karena sensed her tension and fear.
“It’s all right, Anna, I’m here to help you. Did you borrow Sergei’s horse tonight?”
“Yes … I was so afraid. I didn’t think until I was halfway back to the bungalow. The horse is in your stable. The boy Stesha brought him back for me. Are the police coming here?” She grabbed Karena’s wrist.
“No, I don’t think so. Dr. Zinnovy, a very important man and friend of the czar, will see no harm comes to us. He’s outside now in his carriage. We are worried about you. Are you feeling any sickness? Any sudden pains or bleeding?”
Anna’s teeth chattered nervously, her brown eyes wide and frightened. She shook her head no. Karena smiled and held her hand, stroking the back of it as her mother had taught her to do to calm a patient.
“Good, then. You are a strong, healthy girl. Maybe we don’t need to ask questions. But Dr. Zinnovy is the best doctor in St. Petersburg. He wants to see you and make sure everything is normal.”
Anna looked from Karena to Elena. Elena nodded. “It is best, Anna. You will never again have a better doctor.”
“Yes, I will see him.”
Karena went out and returned a few minutes later with Dr. Zinnovy. He smiled benignly at the shivering girl.
“So this is Anna. Everything is going to be all right. Have you been examined before by a doctor?”
She shook her head no. “Madame Yeva helps me. She’s very kind.”
Karena looked proudly toward Dr. Zinnovy to see his reaction and was bewildered by a look of pain on his face.
Yuri stepped outside to smoke, and Karena remained with Dr. Zinnovy during Anna’s examination. He used special soap he carried inside his bag and asked Elena for hot water from her stove. Only afterward did he place his hands upon Anna’s bulging abdomen. With precise movements, he felt the position of the baby. Karena watched his face, but he showed no emotion in the presence of his patient, and Karena had no way of knowing whether all seemed well.
“Anna,” he said, his voice grave but confident, “I will not examine you internally. I am concerned your baby is in a delicate condition right now. I do not have all the right medicines and instruments with me. I want you to stay in bed and rest for a few days. Meanwhile, I want Madame Peshkova to send for a doctor from Kiev. I’m going to write down his name and give it to Miss Peshkova. She will give it to her mother in the morning.”
Karena looked on, tr
ying not to reveal her concern. If Dr. Zinnovy was afraid that an examination would disturb the baby, then he must be concerned about a miscarriage.
“I’m going to leave some medications with your sister. She can discuss them with Madame Peshkova tomorrow. Right now, I’m going to give you something to help you sleep. It’s the best action we can take for your baby and yourself.”
He measured certain elixirs, turned them over to a worried Elena, and explained the dosages to her. Karena felt Anna’s hand tug at her sleeve. Her eyes searched Karena’s. “Is Sergei safe?”
Karena nodded, putting a finger to her lips. They exchanged smiles. Anna looked easier and settled down in her narrow bed.
A short time later, Karena departed the bungalow with Dr. Zinnovy. As the carriage brought them to the gate of the manor house, she turned to him.
“Is Anna in danger of a miscarriage, Dr. Zinnovy?”
“I fear she is. But if she follows my orders, I think it will lessen the possibility.” He leaned over and opened the carriage door.
Karena climbed down and turned to face him. “Will you come in, sir? Schoolmaster Josef and Madame Yeva will wish to thank you for coming to my aid on the road.”
“Ah? Do you truly wish for me to inform them that you were at a Bolshevik meeting and that I helped you escape the Okhrana?”
Her face warmed as she considered. “No, Doctor. Neither I, nor Sergei, would want them to know.”
“It’s wise for me to return to the hotel. I shall be leaving for St. Petersburg early in the morning, and I am confident the Okhrana will call on me tonight with many questions. I shall do my best to keep you out of this trouble, though I cannot promise they will be satisfied. They are most insistent,” he said with a touch of acidity. “They will, no doubt, come here, looking for Sergei.”
His eyes were cool and firm. “I want you to deny that you were there. My witness that you were with me will hold more sway than anything said to the contrary.”
“I don’t know how to thank you, Dr. Zinnovy.”
“Do not try. Go inside now. I would advise you to go straight to your room and avoid talking to anyone tonight. Give my recommendation for Dr. Novikov to Madame Peshkova in the morning.”
She thanked him again and watched the coach pull away until its silhouette faded from view in the moonlight.
Karena stood on the road, looking toward the manor, cheered by the lights glowing in the windows. She listened for Ilya’s approach on the gravel path that led from the manor to the bungalow where he lived with Grandmother Jilinsky and Uncle Matvey. She half expected Ilya to be waiting on the porch for her. She heard little except insects humming in the hot night and the rushing sound of the wheat in the breeze. The fragrance of harvest grains filled the air. She refused to dwell on the despicable beating of Grinevich or its inevitable consequences for Sergei, should his presence become known.
If Lenski expected to avoid another prison term in the Urals, he had better escape to neutral Geneva while he could. Soon, news of what had happened tonight would sweep through the telegraph wires, and soldiers and police would check every departing train.
A thought made her heart catch. What if Sergei believed he must flee with Lenski to save himself? She thought of her father. If Sergei disappeared, it would be a heavy blow to Papa Josef.
She hurried toward the manor, the sounds of the night chasing her heels. Sergei’s words earlier that evening repeated mockingly in her mind: “Nothing will go wrong. The meeting will be safe.”
The sound of the wind moving through the miles of wheat was not unlike rushing water. At times she found it the loneliest sound in the world.
An owl swept silently overhead, its wings visible in the moonlight. The moon was nearing the end of its journey for the night, sinking toward the horizon. Karena neared the Peshkov manor and made her way along the vegetable garden path that smelled of onions and chives, blooming oregano, and leafy basil. She came up the wood steps to the back porch, just as she and Sergei had planned.
On the porch, she retrieved the key she had placed there. If her luck held, Aunt Marta would not be busy in her beloved kitchen. It was past supper hour, but the family thought she had walked over to the bungalow with Ilya to sup with Grandmother Jilinsky and Uncle Matvey.
The click of the key in the lock might as well have been the crash of tin pans. She envisioned stepping inside and blinking as Aunt Marta and Madame Yeva came to meet her.
She closed the kitchen door, leaving it unlocked for Sergei. If he’d escaped with Lenski, would he even come home? How quickly life could change!
I wish I could talk to Uncle Matvey. She felt comfortable confiding in him, for he was imperturbable.
The comforting fragrance of Aunt Marta’s fresh bread hung enticingly about the kitchen. The bread would be there on the back of the big black stove, covered with a white cloth and waiting for the family gathering at the breakfast table.
A gleaming copper match-holder hung on a hook on the wall behind the stove. The floor was recently scrubbed, and the sideboard was in perfect order. This was Aunt Marta’s cherished domain, and the family honored her strict rule.
Karena replaced the key on its hook, hoping Marta hadn’t noticed.
There were no sounds coming from the other rooms. Her father would be reading in his favorite chair and her mother most likely going over the expenses of running the manor or the medical needs of the peasants and families. Her younger sister Natalia would be in her bedroom, probably writing letters. And Aunt Marta would be at her needlework.
She removed her shoes. She went like a ghost across the floor and through the door into the hall with narrow stairs to rooms on the second floor. The wood floor creaked beneath Aunt Marta’s small, multicolored rag rugs. Karena crept up the stairs. Reaching the top, she sped the last few steps to her tiny room with one window facing the front yard.
Once inside, she closed the door and collapsed onto her bed. Was she safe? Tomorrow the sun would rise and unveil everything that had happened in the darkness. What then?
NINE
Troubling News
The next morning, Karena awoke late, with the hot sun blaring through her window. She rushed to dress for family breakfast, the scattered crocheted rag rugs sliding beneath her thin-soled black slippers on the hardwood floor, her heart already racing over what the day might hold.
After returning to her room last night, she had lain awake for what seemed like hours, hoping to hear Sergei coming home. But finally she had drifted off sometime after one o’clock.
She poured water from a white enamel pitcher into a bowl and washed, then chose a pale blue blouse with puffed sleeves and ribbons at the wrists and a gathered full peasant skirt of the same blue with added weavings of red and black.
Her long, thick, naturally wavy hair was the color of pale gold. She pinned her braids around another section of her hair that she had brushed back into a fashionable, swirled knot at the back of her neck. She had learned the intricate design from Tatiana. Thinking of her cousin caused her mind to travel the well-worn path back to Kazan … and Colonel Kronstadt—Alex. For so brief a time in his company, she recalled him too well. Tatiana had hardly mentioned him in her last letter. Instead, she wrote of her spiritual growth—due, of course, to Rasputin.
Karena rebuked herself. How could she be thinking of Kazan when she was not even certain whether Sergei came home last night?
She came down the steps and entered the dining room. Its heavy wooden furniture was bright in the morning sun pouring through the pastel green curtains. Her family members sat around the large square table with a white cotton tablecloth that had been meticulously ironed by Aunt Marta. Relief flowed through her when she saw Sergei in his chair at the left hand of Papa Josef. As her gaze met Sergei’s, his brown eyes confirmed that no one suspected. They were safe.
Even so, neither he nor Papa Josef wore a pleasant expression. There must have been yet another dispute over Sergei’s return to the university.<
br />
It is enough for Papa that he is a schoolmaster at the college and a respected Russian who swears allegiance to the Romanov family, Karena thought. She was sure it grieved him that Sergei flirted openly with the Bolsheviks. If Papa learned about last night, it would surely make him ill. He adored Sergei more than any of his children and wanted the best education for him. Even so, Sergei did not appear to appreciate his father’s dedication to his success.
“Karena, you are late to take your chair this morning,” Madame Yeva stated, as precise as ever. Karena could hardly think of a time when she had seen her mother otherwise.
“Everyone is seated, as you can see,” Yeva continued. “You must not keep your papa waiting. You know what a busy man he is at the college.”
“Sorry, Papa. I slept so soundly this morning.” She took her seat.
Josef Peshkov was not muscled and tanned like his son but rather was of medium height with slightly hunched shoulders and a worried disposition. When troubled, he tended to pace and smoke cigarettes, to the dismay of his elder sister Marta. Surprisingly, Madame Yeva rarely complained of anything her husband did.
Even though her usual appetite was lacking, Karena accepted a heavy slice of brown bread. She didn’t want to draw a comment from Aunt Marta, who derived satisfaction based on the amount of food consumed by her family. Karena wondered how she and her mother could remain so slim when she could outeat her sister Natalia, who tended to be heavy.
Karena spooned eggs and cheese on her plate, along with fried red cabbage and onions. She remembered the time that Tatiana had put a hand to her stomach and turned pale when Natalia asked for fried red cabbage and onions for breakfast. This morning, Karena sympathized with her cousin.
Sergei wore a dark scowl and ate too fast, his fork scraping loudly against his plate.
“Sergei, please,” Madame Yeva said gently.
“Lenski visited London this summer,” Sergei told her, then looked at his father.
The Midwife of St. Petersburg Page 9