He Can Move the Mountains

by Catherine Barbey

  It hadn’t really bothered her at all, actually. She’d been so wrapped up in Alikhan, and so proud of all his achievements. Besides, the birth process itself had been rather painful, and she hadn’t been in a hurry to repeat that. Sleepless nights, sore nipples, endless changes of soiled nappies. Did she really want to go through all that again? She had been so young at the time that she hadn’t wanted to have another child. It still seemed amazing that fifteen years had passed already. Was it that her biological clock was ticking now? Was that why she was here? Did she want another child before it was too late?

  Perhaps, if she were honest, it wasn’t so much a desire to get pregnant again that had brought her here. It was more curiosity. Why hadn’t she? Her previous pregnancy and birth had been so straight-forward, there had been no indication that she had been left scarred or unable to bear another child.

  Murat hadn’t pressed her at all. He was a dear husband, really. She’d come to be very fond of him over the years, although she couldn’t hand on heart say that she truly loved him. There had only been one man in her life who had won her heart, and he’d taken it away with him the day she let him go. No, Murat had been quite content with just the one son. In fact, the more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed that he’d never even brought up the subject of having another. She assumed he’d just been waiting for nature to take its course, but now... Why didn’t he want to have more children?

  “Next.”

  Milana looked up and realised it was her turn to go into the doctor’s office. She quickly grabbed her handbag and followed the doctor into the room, closing the door behind her. She sat on the chair indicated, perching her handbag on her knees.

  “You have the results of the blood tests?”

  “Yes, here they are,” she said, quickly handing over the slips of paper she’d been hiding from Murat for the last two days.

  The doctor studied them for a few moments and then added them to the file along with the results of the ultrasound. She removed her glasses and placed them on the table before folding her arms and looking at Milana with the usual authoritative look of a person wearing a white coat.

  “It would seem that everything is healthy. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to have another baby. Have you been taking birth control?”

  “Um, no, actually. Not for several years now. I just kind of stopped after my son was about seven and in school.”

  “And how old is he now?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Oh.” A frown crossed the doctor’s forehead. “Has your husband been tested?”

  “What? Oh, no. I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I suggest he takes some tests himself. The problem may lie with him.”

  Milana couldn’t get the words of the doctor out of her head the whole bus ride home. “The problem may lie with him.” Could Murat be unable to have children? Could he be sterile? Did he know? It was time they sat down and had a proper talk. They might decide not to have any more children, but at least she wanted to know if they could.

  Chapter 11

  Bela

  Moscow was just as she had remembered it, only with nicer shops and fancier restaurants. Clearly a lot of money was pouring into the place, and evidence of wealth was everywhere. It felt like a whole other world from her provincial backwater town of Shekala. There were more cars than when she’d been here twelve years ago, and the traffic was horrendous. After the initial wide-eyed wonder of it all, she’d begun to remember why she didn’t want to live in Moscow permanently. The bustle, the pollution, the sheer number of people, the unfriendliness of it all. Everyone was a stranger, rushing about their own business, and no one smiled at anyone.

  She and Michael were just returning from their first day of sightseeing. It had been fun to do the touristy thing. They’d gone to Red Square, taken a tour around the Kremlin buildings, visited Lenin’s mausoleum and had their photo taken outside St Basil’s cathedral. Bela had remembered a lovely little café down a side street, where they’d enjoyed Georgian cheese pies for lunch. She could feel the stress of the past couple of months melting off her shoulders, and even Michael seemed happier and more relaxed.

  They walked the last couple of blocks from the metro station to Lida’s apartment block. Lida and her family had been wonderfully welcoming. Mama had found the phone number and given it to Bela. For some reason she hadn’t wanted to speak to Lida herself. Perhaps it had been too long, or maybe she hadn’t wanted to explain about how Papa was. Anyway, Bela had called up and it had all been arranged. Bela and Michael were welcome to stay as long as they liked, and the sofa bed in the living room was very comfortable.

  “You’re back, how was it?” Lida met them enthusiastically at the door.

  “It was great, thanks, but my feet are killing me!” Bela grimaced as she removed her shoes and rubbed the soles of her feet.

  “It’s so great to be here. We’ve taken loads of photos,” added Michael. Lida had been won over by his charm immediately and fussed around him like a mother hen.

  “I’ll get you something to eat, you must be hungry,” she said, disappearing off into the kitchen.

  Michael grinned at Bela. “I could get used to living here.”

  “Just don’t expect the same level of service when we get home,” Bela replied, playfully punching him in the arm.

  “Can I help you with anything?” Bela asked Lida as she joined her in the kitchen.

  “Yes, thank you, dear. You can cut up some bread for me. Here.” She handed Bela a chopping board and a knife. Bela took the bread that was on the table and started carving it into chunks.

  “My son, Daniel, will be joining us for dinner tonight.”

  “Your son? Oh, it would be lovely to meet him.” Bela had found out soon after arriving that Lida and her husband Vladimir had a son and a daughter. More distant cousins she hadn’t known about.

  “Will your daughter also be coming? I’d love to meet her too.”

  “No, just Daniel tonight. Irina sends her apologies, she’s away visiting friends. She hopes to come later in the week.”

  “I can’t wait to meet them both.”

  “Yes, they’re wonderful young people. Such a gift from God. We’re so thankful to have them both.”

  Bela finished slicing the bread and started arranging some pickled cucumbers onto a plate.

  “Lida, would you mind telling me a little of the story of how you came to be here? I... I can’t believe I didn’t know about you until just a few days ago.”

  Lida smiled, her eyes sad and wistful. Michael joined them at the table.

  “Well, it was a long time ago now. I was living in Psydakhe, the same village where your mother was brought up, Bela. I was ten years older than her, but we often played together. Our houses were on the same street.

  Times were hard, back then. I had been born just after the war, and my father came back a disturbed and haunted man. He would never talk about what had happened, but he had terrible nightmares and would regularly wake up the whole house with his screaming. The people of the Caucasus had been horribly oppressed by Stalin, though many refused to believe that he was the one who’d sent the orders and they continued to worship him as a great leader. In 1944, two years before I was born, thirty-eight thousand Balkars were deported to Central Asia in just one day, with no warning. Chechens, Ingush, Karachai. They were all deported. Accused of collaborating with the Nazis, you see.”

  Lida wiped a tear from her eye. “Even now it still makes me so sad.”

  “They came back, though, didn’t they?” Bela asked.

  “Yes, in 1957, just after your mother was born. But it was too late. The damage had been done. So many had died in the cattle trucks and because of the conditions when they reached their destination. It was a tragedy.

  Anyway, it wasn’t just ethnic people groups that were persecuted and sent away. Religion of any kind was also condemned - Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, anything. We were all taught in scho
ol that atheism was the only way and that religion was for the weak.

  When the Balkars came back, one family moved into our village, just down the street. They’d brought with them an elderly woman. She was a Russian German who’d been living in Kazakhstan with her family for many years, but her family had all died, and the Balkar family had been touched by her kindness to them and brought her back to look after her. She was a Christian, but not the Orthodox kind that I had heard about. She was the most wonderful lady. So kind and patient. She had a beautiful spirit. She’d forgiven all that had happened to her, which we just couldn’t understand. How could you forgive the people who’d done such terrible things to your family? But it gave her a peace that no one else in our village seemed to have.

  I spent a lot of time with her. Helping her with simple chores and listening to her stories. She told me stories of the Bible. She told me about Jesus. I couldn’t believe I’d never heard about those things before, they were wonderful.”

  “So, you became a Christian?” asked Bela, transfixed by the story that was unfolding.

  Lida smiled. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

  “But it wasn’t taken well by your family, I suppose,” said Michael, who seemed equally absorbed in the story.

  “No, of course. It was to be expected. My parents were so worried about what would happen if people found out. I had to keep it quiet and not tell anyone.”

  “That must have been difficult,” said Bela.

  “Yes, but I was given courage knowing what the old lady had gone through, and at least I could talk to her openly. She taught me a lot about what it meant to be a follower of Jesus.”

  “So, what did you do next?” asked Bela.

  “Well, my studies brought me here to Moscow and I just decided it was best for everyone if I stayed. It wasn’t easy being a Christian here in Moscow either, but there were more of us. I met my husband, Vladimir, got married and settled down. I asked God to show me how I could serve Him here in Moscow, and He led me to work at the orphanage. I’ve been working there now for... Oh, let me see, since 1972. How long is that?”

  “Thirty-eight years,” said Michael.

  “Oh my, is it really that long?” Lida’s eyes sparkled and she took a bite of a pickled cucumber.

  “And your children, when were they born?” asked Bela. She still couldn’t believe she’d never heard about Lida and her story before.

  “Oh, Daniel came along just a few months after I started working at the orphanage. A real blessing from God.” Lida focussed her eyes on her teacup rather intently. “And we got Irina about a year later.”

  Lida’s choice of words and mannerisms seemed a little strange. Perhaps there was more to that particular story, but just as Bela was going to probe further the doorbell rang.

  “That must be Daniel!” Lida’s face lit up and she rushed over to open the door. Bela and Michael hung back, waiting to be introduced. Soon, a tall, dark-eyed man with a kind face and wisps of grey hair amidst the dark brown entered the kitchen and shook hands with Michael and Bela. He had a warm smile, and Bela could detect a family resemblance. He was, after all, related to her, albeit somewhat distantly.

  “It’s so good to meet you both,” Daniel said warmly. “Mother’s told me a lot about you on the phone. She’s so excited that you’re staying here for a while.”

  Daniel sat down in the chair that Lida had offered him, and his mother hurried to fetch him a plate full of food.

  Bela and Michael chatted easily with Daniel for a while, filling him in on the story of how they met and a little about Michael’s background. Bela answered questions about her family back home.

  “We’re so sorry to hear about your father. Is he recovering well?” Daniel seemed genuinely concerned. Perhaps he knew as little about Bela’s family as she had known about his.

  “Yes, thank you, the doctors say he’ll make a full recovery. It’s a miracle, really. God must have been watching over him.”

  “Yes.”

  In that one word, Bela could tell immediately that Daniel, too, was a believer, a follower of Jesus. How wonderful to have relatives who shared her faith. She was so looking forward to getting to know them better. She’d been having so many doubts in recent months, but now, here in Moscow, she felt her faith strengthening and her doubts dissipating. If only they could stay here longer, but they’d promised Mama only to be gone a week, and she was missing Angelina terribly.

  Later that night, as Bela and Michael were settling down to sleep on their sofa bed, Bela couldn’t help but reflect on all that they’d learned about her relations that day.

  “I still can’t believe I didn’t know about them,” she said, snuggling up to Michael and wrapping her feet around his.

  “They are really great people,” he agreed. “Lida seems to be doing amazing work at the orphanage; I’m sure she’s making a real difference to many children’s lives.”

  “Yes,” said Bela quietly, remembering all too well the day she’d gone to collect Angelina from the orphanage in Beslan. “You seemed to get on really well with Daniel,” she added.

  “Yeah. He was telling me all about his business.”

  “Oh, what does he do? I was talking to Lida at that point, I think. I missed that conversation.”

  “He works for an NGO involved in raising education levels amongst children from ethnic minorities. You know, trying to get more materials available in their mother tongues, since that’s the language they learn in best.”

  “Oh, that’s right up your street. Did you tell him about your research?”

  “Yes, he was really interested.”

  “You know,” Bela’s thoughts had already returned to her conversation with Lida, “Lida’s story about the old lady from Kazakhstan got me thinking.”

  “Oh? About what?”

  “About how important it is to forgive.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, Lida told me more of the old lady’s story, of all the horrible things she went through. Did you know, several of her grandchildren died of starvation during the war because some corrupt official was holding back the money that her son was sending them?”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Yes, and yet she still forgave the official. How do you think she was able to do that?”

  “Her strong faith, no doubt. And she must have learned that holding onto bitterness and unforgiveness only really hurts yourself. The Bible tells us to let go of our resentment, no matter how justified, and leave vengeance and justice up to God. One day everyone will get exactly what they deserve, and all wrongs will be put right.”

  Bela was silent for a while, thinking.

  “You’re thinking about Maria and Pavel, aren’t you?” Michael guessed.

  “Yes. Maria held onto her bitterness and unforgiveness for years and look what happened. Her son nearly murdered a man.”

  Michael gently kissed her forehead and rolled over. “Try not to think about that now. We need to get our sleep. Busy day tomorrow, walking around all the tourist sights again, and then we’ve got the ballet in the evening.”

  “You’re right. I hope my feet have recovered. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Bela kissed his cheek gently and then lay in the darkness on her back, gazing up at the ornately decorated ceiling of Lida’s living room. It wasn’t that easy to get those thoughts out of her head, and the more she dwelt on them, the more she wondered whether there was something she ought to do.

  IT WAS THE DAY BEFORE they were supposed to leave. Bela was pretty sure they’d seen everything that Moscow had to offer and she was eager to get home and give Angelina a hug. However, the time away had indeed been good for her. It had taken her mind off the disappointment of not yet being pregnant and had certainly helped to put things into perspective. After spending a lot of time speaking to Lida, who was so wise, she felt more confident now about trusting God that He knew what He was doing. He understood her pain, and somehow, He was working t
o bring some good from what she was going through, even if she didn’t understand what that was.

  Bela turned the corner onto a familiar street. She’d left Michael at home chatting with Daniel, who’d come round for dinner again. She’d tried to be very casual about the way she said she was just popping out to do some last-minute shopping, but in reality, she didn’t want Michael to know where she was going. Should she have told him? Maybe. But then he might have tried to talk her out of it, and once she set her mind on something, she was determined to see it through.

  She slowed her footsteps as she neared the building she was heading for. There it was. Unchanged since the last time she was here, eleven years ago. Her skin prickled underneath her coat and her stomach started to tighten. She stopped outside the main entrance. Perhaps this was a stupid idea. Perhaps it was dangerous too. She remembered how Pavel had looked at her in the police holding room. Would he be here? This was where his mother lived, but maybe he hadn’t come back home? There was no guarantee that Maria even still lived there anymore.

  The door opened and one of the residents came out of the building. Instinctively, Bela grabbed the door before it slammed shut and stepped inside. She was here now. There were the same, grimy mailboxes where she’d encountered Maria all those years ago. She shuddered, thinking about the look of desperation that had been in Maria’s eyes.

  Without really knowing what she was doing, she started climbing the stairs. She still remembered the exact address after all those months of delivering Papa’s envelopes full of money.