Painting Home

by Jolma, Erika;

  Trying not to cry, she hooked her arm into her brother's elbow and began to walk home. Had the last three weeks been nothing more than a misguided dream?

  Or the biggest mistake of her life.

  15

  Leningrad, Russia

  It was gone. All gone.

  No money, no food, and only a few days left in the boardinghouse before she would be out on the streets. What would she do?

  The only plan she could think of was to sell Nicolai's precious violin. Feodora had suggested it a few days ago when she’d noticed Tanya hoarding a stale loaf of bread, trying to make it last her as long as possible. Tanya had considered it—really, she had—but how could she sell Nicolai's treasure to settle her own stomach?

  She couldn't. The thought made her sick. Literally.

  Tanya jumped out of bed and raced down the stairs, desperate for fresh air to quell her nausea. What was wrong with her? Over the last few days, the nausea had been relentless, sending her scurrying for the tiny grass patch behind the boarding house at the most inopportune times.

  Vomit erupted from her insides. Her shoulders heaved as she bent over the grass at the edge of the muddy sidewalk. Her very last bite of bread, wasted.

  She'd never been sick like this before. Probably the stress of her situation or the lack of food.

  Unless…no. She staggered against a nearby tree. It couldn't be that. Could it?

  Tanya thought back to last May. She remembered a long stroll with Nicolai on a sunny afternoon. Blooming geraniums created a fairyland path through the abandoned park. The air bubbled with the scent of ginger and apricot. A romantic scent of young love, of hope, of new beginnings surrounded them.

  He had smiled at her so hopefully, so earnestly that Tanya hadn't been able to resist him. Kissing him passionately right then and there, she grabbed his hand and hurried him back to their apartment. If only she had taken the time to savor that hungry passion in his eyes, the loving tenderness of his touch. If only she had known that their time making babies would be short lived, gone before it really even started.

  Tanya hadn't gotten pregnant that day, or in the months that followed. But giddy with young love, they kept trying, praying, making it a newlywed game to guess which time would be the time. The time when everything would fall into place.The day when she would feel life.

  Tanya couldn't help but smile, her thoughts solemn. Wouldn't that be ironic if after all those months of trying, she was pregnant now? Her fingers touched her flat stomach. Now that Nicolai was gone. Now that she was alone, with no food, no home, no one to share in the joy, the laughter or the hope that came with a baby?

  Tanya tried to remember when she'd last had her monthly. She hadn't had one in Leningrad. It had been five weeks at least. Maybe longer.

  Back when she’d started trying with Nicolai, she’d gone to the library and checked out a book on pregnancy and childcare. She had read the book, carefully making mental notes of the signs and symptoms of pregnancy so that if she get pregnant, she'd know.

  Nausea. Yes.

  Sore breasts. Yes.

  Constant fatigue. Yes.

  Inability to think rationally and cohesively about life in general. Yes, yes, yes. Tanya covered her mouth, trying to quell another wave of nausea. The signs fit. Could it be? She again ran her hand along her stomach, a wave of maternal love pouring over her.

  "I think I'm having a baby," she whispered out loud to the empty street. "I'm having Nicolai's baby."

  She trembled against the brick wall of the boarding house. If she really was pregnant then she had to do something fast. She was already half-starved. She had already resigned herself to the fate of starvation, but if she was pregnant, everything changed. She couldn't let Nicolai's baby die. Not without a fight. Not that she even knew how to fight now.

  It was despairingly clear that no one would hire her. She'd tried that route. She gazed up at the sky. Tiny white clouds floated through a blue as clear as Nicolai's eyes. So peaceful.So beautiful.So out of tune with the struggle that waged in her heart hundreds of meters below.

  Nicolai's violin sat propped against the wall next to her feet. His one remaining earthly treasure. It wasn't worth much, but it would buy her a few more weeks in the boarding house and a few loaves of bread.

  Maybe it was time? Nicolai had loved that violin so much. Tanya remembered quiet evenings in their tiny apartment. They would light a fire and she would make tea. Nicolai would sit on the hearth and play slow, sad songs. Tanya closed her eyes and strained her ears, hoping to catch a whisper of one of the mournful, drawn-out notes Nicolai had loved to play.

  Nicolai's music would be a perfect backdrop for the life she was now living, yet she had no one to play it for her. And his beautiful violin was just collecting dust. Tanya straightened her tattered dress, resolved to do what she had to do. There was no room for sentimentality in what would possibly make the difference between life and death for her baby. For Nicolai's baby.

  Plus, if Nicolai were alive, he would've given anything—even his prized violin—to save this baby.

  Steadying herself against the wall—oh, dear, she was weak—Tanya picked up her satchel and Nicolai's violin and headed down the street to the old music shop. She would do this before she changed her mind.

  Her baby's survival depended on it.

  16

  Leningrad, Russia

  Oh, the bread tasted good.

  Tearing off a chunk bigger than her fist, Tanya stuffed it into her mouth, the crumbs falling on her skirt as she savored the feel of food. It had been too long.

  She hadn't gotten what she’d hoped for Nicolai's violin, but she’d still earned enough to survive for a few more weeks. And now, she celebrated. She was almost certain a tiny heartbeat pulsed in her belly. She went all-out for this party, too, allowing herself an entire demi-loaf of potato bread in one sitting.

  Feodora turned toward her on her cot and mumbled, "Someone's having a feast today!"

  "Yeah. I finally sold Nicolai's violin. Bought me six more weeks in this place and I still have enough money for food. Maybe by then I'll find a job somewhere. Someone has to be hiring poor widows from Moscow." She threw up a thin smile.

  Feodora looked at her sadly. She wasn't buying her false peppiness. "Good for you, Tanya. I hope you find something great."

  She hoped so too, but she could tell from Feodora's distant look that she didn't have much faith in Tanya's prospects. Tearing off another precious chunk of bread, Tanya held it out to Feodora. As many times as Feodora had shared with her, she must do the same. "Want some?"

  "No, thank you." Feodora poured a clear liquid from a bottle into her tin cup and took a giant swig. "I'm on a liquid diet today."

  If Tanya had a kopeck for every five Feodora spent on vodka, she wouldn't be in this predicament. Of course, Tanya realized, if she did what Feodora did every day to earn money, perhaps she'd need vodka too. "Are you sure you don't want some bread to wash it down?"

  "Are you sure you don't want some vodka to wash your bread down?" Feodora cackled. She knew Tanya didn’t drink, but that never stopped her from trying. "I'm glad for you. I know it's been rough. I'm glad you at least have some hope."

  Tanya looked down. Should she tell Feodora her news? She would find out soon enough, right? Why not have a friend to help her through. "Um, Feodora, I think…I'm pregnant."

  Feodora's eyes grew wide. "Oh, no!"

  Not exactly the response she’d hoped for.

  Forcing a smile, Tanya swallowed the lump in her throat. "It's a good thing, I think. It's Nicolai's baby. I want her." Something inside told her the baby she carried was a girl.

  Feodora turned her head slightly, looking at Tanya out of the corners of distant eyes. "But right now, Tawnie? When the city is bracing itself for war and you have no way to support yourself, much less a baby?"

  "She's Nicolai's baby. I'll figure out a way. I have to."

  Feodora shook her head slowly. She slipped off her shoes, sho
ved them under her cot, and sank onto the creaking frame. "I hope you do, Tawnie. I really hope you do."

  No one had called her Tawnie since her mother and Nicolai had died. Somehow it felt all right coming from Feodoram her strange but loyal friend.

  Tanya took another bite of bread and settled into her cot for a nap. Would she really be able to keep herself alive until the baby was born? And what about after that? Would she be able to keep her little girl alive? She wished for a moment that she still prayed. Because if she did, she'd beg God to show her a way—any way—to keep herself and her baby alive.

  Any way but Feodora's way.

  17

  Helsinki, Finland

  "Want some coffee?" Marko Jokinen grabbed the pot and sniffed, wincing as he poured the steaming liquid into a chipped, white tin cup.

  Matti gritted his teeth and scowled. "Is it as bitter as normal?"

  Marko took a tentative sip and grimaced. "Probably more. But hey, at least it will match your mood."

  Matti poured himself a cup. He added a hefty pour of milk and silently wished for sugar. Maybe that would sweeten his coffee and his attitude. He glared at Marko over his cup. "Do you know what we're doing today?"

  Marko moved to the wall where their unit posted the weekly agenda. He slumped back into his seat. "Looks like more timber and brush clearing."

  "Wonderful. Our country's best trained soldiers are rushed to the front in order to spend their days clearing land for refugees who shouldn't even be refugees."

  "Look on the bright side. At least on Rapid Resettlement Duty, you don't have to trek through landmines with bullets whizzing around your ears to pick up the pile of letters you get every day."

  Matti glared.

  Mail availability didn't exactly make up for their Corps being assigned by the Ministry of Defense's Rapid Resettlement Act. Or that he had been pulled away from Anna early in order to prepare tent cities for the flood of Karelian people who needed somewhere to live. They said it was the Corps’ opportunity to help those in need.

  More like pouring salt in a wound.

  Matti tossed his cup in the mess sink and headed outside. He grabbed a rake and a pick-axe and ran to join the rest of the men for their morning huddle.

  "Ranta!" A voice boomed loudly above the din of quiet chatter, startling Matti.

  "Sir?"Just his luck.Singled out before the day even began.

  "I'm moving you to Takala's company. They've been assigned to assist with increased productivity at the Tuomela Fish Packing Plant. We have new people to feed. I know your father owns a similar plant, so I figured you'd be able to lend some expertise."

  Fish packing expertise. That he had. If it meant spending a day out of the hot sun, he was game. Stepping away from his former crew, Matti walked over to introduce himself. "Sergeant Ranta, sir!"

  "Lieutenant Pauli Takala." The company commander shook his hand firmly, looking down on him with a cocky half smile. Charming, that one. He'd have to remember to never introduce him to Anna.

  "Glad to meet you."

  "Shall we go, boys?" Takala turned toward the lot where they’d parked their trucks, smacking one of the other soldiers on his back. "That is, if Sergeant Uotila here can hack working today. After the night he had last night, who knows."

  Sergeant Uotila turned to him with tired eyes and grinned. "I can hack it, boss. Just give me a little something to take the edge off."

  One of the men looked behind him at the commanding officers and then quietly tugged something out of his front jacket pocket and handed it to Uotila. Uotila kept an eye behind him and took a swig before tucking it back into his jacket pocket.

  Was that a flask? Matti had heard that Takala's company was a bit wild, but drinking on duty, well, that seemed a bit much. Shaking his head, Matti ran to catch up with the group.

  Hopping onto the back of the dark green open-backed truck assigned to their company, Matti braced himself for the ride. The Soviet bombings in November had caused quite a bit of damage to the roads around town, so he’d learned to hold on tight when riding in the back of a flat bed.

  Squishing in next to him, another tall, blond, movie-star-looking soldier leaned over and smiled. "Hiya, newbie, I'm Ahti Ilmarinen, but people call me Käärme."

  "Käärme…snake…because you're so, um, thin?"

  "Nope, because I'm so smooth with the ladies."

  The other guys in the company laughed, slapped Käärme on the back, and guffawed like a bunch of kids at a lakeside reunion. Not like soldiers with a job to do.

  Matti bit his lip hard, reminding himself that making enemies of the men in his company would just make his life miserable. Still…

  Ahti—Käärme—whatever his name was—turned toward Matti. "Takala and I went to high school together so when it came time for our conscription, his dad made sure to pull some strings to make sure I got into his company. His dad is high up in the Ministry of Defense, personal assistant to the assistant director or something like that. Which makes this the best company to be in, my friend. You just got lucky."

  Lucky? Lucky would be fighting for Karelia, advancing toward the front, or strategizing a way to take back what was theirs. Not sitting on the back of a flatbed truck with a bunch of yahoos talking about vodka and women. Oh, and fish packing. Perhaps he should turn the conversation back to that.

  "So, Takala, what exactly is our assignment at the plant today?"

  Takala looked up with glazed eyes. He pulled a folded slip of paper out of his pocket, quickly read over their instructions, and then looked up at the men. "All right, men, listen up. The government is worried that we'll run out of food this winter. Lake Lagoda has always been a significant source of herring, and now that it's in Soviet hands, they’re worried we won't be able to feed the population, especially the refugees.”

  "Why don't we take back Lake Lagoda then?" The angry words slipped out before Matti remembered to keep his emotions in check.

  Takala's face jerked up, his cool blue eyes turning icy at the angry words. "Sergeant Ranta, I know you're from Karelia and you’re angry about the loss of your home, but there is no place for angry outbursts in our company. We do what we are ordered."

  Matti flattened his smile and sealed his lips shut. Takala's company had more of a reputation for following women than orders. "Yes, sir!"

  "We’ve been assigned to assist the Tuomela plant’s owners in coming up with a plan to get more herring canned and packaged before winter. Whether that means helping with the fisheries or with the canning process, I'm not sure."

  Great. The work Matti learned to hate when he was twelve. A lot of good it was doing him being a decorated veteran in the great Army of the Isthmus.

  "Ranta." Takala's voice nearly drowned in the wind, so Matti leaned closer to hear. "Since you grew up packing fish, I'll need you to meet with the foreman first thing to observe what they’re doing well and what could be improved upon. We need to help them increase production."

  "Käärme and Uotila, I want you to go with Ranta. You, College." Takala pointed to a small, wiry soldier in the corner who had kept to himself the entire ride. "You'll come with me to look at the plant's production records."

  "Will do." College looked up over his glasses and shook his head.

  Matti wondered what type of college he attended and how he’d managed to go to school in the middle of wartime. College educated soldiers were uncommon in the lower ranks of the Finnish army because most men were conscripted on their eighteenth birthday. Still, it would be nice to have someone on their squad who could lead them in an academic sort of way.

  Takala continued to give instructions to the company, giving each man an assignment and a specific objective.

  Matti had to hand it to Takala. He might be a flask-toting, girl-chasing playboy, but he was actually a strong leader in his company. Matti couldn't help but like the guy.

  "Does everyone understand their objective?" Takala finished up. "Meet here at 1800 to head back to base. Drinks to
night at Suomenlinna are on me. I hear the piano player there is a real ladies’ magnet, so maybe some of you yeehaws can find a decent date at the bar."

  Käärme whooped and Uotila grinned as he flung his legs over the side of the flatbed and started walking toward the plant.

  18

  Leningrad, Russia

  Tanya swallowed hard and looked down at the green satin dress that she had borrowed from Feodora. It sagged in all the wrong places and clung exactly where she didn't want it to, but considering her only other option was her threadbare calico, it would do.

  Giving the stubborn neckline one last desperate tug upwards, Tanya stepped out of the ladies’ room. She had a job to do, a paid job.

  It's just work. It's just work. It's just work.

  Her footsteps echoed across the hallway, being drowned out only by the music that cascaded out from the ballroom. Inside, thousands of officers in the great Red Army sipped vodka, ate delicious food, and chattered nervously, all realizing this could be their last big hurrah before Russia was thrown into imminent war.

  Feodora had convinced her to do this.

  OK, Feodora and her rumbling stomach.

  Feodora had marched into the boarding house yesterday with a grin and a proclamation. "Tawnie, I have a perfect opportunity for you to make some money."

  Tanya frowned and shook her head firmly. Hadn't she made it clear to Feodora that she wouldn’t walk down that road?

  "No, I promise Tawnie. It's not what you think. There's a big officer's ball downtown tomorrow night. They're throwing a party to reward the men who fought hard for the motherland up in Finland last winter. All of the guys want to show up with a beautiful woman on their arms…and, well, if beautiful women they want, then beautiful women they can have."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning you show up, you flirt a little, you smile big and make your officer feel as if he's the most handsome man in the room and you make two hundred fifty rubles."

  "Two hundred fifty rubles!" That was enough money to buy her another month in the boarding house and several loaves of bread. "And I don't have to…uh… "