Nikolaiovna intervened.
“Girls, stop the fuss. Get on with your work. Sick Children don’t need to hear you’re arguing. It will make them feel worse.”
I was about to complain that it was Larysa who was the problem when Malenka started coughing violently.
“Larysa, have you forgotten the last time you crossed Ivanovna’s path? Do you need another beating? And Philipovna, mind that Child before she chokes. No more of this nonsense. I don’t need the two biggest girls in the house making problems. I can take the broom to both of you if I have to.”
And so the dull gray day dragged on. Every chore was a challenge. Either Larysa had a complaint about how I was doing it wrong or I would have to stop to check on Malenka. By noon, two more of the little ones were showing signs of the fever.
To make matters worse, Gregory wouldn’t drink his tea. His eyes looked straight through me and he wouldn’t drink.
“What should I do with him?” I asked Nikolaiovna. “I don’t think he can hear me or see me. Look at him.”
She came in and held his hand.
“Please darling,” she said softly. “Auntie Marina is here. I’ll help you. Please darling.”
But he wouldn’t drink for her either. His eyes looked through her too. She was teary and quiet through that whole damp afternoon. She would drop what she was doing to sit by his side or stand over his bed for a moment or two and then go on with her duties. But Gregory’s condition didn’t change.
Malenka coughed harder. By mid-afternoon the first signs of the white phlegm appeared. There was still no sign of Ivanovna.
Maybe, the old woman wasn’t at the market, I thought. Maybe there wasn’t even a market today. I didn’t know what day of the week it was. The days always blurred together.
“I’m so tired I feel dizzy,” I said to Nikolaiovna. “I’m going to drop soon.”
“How is he?” she asked.
“He hasn’t had a sip of tea since last night,” I said. “I think his breathing is getting funny too.”
She stood at Gregory’s bed staring down at his bluish face and then she did the most amazing thing I had ever seen. She knelt by his side and took his hand.
“Gregory, my darling Gregory,” she said in a barely audible whisper. “If it is too much for you, let go. Go to Natasha and Babusya. My darling, I see your suffering. I’d gladly trade places with you. I wish it were me so that you could go and live your young life, but God isn’t letting it happen that way. You have my permission to go to your Mama. Let her guide you. I’ll be all right.”
She laid her head on his filthy blanket, right by his face. Her tears washed both of their cheeks. I had to leave the room. I pulled Larysa out with me and to my great surprise, she didn’t resist.
When we were in the big room again, I noticed that the gray day was getting gloomier. Twilight was setting in. Larysa must have noticed too.
“I’m going to start cooking,” she said.
“Go ahead.”
“Do you think Nikolaiovna will be cross?”
“No. She’ll probably be glad.”
“How long do you think she’s going to hang around him like that?”
“Till he dies.”
“Is he really going to die?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Ivanovna said that it would be better if he did because there’s not enough flesh on his burned bones and because we don’t have enough food for him to get well.”
“Where is she anyway?” Larysa said.
Her eyes were shining bright green with tears. She started to cry. She grabbed the water pail and began slamming the porridge things. She didn’t look at anyone or talk for a long time but as the porridge was made she stirred and crashed around the stove like a bear with a sore paw. The rest of the Children just sat and stared. They knew better than to ask any questions. Their blank faces and dull silence built a protective wall so that they could stay as far away from the crisis as they could. They dumbly lined up for their meagre supper. They sat and ate without talking and waited—waited for Gregory to die, for Nikolaiovna to reappear from the sick room and for Ivanovna to come home.
The twilight deepened. I lit the candles. Nikolaiovna didn’t come out.
“I have to go in to look after the ones in the sick room,” I said to Larysa.
“Don’t bother Gregory,” she said.
“I won’t.”
“I’ll put everyone to bed. It’s too cold to do anything else anyway, and no one feels like stories without Nikolaiovna.”
I went in and ministered to the sick ones. Malenka had been sleeping and seemed to be a little better for it, although her breathing was starting to come with that familiar hissing sound. I picked her up and sat in the chair where Ivanovna had left me. Malenka started to cough. Since Gregory had not drunk the tea I had made earlier in the day, I slowly let Malenka drink it.
She might as well be as comfortable as she can, I thought.
I felt so tired myself. My throat had an unfamiliar scratchy feeling. There was nothing for me to do now but sit and wait.
I must have fallen asleep again because through my fog I heard some movement. When I looked up, Nikolaiovna was on her knees beside Gregory’s bed on one side and Larysa was on the other. They were wrapping him in his blanket and crying.
“Farewell, my pet,” Nikolaiovna whispered. “No one will ever harm you again. I’m sorry I couldn’t take better care of you. Tell Natasha I’m sorry. Farewell, my pet. Farewell.”
“May I please do it for him?” Larysa asked in a small and tender voice that I had never heard before.
I watched as Larysa closed his eyes and gently kissed their lids. I could see her thin shoulders spasm with the effort it was taking not to sob out loud. My own chin shook with silent grief. They each took an end of Gregory’s wrapped body and carried him out to where he himself had laid so many Children.
Reunion
THE NIGHT LOOMED large before me. I shifted Malenka’s weight from one shoulder to the other and reached to light another candle. How was I going to stay awake until Ivanovna returned? My throat was dry no matter how much water I drank. It was no longer just scratchy, it was getting sore. My eyes teared from the effort to keep them open. My cheeks burned. My head dropped. I jerked awake again. Was that a sound I heard?
I laid Malenka down on my sleeping bench and went to investigate. Nikolaiovna and Larysa were dozing by the stove. I tiptoed past them so that I could see what the sound could be without disturbing the house, but everything looked the same as I had left it. I gently lifted the latch and went out into the cold night.
A sliver of the early spring moon was peeking out between the breaking clouds and a wind was blowing. I took a deep breath, my first breath of fresh air for months. But instead of feeling cold and refreshing, it made my chest hurt. My shallow breath came out in hot bursts and floated in small white puffs. I stood shivering as I looked around the quiet cottage.
I could see nothing out of the ordinary out there either. Yet the feeling that things were happening wouldn’t leave me. I wasn’t sure if I shivered from the wind or from the fear that was creeping up my bones. I looked among the shadows. Ivanovna stood between two men, whispering by the wall where we laid the dead Children. They had found Gregory. I tiptoed closer although I wouldn’t have been heard as the wind was rattling the ice-covered branches of the frozen willow by the wall. Ivanovna was telling them what a wonderful boy Gregory had been and how he had been so terribly injured. I could hear her sniffling.
“That damned Party will be the death of all of us,” the taller man said roughly. “Imagine, a brute like that beating a defenseless Child!”
“Slavko,” the other said. “No one will tell you what to think. But watch what you say. You should have learned that by now. I won’t be able to protect you if some cholera turns you in. You never know who you can trust.”
The man called Slavko shrugged.
“I
wonder how long he’s been out here,” Ivanovna said.
“Only a couple of hours,” I said.
Ivanovna swallowed a scream. The two men turned on me as I stepped into the shadows.
“What are you doing, sneaking around out here?” Slavko said. His big hand clapped down onto my shoulder like Uncle Misha’s had on that last Easter Sunday when Mitya and I discovered the men around the campfire.
The sudden gesture brought a flood of tears. “Is anyone else with you?”
“What have you heard?” the other man asked.
“Nothing — nothing just your talk about Gregory,” I said.
In the dim light of the crescent moon the men seemed familiar. Could it really be Doctor Bondarenko and his driver? Could I be lucky a second time? I shivered violently again.
“Philipovna? Is that you?” Ivanovna asked, recovering her composure.
“Yes, I was almost asleep and heard a sound. I had to see what it was.” A tear slipped out. I jabbed at it with a cold finger.
“We were being quiet,” she said. “You were. I was listening for you.”
“This is why I wanted to come so late. I needed to be sure no one was out on the street,” the man who looked like Doctor Bondarenko said.
“I wasn’t out on the street,” I whispered.
“I can’t be too careful. You never know who is watching or who will give the Comrades a nugget. The last thing I need is for my patients to find out that I was visiting a filthy orphanage.”
“Let’s go in,” Ivanovna said. “We’re better off talking inside.”
Slavko’s hand was still on my shoulder. Where did he think I would be able to go? I was taken into the house behind Ivanovna and the doctor who gagged and covered his nose as he entered.
“What do you expect when we’re not given any soap or supplies not to mention any medicine for at least the past six weeks?” Ivanovna said. “Breathe through your mouth. It’s not so bad that way.” She closed the door behind us. “Let her go already. She’s one of the orphans, and my good helper too. If I had a couple more like her, my life would be much, much easier.”
Slavko’s hand slowly released me, but his eyes didn’t look away.
Nikolaiovna and Larysa started up.
“Where were you?” Larysa said.
Nikolaiovna acknowledged them with a nod.
“All will be told in good time,” Ivanovna said with an impatient wave of her mittened hand. “These gentlemen have some things to do. We’ll talk later.”
I realized that I had never seen her thick mittens before. I wondered where she got them. Could she have traded Malenka’s precious cross for things to wear? Or did she give it away for a good meal for herself?
“Doesn’t this one look familiar,” Slavko said, still studying me.
“As a matter of fact,” the man who looked like Doctor Bondarenko said, “she does.”
“But we’ve seen her somewhere else,” Slavko said.
“Do you know this man?” Ivanovna asked.
I swallowed hard.
“Answer the question,” Slavko said.
“She doesn’t have to,” Dr. Bondarenko said. “I know who she is. How are the twins?”
I looked down.
“And the older Child?”
I shook my head.
The doctor patted my unruly hair. My muscles all stiffened when he touched me. It was months since anyone had reached out to me with a kind gesture of affection. I choked back a sob.
“Maybe it’s better that they are gone to Heaven,” he said. “It’s a terrible time for Children, especially the very sick ones.”
“They aren’t the only ones that are gone,” Nikolaiovna said. Ivanovna faced her for the first time since we entered the house.
“We found him by the wall. I’m so sorry.”
Nikolaiovna started to cry again.
“He would have never stopped suffering,” Ivanovna said. Her eyes glistened. “Truly Marina Nikolaiovna, it is for the best.”
“Let’s see the cross again,” the doctor said.
I breathed a sigh of relief. We still had the cross. Ivanovna was true to her word.
“My father’s brother was a goldsmith so all of our crosses have the same markings. Do you see that?”
He took Malenka’s cross from Ivanovna. He held it in one hand, pulled a bigger one from beneath his shirt and motioned for me to step up to him. He held it close to one of the lighted candles and carefully compared it to Malenka’s. He made me recount how I found the cross, what I did to hide it and explain why I didn’t tell the doctor about it earlier.
When I came to the telling of my thoughts about how God wanted me to be Malenka’s Godmother, his eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sure He will have something very special for you in Heaven. Imagine, someone who still needs a Godmother of her own and you’ve cared for her. Let’s see this Little Malenka. I must not stay too long.”
Slavko placed himself on watch by the window that looked out onto the yard as he had done at Auntie’s house.
I followed the doctors into the sick room.
“Is this all of the light we have?” Dr. Bondarenko asked. “I can’t see anything in here. How do you work in these conditions?”
“We haven’t had kerosene since last winter,” Ivanovna said.
“Philipovna bring some more candles. It’s the best I can do.”
The light must have disturbed Malenka’s sleep. When I set the extra candles down, she began to cry. The crying got her cough going again. I picked her up and patted her back to settle her. I turned away from the doctor so that the phlegm wouldn’t be sprayed on him, but his hand grasped my arm as he stood looking down at us, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Ivanovna’s eyebrow was raised in that familiar look of exasperation that I knew well. But the doctor stood staring at the Child.
“She looks just like her— just like little Olya!”
“Would you please get on with what you need to do?” Ivanovna said. “I don’t have all night.”
“Did you see her mother?” He turned to me.
“Yes, Good Uncle, I did.”
I described the night of Malenka’s arrival. I pointed out the beet red shawl which was now discoloured by months of constant use and told him how Gregory had given it to me. I told him that we had wrapped Malenka’s mother in an old blanket and how Gregory put her by the wall where we always placed the dead. I pulled out the platok. The doctor gulped down his breath.
“My sister painted this,” he said. “It is a copy of the design from Kiev that she did especially for all of her nieces.” He grabbed the crumpled platok and pressed it against his heart.
“Have you noticed anything unusual about Malenka?” he asked.
“You mean her beautiful hair?” I said, taking a guess.
“No. Any unusual marks?”
I stopped to collect my thoughts.
“You mean that little mark under her neck that looks like a little berry from the kalyna?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“I thought it was some kind of a scar.”
“No. We all have one.” He unwrapped his heavy woollen scarf and pulled the collar of his shirt open. “Look here.”
Ivanovna stepped in close behind me to look over my shoulder. I could hear her inhale with surprise. There, below his collarbone was the same birthmark I had wondered about often as I wiped Malenka after a meal.
“What is it? I thought that she might have been hurt somehow.”
“No, Child, our whole family has one. It’s our own sign.”
I gaped.
“You mean ... you mean you’re family?” I stammered.
“Yes, I am ashamed to say that I am.”
Ivanovna and I stared. What kind of a way was that to claim one of your own? In our village, a lost one would be a cause for rejoicing.
“Ashamed?” I asked.
“It’s a long story,” the doctor said, sighing. “I shouldn�
�t burden you with our troubles. I could have done more to help. And I should be moving as quickly as I can.”
“But I want to know. She’s my little Malenka.”
“I’ll have Larysa make you some tea,” Ivanovna said. “Surely, you have a few moments to answer Philipovna’s questions. Besides, you promised to give me some medicine. You have more than the value of any cross with the recovery of the Child.”
I put Malenka down and went to make tea myself. Larysa was still despondent and didn’t look like she could be trusted around a fire or hot water. Marina Nikolaiovna was no better as she sat weeping quietly into her apron. I slowly filled the tea kettle from the almost empty bucket and put it onto the stove to heat. I was feeling hot and light-headed. Slavko watched me struggling with the bucket.
“Let me go out and fill it for you,” he said. “You don’t look so well yourself.”
“I’d be surprised if you found anyone that looks good in a place like this,” I answered.
“Would that the Party should listen to its Children,” he said, smiling wryly. “I should scout around and make sure that no one followed us to this Godforsaken hovel.”
I put the kettle onto the fire and found the tea things. Slavko quietly went to fill the bucket. I nodded my thanks.
After he returned with the fresh water, he took on the job of bringing wood in from the shrinking pile outside. He even stoked the fire. I could hear the doctor and Ivanovna’s muffled voices rise occasionally and caught the few words that let me know he wasn’t parting from his medicine easily. They seemed to be arguing for a long time. My head felt hot and foggy so that I couldn’t listen in on their conversation from a discreet distance as I had learned to do when I really wanted to know what the Comrades had in mind.
The tea was well steeped when they came out of the sick room. The doctor’s face was sullen.
“I know this is costly for you,” Ivanovna said. “But at least you can go and get more medicine. Not like me. I just have to sit and watch the Children die while the Party debates over who gets what.”
The doctor had opened his overcoat and stuffed Malenka in— right next to his chest, as filthy as she was and would have kept on walking right out of the door had I not darted over and clung to his sleeve.
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