“You’ve become so like your mother.”
I smiled at that, hoisted my kindling under my arm, my box of jackknives under the other and walked on to take on Mrs. Zaronova.
* * *
—
I FOUND MRS. ZARONOVA boxing up lace tablecloths, the women silent at their work.
“Kindling?” she asked. “I told you—”
I handed her the box of chocolates. “For all your hard work.”
“What is this?”
“I came into some money and I wanted you to have them. I would also like to become a patron of this endeavor. I’ve arranged for a hearty soup to be brought here to the women twice daily. Come spring we’ll plant vegetables in the lot next to the restaurant.”
“How did you—”
“We’re fighting back, madame. And in the interest of safety, Dr. Abushkin is arranging to have the women escorted to and from their homes after dark. I’ll not have another murder in our community.”
I stepped along the tables with my box of jackknives, slid one into my own pocket and began distributing them. “Carry this with you at all times. Even in daylight. Travel the city in groups of two or more. There’s strength in numbers.”
A woman with hair white as corn silk, plaited in one braid, stood from the bench. “I am Yana. Let me help with that.”
I handed her the box and she passed through the tables offering knives to the women. How good it was to see them each sitting up a bit taller as they examined their new protection.
I turned to Mrs. Zaronova. “Take that dark paper from the windows.”
“But—”
I pushed a stool to the wall, stepped up, and tore the black paper away in big pieces. Yana and others joined me and laughed as we ripped paper. Soon light shone through every window.
I turned to Mrs. Zaronova. “As your patron, I insist that these women also receive rest breaks and are allowed to speak to one another and that you allow the children playtime.”
“Of course, madame.”
I passed the bread down the tables, to the children first. Once everyone was fed I stood and admired my work and then headed home for a good night’s rest.
Tomorrow I would find my son.
* * *
—
I WENT TO SLEEP quickly that night, knowing the workers at the cathedral were safe for the time being. Oxana was out for the night so I had the bed to myself. Who knew how good a lumpy mattress could feel? As I drifted off I imagined how lovely it would feel to hold Max’s small hand in mine. I would visit every school in Paris if I had to.
Close to morning, from the very bottom depths of sleep, I heard a distant bell ring. I tried to retreat deeper into slumber but it grew louder.
I swatted at it.
A voice came, close to my ear. “Time to wake up, lazy girl.”
Oxana. I batted at her with my arm. “Let me sleep.”
“Well, that is terribly impolite.”
I sat up with a shot. That was not Oxana. My heart pounded in my chest.
Could it be?
CHAPTER
46
Varinka
1919
I sat at the kitchen table the following Friday, dressed in my robe, and drank a quick morning tea, having just pulled out the drawer of pots and pans for Max to play with. What a good boy he was. As he played, I considered my Luna Park date and Radimir’s offer. It might be my last chance to free myself from Taras. Why could Radimir not just accept my son? Would he be leaving soon?
Taras entered the kitchen through the back door with a cold blast of air and stepped toward me.
“Never at home anymore are you, Varinka?”
I pulled my robe tighter around me. “Do you ever knock?”
“I pay the rent here, last I checked.” He slid one hand down the side of my neck.
I lit a cigarette. “I have to get Max to school. He’s already late. And you smell like an opium den.” I’d smelled that scent on villagers back in Malinov, sweet and unmistakable, like a flower on fire.
I set my cigarette in the ashtray, a lazy trail of smoke rising to the ceiling.
“You and your mamka can’t just live here for free.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“With your new friend. Has you smoking now?” Taras came from behind, pulled a pair of dark gray manacles from somewhere and enclosed my wrist in one cuff.
I pulled at the metal, but he held it tight. How heavy it was. “This isn’t funny, Taras. Let me go.”
He closed the other end onto the table leg and walked away for a moment.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Just making sure the key is well hidden.”
“You can’t keep me here forever. Someday I’ll just leave.”
Taras shrugged. “I’ll just find you.”
“Not if I get enough of a head start. Where did these handcuffs come from?”
“I need them in my line of work. They’re the strongest made, adjustable for any wrist size and pure steel.”
He slid one hand under the lapel of my robe, across my breast. He kissed the scar of the burn on my cheek and ran his lips down the side of my face, his beard scratching the skin along my jaw.
“You’re hurting me.”
Taras murmured, lips close to my ear, “That Streshnayva daughter is here.”
A chill ran down my arms. “In Paris?”
“Has been hanging around.”
“Here?” A sick feeling clawed at my belly. Sofya? Come for Max?
“I put a message in the newspaper they all read but she didn’t bite. If you could spy on her for me it might help us both.”
“So you can hurt her?”
“I could use your help. She’s all over the place.”
“Do your own dirty work, Taras.”
Taras trailed his lips down the side of my neck. “Come now, Inka. Afraid your new boyfriend will think less of you? And just so you know, Vladi’s been in touch. Asking if the boy has been taken care of.”
A shiver ran through me. “Tell Vladi whatever you have to. Max is staying right here.”
Taras opened the front of my robe. “Then you need to make it worth my while. Admit it. You’d like to. Tonight.”
Max watched us with a steady gaze and my cheeks burned.
“The boy—” I said, pushing Taras away with my free hand.
I turned in my seat to find Mamka standing near the icebox, a crochet needle in her hand.
“Get away from her, Taras,” Mamka said.
I tried to stand, but the handcuff held me back.
She waved the needle at him. “Unlock her.”
Taras stepped to the icebox and pulled out a glass bottle of milk. “Who said you could come home during the day, old woman?”
“I live here.”
He waved her off. “Go sleep at that dress shop.”
Mamka stepped closer to Taras. “Give me the key.”
Taras walked away from her and I closed my robe best I could with one hand.
“How could you?” Mamka asked. “Animals know better.”
“I’m sorry, Mam—”
“It is the very worst sin. Plus, that child sees everything you both do. You should pray for forgiveness.”
Taras laughed.
Mamka came to me and tied my robe shut. “Someday you’ll feel the consequences, Taras.”
Taras stepped to the back door. “And you should pray you’ll find the key or that kid will be late for school.”
“I wish my husband never brought you into our house.”
Taras bent to Mamka’s face. “He bought me, old woman. Guess you need to feel the consequences.”
Taras left and slammed the door shut behind him as Mamka tore the kitchen ap
art in search of the key.
Max stood from his play and stepped to Mamka. “The key is in the flour.”
“Good boy,” she said, then dug her hand into the flour bag and extracted it, her arm covered in white to the elbow. She unlocked me, pulled me up to standing, and I pocketed the heavy cuffs and key.
“Get dressed,” she said. “I have something to show you.”
* * *
—
WE ARRIVED IN THE Jardin du Luxembourg in record time, with Mamka pulling me along by the hand, Max trailing behind holding my coat hem. It was one of our favorite places.
“Where are we going, Mamka?” Would we walk all five hectares of the park?
She said nothing and continued to pull us past the long rows of queen statues, which stood on pedestals. Being winter, we had the park almost to ourselves, since only a few couples strolled the wide, tree-lined paths.
A woman turned to me as we walked. “What a handsome child, your son.”
“Thank you,” I said, standing a little straighter. How often that happened all over Paris. With our similar coloring, of course people assumed he was my blood.
Max lunged toward the pool near the front of the imposing, gray Luxembourg Palace. “Please, I want to sail a boat.”
“The pond is closed.”
“The carousel?”
“It’s winter, Max. The horses are resting.” I gave him one of my best funny faces and he turned away, face sullen. How grown up he was, his hair straight and darker now.
The heavy cuffs in my pocket bounced against my leg as Mamka pulled Max and me to a long, rectangular pool with a carved stone grotto at the head. In the arch a sculpture of a hulking, green giant crouched on a rock, leaning over two naked marble lovers embracing.
Max busied himself tossing pebbles into the pool.
“So, when were you going to tell me Taras was doing such things again?”
“I didn’t want to bother—”
“He still watches you in the bania, doesn’t he?”
I looked away.
“Since when?”
“Since he came back from prison.”
“Does he…”
“No. We have an arrangement. But he says he wants more. Tonight.”
I turned away. The shame of it.
Mamka stopped and covered her face with both hands, shoulders heaving in silent sobs. “This is a sick thing, Varinka. What do we do?”
I rubbed her back.
Max came to stand near her and touched the back of her coat. “Don’t cry.”
Mamka dried her eyes. “Why did I not see he was doing this? Obviously, I didn’t protect you.”
“I was ashamed to tell you. We had an arrangement. Rules that we could only go so far.”
“I curse the day we took him in.”
“I let him do things like watch me in the bath and he took care of us. He said it was my fault. I teased him.”
She glanced up at me, her face blotched red. “By taking a bath? How can you think such a thing?”
“He says it was my fault what happened with Papa—”
“And you believe every lie?”
We both watched Max toss more pebbles in the water, sending watery circles to the pool’s edge.
“And now he knows about Radimir,” I said.
Mamka stood up straighter and fastened her top button. “You must leave immediately.”
“My life may not be normal, Mamka, but it’s the luck I was born with.”
“Luck?” She held up one hand to the sculpture. “The Medici Fountain. Do you see who that is up there in bronze?”
Of course, I knew. The cyclops Polyphemus with his broad chest and nasty expression. But I said nothing.
“That is Polyphemus up there preparing to attack the young lovers below. You recall that much, at least?”
I remembered the legend well from Mamka’s lessons. How often I’d asked her to tell me the story of handsome Acis and sea nymph Galatea, and how Polyphemus tried to crush his rival with a boulder.
“No need to be harsh, Mamka. Of course, I remember. Polyphemus wanted to kill Galatea’s lover.”
“Why?”
I stamped my feet to warm them. “He was jealous.”
“Well, you are Galatea now, my dear, and luck has nothing to do with it. Until you are rid of Taras, you’ll always be in danger. Radimir, too. I saw it. In the cards.”
I gasped a little breath in.
“The coffin card for Radimir.”
“But that is not always death—”
“I’ve seen it, Inka.”
“He wants me to go away with him.”
“Go.”
“But won’t take the child.”
“Leave Max with me and go.”
I gathered her close, kissed her cheek, and lay my head against her fur collar. How could I ever leave her? Or Max?
“You don’t even know Radimir, Mamka.”
“Your life will be hard, with two religions, but he’s a good man.” She held me at arm’s length. “I heard Taras talking on the telephone last night. I think he’s part of a kidnap team sending Whites back to Russia.”
“For trial?”
“The ladies at work say most die before they make it back. By sudden accidents like a fall from a window. I think it’s Taras who’s been murdering women, all over Paris.”
“How could—”
“Some no older than you. I found a shirt of his covered in blood.” She released me, gathered her coat closer, and looked about. “He could be watching right now.”
I took her hand, soft in mine. “How can I live without you?”
Mamka gave me her best reassuring smile, her eyes bright. “I’ll miss you, Inka, but you will be free. Leave Max at school, hang a kitchen towel on your bedroom door, and I’ll know you’re gone and safe.”
“I can’t leave Max.”
“Go, Varinka.”
Would I ever see her again?
“What if Taras comes after you? A crochet needle will do little against him.”
Mamka clasped my hand tighter. “I can take care of myself. I have Madame Lanvin and the others. But do it soon. If you want the good I’ve seen in the cards to come true.”
“What, Mamka?”
“Something you’ve always wanted.”
I barely breathed. “A child? Boy or girl?”
Mamka smiled. “You won’t know unless you go soon.”
CHAPTER
47
Sofya
1919
Her teeth glowed white in the darkness of the brothel dormitory. Was it possible?
“You look like you’ve seen the dead.”
She sat next to me on the bed, the little red bell Agnessa had so often punished her with around her neck.
“Luba?” I whispered.
“You’ve come a long way from the Ritz hotel, sister. I’m assuming no room service.”
I reached for her face, feeling it as a blind person does. My fingers traveled down her cheeks to her lips. “But I saw you, on the—”
She held my hand. A light from the street caught a reflection in her eyes, welled with tears. “The person you saw up there was the count I’m afraid, poor man. I escaped just before Vladi—” She paused, overcome.
“God be praised.” I gathered her in a tight embrace. “The Heavenly Father saved you, Luba.” How thin she was. I felt the bones of her back through her coat.
“It was Mrs. A., actually. I convinced Varinka to let me out and I tried to take Max but Vladi caught me. While he was getting his villagers roused up, Mrs. A. let me slip out of the quarters when she brought our food.”
“Dear woman.”
“And then I hid in the upper cabinets of the pantry.”
> “Smart girl.”
“I came out when I heard Vladi and his mob in the courtyard, starting a great fire with Agnessa’s dining room furniture. They shouted, ‘Kill the pigs’ and got Father….” Luba paused. “I’ll never forget Agnessa’s screams—calling for God to save them.” She wiped a tear with the back of her hand. “I saw it all from the woods. I wanted to run to them so badly, but there were villagers everywhere. I won’t tell you what they did to Tum-Tum.”
“We’ll get through this, go back and punish them all.”
“While I breathe, I hope,” she said.
Dawn’s first rays touched the room and showed Luba more clearly, her hair dyed white-blond.
She pulled at one lock. “I dyed it to be incognito. What do you think?”
“I think it suits you. I cut mine.”
“Your pride, Sofya.”
“It will grow.”
“Any news of Afon?”
Still the master of changing the subject.
I smoothed the edge of my blanket. “I don’t know if we’ll see him again, Luba.” How could I say, “Your beloved brother-in-law may have been captured by the Red Army and killed?” There would be time to tell the whole story later. “But I do know Varinka and Taras have little Max. I’ve been working as a collection agent for the owner here and saw Taras. At 24 Rue de Serene.”
“Did he recognize you?”
“Not sure. But I think he’s become even more dangerous.”
“We’ll get Max back.”
“How did you make it here from Malinov?”
“Sailed to Constantinople where I sold women’s silk stockings for a while, then spent a year in Rome and hitched a ride here with a circus.”
I smiled. “Only you, Luba.”
I took her hands in mine, a woman’s hands now, so slender, rough and red, covered with black stains.
“Luba, your hands.”
She shrugged. “Found a job at the Citroën factory in southern Paris.”
“Of all people, Luba. You should be at university. Your hands will never recover.”
“But I have. Flown out of the gilded cage.”
Lost Roses Page 37