She was clearing the table. Alexander looked around. No one else moved. Not even Zoe or Vova. As he started to stand up, Tatiana asked, “Where are you going? Smoke at the table.”
“To help you clear up.”
“No, no, no!” cried a chorus of voices. “What are you thinking? No. Tatiana does it.”
“I know she does,” said Alexander. “But I don’t want her to do it by herself.”
“Why?” asked Naira with genuine surprise.
“Honestly, Alexander,” Tatiana said. “You didn’t travel all this way to clear the table.”
Alexander sat back down, turned to Zoe, and said, “I admit I’m a little tired. Could you help her?” He didn’t smile at her. Zoe seemed to like that even better, giving him a large smile, as big as her breasts, and reluctantly going to help.
Tatiana made tea and poured a cup for Alexander first, and then for the four ladies and then for Vova and then for Zoe, and then for herself. She brought out the blueberry jam and was just climbing in to sit next to Alexander when Vova said, “Tanechka, before you sit, pour me another cup of tea, will you?”
Tatiana, legs straddling the bench, took Vova’s cup when Alexander grabbed her wrist. The cup rattled on the saucer. “You know what, Vova?” Alexander said, lowering Tatiana’s hand to the table. “The kettle of water is on the hearth, the teapot is right in front of you. Sit down, Tania. You’ve done plenty. Vova can pour his own tea.”
Tatiana sat down.
Everybody at the table stared at Alexander.
Vova went and poured his own tea.
Finally it was time for Zoe and Vova to go home. The time couldn’t come fast enough for Alexander, until Vova said, “Tania? Walk me out?”
Without acknowledging Alexander, Tatiana went outside with Vova. Alexander pretended to listen to Zoe and to Naira, but he watched Tatiana outside.
He wished he had had less vodka. He really needed to talk to Tania. When she came back, Alexander wanted her to look at him. She did not.
Zoe said, “Alexander, want to go for a smoke and a walk?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow a group of us are going swimming down in the hole. You want to come?”
“We’ll see,” he said noncommittally. He didn’t even look up. Soon she left.
“Tania, come and sit down,” Alexander said. “Sit down next to me.”
“I will. You want something else?”
“Yes. You to sit.”
“What about something else to drink? We have a little cognac.”
“No, thanks.”
“What about—”
“Tania. Sit down.”
Carefully she sat down on the bench next to him. He moved over to her. “You must be so tired,” he said gently. “Want to come outside with me? I need a smoke.”
Before Tatiana could reply, Naira said, “I’ll tell you, Alexander, it was very hard for our Tania at first.”
Tatiana got up with a sigh and disappeared into one of the bedrooms.
“She doesn’t want us to talk about it,” said Axinya in hushed tones.
“Of course not,” Alexander said. He didn’t either.
They continued unheeded. “She was in a bad way. She was just an apparition.” The women all bent their heads toward him, clucking with tears in their eyes. He would have been almost amused by them, if only they weren’t stopping him from getting two words alone with his horse and cart. Naira said, “No, but can you just imagine, losing your whole—”
“I can imagine,” Alexander interrupted. He did not want to be talking to these women about it. He stood up, about to excuse himself and go after Tatiana.
“Alexander, and that’s not even the half of it,” Naira whispered. “Tania really doesn’t like us to talk about what happened in Kobona. We didn’t want to tell you before, but—”
“Oh, but that Dimitri is a right bastard!” Axinya exclaimed again.
Alexander sat back down. “Tell me quickly.”
Tatiana came back with a slam of the door.
“I’m sorry, Tanechka,” Axinya said, “but I just want to beat that man with a stick.”
“Please stop talking about Kobona,” Tatiana said.
Dusia said, “Woe betide Dimitri. Someday he is going to fall alone, and no one will be there to help him up.”
Rolling her eyes, Tatiana left again with another slam of the door.
Axinya said, “I think that bastard broke her heart. I think she loved him.”
Alexander was finding it difficult to remain upright.
Dusia shook her head vehemently. “Absolutely not,” she said. “He never would have fooled her for a second. Our Tania sees through people right from the start.”
“She does, doesn’t she, Dusia?” said Alexander.
Axinya lowered her voice and said, “We still think there’s another story to this, maybe some kind of love thing.”
“Not a love thing,” said Alexander, widening his eyes.
Naira shook her head. “You think so, Axinya. But I say no. I disagree. The girl lost everyone. She was devastated. There was no love.”
“I think there was,” said Axinya firmly.
“You’re wrong,” Naira said.
“Oh? Then why does she keep going to the post office to see if there is any mail for her?” Axinya asked triumphantly. “She’s got no one left, who is she waiting for mail from?”
“Good point,” said Alexander. Was he about to go do something? He couldn’t remember. The day had been too long. Right now he couldn’t remember the last thing anyone had said.
Axinya said, “And have you noticed how during the sewing circle at the square she always picks a place to sit so she can see the road?”
“Yes, yes!” agreed the other three ladies. “Yes, she does do that. She watches that road obsessively, as if she is waiting for somebody.”
Alexander lifted his gaze. Tatiana stood behind the old ladies, her expressive, eternal eyes on him.
“Are you, Tatiasha?” he asked emotionally, his voice full. “Are you waiting for somebody?”
“Not anymore,” she replied emotionally, her voice just as full.
“You see?” said Naira with satisfaction. “I told you there was no love thing!”
Tatiana sat down next to Alexander.
Naira said, “Tanechka, you don’t mind that we gossip about you, do you? You know you’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to Lazarevo in years. Vova certainly thinks so.” She laughed and to Alexander said, “My grandson has quite a crush on Dasha’s little sister, you know.”
Without a word Alexander blinked at Tatiana. He would have said a word, if he could have found one in his head.
All Alexander wanted was two seconds, maybe one conscious second alone with Tatiana—why was that too much to ask? Maybe conscious was out of the question, but why was putting his two hands somewhere on her repaired, fed, warm body out of the question?
He went outside to smoke, to wash. When he returned, he wanted to undress, to take off his boots. Instead he heard a constant stream of “Tanechka, darling, can you get me my medicine?” “Tanechka, dear, can you come and fix my blankets?” “Tanechka, sweetheart, can you get me a glass of water?” Finally he couldn’t wait anymore. He took off his boots. “Tania, honey,” he said, and then put his head down on the table and was instantly asleep. He woke up to feel himself being lightly shaken, lightly stroked. It was dark. “Come on, Shura,” her voice whispered. She was trying to get him to stand up. “Come on, can you make it up? Please, wake up and go lie down. Please.”
He got up on the hearth, hopped up onto the bed on top of the warm stove, and was asleep in his uniform. Through semiconsciousness he felt her taking off his socks, unbuttoning his tunic, unbuckling his belt and pulling it out from the loops. He felt her soft lips on his eyes, on his cheek, on his forehead. He felt fine feathers on his face. It must have been her hair. He wanted to wake up, but it was impossible.
5
&nbs
p; The next morning Alexander opened his eyes and looked at his watch. It was late—eight in the morning. He looked around for Tatiana. She was nowhere, but he was covered by her quilt and he was lying on her pillow. Smiling, he turned on his stomach and pressed his face into the pillow. It smelled of soap and fresh air and her.
He went outside. It was a chirping and sunny rural morning; the air was as still as peacetime; the cherry tree blossoms and the lilacs filled the yard with their overripe scent. The lilacs made Alexander especially cheerful—the Field of Mars was full of lilacs in late spring. He could smell them all the way from the barracks. It was one of his favorite smells, lilacs in the Field of Mars. Not his favorite smell: of an alive Tatiana’s breath as she kissed his unconscious face last night. Lilacs could not compete with that smell.
The house was quiet. After quickly washing, Alexander went to look for her, finding her on the road, returning home carrying two pails full of warm cow’s milk. Alexander knew it was warm because he stuck his fingers in the pail. Tatiana’s shiny white-blonde hair was left down, and she was wearing a blue wraparound skirt and a small white shirt that came up above her navel, exposing her stomach. The round outlines of her high breasts were clearly visible. Her face was a lovely flushed pink color. Alexander’s heart stopped in his chest when he saw her. He took the milk pails from her. They walked for a minute in silence. He felt himself getting short of breath.
“I suppose after this you’re going to go and fetch water from the well,” he said.
“Going to?” Tatiana said. “And what did you shave with this morning?”
“Who shaved?”
“Did you brush your teeth?” She smiled lightly.
He laughed. “Yes, with your water from the well. Tania, after breakfast,” he said, lowering his already husky voice, “I want you to show me your grandparents’ house. Is it far?”
“It’s not too far,” she said and her face was inscrutable.
Alexander was not used to Tatiana being inscrutable. His job was to make her scrutable. He smiled. “Hmm.”
“What do you want to see it for? It’s all padlocked shut.”
“Bring the key. Where did you sleep?”
“On the couch in the porch,” she replied. “Were you comfortable? I didn’t think so. You were in all your clothes. But I couldn’t wake you up for anything—”
“Did you try?” asked Alexander in a measured tone.
“I had to practically shoot your pistol in the air to get you to climb up onto the stove.”
“Tania, don’t shoot it up in the air,” Alexander said. “The bullet has to come down.” Remembering her lips on his face, he added, “You removed my socks and my belt.” He grinned. “You should have gone the extra step.”
“Couldn’t lift you,” Tatiana said, blushing. “How are you feeling this morning? After all that vodka?”
“Great. How about you?”
“Hmm,” she said, surreptitiously looking him over. “Do you have any clothes to wear besides your uniforms?”
“No.”
“I’ll wash your Class-As for you today,” she said. “But if you’re planning to stay for a little while, I have some regular clothes for you.”
“Do you want me to stay for a little while?”
“Of course,” Tatiana replied, her voice measured. “You came all this way. No point in going back so soon.”
“Tania,” Alexander said, walking close to her, knocking into her gently, “now that I’m lucid again, tell me about Dimitri.”
“No,” she said. “I can’t. I will, but—”
“Tania, do you know that I saw him two weeks ago, and he didn’t tell me he saw you in Kobona.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. I asked him if he saw you or Dasha, and he said, no, he had not.”
Shaking her head, Tatiana gazed straight ahead and faintly said, “Oh, he saw me and Dasha, all right.”
Some of the milk spilled to the ground.
As they walked, Alexander told her about Leningrad, about Hitler and his losses. He told her about the vegetables growing all over the city. “Tania,” he said, “they’ve planted cabbage and potatoes right in front of St. Isaac’s.” He smiled. “And yellow tulips. What do you think of that?”
“I think that’s great,” she said in a tone that conveyed no connection to St. Isaac’s whatsoever. Inscrutable.
Alexander didn’t want her to feel sad this morning. Were there just too many things for them to get past before he could get a morning smile out of her?
“What’s the ration up to now?” Tatiana asked, her eyes to the ground.
“Three hundred grams for dependents. Six hundred for workers. But soon there might be white bread. The council promised white bread this summer.”
“Well, it’s certainly easier to feed one million people than it is to feed three.”
“Fewer than a million now. They’re being evacuated by barges across the lake.” He changed the subject. “I see you have plenty of bread here in Lazarevo.” Alexander eyed her. “Plenty of everything here in—”
“Everybody been buried?”
He sighed imperceptibly. “I supervised the excavation of graves at Piskarev Cemetery myself.”
“Excavation?”
She didn’t miss a thing. “We used military mines to dynamite—”
“Mass graves?” she finished.
“Tania . . . come on.”
“You’re right, let’s not talk about it. Oh, look, we’re home.” She rushed ahead.
Disappointed they were already home, Alexander caught up with her. “Can you show me those clothes? I’d like to put something else on.”
Inside the house she pulled out her trunk from near the stove and was about to open it when Dusia’s voice sounded from one of the bedrooms. “Tanechka? Is that you?”
Naira came out and said, “Good morning, dear. I didn’t smell the coffee this morning. I woke up, sweetheart, because I didn’t smell the coffee.”
“I’ll make it now, Naira Mikhailovna.”
Raisa came out of her bedroom and said, “When you have a minute, dear, could you help me to the outhouse?”
“Of course.” Tatiana started to close the trunk. “I’ll show you later,” she whispered to Alexander.
“No, Tatiana,” Alexander said impatiently. “You will show me now.”
“Alexander, I can’t now,” she said, pushing the trunk back against the wall. “Raisa has a hard time going to the bathroom by herself. You see how she shakes. But you can sit for five minutes, can’t you?”
What, he hadn’t been patient enough? “I can sit for longer than that,” he said. “I sat all night yesterday with you and your new friends.”
She chewed her lip.
He sighed. “All right, all right. Do you have a mortar and pestle?” Alexander couldn’t help himself; his spirits were too high, and he was too crazed by her to remain exasperated for long. Trying to keep the double meaning out of his voice, he asked, “Would you like me to grind your coffee beans for you?”
“Yes, thank you,” Tatiana replied. She was not playing. “That will be a big help. I’ll get you the cheesecloth, too.” She paused. “Could you fire up the stove, please? So I can make breakfast?”
“Of course, Tania.”
Tatiana took Raisa to the outhouse and then gave her her medicine.
She dressed Dusia.
She made all the beds, and then she fried some eggs with potatoes. Alexander watched it all. As he was sitting on the bench outside and smoking, Tatiana came up to him with a cup of coffee in her hands, and asked, “How do you like it?”
His eyes twinkling, Alexander looked up at her standing in front of him, so lavender fresh and young and alive. “How do I like what?”
“Your coffee.”
“I like my coffee,” said Alexander, “with thick, warm cream and lots of sugar.” He paused. “Get the cream right from the pail, Tatiasha, right off the top. But warm. And lots of it.
”
The cup in her hands started to shake.
Scrutable.
It was all Alexander could do not to laugh out loud, not to grab her, not to pull her to him.
After breakfast he helped her clear the table and wash the dishes. Her hands were immersed in a pan of sudsy water when Alexander, having watched her for a while, put his own hands in and felt for hers.
“What are you doing?” she said in a hoarse voice.
“What?” he said innocently. “I’m helping you with the dishes.”
“You are not a very good helper, I’m afraid,” Tatiana said, but she did not take her hands away, and as Alexander watched her face, he finally saw something dissolving against her wall of pain. He rubbed intently between her fingers, getting fixated and inflamed by the fine blonde down on her forearms and by her blonde eyebrows. “I think the dishes are going to be very clean,” he said, glancing at the four women, who were sitting in the morning sunshine and chatting within a few meters of them. In the warm, soapy water, Alexander stroked Tatiana’s fingers one by one, from the first knuckle down to the fingertip, and with his thumbs circled the palms of her slippery hands, while Tatiana stood, barely breathing through her parted lips, her eyes glazed over.
The fire raged in Alexander’s stomach.
“Tatia,” he said quietly, “your freckles are so pronounced. And,” he added, “very enti—”
Axinya came up to Tania, pinching her bottom. “Our Tanechka is freckled as if she’s been kissed by the sun.” Damn it. Alexander couldn’t even whisper to her without them overhearing. But when Axinya turned her back, Alexander leaned forward and softly kissed Tatiana’s freckles. He let her pull her fingers away from him and walk off, wet hands and all. Without drying his own hands, he followed her. “Is now a good time for you to show me those clothes?”
Going inside and opening her trunk, Tatiana pulled out a large white cotton button-down shirt with short sleeves, a knitted cotton shirt, a cream linen shirt, and three pairs of drawstring trousers made out of bleached linen. She also had a couple of sleeveless tops for him, and some drawstring cotton shorts. “To go swimming in,” she said. “What do you think?”
“These are great.” He smiled. “Where did you get them?”