Tsura: A World War II Romance

Mihai reacted as if struck and quickly looked away from her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He cleared his throat. “It’s been a long day. We should get to sleep. I’ll bring your nightgown.”

  She turned off the water and waited, dumbfounded by what she’d just realized. In another few moments, he returned.

  “Here you go.” Mihai shoved a folded nightgown at her, still without meeting her eyes. Then the door closed solidly behind him.

  Mechanically, she peeled off her dress, her mind reeling. No wonder Luca always defended Mihai whenever she said anything against him. Luca must have known all along that Mihai was spying for the… Allies? The Resistance? Did Romania even have a Resistance? Whoever he was working for, this at least was clear—everything she thought she knew about Mihai Popescu was backwards.

  Tsura quickly pulled on her nightgown and undid the pins from her hair. But why? Why hadn’t Luca told her? Or Mihai, especially after the wedding, after they’d come back here? Indignant fury rose up. Did they think she couldn’t handle knowing? That she was a weak-petaled flower? Or that she would be careless and let the secret slip?

  She pushed open the door right as Mihai stretched his arms over his head. She paused abruptly. In only his sleep shirt, without a suit-coat on, his shoulders really were alarmingly broad. Two nights a week he worked out at a local boxing club, yes, but she hadn’t realized that equated actual muscle until this moment.

  Mihai turned around and caught her staring. “I’m tired dear,” he said loudly. “I don’t really feel like talking anymore tonight.”

  She opened her mouth to protest. There were so many things she had to ask him, but he held up a hand. “How about tomorrow after dinner we go for a walk. To make up for being late tonight.”

  She gritted her teeth. “All right,” she forced herself to say. “That sounds lovely.”

  “Good.” He turned off the light and then sank into his bed on the couch.

  She stood for a moment in the dark without moving. Then it was too much. The thought of Mihai’s too-large body on that too-narrow couch was suddenly, well, too much. She walked straight over to the couch, bumping into the side table. She grabbed his arm and yanked.

  “You are sleeping in your own bed tonight!” she hissed in a whisper.

  “Tsura—” he began to protest.

  She reached for his face, or where she thought his face was, and covered his mouth with her hand, hard enough to stop whatever words were coming next.

  “No,” she whispered sharply. “I have been here sitting in this apartment worrying the worst things about you, that you have had one of your attacks and were lying in an alley somewhere… “ She waved the hand not holding his mouth wildly in the air. “It was past midnight and I don’t know much about epilepsy—which is something else we’ll be discussing tomorrow—or about your work, or about how you actually spend your time when you are out of my sight, but what I do know is that the bed is far more comfortable than this deviled couch.”

  She paused for breath a moment before continuing in a rush. “And you are going to sleep on that bed tonight so that you can sleep the best you can in the few hours until morning. That way I won’t have to spend all of tomorrow worrying about you some more. And then we are going to have that very long talk that you promised me. Now, once I let go of your mouth, you are not going to say a word in protest. Nod if you understand.”

  There was a long silence. Mihai was immobile underneath her hand. But then his head bobbed up and down.

  She sucked in a long, calming breath and her body finally relaxed. She released him. For another moment there was silence between them. Because of the dark, she couldn’t see his eyes, but she thought he was staring at her.

  Then, without a word, he sat up from the couch and crossed over to the bed. Tsura climbed into the couch in his place and laid her head on the pillow. It was still warm.