The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (11)

“We need to stand up to them now,” Fedir said. He bounced on the balls of his feet, thrumming with nervous energy.

Katya felt Pavlo tense next to her as he grabbed Fedir’s shoulder. “Be smart. Now is not the time, Fedir. The OGPU is watching.”

Fedir shrugged off Pavlo’s grip. “There will never be a good time! I can’t listen to this anymore. And neither should you!” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Take your communist ideas and leave! We don’t want you here!”

A few gasps fizzled through the crowd. Comrade Ivanov stopped mid–sentence, his mouth hanging open, as he slowly turned and glowered at Fedir. He stepped back and spoke to the woman at his side. The crowd, unsure of how to react, waited on Fedir to do more, but Kolya and Pavlo dragged him outside before he could speak again.

Tato sucked in a worried breath. “That was foolish.”





Even though Katya and Pavlo were both on errands for their mothers, the time spent together walking home from the market was welcome. A few tenacious leaves clung to the naked branches of the trees lining the road and rattled in the winter winds. Katya shivered and turned her face up to the sun, wishing its warmth could reach her.

“Where are all of these fancy kulak houses the activists speak of?” she said. “Very few people I know have anything like that.”

Pavlo pursed his lips. “In their eyes, a tin roof is fancy, or an extra room built on your house. By their standards, if you aren’t wretchedly poor, you’re a kulak.” As they came to a fork in the road, Pavlo took her hand. “Come, let’s not talk of such things. I want to enjoy this morning with you. Have I mentioned that you look particularly lovely today?”

“You have not,” Katya said as she twirled the loose hair at the end of her braid. “Feel free to elaborate.”

Pavlo’s deep, rich laughter echoed around them. “I could go on and on about it, but first I must stop by my cousin’s.” Pavlo nodded toward Fedir’s house down the road. “He asked me to look at a harness that needs to be repaired. Then, I’ll list all the evidence of your beauty.”

Katya laughed. “Fine, but we mustn’t be long. My parents will wonder where we are.”

Pavlo grinned as they turned down the narrow road leading to Fedir’s. “Of course. We wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea about me.”

“You’re lucky that my father thinks so highly of you, or he’d be a lot stricter with me.”

“That may change when I tell him of my intentions,” Pavlo said.

“Oh? And what would those be?”

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He raised her hand to his lips, and Katya shivered.

Despite everything, she couldn’t remember a time as perfect as this exact moment. Pavlo not only thought her beautiful, he had intentions for her. That knowledge made it hard to worry about anything else.

They walked along for a few more minutes of blissful happiness before Pavlo dropped her hand, and Katya snapped back to reality.

“Fedir’s front door is open.” All of the playfulness in Pavlo’s voice disappeared, and dread splashed over her like a cold bucket of water.

He raced through the yard, his feet crunching on broken glass as he went inside. On the front door, Katya touched a dark, wet streak, and the coppery smell of blood filled her nose. She stared, dumbfounded, at the red liquid on her fingers.

“Pavlo.” She stepped past the doorway and held up her quaking hand.

Before her, a scene of utter chaos filled the small space: chairs overturned, the table on its side, broken dishes and clothing scattered all over the floor.

“He’s gone!” Pavlo’s voice cracked.

Fear swelled in her chest. “Do you think it was the OGPU?”

Pavlo clenched his jaw, and a narrow muscle on his temple flexed. “Who else could it be?”

She looked around the tiny house. “But he’s not a kulak!”

“He mocked the Soviets at the meeting last night, remember?” Pavlo’s words vibrated with anger. “Now it seems anyone who speaks out against them is a kulak, too.”





5





CASSIE





Illinois, May 2004





As they entered the hospital, Bobby’s accented English echoed down the hallway. Cassie gave a short laugh as she glanced at Anna. “She can’t be too bad off. She sounds like she always did.”

They followed her voice and found her, red-faced and irritated, scolding a young nurse.

“I am done! They said I could go home! I do not need more tests.”

“What’s going on?” Anna rushed into the room as Cassie watched the scene unfold.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the nurse said. “I had to check her bandages one more time before discharge. I didn’t mean to agitate her, but everything looks good. I’ll get the doctor to sign off on her paperwork, and you guys will be ready to go home.”

“Thank you.” Anna turned to Bobby. “I’ve brought you some visitors!”

Cassie took her daughter’s hand and entered the room.

Bobby’s wrinkled, sunken face bore the brunt of her recent accident. Purple bruises flowered out around her left eye and the papery skin on her cheeks had torn in several spots. Her flattened brownish gray curls stuck out from under the bandage on her temple, and light abrasions peppered her arms. Her eyes still snapped with fire, though, like the Bobby Cassie remembered, who ran her household with an iron fist and had a mind like a steel trap.