The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (21)

“We should get back before we do things we shouldn’t yet,” he said, his voice low and husky.

A surge of frustration flashed through her. “Yet? What are you waiting for? You love me, don’t you?”

Pavlo’s eyebrows shot up, and he began to laugh. He covered his mouth to muffle the sound, but his shoulders still shook with mirth.

“It’s not funny!” Katya stood and glowered at him.

“You’re right,” he sputtered out between throes of silent laughter. Finally, he took a few deep breaths and sighed. “Such spirit you have. This is why I love you. And this is why I want to marry you. Soon. Before we go any further down this path. But, with all of the uncertainty in our lives, I have not been able to earn the money I need to court you properly. Please, let me fix that.” He took her hands in his. “Katya, you have been my best friend forever. I love you more than life itself. Marry me. Say you’ll be my wife, and we can weather what comes together.”

“Yes! Yes!” She threw her arms around him with such gusto that they toppled backward, laughing out loud, and for a moment, forgetting they should be quiet. He kissed her then, silencing them both.

“Maybe we can marry alongside Kolya and Alina,” she said. “Their wedding isn’t far off.”

“The sooner the better,” Pavlo agreed, before giving a short chuckle. “Do you remember when you scattered the chickens after my mother asked me to fetch one for supper?”

Katya laughed, then slapped her hand over her mouth. “How could I forget? You were so mad you dangled me over the pigpen, threatening to drop me in. My mother would have killed me for ruining my good clothes!”

Pavlo stroked her cheek with his work–roughened hands. “You fought like a rabid dog. You’ve become a fierce and beautiful woman, but that was the first time I saw you as anything more than a bossy, trouble-making girl, and I knew, someday, I would marry you.”

“That was two years ago! You waited long enough to tell me of the plans you’d made with my life.”

“We were young yet. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“Yes, very wise to avoid scaring me off by trying to throw me in with the pigs,” Katya giggled. “Well, since you’re sharing this with me, I’ll tell you what I noticed that day.”

“What did you notice, other than how bad the pigs smell?”

“Well, you were always a small boy. Skinny. No muscles.”

“I thought you were going to tell me something flattering.” Pavlo frowned.

“I am!” Katya said. “That day, when you were holding me, I noticed that you were no longer a skinny boy.”

“Oh.” Pavlo grinned. “Then what was I?”

“A man. A man with thick arms, strong from working in the fields. A man with a broad chest and an easy smile. I even noticed that you had some whiskers finally growing in.” She tickled his chin and shrugged. “Eh, I wouldn’t say I loved you, but I thought you were at least starting to improve.”

Pavlo threw his head back and shook with silent laughter, then wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. “I lied. I have loved you since the first time we toddled around the fields together while our parents harvested. You have always been the one for me.”

They made their way home, holding hands. Katya thought she might burst from both the adrenaline rush of sneaking around hiding food and the overwhelming love she felt for the man next to her.

“You are my calm in this storm.” She raised his hand up and kissed his knuckles.

They met again the next night, and the next, until they’d secreted away a lot of the extra stores of food from their households, hauling rye, millet, flour, and buckwheat to the forest and fields, hiding them in areas they had played in as children. They detailed the locations in sparsely worded notes tucked under a loose board in Katya’s barn loft so they wouldn’t forget where anything was, and then they waited.





A few weeks later, a sharp banging on the door woke her.

Tato stumbled to the door, still in his nightshirt and struggling to put his pants on as he went. Her eyes fell to the bundles of clothes and blankets that still rested next to the door—her mother refused to put them away in case they were arrested—and she shivered.

“Who’s there?” Tato called out. His tall, strong frame filled the doorway, but his white-knuckled grip gave away his fear that he could not protect his family from what lay on the other side of the door.

Katya’s heart banged so hard against her ribs she thought everyone must hear it thumping. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders as she pulled them back and stuck her chin in the air. Alina touched her hand and Katya gripped it, trying to quell her sister’s trembling.

A voice with a Russian accent bellowed, “We’ve come to collect your grain for your taxes. Open up!”

It had taken some convincing to get Mama to agree to sending things out to be buried in the fields and woods, but now, her eyes met Katya’s across the room, and gratitude shone in them. Despite the tension in the room, a small sense of victory surged through Katya.

Tato looked over at Mama. She stood up, pulled herself to her full height, and nodded her head. He opened the door and they barreled into the small home so fast that Tato barely had time to get out of the way. The door slammed into the wall, and two large men in dark overcoats began scanning the room with narrowed gazes.