The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (4)

2





KATYA





Ukraine, September 1929





“Do you girls want a turn?” Uncle Marko asked. He held up his pride and joy, the only camera in their small village of Sonyashnyky. Sunlight glistened off the lens and Uncle Marko pulled out a handkerchief to polish it for the twentieth time that day. He nodded towards the house, which everyone else had used as a backdrop, but Katya’s gaze danced over to the bobbing heads of the sunflowers behind him. The brilliance of the cloudless blue sky complemented the golden orbs of the sunflowers in a color combination so rich and beautiful it made Katya’s heart ache.

“Well?” He shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket.

“Yes! But over here, please.” Katya grabbed her older sister’s hand. “Come on, Alina. Mama wanted us to get a photograph together today.”

Alina reached up and smoothed the dark wisps escaping Katya’s braid. “Let me just fix your hair.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Katya dragged Alina across the yard. She wanted to get this picture out of the way now so she didn’t forget and earn her mother’s ire, and they would find no better backdrop than the sunflower field.

“All right, but you must smile,” Alina said. “I don’t want you looking sour–faced.”

Katya scowled and dropped Alina’s hand. “I’m never sour–faced.”

Alina’s mouth twisted into a quirk as she straightened Katya’s shirt. “Of course you’re not.”

“Scoot closer,” Uncle Marko instructed as he turned the camera to face them.

Alina wove her arm into Katya’s. “Come here.” She tilted her head toward Katya’s. “No matter how much I annoy you, you’re stuck with me. Sisters forever.”

Katya’s irritation vanished at hearing the phrase, which their mother had reminded them of whenever they’d fought growing up. You may as well get along. You’ll be sisters forever. It had become a joke between them, uttered whenever one irritated the other, and never failed to reduce the tension.

The camera clicked, and Uncle Marko grinned. “Perfect!”

The first soft strains of accordion and fiddle music trickled down the road, indicating the groom and his party were approaching, and inciting a frenzied, last-minute burst of energy. Katya pulled away from her sister as women shrieked, ribbons flew, and dishes of food appeared on every flat surface. She scooped up a basket of sunflowers and ducked low to avoid her aunt’s flailing arms. Escaping the chaos, she took her place with Alina and their cousin Sasha behind the fragrant, flower-laden table that blocked the door to Sasha’s house. Katya set her basket next to the others and clasped her hands together to still their trembling. Through squinted eyes, she strained to identify the men marching down the dirt road toward them.

“Stop doing that.” Alina elbowed her. “You’re scrunching up your nose, and it’s so unbecoming.”

“I’m trying to see.” Katya elbowed her sister back, then nervously plucked at a flower woven into one of her thick, dark braids. When her gaze landed on Pavlo, the tall, wide-shouldered man walking next to the groom, her heart quickened. She touched a tentative finger to the cheek he’d kissed the week before. That one impulsive move had changed everything between them. She needed to talk to him, but unsure of what to say, she’d avoided him earlier at the church ceremony.

“I see Kolya,” Alina said, interrupting Katya’s thoughts.

Alina had been in love with Pavlo’s older brother Mykola, or Kolya, as everyone called him, for as long as Katya could remember. Luckily for her, the feeling was quite mutual.

Aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends spilled out of the house and gathered around the table as the rollicking music intensified. Sasha’s sister Olha, the bride, remained inside, waiting for the groom to pay his ransom to her family.

After a few minutes, Boryslav, puffed up with pride, strode into the yard, carrying a basket and a bottle of vodka. Surrounded by his closest friends and family bearing more of the same, he approached, and Sasha called out, “Why have you come here?”

Boryslav broke into a wide smile. “To receive my beautiful bride, Olha!”

“And what have you brought to show your appreciation for Olha?” Alina asked.

Boryslav set his basket filled with sweets and money down on the table, and Katya’s mouth watered at the sight of the fine chocolates. Nobody from their village made anything like that; Boryslav must have traveled a great distance for them.

“Is that all you think our lovely Olha is worth?” Katya asked the question she’d been instructed to issue, trying hard not to meet Pavlo’s probing eyes.

“Of course not!” He waved his arms, and two of his groomsmen came forward bearing baskets with loaves of bread. “Olha is priceless, but I have brought these gifts in my appreciation of her.”

Pavlo, on his right, bowed low as he set Boryslav’s offering down on the table. He threw a grin and an easy wink Katya’s way, and she stumbled over her next question.

“Tell us of Olha’s beauty, Boryslav.”

“Ah. That’s easy. Her eyes sparkle like the bluest sky on a summer day. Her long golden hair ripples like the wheat shining in the sun. Her smile brightens the room and brings men to their knees.”