Cassie pressed the book to her chest, and she gave a sigh of regret. If only it were that easy. She thought about slipping the journal into her room so she could investigate it further, but taking such a personal item probably wouldn’t be the best way to start off this new living arrangement with Bobby, especially if Bobby came looking for it. Plus, having never learned Ukrainian, she couldn’t even read it. She set the book on the nightstand and gave it one last longing look, wondering what answers it held, then headed out to the car.
4
KATYA
Ukraine, January 1930
“Who is that?” Mama halted in front of Katya as they left the church one cold winter evening.
Katya stepped around her to get a better view of the village square. Lined with shops, several houses, and the church, it formed a small clearing where vendors set up on market days. Today, it stood empty as a group of people and two wagons approached from the east. The dark colors and sharp lines of their caravan stood out like a harsh stain against the soft grays and white of the snowy landscape.
“Tato?” Katya looked at her father, who had placed a hand on her shoulder as people spilled out of the church behind them.
“I told you, Viktor,” Ruslan said, before Tato could reply. “It’s Stalin’s men .”
A low murmur rose through the crowd as Katya counted roughly two dozen people trudging along in front of the wagons. The air sparked with apprehension, and she pulled her coat tighter, as if she could cocoon herself away from the unknown threat walking toward them.
Pavlo, Fedir, and Kolya came to stand by them as the newcomers parked their wagons. Pavlo gave her arm a quick, reassuring squeeze. A man who introduced himself as Comrade Ivanov, their Communist Party Leader, stepped up on the wagon to address everyone with his thin, reedy voice.
“Comrades! It seems we have caught you at the perfect time. Everyone is to stay for a mandatory meeting so we can tell you about Comrade Stalin’s wonderful plans for you.”
Comrade Ivanov introduced the small group of Twenty-Five Thousanders, a contingent of the approximately 25,000 Russian-speaking Soviet volunteer activists deployed across Ukraine, who would be collectivizing their village.
“Throw off the shackles of capitalism and choose a better life. Our farms will prosper when we pool our resources and work together!”
With his shiny shoes, city clothes, and pale face, Katya doubted he knew much about farming, but that didn’t stop him from continuing.
As he laid out the plan of signing over livestock and land to the collective, Katya watched an activist nail up a colorful poster to the church door depicting a smiling man and woman with a tractor. The caption read:
Work happily and the harvest will be good spring, summer, fall, and winter.
Prokyp Gura bumped into Katya, the smell of alcohol potent as he pushed through the crowd to introduce himself to Comrade Ivanov.
“Some people seem excited about this,” Katya said, as Prokyp gestured toward a poster and tapped his chest proudly.
“Some people are idiots,” Pavlo replied.
Fedir leaned close to her and Pavlo and nodded toward a group of activists. “Look at them taking notes.”
Their pencils scribbled furiously as they walked down the roads branching off the village square and inspected nearby homes. One man knocked on a wall of the Krevchuk’s house. He spoke to another man, then wrote something down.
“Notes on what?” Katya asked.
“Probably on who has the biggest house.” Fedir shook his head in disgust. “They need to live somewhere, don’t they?”
Katya’s eyes widened. She longed to reach out and cling to Pavlo’s steady hand, but his fists were clenched tight at his side.
As they walked home that night, Katya couldn’t hold back her questions. “It makes no sense. Why would anyone give up their independence?”
“Stalin has been pushing collectivization all over,” Tato said. “It was only a matter of time before communists arrived in our village. He believes that if the land and labor are organized, the yield will be greater. His Soviet Union will reap the benefits of what we sow.” He shook his head in disgust. “It’s the same story every time, for centuries. Everyone wants Ukraine’s fertile soil for their own, and nobody wants to let Ukrainians rule it.”
“You said it was just rumors!” Katya felt something fundamental break inside her at her father’s betrayal. “Now you say it was only a matter of time?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.” Tato slowed his pace to walk alongside her. “And I’d hoped they wouldn’t come here. I prayed.”