“You’ve stopped,” Kolya said, relief evident in his husky voice. “Katya?”
“He’s gone, Kolya.” Her words came out in a hoarse slur. Denys’s body, stiff and cold, felt like a crushing weight on her chest. She ran a hand along his pale face.
“I know. Have some water.” He held a cup to her lips as she sipped. The hot water soothed her ragged throat. He set the cup down and took the baby from her embrace. “I’m sorry I left you like that.”
As he set Denys down on the other bed, Katya dragged her legs to the ground. “Where is Halya? Is she alive? Tell me!”
She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t support her. Kolya caught her as she fell and pulled her back onto the bed alongside him.
“Halya is still alive. We’ve lost only the boy. Here, drink this.” He reached over and picked up another cup, then wrapped his big hands around hers and guided it to her lips. Katya’s eyes widened in surprise as the richness of a meat broth rolled over her tongue and filled her hollow belly.
“Where did you get meat?”
Kolya didn’t hesitate. “It was a rat from the grain bins.”
Saliva pooled in her mouth. “Maybe you can find more?”
“Even the mice and rats are scarce these days, but I’ll try. I’m sorry I was too late to help the boy. You were right. That’s not who we are.” He bowed his head in shame.
She guzzled down the broth while Kolya held her. The warm, solid bulk of his body cradled hers as she fought her way back to the world. When she’d drunk it all, he laid her back down in her bed, tucked the covers up around her, and sat holding her hand. His rough fingers kneaded gentle circles on her misshapen left hand as she fell asleep, but not before she heard him say, “Please, Katya. Just make it through today. Tomorrow will be better.”
They buried Denys near their house under a willow tree, too close for foragers to venture. The dogs that had escaped being eaten by villagers or shot by the state ran wild now and wouldn’t come near a human for fear of becoming dinner. Most lived on the bodies of the dead that were scattered around the countryside.
Kolya, who had professed disdain and doubt over taking the baby in, worked like a crazy man for hours to dig through the frozen ground to make a hole deep enough to ensure he would remain undisturbed. It took every last bit of strength out of him, and eventually Katya had to make him stop and rest before he collapsed.
“You aren’t strong enough to work like that,” she said. “Why are you pushing yourself so hard for a child you didn’t even want?”
He scowled up at her. “Just because I didn’t think we could save him doesn’t mean I’m a heartless bastard.”
“I never said that!” Katya’s eyes widened in shock. “I’m surprised, that’s all.”
He grunted and kept digging. “Working takes my mind off of things.”
“Working like that will kill you.” She stepped toward him and put a hand on his arm.
He stilled at her touch, chest heaving, eyes downcast.
“It wasn’t your fault, Kolya.”
“I don’t grieve for the child.” His eyes flashed up to meet hers. “I’m sorry we couldn’t help him, but that’s not why I’m upset.”
She flinched at the raw pain on his face, and before she could stop it, her hand reached up and caught the tear rolling down his cheek.
He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest so hard that she could feel his heart racing through his shirt.
“When you wouldn’t get out of bed. Like Alina. I thought…” His voice broke. “I can’t do this alone, Katya.”
Katya’s breath hitched, and for one fleeting moment, she wondered what it would be like to love him like she’d loved Pavlo. To share a life with him as his wife in more than name. To touch him, to be touched by him, and feel the heat of longing rise up inside of her once again.
Then, his mask of stoic indifference dropped back into place, and he released her hand as if it singed him.
“I need to finish this,” he said, his face already turned back to the grave.
Her mouth dropped open, and she stepped back, her trembling hand now clutched to her own pounding chest.
29
CASSIE
Illinois, June 2004
“It’s possible that she’ll recover, but the next few days are critical. I don’t want to give you false hope. A heart attack at her age is very often fatal.” The doctor, an older, balding man, spoke in a clipped, hurried fashion. “She’s clearly a strong woman to have made it this far.”