“A lot of good that did.” Katya kicked at a rock on the road, wishing she could aim it toward Comrade Ivanov.
“Kateryna Viktorivna Shevchenko!” Mama barked. “Don’t mock prayer or your father.”
The only time Katya heard her full name from her mother was when she was getting scolded. Color bloomed on her cheeks as she gave a muffled apology.
“The whole idea is ridiculous!” Fedir shook his head in disgust.
“Maybe so, but these activists truly believe in this plan.” The worry in Tato’s tone made Katya shiver in the cold night air.
“Conviction doesn’t make them right,” Pavlo said. He let his hand brush against Katya’s and held it there, pressed against her skin. She shivered again, but this time, not from the cold or worry.
“No, it doesn’t,” Tato agreed. “They’ve never owned their own land or worked their own farm. They don’t know the satisfaction in harvesting the crop you sowed and nurtured, feeding your family, and planting the seed you saved from your fall harvest to start the process again in the spring.” He spread his arms and gestured toward the fields surrounding them. “That’s what makes us farmers.”
“Exactly.” Mama gave a tight nod and placed her hand on Tato’s shoulder. “Why would we surrender that?”
“We won’t!” Katya said firmly.
The next morning, as Katya leaned against the warm flank of the cow, the sound of a child wailing broke through the hypnotic rhythm of milk squirting into the pail. She grabbed the bucket so the cow wouldn’t kick it over and peered outside. Her father stood near the road, talking to Polina Krevchuk. Behind her rested a handcart with some clothes and her two young children.
Katya walked over in time to hear Polina say, “They came in the middle of the night and arrested my husband. They said he was a kulak and they were taking the house for Party headquarters.” She set her jaw and tried to hold back tears.
Katya blinked as she recalled Fedir’s comment about the activists looking for big houses, and the way that activist had checked the soundness of the Krevchuk’s walls. They were one of the wealthier families in the village and had a larger and nicer home than most.
“Where are you supposed to go?” Tato asked.
“They said we had to leave the village immediately if we hoped to avoid being arrested as well. I’m going to see if my brother will take us in.”
“What about your animals? Your possessions? Could you take nothing?”
Polina sniffled. “We were able to take only some clothes.”
“How long will they keep your husband?” Katya asked.
The woman choked back a sob. “I don’t know.”
Katya struggled to find something to say, but all she could do was wrap her arms around Polina as she wept into her hands.
Mama appeared with a small loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth. “Here, Polina. It’s not much, but it will fill your stomachs on your travels.”
“Thank you.” Polina straightened and wiped her nose. “We need to get moving. I have to get my children to safety before nightfall.”
As they walked away, the youngest child started crying again. “Where is my Tato? I want my Tato!”
Katya clenched her fists. “It’s not right. How can the activists kick them out of their own home?”
“No questions right now, Katya.” Fatigue etched dark circles under Tato’s eyes. “Come, we must finish our chores.”
That evening, at the next mandatory meeting, Katya learned that four other men had been arrested in the night and their wives and children put out of their homes. All, like the Krevchuks, were wealthier families in positions of respect and power in the village.
Katya perused the crowd gathered in the church. As the activists droned on, people laughed and talked, but a few went over to the long table and added their names to the Party roster.
“Some are actually signing up,” Katya said.
Pavlo waved his hand. “Only the weak. They’ve failed on their own and think the collective will take care of them.”
Fedir scoffed. “Not likely.” He nodded toward the speakers. “I doubt these fools have ever even been outside the city, let alone stepped foot on a farm. Just yesterday, I saw one mistake a goat for a sheep.”
“Did you see that Prokyp is now part of an activist group?” Pavlo asked. “The village drunk trying to tell us how to work our land. Unbelievable!”
An activist woman walked by and thrust a paper into Katya’s hands. “Come, join the Komsomol. Leave these old ways behind and usher in the new age!”