“And that worked better?”
He nodded and held up a small bag of wheat for her to take. “Some people shared as a thanks. But none of these are long term solutions. We need to get rid of the activists completely. We need to unite all the local villages and rise up together.”
“But how?”
“We’re still working on that. We need more weapons so we can hold our own against their numbers, and we’d have to cut communication so they couldn’t ask for outside help.”
Katya shook her head. “This is foolishness. They will always be able to call for help. They have trained soldiers and all the Twenty-Five Thousanders to fight for them. You may take out one village activist group, but they’ll just replace it.”
“Then you think it is hopeless?” Pavlo asked.
“I don’t know what to think. All I know is that I want you here. With me. I have a bad feeling about where this is going.”
“Katya, I want to be with you too, but we have to try to fight. You used to believe that.”
She sighed. “You’re right. I still believe it.”
“What’s wrong, then?”
“They took our cow. And we had to join the collective. They said anyone who didn’t join would be labeled a kulak. We didn’t have much choice after that.”
He scowled and swore under his breath. This anger, so unlike him, disconcerted her. Her hands trembled as she smoothed her hair and changed the subject.
“Did I tell you that Alina is expecting?”
That earned her a smile, and the old Pavlo reappeared. “Is she now? Good for them!”
“Dinner should be done. Let’s go and eat.” She took his hand and squeezed, squelching down the impending sense of doom she felt whenever she looked at him.
Katya woke up the next morning alone with a note next to her pillow.
You’re so beautiful when you sleep that I couldn’t bear to wake you. I love you. I’ll see you soon. - P
She cursed at him under her breath, then tucked the note into her shirt so his words would be close to her as she worked.
Katya sighed as she stepped out into the yard to gather vegetables from the garden. The July sun shone down on her, but it didn’t fix her dour mood. It had been over six weeks since Pavlo had left again, and her melancholy had returned in full force.
A few early red tomatoes hung heavy and fragrant on their vines, and Mama wanted some for supper since Kolya and Alina were visiting. Luckily, they were still allowed to keep their gardens, though rumors had been floating around for some time that this would be changing in the future and their personal gardens would become property of the state. Katya wanted to harvest, preserve, and hide as much as she could before that happened.
Katya picked two of the ripest tomatoes as her eyes strayed over to the sunflower patch. Separate from their regular sunflower field, Tato had always planted a small area just for Katya and Alina and left a bare spot in the middle of the towering pillars that created a secret room. The green stems served as walls, the bobbing yellow flowers and blue sky the ceiling. She and Alina had spent many hours lying on their backs, heads cushioned by dandelions and periwinkles, dreaming and talking. Tato called it their “sunflower palace.”
“It’s a magical place,” he’d say with a wink. “Any wishes you make in there will come true.”
With her father gone, no one had thought to plant the sunflowers. But fallen seeds and Mother Nature continued the tradition and rebuilt the palace now, even when the girls no longer used it. Abandon and forlorn, it called to Katya, waving in the wind and caressing her with memories of childhood.
With a quick glance back at the house, she set the tomatoes down and dashed over to the sunflower palace. Crouching low, she pushed aside wayward stems and made her way to the center of the patch. Without her father cultivating it, the middle no longer remained clear. Weeds and rogue sunflowers made it difficult to find an open spot, but nostalgia still coursed through her as she ran her hands over the soft tufts of dandelion fluff. She sat down and rolled onto her back, staring up through petals as she had when she was a girl. Katya closed her eyes and inhaled the smells of her youth. Fragrant flowers, rich earth, baking bread wafting out from the house. She could almost pretend she was ten years old again, carefree and happy.
Her sister broke the reverie. “Katya! Where are you? Mama wants those tomatoes!”
Katya crawled to the opening and waved her in. “Alina! Come here, the sunflower palace has missed us!”
Alina glanced back at the house. “Our mother misses us, and I fear her wrath more than the sunflowers.”