Pallid and weak, Alina pushed for hours with no result. Finally, when Katya had grown alarmed that the child would never come, a tiny baby slipped into Lena’s hands. Katya watched as Alina’s cries of pain changed into cries of joy. She cradled the baby against her chest, and Kolya wrapped his arms around both of them. A family unit, all together and ensconced in their love. The beauty of it was not lost on her, though she could not help but feel a pang of jealousy. Pavlo would never hold her as she cradled their baby.
Katya watched Alina stare down at her new baby and share secret smiles with her husband. With steely resolve, she swore that she would never let her pain and jealousy come between her and Alina. Katya loved her sister and wanted her to have the life she always dreamed of. She’d lost too much already, and she couldn’t bear to lose Alina as well.
“Open up!” The loud voice startled everyone. Mama’s spoon froze over the pot of food she was cooking on the stove. It was ground up millet, goat’s milk, and some potato peelings Kolya had stolen from the pigs at the collective farm in a vain attempt to supplement the one piece of bread he, Katya, and Mama each brought home from work every day.
Katya stood up from where she’d been sitting next to her sister, fear knocking her knees together. Alina closed her eyes and rubbed a hand down her tiny baby’s back. Born only a few weeks ago, Halyna—or Halya, as they’d all taken to calling her—was somehow thriving through this ordeal that had become normal life. Alina, however, had remained very weak after birth, and Mama insisted she rest as often as possible to try to increase her milk supply.
“Open up! I know you’re in there! I see the smoke!” the voice at the door shouted again. Katya recognized it now. Prokyp.
“I’m coming,” she called, trying to buy some time and thinking frantically. If he caught them with the stolen potato peels and goat’s milk, he could arrest them all. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for a hiding spot. She ran over to the chest full of linens and opened the top, then waved at her mother.
Mama pulled the pot off the stove, quietly placed the lid on it, and tucked the pot under some sheets. Closing the chest, she nodded toward Katya, who’d already walked to the door.
Katya smoothed her skirt and tried to put on a calm face as she opened the door. Prokyp pushed past her, and a young man she’d never seen before followed. Prokyp looked the same as he always did, with mean eyes, dirty hair, and rotten teeth. The activist with him was more of a boy. Most likely, he was a member of the Komsomol, Stalin’s youth group.
Katya thought about the flyers the activists had thrust into her hands when they first arrived, trying to lure her and other young people like this boy into the Komsomol. She was glad Pavlo had crumpled that paper—glad she hadn’t succumbed to the brainwashing that allowed these people to enforce unspeakable punishments, sometimes even against their own flesh and blood.
“It smells good in here,” Prokyp leered, baring his filthy teeth toward Mama. “You’ve been cooking something.”
“You’re mistaken,” Mama said in a firm voice. “My son-in-law brought home some food he earned from working at the collective yesterday. That must be what you are smelling.”
Prokyp glanced around, his eyes finally falling on Alina. “Where is that strapping young son-in-law of yours? Working today, eh? Too bad he’ll miss this.”
“We have nothing,” Mama said. “We work hard for the collective. Please, leave us be.”
“You know it’s not that easy. We need grain for the spring planting, and we know you people are hiding it from the collective.” Prokyp waved his hand at his companion. “Check the room!”
The young man pulled a long, thin metal rod out of his bag, raised it high, and plunged it into the empty bed. His rod ripped through sheets, pillows, and blankets and fury burned in Katya at the needless destruction of their possessions.
“This is ridiculous!” she shouted. “You’re ruining our things! And we have nothing!”
He ignored her protests and moved on to the next bed. “Move!” he ordered Alina.
Katya and her mother rushed over to help Alina up. Mama grabbed the baby and Katya put an arm around Alina’s back and pulled her to a sitting position, but he hardly waited until she was gone to thrust the metal rod into her bedding. Katya yanked her sister to her feet before he rammed his metal rod through her while systematically poking holes down the length of the bed.
“Nothing inside!” he finally announced. Katya closed her eyes and thought of Pavlo and how she had continued the trips into the woods to hide whatever food they obtained. Once again, it had saved them.