Kolya came over and smoothed Alina’s hair back, then kissed her forehead. “There’s my beautiful girls.”
Katya dragged her eyes away. After all this time, it still hurt to watch them and see what she didn’t have. She’d tried to harden herself and pretend she didn’t care, but she did.
Halya suckled voraciously, and when she didn’t receive milk for her efforts, she screamed. Alina grimaced in frustration, and Mama reached in to pull the crying baby from her chest.
Alina grabbed her wrists. “No, please. I need to try a bit longer. Maybe the other side.” Her ragged voice tugged at Katya’s core “I have to feed her. I can’t leave her like this. What kind of mother am I to let my baby starve?”
Mama’s lips pressed into a tight line as she shook off Alina’s grasping hands and pulled Halya away. Alina’s head fell back on the pillow, and she closed her eyes.
“Here.” Mama thrust the furious baby out at Katya. “Feed her.”
Halya’s cries instigated a primal response in Katya, and the familiar pinpricks signaled her milk letting down. She felt the precious drops wetting her shirt and hurried to pull it open and put Halya to her breast.
Mama took a deep breath, then turned back to Alina. “Halya is fine. Katya will take care of her. She won’t be hungry. I swear, we will make sure she is always fed.”
Alina’s eyes flew open in alarm and began the cycle again. “My baby is hungry? Where is she? Bring her to me, I’ll nurse her. At least I can do that for her.”
Mama dropped down onto the bed in defeat. After a few minutes, Alina closed her eyes again and began humming an old song Tato had sung to them as children. A low wail burst out of Mama, and she clamped her hand over her mouth and shuddered with the force of her sorrow. After a few minutes, when she’d contained herself, she pulled back the covers and curled up next to Alina. Humming the song along with her, Mama cradled her oldest daughter’s slight, fevered body in her arms and rocked gently.
Kolya stepped toward Katya and Halya. He stared down at his baby, cradled in Katya’s arms, and his voice cracked. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Katya.” He reached out and stroked Halya’s small head with his rough hand. “I’m afraid she’s slipping away from me.”
She put her hand on his arm and squeezed. “Don’t lose hope. She’s strong. She’ll survive this.”
Katya’s eyes welled up as she watched her sister’s child nurse greedily. She didn’t quite believe the words she spoke, but she willed them to be true for all of their sakes.
Walking through the woods with Kolya reminded Katya of the long ago trips she took with Pavlo to hide their grain. Two years later, none of that food remained, but she hoped to replenish some of those stores during these harvest months. Fear of the upcoming winter weighed on her, and she wondered dully if she’d ever not be hungry again.
Katya glanced over at Kolya. His frame, normally larger and broader than Pavlo’s had been, was now slender. His hunched shoulders bore the weight of the sleepless nights he’d spent holding Alina as she moaned and writhed through her delirium. Exhaustion underscored his eyes with black circles.
“I can’t bear to see her like that.” Kolya stooped low to check their first snare right inside the woods. “It’s empty.” He reset the snare and they moved on.
“If we can get more food for her, I think she’ll be fine,” Katya said.
Kolya gave a bitter laugh. “Yes, just get her more food and all will be well. If only it were that easy.”
“Well, we can’t stop trying,” she snapped. “There’s still things to be found in the woods. Mushrooms, nettles, acorns. And we’re still getting milk from the goat, at least. I’ll give her my share to help build her strength back up.”
“No, you won’t.” Kolya’s voice softened. “You need to keep your strength up, too. For Halya. I worry that food won’t help Alina, though—that she’s too far gone to come back from this.”
Deep down, Katya agreed with him. Alina barely got out of bed each day. Her weakened body couldn’t fight off the simplest of infections, and often, fevers and coughs ravaged her body. Every time it seemed as if she couldn’t go on, Katya or Kolya would bring home just enough food to sustain her for a little bit longer. Sometimes it felt like a cruelty, to keep her lingering on the fine line between life and death, but Katya said none of this. Giving in to those fears, voicing them, would only make them more real, and she needed to cling to every bit of hope she could muster. She needed to be strong for all of them.