“Maybe,” Katya allowed. “But if that’s the case, and I do need you so much, then tell me, Pavlo. What do I do for you?”
The smile dropped from his face. “Absolutely everything. You are my life, and I can’t imagine living without you.”
Katya took a shuddering breath.
But now, I am living without you. The words surged up from within her so hard and fast she almost screamed them out loud.
“Katya?” Kolya touched her arm. She jumped, and her eyes popped open. The first thing she saw was Kolya’s concerned face, and for one brief, amazing moment, she thought it was Pavlo. Then she blinked, and the illusion shattered.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I know this is hard for you, but you seemed fine when we came to tear down the barn.”
“I’m just resting my eyes.” Katya searched his face for any sign of pain. She’d never understood how he and Alina could live in that house after he’d lost so much there. But his eyes were no more haunted than they were every day. Perhaps he carried his pain everywhere with him and no one place could make it any worse, whereas Katya shoved the hurt deep into her soul and only faced it when she was forced too. Like now.
“How do you do it?” She touched his arm, needing to feel a solid human presence here and now more than ever.
He stilled and stared at her hand on him. “Do what?”
“Come here. Where you’ve lost so much.”
“I do it because I have to. For Halya. For your mother.” He put his hand, warm and heavy, over hers and squeezed. “For you.”
Her hand burned under his touch. She gasped at the startling sensation and jerked away. “Did you find what you came for?”
Kolya stepped back from her, his face red. “Yes.”
He pulled a pair of gold earrings, a silver cross, and a gold ring from his pocket. Katya recognized the ring as the one his mother had worn for special occasions. It had been handed down through her family for generations, as Katya was sure the other pieces had been, and as her own family ring had. Before all of this, those items would have been passed down to Halya. Now, their loss to the family would help keep her alive.
“Let’s go, then.” Katya turned her back on the sad little house. “It’s a long walk.”
“I’ve never thanked you.” His words stopped her.
“For what?”
“For taking care of Halya. Feeding her, after losing Viktor.” His voice faltered. “It can’t be easy for you.”
At the mention of Viktor’s name, her stomach twisted. Of course it wasn’t easy. But Kolya didn’t know that sometimes Katya closed her eyes and pretended Halya was Viktor. Or that other times, she’d imagine that Halya was the baby born to her, and she’d never experienced the losses of her child, sister, and husband. If she could pretend Halya was truly hers, Katya could forget how they’d really come together. How grief and death had forged a bond between them that couldn’t be fully described. Katya didn’t love Halya any less or resent her for surviving when Viktor didn’t. Instead, she clung to the baby like a drowning person grips a raft. Halya gave her purpose and motivation to get up every morning. A reason to find food at any cost so Katya’s body could keep making food for her. Halya’s survival had become Katya’s sole purpose in life.
Instead of saying any of those things, Katya replied, “I love her like my own. And Alina would have done the same for me if she could have.”
Kolya reached out and tugged Katya’s hair, like he had when he used to tease her as a boy. “I’m glad I have you with me,” he said haltingly. “Not only now, I mean. But every day. Fighting to survive. Fighting for Halya. Together. It helps to know I’m not alone.”
She glanced up at him, shocked to hear the rawness in his voice. Before she could respond, he cleared his throat, and the emotion his face had betrayed only seconds ago disappeared behind the familiar, hard planes of his grief.
“We should get going,” he said, and he started walking down the road without waiting to see if she followed.
The frozen ground crunched under their feet as they walked through the still landscape. Gray skies loomed over the colorless, snowy scene. They headed toward the main road that went through their small village and wound around the countryside before connecting to the next nearest town.
“Holubtsi,” Kolya blurted out.
“What?” Katya raised an eyebrow at him. “What about holubtsi?”
“It’s something I miss,” he said. “The soft cabbage leaves wrapped around the meat and millet. And the sauce. Oh, I miss that rich tomato sauce poured over it.”