4

lazarevo was ten kilometers through deep pine woods.

the forest wasn't just pine; it was mixed with elms and oaks and birches and nettles and blueberries all drifting their pleasing way into his senses. alexander walked carrying his rucksack, his rifle, his sidearm and ammunition, his large tent and blanket, his helmet, and a sack filled with food from kobona. he could hear the nearby rush of the kama river through the trees. he thought of going and washing, but by this point he needed to keep moving forward.

he picked a few blueberries off the low bushes as he walked. he was hungry. it was very warm, very sunny, and alexander was suddenly filled with a pounding hope. he walked faster.

the woods ended, and in front of him was a dusty village road, flanked on both sides by small wooden huts, overgrown grasses, and old falling-down fences.

to the left, past pines and elms, he could see the glimmer of the river, and past the river, past more voluminous, voluptuous forest, the round-topped, evergreen-covered ural mountains.

he inhaled deeply. did lazarevo smell of tatiana? he smelled firewood burning and fresh water and pine needles. and fish. alexander saw the smokestack of a fishing plant on the outskirts of the village.

he continued down the road, passing a woman sitting on the bench outside her house. she stared at him; he understood. how often did these people see a red army officer? the woman got up and said, "oh, no! you're not alexander, are you?"

alexander didn't know how to answer that. "oh, yes," he finally said. "i am alexander. i'm looking for tatiana and dasha metanova. do you know where they live?"

the woman started to cry.

alexander stared at her. "i'll just ask someone else," he muttered, walking on.

the woman ran after him in small steps. "wait, wait!" she pointed down the road. "on fridays they have a sewing circle in the village square. straight ahead, over there." shaking her head, she walked back.

"so they are alive?" alexander said in a weak voice, flooded with relief.

the woman could not answer. covering her face, she ran back to her house.

she said they? they meaning . . . he asked for two sisters; she replied they. alexander slowed down, lighting a cigarette and taking a drink out of his flask. he walked on but stopped before he got to the village square thirty meters ahead.

he couldn't come straight up the road. not yet.

if they were alive, then in a moment he was going to have different problems from the ones he had imagined, and he thought he had imagined them all. he would deal with this one as he dealt with everything, but first-

alexander walked through someone's garden, apologizing hastily, opened the back gate, and was on the village back path. he wanted to come a roundabout way to the square. he wanted to see tatiana for a moment without her seeing him. before there was dasha, he wanted an instant of being able to look at tatiana the way he wanted to look at her, without hiding.

he wanted proof of god before god looked upon the man with his own eyes.

the elms were standing tall in a green canopy around the small square. a group of people sat beneath the trees at a long wooden table. most were women; there was, in fact, only one young man. it was a sewing circle, thought alexander, moving nearer to the table to get a better look.

he was obstructed from their view by a fence and a sprawling lilac tree. the flowers got into his face and nose. breathing in their ripe fragrance, he peeked out. he did not see dasha anywhere. he saw four old women seated around the table, a young boy, an older girl, and a standing tatiana.

at first alexander could not believe it was his tania. he blinked and tried to refocus his eyes. she was walking around the table, gesturing, showing, leaning forward, bending over. at one point she straightened out and wiped her forehead. she was wearing a short-sleeved yellow peasant dress. she was barefoot, and her slender legs were exposed above her knee. her bare arms were lightly tanned. her blonde hair looked bleached by the sun and was parted into two shoulder-length braids tucked behind her ears. even from a distance he could see the summer freckles on her nose. she was achingly beautiful.

and alive.

alexander closed his eyes, then opened them again. she was still there, bending over the boy's work. she said something, everyone laughed loudly, and alexander watched as the boy's arm touched tatiana's back. tatiana smiled. her white teeth sparkled like the rest of her. alexander didn't know what to do.

she was alive, that was obvious.

then why hadn't she written him?

and where was dasha?

alexander couldn't very well continue to stand under a lilac tree.

he went back out onto the main road, took a deep breath, stubbed out his cigarette, and walked toward the square, never taking his eyes off her braids. his heart was thundering in his chest, as if he were going into battle.

tatiana looked up, saw him, and covered her face with her hands. alexander watched everyone get up and rush to her, the old ladies showing unexpected agility and speed. she pushed them all away, pushed the table away, pushed the bench away, and ran to him. alexander was paralyzed by his emotion. he wanted to smile, but he thought any second he was going to fall to his knees and cry. he dropped all his gear, including his rifle. god, he thought, in a second i'm going to feel her. and that's when he smiled.

tatiana sprang into his open arms, and alexander, lifting her off her feet with the force of his embrace, couldn't hug her tight enough, couldn't breathe in enough of her. she flung her arms around his neck, burying her face in his bearded cheek. dry sobs racked her entire body. she was heavier than the last time he felt her in all her clothes as he lifted her into the lake ladoga truck. she, with her boots, her clothes, coats, and coverings, had not weighed what she weighed now.

she smelled incredible. she smelled of soap and sunshine and caramelized sugar.

she felt incredible. holding her to him, alexander rubbed his face into her braids, murmuring a few pointless words. "shh, shh . . . come on, now, shh, tatia. please . . ." his voice broke.

"oh, alexander," tatiana said softly into his neck. she was clutching the back of his head. "you're alive. thank god."

"oh, tatiana," alexander said, hugging her tighter, if that were possible, his arms swaddling her summer body. "you're alive. thank god." his hands ran up to her neck and down to the small of her back. her dress was made of very thin cotton. he could almost feel her skin through it. she felt very soft.

finally he let her feet touch the ground. tatiana looked up at him. his hands remained around her little waist. he wasn't letting go of her. was she always this tiny, standing barefoot in front of him?

"i like your beard," tatiana said, smiling shyly and touching his face.

"i love your hair," alexander said, pulling on a braid and smiling back.

"you're messy . . ."

he looked her over. "and you're stunning." he could not take his eyes off her glorious, eager, vivid lips. they were the color of july tomatoes-

he bent to her-

with a deep breath alexander remembered dasha. he stopped smiling, letting go of tatiana and stepping slightly away.

she frowned, looking at him.

"where's dasha, tania?" he asked.

what alexander saw pass through her eyes then . . . there was hurt and sadness and grief and guilt, and anger - at him? - all of it, and in a blink it was all gone, and then an icy veil clouded her eyes. alexander watched something in tatiana shut against him. she looked at him coolly, and though her hands were still trembling, her voice was steady and low. "dasha died, alexander. i'm sorry."

"oh, tania. i'm sorry." alexander reached out to touch her, but she backed away from him. she didn't just back away from him. she staggered away from him.

"what?" he said, perplexed. "what?"

"alexander, i'm really sorry about dasha," tatiana said, unable to meet his eyes. "you came all this way . . ."

"what are you talking-"

but before he had a chance to continue or tatiana a chance to respond, the other members of her sewing circle surrounded them. "tanechka?" said a small, round salt-and-pepper woman with small, round eyes. "who is this? is this dasha's alexander?"

"yes," said tatiana. "this is dasha's alexander." glancing at him, she said, "alexander - meet naira mikhailovna."

naira started to cry. "oh, you poor man." she didn't just shake alexander's hand, she hugged him. poor man? he stared at tatiana.

"naira, please," tatiana said, backing farther away from him.

sniffling, naira whispered to tatiana, "did he know?"

"he didn't know. but he does now," replied tatiana. that provoked a sustained wail out of naira.

tatiana made further introductions. "alexander, meet vova, naira's grandson, and zoe, vova's sister."

vova was precisely the kind of strapping lad alexander hated to think about. round-faced, round-eyed, round-mouthed, a dark-haired version of his small and compact grandmother, vova shook alexander's hand.

zoe, a large, black-haired village girl, hugged him, shoving her big breasts into his uniform tunic. she held alexander's hand in hers and said, "we're so pleased to meet you, alexander. we've heard so much about you."

"everything," said a bright, curly-haired woman, whom tatiana introduced as naira's older sister, axinya. "we've heard everything about you," axinya said energetically and vocally. she hugged alexander, too.

then two more women moved front and center. they were both gray-haired and frail. one of them had a shaking disorder. her hands shook, her head shook, her mouth shook as she spoke. raisa was her name. her mother's name was dusia, who was taller and broader than her daughter and wore a large silver cross over her dark dress. dusia made the sign of the cross on alexander, and said, "god will take care of you, alexander. don't you worry."

alexander wanted to tell dusia that having found tatiana alive, he had nothing to worry about, but before he could say anything, axinya asked alexander how he was feeling, which was followed by a second round of hugs and a second round of tears.

"i'm feeling fine," said alexander. "really, there is no need to cry."

he might as well have been speaking english. they continued to cry.

alexander looked at tatiana perplexed. but not only did she stand off to the side, but vova stood by her.

"you are just the - oh, i can't, i can't, i just can't," cried naira.

"then don't, naira mikhailovna," tatiana said mildly. "he is all right. look. he'll be fine."

"tania is right," alexander said. "really."

"oh, dear man," said naira, grabbing his sleeve. "you've traveled so far. you must be exhausted."

he wasn't until five minutes ago. he looked at tatiana and said, "i am a little hungry." and smiled.

she did not smile back when she said, "of course. let's go eat."

nothing was making any sense to a tired and hungry alexander, who found himself suddenly losing his patience. "excuse me, please," he said, extricating himself from axinya, who was standing in front of him, and making his way through the sea of people to tatiana. "can i talk to you for a second?"

tatiana backed away from him, averting her face. "come on. i'll make you dinner."

"can we" - alexander found himself having trouble getting the words out - "just for a moment, talk, tania?"

"alexander, of course," said naira. "we'll talk. come, dear, come to our house." she took him by the arm. "this must be the worst day of your life."

alexander didn't know what to think about this day.

"let us take care of you," naira continued. "our tania is a very good cook."

their tania? "i know," alexander said.

"you'll eat, you'll drink. we'll talk. we'll talk plenty. we'll tell you everything. how long are you here for?"

"i don't know," alexander said, not even trying to catch tatiana's eye anymore.

they started walking, amid all the commotion forgetting their sewing. "oh, yes," said tatiana blankly and went back to the table. alexander followed her. zoe ran alongside him, and he said, "zoe, i need a moment alone with tania," and without even waiting for a response, hurried to catch up with tatiana.

"what's the matter with you?" he said to her.

"nothing."

"tania!"

"what?"

"talk to me."

"how was your trip here?"

"that's not what i mean. it was fine. why didn't you write to me?"

"alexander," she said, "why didn't you write to me?"

taken aback, he said, "i didn't know you were alive."

"i didn't know you were alive either," she replied, almost calmly, if only he didn't see through the veil. under it there was a storm she was not letting him near.

"you were supposed to write to me and tell me you made it here safely," alexander said. "remember?"

"no," tatiana said pointedly. "dasha was supposed to write to you and tell you. remember? but she died. so she couldn't." she gathered up the material - the needles, the thread, the beads and buttons and paper patterns - stuffing it all into a bag.

"i'm so sorry about dasha, i'm so sorry. please." alexander touched her back.

tatiana flinched from him and blinked back tears. "me, too."

"what happened to her? did you make it out of kobona?"

"i did," tatiana said quietly. "she didn't. she died the morning we got there."

"oh, god."

they didn't look at each other, and they were silent.

dragging dasha down the slope to ladoga, begging her to hold on, to walk, while tania herself could not keep upright, yet pushing her sister forward, willing her to live.

"i'm sorry, tatia," alexander whispered.

"seeing you," tatiana said, "brings it all back, doesn't it? the wounds are still so raw." that's when she raised her eyes and looked at him. and alexander saw the wounds.

slowly they walked back to everyone else.

vova slapped alexander on the shoulder and asked, "so how's the war going?"

"the war is good, thanks."

"we hear our guys are not doing so great. the germans are near stalingrad."

"yes," alexander said. "the germans are very strong."

vova slapped alexander's shoulder again. "i see they have to keep you fit in war. i'm joining. i'm seventeen next month."

"i'm sure the red army will make a man out of you," alexander said, trying to sound more cheerful. he watched tatiana carry the large bag of sewing. "want me to carry that?" alexander asked her.

"no, it's all right. you've got enough of your own things."

"i brought you something."

"me?" tatiana didn't look at him when she said it.

what was going on? he said quizzically, "tania . . . ?"

"alexander," naira said, "tomorrow is our day to go to the banya. can you wait until then?"

"no. i'll wash tonight in the river."

"surely you can wait one day?" said naira.

he shook his head. "i've been on trains for four days. i haven't had water on me for too long."

"four days!" exclaimed raisa, shaking. "the man has been on trains for four days!"

"yes," cried naira, wiping her face, "and for what, for what? oh, what a wasteland this war is, what waste, what tragedy." the other ladies sniffled in agreement.

alexander heard a small muffled groan escape tatiana. he wanted her to look at him. he wanted to look into her face. he wanted her to tell him what was wrong. he wanted to touch her bare arms. he wanted to touch her so badly that . . . but his hands were full of his things. "tatia . . ." he whispered, leaning deeply into her, nearly touching her hair with his mouth.

he heard her breath stop for a moment, and then she moved away.

in slight frustration he straightened up, noticing that vova did not stray far from tatiana's side, and she did not appear to move away from him.

they ambled down the road. from the small village houses, neighbors poured out in milky lines, some shaking their heads, some pointing, some dabbing their eyes. many saluted him. one middle-aged lady came over and gave alexander a sympathetic hug. one old man said, "you make us all proud." why did alexander think it wasn't for his effort in the war? "the way you came here for your dasha." the man pumped his hand. "anything you need, anything at all, you come to me. i'm igor."

alexander asked quietly, "tania, why do i feel as if everybody knows me here?"

"oh, because they all do," tatiana said flatly, staring straight ahead. "you are the captain in the red army, who has come to marry my sister. they all know that. unfortunately, she has died. and they all know that, too. and everyone is very sorry." her voice remained almost steady.

sobs from dusia from behind and naira from the front. "alexander," naira said, "at home we'll give you plenty of vodka, and we'll tell you everything."

"we?" he glanced at tatiana. he was hoping the we wasn't going to be more than two. why did he suspect it might be?

"tania, how have you been?" alexander asked. "how did-"

"oh, she's been great," vova interrupted, putting his arm around tatiana. "she's much better now."

alexander stared straight ahead, his gaze clouding. the tick inside him was multiplying.

it was at that moment - when he set his teeth and turned his face away - that tatiana moved away from vova to alexander and put her hand on him. "you must be exhausted, hmm?" she said gently, peering into his face. "four days on trains. have you eaten today?"

"in the morning," he replied, not looking at her.

tatiana nodded. "you'll feel better once you're clean and fed," she said, smiling. "and shaved." she squeezed his arm.

he felt better and smiled back. he was going to have to talk to her about vova. alexander saw unresolved things in tatiana's eyes. the last time they had peace or energy to resolve anything was st. isaac's. a moment with her alone and things would get better, but first he had to talk to her about vova.

"alexander," axinya echoed, "we pulled our tanechka right out from the jaws of death." there was a loud wail.

alexander looked at tatiana walking next to him, feeling a liquid warmth ooze through him. "please, let me carry that," he said.

she was about to give him her sewing bag when vova intercepted it, saying, "i'll carry it."

"tania," alexander asked, "you didn't by any chance run into dimitri in kobona, did you?"

naira quickly turned around and hissed at alexander, her eyes bright imploring cups. "shh. we don't talk about dimitri."

"that bastard!" exclaimed axinya.

"axinya, please!" said naira, turning to alexander and nodding. "she is right, though. he is a bastard," she whispered.

alexander stared at them all, wide-eyed. "tania," he said, "am i to assume that you did run into dimitri in kobona?"

"hmm," she said, and nothing else.

alexander shook his head. he was a bastard.

zoe on his left leaned in and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "another reason we don't talk about dimitri is because our vovka's got a big thing for tania."

moving away from zoe and toward tatiana, alexander muttered, "really?"

naira's house at the top end of the village toward the river was white, wooden, and square. and small. "you all live here?" alexander asked, glancing at tatiana, who walked ahead.

"no, no," naira said, "just us and our tania. vova and zoe live with their mother on the other side of lazarevo. their father was killed in the ukraine last summer."

"babushka," said zoe, "i don't think there's going to be room in your house for alexander."

alexander looked at the house. zoe may have been right. in the front garden there were two goats, and three chickens in a wire coop. it looked as if they had plenty of room.

following tatiana inside, alexander walked up a couple of wooden steps into a roomy glassed-in porch that had two small couches at one end and a long, rectangular wooden table at the other. coming through the porch, he stood in the doorway looking into the darkened parlor room in the middle of which stood a wood-burning stove.

taking up nearly the entire back of the room, the stove had a long cast-iron hearth and three compartments - the center for burning wood and two side ones for baking. the chimney went up and to the left. above the stove was a flat surface covered with quilts and pillows. in many village huts across the soviet union, the top of the stove was frequently used as a bed. after the fire below went out, it was very warm up there.

in front of the hearth stood a high table for food preparation, and at the back was a sewing machine on a desk, and a black trunk. on the right were two doors, leading to what alexander guessed were bedrooms.

tatiana was by his side. "let me guess," he said to her. "you sleep up there?"

"yes," she replied without meeting his eyes. "it's comfortable. come inside for a minute." she walked through to the desk on the side of the stove.

"wait, wait," said naira from behind. "zoechka is right. we really don't have much room."

"that's all right, i have my tent," said alexander, following tatiana.

"no, no tent," said naira. "why don't you stay with vova and zoe? they have room for you; they have a nice bedroom they could put you in. with a proper bed and everything."

"no," said alexander, turning around to naira. "but thank you."

"tanechka, don't you think it would be more comfortable for him? he could-"

"naira mikhailovna," said tatiana, "he already said no."

"we know," said axinya, walking through the porch. "but it really would be more-"

"no," repeated alexander. "i will sleep in my tent, right outside. i'll be fine."

tatiana motioned him to her. he couldn't get to her fast enough. they were alone long enough for her to say, "sleep here, on top of the stove. it's very warm."

he kept his voice even when he said, "and where are you going to sleep?"

her face turned red, and he couldn't help himself - he burst out laughing and kissed her cheek. that made her even more red.

"tania," he said, "you're the funniest girl."

she backed away practically into the porch.

smiling at her, he said, "listen, i'm going to go-"

"go with zoe and vova?" said naira, coming into the room. "that's a great idea. i knew our tanechka could convince you. she can talk the devil into a new dress. zoe!"

"no!" exclaimed tatiana.

alexander wanted to kiss her.

"naira mikhailovna, he's not going," tatiana said. "he didn't come all this way to stay with vova and zoe. he'll stay here. he'll sleep up here."

"oh," naira said, her breath taken out of her a bit. "and you?"

could she keep herself from blushing? no, she couldn't. "i'll sleep on the porch."

"tania, if he's staying, why don't you change the linen on your bed so he'll have fresh sheets."

"i will," agreed tatiana.

"don't you dare touch them," whispered alexander.

saying she was going to get alexander fresh towels, naira disappeared to her room.

instantly they turned to each other. she couldn't manage to look up at him, but she was turned to him and close to him, and - was she smelling him?

"i'm going to go and wash, and i will be right back," said alexander, smiling. he didn't know what to do with his hands. he wanted to take hold of hers. "don't go anywhere."

"i'm right here. do you need soap?"

he shook his head. "got plenty."

"i'm sure you do. but look what else i've got." out of her desk drawer she pulled out a small bottle of shampoo. "found it in molotov. cost me twenty rubles." she handed it to him. "real shampoo for your hair."

"you spent twenty rubles on a bottle of shampoo?" he said, mock aghast, taking it from her and grabbing her fingers.

"better than two hundred and fifty rubles on a cup of flour," she replied, quickly pulling her fingers away and trying to change the subject.

"was that twenty of my rubles?"

"yes," she said quietly. "the rubles in your book came in very handy. thank you." she did not look at him. "thank you for everything."

"i'm glad they did, and you're welcome. for everything." he could not tear his eyes away from her. "tatiasha, you've gotten so blonde."

she shrugged casually. "it's the sun."

"and so freckled-"

"the sun."

"and so-"

"let me point you to the river."

"wait. look what i've brought for you." crouching near his bag, he showed her many cans of tushonka, some coffee, a large bag of lump sugar, rock salt, cigarettes, and bottles of vodka. "and i got you another english-russian book," he said. "have you been practicing your english?"

"not really," tatiana replied. "i haven't had time. i can't believe you carried all that. it must have been so heavy." pausing, she said, "but thank you. come on outside."

taking a towel from naira, they walked through the porch and down the steps to the back garden. alexander stood as close to tatiana as possible without his body actually touching hers. he knew that six pairs of eyes were on them from the porch. tatiana pointed. alexander wasn't even looking at where she was pointing. he was looking at her blonde eyebrows. he wanted to touch them with his fingers.

he wanted to touch her with his fingers.

missing a breath, he touched the faint scar above the brow where she had been injured during the fight with her father. "that's almost gone," he said quietly. "can't even see it."

"if you can't see it," tatiana said lightly, "then why are you touching it?" she didn't look at him. "alexander," she said, "can you look where i'm pointing? it's right through the pines. will you look? just cross the road, and there's a path between the trees. walk down a hundred meters into the clearing. i do the laundry there. you can't miss it. the kama is a big river."

"i'll get lost, for sure," said alexander, bending to her ear and lowering his voice. "come and show me."

"tania has to cook dinner," said zoe, coming up to them. "why don't i show you?"

"yes," tatiana said, backing away. "why doesn't zoe show you? i really do have to start cooking if we're to eat tonight."

alexander said, "no, zoe. excuse us," and he pulled tatiana away. "come with me to the river," he repeated. "you can tell me what's upsetting you, and i'll-"

"not now, alexander," tatiana whispered. "not now."

sighing, he let go of her and went by himself. when he returned, clean and shaven, dressed in his class-bs, he saw that zoe was shamelessly interested in him. alexander wasn't surprised. in a town with no young men, he could have had one eye and no teeth and zoe would have been interested. tatiana was another story. she obstinately avoided meeting his eyes. while leaning over the hearth and her frying pans, she said, "you've shaved."

"how would you know?" he was staring at her back and hips as she leaned over in her yellow dress. her waist tapered into her tight, round-as-a-moon hips, and the backs of her bare thighs peeked out below the short hem. he was pulsing inside. "tania, this village life agrees with you," alexander said after a few moments.

straightening up, she was about to walk to the porch when he grabbed her hand and put it to his cheek. "do you like it better smooth?" he rubbed her hand back and forth against his face and then kissed her fingers.

gently she pulled her hand away. "i haven't seen much of you clean-shaven," she muttered. "either way is fine. i'm covered in onions, alexander," she said. "i don't want to get you all messy. you just got so nice and . . . clean." she cleared her throat and averted her eyes.

"tatia," he said, not letting go of her floury hand, "it's me. what's the matter?"

she raised her eyes to him and blinked, and he saw hurt in her eyes, hurt, and warmth, and sadness, but hurt foremost, and he started to say, "what-"

"alexander, dear, come in here with us. let tania finish making dinner. come, have a drink."

he went out to the porch. naira handed him a shot of vodka. shaking his head, alexander said, "i'm not drinking without tatiana. tania! come."

"she'll drink the next one with us."

"no," he said. "she'll drink the first one with us. tania, come out here."

she came out, smelling sweetly of potatoes and onions, and stood next to him.

naira said, "our tanechka doesn't even drink."

"i'll drink to alexander," tatiana said. alexander handed her his vodka glass, his fingers touching hers. naira poured him another. they raised their glasses. "to alexander," said tatiana, her voice breaking. her eyes were filled with tears.

"to alexander," they echoed.-->>

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