“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.”