“I think that’s great,” she said in a tone that conveyed no connection to St. Isaac’s whatsoever. Inscrutable.

Alexander didn’t want her to feel sad this morning. Were there just too many things for them to get past before he could get a morning smile out of her?

“What’s the ration up to now?” Tatiana asked, her eyes to the ground.

“Three hundred grams for dependents. Six hundred for workers. But soon there might be white bread. The council promised white bread this summer.”

“Well, it’s certainly easier to feed one million people than it is to feed three.”

“Fewer than a million now. They’re being evacuated by barges across the lake.” He changed the subject. “I see you have plenty of bread here in Lazarevo.” Alexander eyed her. “Plenty of everything here in—”

“Everybody been buried?”

He sighed imperceptibly. “I supervised the excavation of graves at Piskarev Cemetery myself.”

“Excavation?”

She didn’t miss a thing. “We used military mines to dynamite—”

“Mass graves?” she finished.

“Tania . . . come on.”

“You’re right, let’s not talk about it. Oh, look, we’re home.” She rushed ahead.

Disappointed they were already home, Alexander caught up with her. “Can you show me those clothes? I’d like to put something else on.”

Inside the house she pulled out her trunk from near the stove and was about to open it when Dusia’s voice sounded from one of the bedrooms. “Tanechka? Is that you?”

Naira came out and said, “Good morning, dear. I didn’t smell the coffee this morning. I woke up, sweetheart, because I didn’t smell the coffee.”

“I’ll make it now, Naira Mikhailovna.”

Raisa came out of her bedroom and said, “When you have a minute, dear, could you help me to the outhouse?”

“Of course.” Tatiana started to close the trunk. “I’ll show you later,” she whispered to Alexander.

“No, Tatiana,” Alexander said impatiently. “You will show me now.”

“Alexander, I can’t now,” she said, pushing the trunk back against the wall. “Raisa has a hard time going to the bathroom by herself. You see how she shakes. But you can sit for five minutes, can’t you?”

What, he hadn’t been patient enough? “I can sit for longer than that,” he said. “I sat all night yesterday with you and your new friends.”

She chewed her lip.

He sighed. “All right, all right. Do you have a mortar and pestle?” Alexander couldn’t help himself; his spirits were too high, and he was too crazed by her to remain exasperated for long. Trying to keep the double meaning out of his voice, he asked, “Would you like me to grind your coffee beans for you?”

“Yes, thank you,” Tatiana replied. She was not playing. “That will be a big help. I’ll get you the cheesecloth, too.” She paused. “Could you fire up the stove, please? So I can make breakfast?”

“Of course, Tania.”

Tatiana took Raisa to the outhouse and then gave her her medicine.

She dressed Dusia.

She made all the beds, and then she fried some eggs with potatoes. Alexander watched it all. As he was sitting on the bench outside and smoking, Tatiana came up to him with a cup of coffee in her hands, and asked, “How do you like it?”

His eyes twinkling, Alexander looked up at her standing in front of him, so lavender fresh and young and alive. “How do I like what?”

“Your coffee.”

“I like my coffee,” said Alexander, “with thick, warm cream and lots of sugar.” He paused. “Get the cream right from the pail, Tatiasha, right off the top. But warm. And lots of it.”

The cup in her hands started to shake.

Scrutable.

It was all Alexander could do not to laugh out loud, not to grab her, not to pull her to him.

After breakfast he helped her clear the table and wash the dishes. Her hands were immersed in a pan of sudsy water when Alexander, having watched her for a while, put his own hands in and felt for hers.

“What are you doing?” she said in a hoarse voice.

“What?” he said innocently. “I’m helping you with the dishes.”

“You are not a very good helper, I’m afraid,” Tatiana said, but she did not take her hands away, and as Alexander watched her face, he finally saw something dissolving against her wall of pain. He rubbed intently between her fingers, getting fixated and inflamed by the fine blonde down on her forearms and by her blonde eyebrows. “I think the dishes are going to be very clean,” he said, glancing at the four women, who were sitting in the morning sunshine and chatting within a few meters of them. In the warm, soapy water, Alexander stroked Tatiana’s fingers one by one, from the first knuckle down to the fingertip, and with his thumbs circled the palms of her slippery hands, while Tatiana stood, barely breathing through her parted lips, her eyes glazed over.

The fire raged in Alexander’s stomach.

“Tatia,” he said quietly, “your freckles are so pronounced. And,” he added, “very enti—”

Axinya came up to Tania, pinching her bottom. “Our Tanechka is freckled as if she’s been kissed by the sun.” Damn it. Alexander couldn’t even whisper to her without them overhearing. But when Axinya turned her back, Alexander leaned forward and softly kissed Tatiana’s freckles. He let her pull her fingers away from him and walk off, wet hands and all. Without drying his own hands, he followed her. “Is now a good time for you to show me those clothes?”

Going inside and opening her trunk, Tatiana pulled out a large white cotton button-down shirt with short sleeves, a knitted cotton shirt, a cream linen shirt, and three pairs of drawstring trousers made out of bleached linen. She also had a couple of sleeveless tops for him, and some drawstring cotton shorts. “To go swimming in,” she said. “What do you think?”

“These are great.” He smiled. “Where did you get them?”

“I made them.”

“You made them?”

She shrugged. “Mama taught me how to sew. It wasn’t hard. What was hard was trying to remember how big you were.”

“I think you remembered quite well,” Alexander said slowly. “Tania, you . . . made clothes for me?”

“I didn’t know for sure you were coming, but if you were, I wanted you to have something comfortable to wear.”

“Linen is expensive,” he said, very pleased.

“There was a lot of money in your Pushkin book.” She paused. “I bought a few things for everybody.”

Ah. Less pleased. “Including Vova?”

Tatiana guiltily glanced away.

“I see,” Alexander said, dropping the clothes into the trunk. “You bought Vova things with my money?”

“Just some vodka, and cig—”

“Tatiana!” Alexander took a deep breath. “Not here. Let me change,” he said, turning away from her. “I’ll be right out.”

She went outside while he changed into the trousers and the white cotton shirt that was slightly tight around his chest but otherwise fit fine.

When Alexander stepped down from the house, the old women clucked at how nice he looked. Tatiana was gathering clothes into a basket. “I should have made it a little bigger. You do look nice.” She swallowed and lowered her eyes. “I haven’t seen you often in civilian clothes.”

Alexander looked around. Here it was, his second day with her, and they were still clucking around four old women, and he was still unable to get to whatever was bothering her, to all the things that were bothering him, much less to her ample blondeness. That was it. “You’ve seen me in civilian clothes once,” he said. “In Peterhof. Perhaps you’ve forgotten Peterhof.” He extended his hand. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

Tatiana stepped up to him but did not take his hand. He had to reach down and take hold of her hand himself. Being so close to her made him a little light-headed. “I want you to show me where the river is.”

“You know where the river is,” she replied. “You went there yesterday.” She took her hand out from his. “Shura, I really can’t. I’ve got to hang yesterday’s laundry and then wash today’s.”

He pulled her with him. “No. Let’s go.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Shura, no, please!”

Alexander stopped. What the hell was that in her voice? What did that sound like? That wasn’t anger. Was that . . . fear? He peered into her face. “What’s wrong with you?” he said. She was flustered, and her hands were shaky. She couldn’t look at him. Letting go of her hand, he took hold of her face, lifting it to him. “What—”

“Shura, please,” Tatiana whispered, trying to look away from his eyes, and then Alexander saw, and he knew.

Letting go of her, he backed away and smiled. “Tania,” he said, in a soothing voice, “I want you to show me your grandparents’ house. I want you to show me the river. A field, a fucking rock, I don’t give a shit. I want you to take me to two square meters of space where there is no one around us, so we can talk. Do you understand? That’s all. We need to talk, and I’m not talking — I’m not doing anything — in front of your new friends.” He paused, keeping the smile away. “All right?”

Deeply flushed, she did not raise her eyes.

“Good.” He pulled her by the hand.

Naira said, “Tanechka, where are you going?”

“We’re going to pick some blueberries for tonight’s pie,” Tatiana yelled back.

“But, Tanechka, what about the clothes?”

Raisa yelled, “Will you be back at noon to give me my medicine?”

“When will we be back, Alexander?”

“When you’re fixed, Tatiana,” he said. “Tell her that. When Alexander fixes me, then I’ll be back.”

“I don’t think even you can fix me, Alexander,” said Tatiana, and her voice was cold.

He was walking with all deliberate speed away from the house.

“Wait, I have to—”

“No.”

“Just one more . . .” She tried to pull her hand away. He wasn’t having any of it. She tried again.

Alexander wasn’t letting go. “Tania, you can’t win this,” he said, staring at her and squeezing her hand harder. “You can win a lot of things, but you can’t win a physical struggle with me. Thank God. Because then I’d really be in trouble.”

Naira yelled after them, “Tania, but Vova is coming for you soon! When shall I tell him you’ll be back?”

Tatiana looked at Alexander, who stared back coldly, shrugged indifferently, and said, “It’s me or the laundry. You’re going to have to decide. I know the choice is tough. Or it’s me or Vova.” He let her hand drop. “Is that choice tough, too?” He’d just about had enough. They had stopped walking and were standing facing each other, a meter apart. Alexander folded his arms across his chest. “What’s it going to be, Tania? The choice is yours.”

Tatiana yelled back to Naira, “I’ll be back in a while! Tell him I’ll see him later!” Sighing, she motioned for Alexander to come.

He was walking too quickly, and she couldn’t keep up.

“Why so fast?”

Temper was flaring up in Alexander, like the sizzle of an antipersonnel grenade before it exploded. He breathed in and out deeply to calm himself, to shove the pin back up the hole. “I’m going to tell you something right now,” he said. “If you don’t want trouble, you will have to tell Vova to leave you alone.”

When she didn’t reply, Alexander stopped walking and pulled her to him. “Do you hear me?” he said, raising his voice. “Or perhaps you’d like to tell me to leave you alone? Because you can do that right now, Tatiana.”

Not raising her eyes and not trying to get away from him, Tatiana said quietly, “I’m sorry about Vova. Don’t be upset. You know perfectly well I just don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“Yes,” Alexander said pointedly, “nobody’s but mine.”

“No, Alexander,” Tatiana said, and this time she looked up at him with sullen reproach. “I don’t want to hurt yours most of all.”

He was not letting go of her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He squeezed her arm. “One way or another, he will have to leave you alone — permanently—” Alexander said, “if we’re to fix what’s wrong between us.”

Weakly prying his fingers off her, Tatiana said, “I don’t know why you worry about him . . .”

“Tania, if I’ve got nothing to worry about, then show me. But I’m not playing these games anymore. Not here. Not in Lazarevo. I will not do it here for strangers, do you understand? I will not be guarding Vova’s feelings the way I guarded Dasha’s. Either you tell him, which would be best, or I tell him, which would be worst.”

When Tatiana, biting her lip shut, didn’t say anything, Alexander continued. “I don’t want to grapple with him. And I don’t want to have to pretend to Zoe as she brushes her tits against me. I won’t do it just to keep peace in this house.”