“Are you ready, children?” Father Mikhail walked through the church. “Did I keep you waiting?”

He took his place in front of them at the altar. The jeweler and Sofia stood nearby. Tatiana thought they might have already finished that bottle of vodka.

Father Mikhail smiled. “Your birthday today,” he said to Tatiana. “Nice birthday present for you, no?”

She pressed into Alexander.

“Sometimes I feel that my powers are limited by the absence of God in the lives of men during these trying times,” Father Mikhail began. “But God is still present in my church, and I can see He is present in you. I am very glad you came to me, children. Your union is meant by God for your mutual joy, for the help and comfort you give one another in prosperity and adversity and, when it is God’s will, for the procreation of children. I want to send you righteously on your way through life. Are you ready to commit yourselves to each other?”

“We are,” they said.

“The bond and the covenant of marriage was established by God in creation. Christ himself adorned this manner of life by his first miracle at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. A marriage is a symbol of the mystery of the union between Christ and His Church. Do you understand that those whom God has joined together, no man can put asunder?”

“We do,” they said.

“Do you have the rings?”

“We do.”

Father Mikhail continued. “Most gracious God,” he said, holding the cross above their heads, “look with favor upon this man and this woman living in a world for which Your Son gave His life. Make their life together a sign of Christ’s love to this sinful and broken world. Defend this man and this woman from every enemy. Lead them into peace. Let their love for each other be a seal upon their hearts, a mantle upon their shoulders, and a crown upon their foreheads. Bless them in their work and in their friendship, in their sleeping and in their waking, in their joys and their sorrows, in their life and in their death.”

Tears trickled down Tatiana’s face. She hoped Alexander wouldn’t notice. Father Mikhail certainly had.

Turning to Tatiana and taking her hands, Alexander smiled, beaming at her unrestrained happiness.

Outside, on the steps of the church, he lifted her off the ground and swung her around as they kissed ecstatically. The jeweler and Sofia clapped apathetically, already down the steps and on the street. “Don’t hug her so tight. You’ll squeeze that child right out of her,” said Sofia to Alexander as she turned around and lifted her clunky camera. “Oh, wait. Hold on. Let me take a picture of the newlyweds.”

She clicked once.

Twice.

“Come to me next week. Maybe I’ll have some paper by then to develop them.” She waved.

“So you still think the registry office judge should have married us?” Alexander grinned. “He with his ‘of sound mind’ philosophy on marriage?”

Tatiana shook her head. “You were so right. This was perfect. How did you know this all along?”

“Because you and I were brought together by God,” Alexander replied. “This was our way of thanking Him.”

Tatiana chuckled. “Do you know it took us less time to get married than to make love the first time?”

“Much less,” Alexander said, swinging her around in the air. “Besides, getting married is the easy part. Just like making love. It was the getting you to make love to me that was hard. It was the getting you to marry me . . .”

“I’m sorry. I was so nervous.”

“I know,” he said. He still hadn’t put her down. “I thought the chances were twenty-eighty you were actually going to go through with it.”

“Twenty against?”

“Twenty for.”

“Got to have a little more faith, my husband,” said Tatiana, kissing his lips.


11


They walked back home down the forest road, carrying their purchases on their backs. Alexander carried nearly everything. Tatiana carried the two pillows.

“We should go to Naira Mikhailovna’s,” she remarked. “They must be out of their minds with worry.”

“There you go, thinking about other people,” he said in a slightly irritated tone. “People other than me. You want to go back to that house on our wedding day? On our wedding night?”

Alexander was right. Why did she always do that? What was she thinking? She didn’t like making people feel bad, that was all. She told him that.

“I know. But it’s all right. You can’t make everyone feel good. I tell you what. Start with me. Feed me. Nurture me. Love me. Then we’ll move on to Naira Mikhailovna.” She walked slowly alongside him. “Tatiasha, we’ll go and see them tomorrow if you want. All right?” said Alexander, sighing.

They arrived at their cabin in the clearing by six in the evening. There was a note on the door from Naira Mikhailovna that said, Tania, where are you? We’re worried sick. N. M.

Alexander tore the note off the door.

“Aren’t we going in?” she asked.

“Yes, but . . .” He smiled. “Just a minute. I have to do something, and then we’ll go in.”

“What?”

“Wait a minute, and you’ll see.”

Alexander took the housewares, the pillows, and the heavy quilts and disappeared inside. While Tatiana waited for him, she made them sandwiches out of bread, butter, tushonka and cheese. He was still inside.

Tatiana began to glide around the clearing in small circles, dancing to a tune in her head. “Someday we’ll meet in Lvov, my love and I.” She saw her dress twirl up, and, smiling, she spun faster and faster with extravagant delight, watching the roses float into the air under her hands. When she looked up, Alexander was standing by the door of the cabin, his enraptured eyes all over her.

She smiled. “Look,” she said, pointing. “I made you a sandwich. Are you hungry?”

Alexander shook his head, walking to her. She ran to him and, throwing her arms around his neck, whispered, “I can’t believe we’re married, Shura.”

Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the door. “Tania, in America we have a custom. The new husband carries his new wife over the threshold of their new home.”

She kissed his cheek. He was more beautiful than the morning sun.

Alexander carried her into the house and kicked the door closed behind them. Inside was shadowy like a dream. They needed a kerosene lamp. Forgot to buy one. Tomorrow they’d have to get one in Lazarevo.

“Now what?” she said, rubbing her cheek against his. “I see you’ve made the bed. Very thoughtful.” His stubble was already growing in from this morning.

“I do what I can.” He carried her to the bed he had made for them above the stove, stepped onto the hearth, and set her down, opening her legs and standing between them, nuzzling his head in her chest. He lifted her dress.

All Tatiana wanted to do was watch him, but desire kept gluing her eyes shut. “Aren’t you going to come up here?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he said. “Lie back. Like this.” Pulling off her panties, Alexander brought her hips to his face.

For a moment all Tatiana heard was his rapid breathing. Reaching down, she touched his head. “Shura?” His eyes on her, his hands on her, his breath on her were weakening her.

His fingers stroked her. “All this underneath your white dress with red roses . . .” Alexander whispered. “Look at you . . .” He kissed her softly. “Tania, you are such a lovely girl.” She felt his warm, wet lips on her. His hair and stubble rubbed against the insides of her thighs. It was too much. The burn and the melt were near-instant.

She was still quaking with aftershocks when Alexander climbed onto the bed, placing his soothing hand on her trembling lower stomach.

“Dear God, Alexander,” she said breathlessly. “What are you doing to me?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I am?” Tatiana murmured, nudging him downward. “Please? . . . Again?” She glanced at him and closed her eyes when she saw his grin. “What?” She smiled herself. “Unlike you, I don’t need a rest period.”

Her hands clasped his head.

“Tatia . . . you’re very blonde . . . have I mentioned how much I love that?”

She moaned in a whisper; his mouth, his tongue felt so tenderly, exceedingly arousing. “Oh, Shura . . .”

“Yes?”

Tatiana couldn’t ask for a moment, unable to stop her soft exultation. “What did you think the first time you saw me in this dress?”

“What did I think?”

She moaned.

“I thought — Can you hear me?”

“Oh, yes . . .”

“I thought—”

“Oh, Shura . . .”

“If there is a God, I thought . . . Please someday let me make love to this girl while she wears that dress.”

“Oh . . .”

“Tatiasha . . . isn’t it nice to know there is a God?”

“Oh, yes, Shura, yes . . .”



“Alexander,” she panted, lying on her side, her eyes half closed, her mouth dry, unable to get a decent breath out of her lungs, “I need you this minute to tell me that you have shown me everything there is. Because I’m just about done for.”

Alexander smiled. “Can I surprise you?”

“No! Tell me there’s nothing more.” She saw the look in his eyes.

Flipping her onto her back, Alexander descended on top of her. “Nothing more?” Hungrily kissing her, he parted her legs. “I haven’t even begun, do you understand?” he whispered. “I have been going easy on you.”

“You’ve been going easy on me?” she repeated in disbelief, crying out as he entered her, clutching at him, moaning under his weight, her molten insides starting to burn again.

“Is it too much? You’re clutching me as if . . .”

“Yes, it’s too much . . .”

“Tania . . .” Alexander’s mouth was on her shoulders, on her neck, on her lips. “It’s our wedding night. Watch out for me . . . there will be nothing left of you. Only the dress will remain.”

“Promise, Shura?” she whispered.



Kneading her hand, touching her ring, Alexander said, “In America, when two people get married, they say their vows. Do you know what those are?”

Tatiana was hardly listening. She had been thinking of America. She wanted to ask Alexander if there were villages in America, villages with cabins on the banks of rivers. In America where there was no war, and no hunger, and no Dimitri.

“Are you listening? The priest says, ‘Do you, Alexander, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?’ ”

“Lawfully bedded?”

He laughed. “That too. No, lawfully wedded. And then we say our vows. Do you want me to tell you what they are?”

“What what are?” Tatiana brought his fingers to her lips.

“You have to repeat after me.”

“Repeat after me.”

“I, Tatiana Metanova, take this man to be my husband—”

“I, Tatiana Metanova, take this great man to be my husband.” Kissing his thumb and forefinger and middle finger. He had wonderful fingers.

“To live together in the covenant of marriage—”

“To live together in the covenant of marriage.” Kissing his ring finger.

“I will love him, comfort him, honor and keep him—”

“I will love him, comfort him, honor and keep him.” Kissing the ring on his ring finger. Kissing his little finger.

“And obey him.”

Tatiana smiled, rolling her eyes. “And obey him.”

“And, forsaking all others, be faithful to him until death do us part—”

Kissing the palm of his hand. Wiping tears from her face with the palm of his hand. “And, forsaking all others, be faithful to him until death do us part.”

“I, Alexander Barrington, take this woman to be my wife.”

“Don’t, Shura.” Sitting on top of him, rubbing her breasts into his chest.

“To live together in the covenant of marriage—”

Kissing the middle of his chest.

“I will love her” — his voice cracked—” love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her—”

Pressing her cheek to his chest and listening for the iambic rhyme of his heart.

“And, forsaking all others, be faithful to her until—”

“Don’t, Shura.” His chest wet from her tears. “Please.”

His hands above his head. “There are things worse than death.”

Her heart full, overwhelmed. Remembering her mother’s body tilted over her sewing. Remembering Marina’s last words, to the end saying, I don’t want to die . . . and not feel just once what you feel. Remembering a laughing Dasha braiding her young hair already a lifetime ago. “Oh, yes? Like what?”

He didn’t reply.

She understood anyway. “I’d rather have a bad life in the Soviet Union than a good death. Wouldn’t you?”

“If it was a life with you, then yes.”

Nodding into his chest, Tatiana said, “Besides, I haven’t seen a good death.”