Still Tatiana frowned at him.

“What?”

“Love your reflexes,” she said. “Lightning quick. Good job. I just want to point out,” she added, “that given the choice between the glass and your wife, you chose the glass, admirably quick though you were.”

Laughing, Alexander helped Tatiana back onto the ladder, standing behind her on the ground. He didn’t touch her with his messy hands, but he softly bit her bottom through her dress. “I didn’t choose the glass,” he said. “You were already on the ground.”

“I didn’t see your legendary reflexes reach for me while I was being propelled downward like a rocket.”

“Oh? And what would have happened to you if that glass fell on top of you?” he asked. “You wouldn’t have been very happy with me then.”

“I’m not very happy with you now,” she said, but she was smiling, and he bit her bottom again and went to the window to finish caulking. Finally the glass was solidly back in. Dusia, who was inside the church, thanked Alexander up and down and even kissed him, telling him he was not a bad man.

Alexander bowed his head slightly, nodding at Tatiana. “What did I tell you?”

Tatiana pulled him by his shirt. “Come on, not-a-bad-man,” she said. “Let’s go. I’ll wash you.” They walked back home through the sap-smelling woods. At the house Tatiana went inside to get soap and towels.

“Tania, can you feed me first?”

“Shura, you can’t eat covered in muck like you are.”

“Watch me,” he said. “I know how the washing-me thing goes. I won’t be eating for two hours, and I’m starving now. Just put the soup in a bowl, take a spoon, and feed me.”

“Well, if you wouldn’t take two hours . . .” Tatiana muttered under her breath, the flame pit in her stomach opening up.

“Just feed me, Tatia. Rail at me later.” Alexander raised his brows, his eyes warming her like the fire. Her glad heart swelling, Tatiana obliged, and as she was feeding him, she resumed. “You didn’t answer my hypothetical question.”

“Blissfully, I forgot it.”

“About Dasha.”

“Oh, that.” He chewed and swallowed a mouthful of potato and fish, and said in a serious tone, “I think you know the answer to that.”

“I do?”

“Of course. You know if she were still alive, I would have had to marry her, as I had promised, and you would have had to go and have a bang with good old Vova.”

“Shura!”

“What?”

She shoved his leg. “I’m not going to talk to you about this if you’re not going to be serious.”

“Oh, good. Can I have some more soup?”

After lunch, when they were in the water and he was scrubbing his hands while Tatiana was soaping his back, Alexander said, “I could never have married Dasha if you were still alive. You know that. My truth would have had to come out here in Lazarevo. What about yours?”

Tatiana didn’t reply.

They were sitting in the river near the shore. Alexander took the bottle of shampoo and turned Tatiana’s back to him to lather her hair. Running his fingers through her soapy strands, he said, “You miss her.”

She nodded. “I wonder what being here in Lazarevo would have been like had she lived.” Leaning back into him, she said, “I miss my family.” She paused as her voice broke. “Like you must have missed your mother and father.”

“I didn’t have time to miss them,” said Alexander. “I was too busy saving my fucking life.” He tilted her head back to rinse her hair.

But Tatiana knew the truth. “You know, sometimes I get a funny feeling about Pasha.”

“What funny feeling?”

She stood up and took the soap from him. “I don’t know. A train blew up, no bodies were retrieved. As if the not knowing for certain what had happened to him makes his death somehow less real.”

He stood up, too, and led her deeper into the water. “You’re saying you only believe it if you see the people you love die?”

“Something like that. Does that make sense?”

“Not at all,” said Alexander. “I didn’t see my mother die. I didn’t see my father die. They’re dead all the same.”

“I know.” She soaped him comfortingly. “But Pasha is my twin. He is like half of me. If he is dead, what about me?” She lathered her breasts and rubbed her hard, soapy nipples against his chest.

“I can answer that. You’re very much alive,” said Alexander. “I tell you what: you want to play this hypothetical game? I’ll play. I have a question for you,” he said, taking the soap out of her hands and pitching it onto the shore. “Say Dasha were still alive, and you and I had not yet married, but” — Alexander stopped talking while he lifted Tatiana onto himself — “but I had made love to you standing” — he paused between breaths — “like this—” They both groaned. “Here, in our Kama River . . . tell me, oh, my very alive wife, what would you have done? Would you have let me go then, knowing—”

She cried out.

“ — this?” whispered Alexander.

As if Tatiana could answer. “I don’t want to play this game anymore,” she moaned, wrapping her legs loosely around his waist and her arms tightly around his neck.

“Good,” said Alexander.

Afterward Tatiana sat collapsed in the shallow water against a boulder jutting out of the river, and Alexander lay before her, the back of his head against her chest. They were murmuring and looking out onto the Kama and the mountains when Tatiana noticed that Alexander had become quieter. He had fallen asleep, his legs stretched out in the gentle lap of the river, his bare upper body pressed against her. Smiling and holding him to her, Tatiana softly kissed his sleeping head, leaving her lips in his wet hair.

Blinking, blinking, she sat for a long time not moving, until at last she soaked in a breath, an afternoon breath of sap and fresh water and cherry blossoms nearby. Wet grass, old leaves, sand, earth, Alexander, and she whispered, “Once upon a time there lived a man, a shining prince among peasants, who was worshipped by a frail maiden. The maiden escaped into the land of lilacs and milk and waited impatiently for her prince, who came and handed her the sun. They had nothing to run to and everything to run from; they had no refuge and no salvation; they had nothing but their tiny kingdom, in which lived but two people — the master, the mistress, and two slaves.” Pausing for breath, Tatiana squeezed Alexander. “Each glorious day was a miracle from God. And they knew it. Then the prince had to leave, but that was all right because the maiden—” Tatiana stopped. She thought she heard him hold his breath. “Shura?”

“Don’t stop,” he murmured. “I’m very interested in what happens next. Why was it all right? What was the maiden going to do?”

“How was I doing so far?”

“Not bad. My favorite part was something about a master . . . ?”

Tatiana kissed his cheek.

“I reserve final judgment till the end.” Alexander rubbed the back of his head against her chest. “Tell me why it was all right.”

“It was all right,” Tatiana continued, trying to think quickly, “because the maiden patiently waited for him to come back.”

“Well, this is a fairy tale. And?”

“And he did.”

“And?”

“There’s an and after that? And . . . they lived happily ever after.”

After the longest mute minute Alexander asked, “Where?”

Tatiana stared at the Ural Mountains and made no reply.

Grunting, Alexander got up and turned to her. “That wasn’t a bad story, Tania.”

“Wasn’t bad? Why don’t you try?”

“I’m not much for making up stories.”

“Yes, you prefer to blow things up. Go ahead, try.”

“Fine.” Sitting with his legs crossed, he splashed water on his face, splashed water at her, and began. “Let’s see . . . Once upon a time there lived a fair maiden—” He looked at her. “A maiden like no other. And one renegade mercenary knight had the fortune to be loved by her.” He smiled. “Over and over.”

Tatiana nudged him with her foot, but her own pleased smile was, if anything, broader than his.

“The knight left to protect the kingdom against marauders,” Alexander paused. “And did not come back.” He stopped looking at her, staring at the riverbank instead. “The maiden waited for her knight for a suitable period—”

“What would that be?”

“I don’t know. Forty years?”

“Be reasonable.” Tatiana pinched his leg.

“Ouch. But finally she couldn’t wait anymore and gave herself to the liege of the local manor.”

“After forty years who’d want her?”

Alexander turned his gaze back to Tatiana. “But lo and behold, surprise! Her knight came back, only to find his maiden running the manor and romping with someone else—”

“Just like in Pushkin’s Evgeny Onegin,” said Tatiana.

“Oh, except unlike Onegin, this knight, feeling like an idiot, challenged the liege to a duel, fought for the maiden’s honor, such as it was, and lost. He was then drawn and quartered right in front of her very eyes, which she dabbed with her silken handkerchief, vaguely remembering the land of lilacs they had once lived in, and then shrugged nonchalantly and went in for tea.” Alexander laughed. “Now, that’s a story!”

“Yes,” Tatiana said, rising to her feet and walking to the cabin. “A stupid story.”



As she was getting ready to leave, Alexander sat and smoked. “Why do you always have to go to your stupid sewing circle?”

“Not always. It’s just for an hour.” Tatiana smiled, wrapping her arms around him. “You can wait an hour, can’t you, Captain?” she whispered huskily.

“Mmm,” he said, holding her with one arm. His cigarette was in the other hand. “Can’t they manage without you, for God’s sake?”

She kissed his damp forehead. “Shura, have you noticed the days have been getting hotter?”

“I noticed. Can’t you just sew here? I brought your sewing machine, your desk. I’ve made you a stool. I see you sewing; just the other day you were sewing all those dark clothes. What was that?”

“Nothing, just something silly.”

“Well, continue sewing something silly here.”

“I’m teaching them how to fish, Alexander.”

“What?”

“Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day,” said Tatiana. “Teach him how to fish and he’ll eat for a lifetime.”

Shaking his head and sighing, Alexander said, “All right. I’ll come with you.”

“Stop it. Church is one thing, but no soldier husband of mine is going to a sewing circle. It’ll unman you. Besides, you already know how to fish. Stay home. Play with your rifle or something. I’ll be back in an hour. Do you want something delicious to eat before I go?”

“Yes, and I know exactly what I want,” he said, laying her down on the blanket in the grass. The sun burned over their heads.

“Shura, I’m going to be late.”

“Tell them your husband was starving and you had to feed him.”


16


“So what do you have in your bags, big man?” Tatiana said one parched summer afternoon as she sat on the blanket in the clearing with his rucksack and the map case between her legs and painstakingly took out all of his things one by one. Tatiana was thirsty. It had been very hot in Lazarevo. Hot in the morning, sweltering in the afternoons, quite warm at night under the new moon. They slept naked under thin sheets with the windows open. They swam constantly. Still, they were always hot.

Alexander was sawing two long logs down to size. “Nothing at all of interest,” he replied, his back to her.

Tatiana took out his semiautomatic, his pen and paper, a pack of cards, rolling papers, two books, two boxes of ammunition, his military knife, all his maps, and two hand grenades.

She became immediately interested in the maps, but before she had a chance to open them up, Alexander walked across the clearing to her, saw in his hand, cigarette in his mouth, and took the grenades from her. “Tell you what,” he said. “Why don’t we not play with explosive devices?”

“All right,” she said, jumping to her feet. “You taught me how to shoot from the P-38, can you teach me how to fire from your rifle?” She stared at the maps on the blanket. “How many rounds can it fire one after another?”

“Thirty-five,” replied Alexander, smoking down his cigarette.

“You could teach me how to shoot from your mortar, but you don’t have a mortar in your ruck.” She smiled.

He laughed. “No, I don’t carry my mortar around with me in my ruck.”

“You carry all your maps, though.” Tatiana glanced at them again.

“So?”

“Shura, I wish you wouldn’t stay on heavy weapons,” Tatiana said, hugging him. “Can’t Colonel Stepanov make you a runner or something? Can’t you tell him you’ve married a nice girl who can’t live without her soldier?”