25 December 1880
“He should’ve come by now.” Natalya sat cross-legged on her bed, running her fingers through her dark hair.
Her roommate gave her a pitying look. “I’m sure he got stuck in the snow and thought it best to stay put until the storm ends. You’re welcome to have Christmas dinner with my fiancé’s family.”
Natalya’s shoulders slumped, and she rubbed her arms to keep warm. “No, I’ll wait. He’s trying to get here as soon as he can, and it’s not easy trudging through the forest in two feet of snow. Thank you though.”
Once she was alone in their room, she busied herself straightening the sheets on her bed and rearranging her few belongings in her wooden trunk. All day she stole glances through the small window at the street below while snow continued to fall. Dmitri never appeared.
She had come to America with a small group of Russian travelers. It had been a long and treacherous crossing of the northern Pacific, but it was on that boat that she met Dmitri. He had traveled alone while she was accompanied by her great-aunt. She had found him kneeling on the deck, hunched over a book. Dmitri had asked her if she wanted to learn English, to which she replied in English that she’d already been studying it. Their connection had been instant, and that little conversation had blossomed into a friendship, and then a romance.
Shortly after they’d arrived in America, her great-aunt had died, and she had been forced to find a small boarding house for young women. Whenever she had free time, she spent it with Dmitri, and she hoped they’d marry soon, but until then, she worked as hired help in the kitchen of a restaurant.
Natalya put her hand to her stomach and smiled. A new baby—what a surprise to tell him on Christmas in the warmth and comfort of his log cabin in the woods. But, where was he?
Two more days of heavy snowfall and high winds went by, and on December 27th, the storm finally ceased. The sun shined down on the white-dusted town, and she bundled up and started toward Dmitri’s cabin. It was a path she’d taken many times, but usually with less snow. Perhaps the pregnancy made her winded, or the traipsing through the snow, but when she arrived, her whole body was spent.
She found the place tidy but empty; the only things missing were his boots, coat, and rifle. She searched outside the cabin, but there was only snow, and more snow, among the trees.
Frustrated, she made a fire and sat at the table, wondering where he might have gone. It had been almost a full week since she’d seen him last. He had no family in town or anything else to draw him away so suddenly. She couldn’t imagine him simply leaving and moving elsewhere.
He was the kind of man a person just knew had a heart of gold. His eyes followed her around every room, making her feel like a Russian aristocrat. She knew beyond a doubt that he loved her and wanted to marry her. He’d written her a poem for every special occasion, and she couldn’t wait to see what he’d write about expecting a child.
She searched the cabin, tearing sheets off his bed, dumping a bag of flour onto the table, and lifting up rugs, trying to find any clue as to why he would unexpectedly go missing. Searching through his trunk, she found mostly blankets and bedding, but she wasn’t able to lift the heavy thing to dump it entirely. Then, without warning, a great wave of nausea hit, and she ran to the door for fresh air.
After the icy air had soothed her, she returned to lie on the bed, pieces of straw poking into her back. A small lump under her legs made her jump up to examine under the mattress, where she found a brown envelope full of money. She counted sixty-seven dollars. Surely, he hadn’t abandoned her and left his savings behind. Or did he mean for her to find it as an apology for leaving her? Exhaustion seized her as dusk settled, and she put the blankets back on the bed to wait out the night in case he returned.
The next morning, Natalya rubbed her belly. She was falling in love with the baby growing inside her, but it crushed her that the love of her life had disappeared. She also knew, as an unwed pregnant woman, she would be unwelcomed at the young ladies’ boarding house once she started to show.
Some of the Russians she’d traveled with had gone south to Tacoma, where it was suspected the Northwest Pacific Railway would end. With Dmitri’s money, she’d have enough to rent a small room of her own, and if she could find a small group of friendly Russians, it might one day feel like home.
With trembling hands and tears threatening to fall, she closed the cabin door and set off to the boarding house to gather her few belongings before heading south.