Only two more farewells were left for Sergei.
He would say goodbye to his mother in the morning, for she had insisted on driving with him to the train station. He regretted that he would not see Katrina before he left, or Dmitri.
Somehow his vague misgivings felt strongest when he thought of his sister. What would be her reaction when she learned about him and Anna, as she was bound to sooner or later? Would she hate him for it? Or worse, would she reject Anna? Or would she understand, as she had always been able to understand him? He wished he could tell her himself, but he would be far away by the time Katrina returned. He could only leave matters in God’s hands, although at the moment his faith was so weak that this thought gave him little comfort.
By the time he saw Anna later in the evening, his mood had descended to its lowest ebb, perhaps of his entire life. They had arranged to meet in a little tea shop around the corner from the Marïnsky Theater. With Katrina gone, scarcely anyone paid the least attention to Anna, who found herself free to come and go almost at will. They ordered tea, but their glasses had hardly been touched thirty minutes later.
Anna tried to lift the heavy oppression weighing on them. It was a feeble attempt at best.
“I remember when I saw my first ballet at the Marïnsky,” she said. “I could not believe anything under a stone roof could be so beautiful.”
“And I could not believe anyone’s eyes could possibly be wider,” chuckled Sergei, making his own attempt at levity. “I was jealous that those eyes were not for me.”
“And I thought you were concerned only for my education.”
“My interest was purely selfish. The more I could talk Katrina into investing in your cultural enlightenment—with me along as advisor and chaperon—the more frequently I could see you.”
“Oh, Sergei!” Anna closed her eyes against the sudden and unexpected rush of tears.
“We are always saying goodbye, aren’t we?” Sergei reached across the table and took her hands in his. “But this will be the last one, Anna. When we next see each other—and it won’t be long—there will be no more farewells. I swear it!”
Anna could say nothing in reply. She hoped with all her heart that they would have a future together, but her confusion over what truly was best prevented her from voicing this hope even though she knew Sergei longed to hear those words from her.
She could offer him no assurances. All she had to give was love. And she hoped that would be enough for him to take to the faraway place for which he was bound.
“Sergei,” she said, “for once I do not come to one of our farewells empty-handed.” She smiled. “I have a gift for you. I know it is a poor substitute, but it is at least a token of what I feel.”
“Anna, I need nothing—”
She did not let him finish. “Please,” she interrupted. “You always have something for me. You have given me books and other things, and now it is my turn. Please, just let me give you a little piece of myself.”
He smiled and nodded in agreement.
She took from the pocket of her coat a small tan pouch made of soft deerskin. Unfastening the lace by which it was gathered together at the top, she carefully reached her fingers inside.
“My father gave me this the day I left home,” she said. “He told me then that it was the only thing of material value in his possession. I have treasured it ever since, getting it out to look at when I was especially sad or just needed a reminder that my mama and papa loved me. And now it will make me happiest of all for you to have it.”
She handed him a delicately handcrafted ornate Byzantine cross, made of pure gold, into which had been set thirteen exquisitely cut stones of Russian mined lapis. The deep blue on a background of solid gold was stunning.
“Anna, it’s so beautiful! How can you ask me to take this—an heirloom from your own family? I could never—”
She silenced him with a finger placed lovingly over his lips.
“Will you deny me this one pleasure that will give me joy every time I think of you? Please, Sergei, for me. I will know that wherever you are, I am there with you. Let it be as a bond between our two hearts.”
Finally realizing how important it was to her, Sergei nodded in assent and took the cross from her hand. He held it to the light and examined its every detail slowly and methodically.
The cross was not large, approximately four centimeters from top to bottom, and two and a half in width. A deep blue lapis cabochon sat in the center of the cross, with twelve smaller lapis cabochons set into diamond-cut impressions in the gold arms of the cross. The entire perimeter of the cross was edged with hand-tooled gold beads.
“What do all the stones and cuts stand for, do you know, Anna?” Sergei asked after looking it over with admiration and love.
“I asked my father that too,” said Anna. “He told me that the largest cabochon stone is raised to symbolize the royalty and supremacy of Christ. The twelve smaller pieces of lapis stand for the twelve disciples of the Lord. And the gold beads around the edge represent the many ups and downs and crossroads of life.”
“Besides being from your heart, it will be a special remembrance of Katyk and your father and family, and my time there,” he said. “I will treasure it.”
“Thank you. You have made me happy.”
“But,” he added, “by taking this gift, I do not make it mine. I will carry it with me as yours, as you yourself said, as a piece of you. I am merely agreeing to borrow it while I am apart from you . . . agreed?”
Anna smiled. “Agreed,” she said.
“And because it is borrowed,” Sergei went on, “I will return it to you, unharmed, to give it personally back into your hand.”
“That will be the best part of all,” replied Anna, “looking forward to that day!”
“That is my promise to you, Anna Yevnovna Burenin—a promise to place this cross of gold back into your hand.”
“I accept you at your word,” said Anna. “Anticipating that day will give my heart peace whatever comes between now and then. And until it comes I will keep my father’s deer hide pouch, empty just like it is now, as my reminder that you carry my heart with you.”
Sergei tucked the priceless icon carefully inside his uniform jacket, significantly near his heart. “We will each carry with us these reminders of our hope for a speedy reunion,” he said, reaching across the table and grasping Anna’s hand.
She smiled. “Our God will see to it!”
“But I don’t think God will mind too much if every time I look at the blue and gold, I think of you instead of Him, and am encouraged that I will see you again soon.”
“I am sure He wouldn’t. Perhaps you can think of us both—of my love and the fact that He holds that love in His care.”
Sergei smiled. “I will think of you and God when I gaze upon my treasured piece of your heart. And I will say a prayer for you every time.”
“You cannot know how happy you have made me,” said Anna softly.
“You often say that God has special providences and plans for His children,” said Sergei more seriously. “Do you still believe that?”
“Yes, of course,” replied Anna.
“So do you think too that there is some greater purpose in everything that happens?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Even this—my being sent away?”
“I don’t know what the purpose is,” said Anna, “but yes, Sergei, I do believe with all my heart that this is the way God’s children must look at the events of their lives, the pleasant as well as the painful, if they are to know His peace in their deepest souls.”
Sergei was silent a long while, looking earnestly and purposefully into Anna’s face.
“Then, Anna,” he said at length, “I am going to make one more promise to you before I go.” He paused, took in a deep breath, then went on. “I am going to promise that I will do my best to see what happens in my life from now on in this way. I must admit, seeing life from what I have heard you call God’s perspective has not been my natural way. But I want to, and I will try. So you must pray for me.”
“Oh, Sergei, of course I will!”
“Then perhaps God can help me believe that all these events will somehow turn out for the best in the end—my leaving you, my problems with Father, whatever the future holds.”
“I will pray that He will help you believe it.”
“Thank you,” said Sergei intensely.
“Thank you, Sergei! You have given me a gift far more priceless than any gold and lapis cross could possibly be.”
“The time is getting late,” he said. “Shall we go out and walk for a while before curfew?” He rose, and they left the tea shop.
The curfew had been recently imposed, but they had about an hour yet to walk and talk quietly. Then Sergei hired a carriage to take Anna home. They stopped some distance from the gates of the estate. There was no sense inflaming an already delicate situation by risking being seen together again.
When the carriage came to a stop, Sergei leaned over and kissed Anna tenderly on the lips. Neither spoke. No words were spoken, only tears hidden by the darkness.
Then he climbed out and helped her down to the street.
They stood together in one final embrace. As they parted their eyes met, saying all that was necessary between them.
Anna began to walk away.
“I love you, Anna Yevnovna!” she heard Sergei’s voice say behind her.
She paused, turned back for one last glance, trying to smile through the darkness even though tears streamed down her face. She opened her mouth in a vain attempt to return the words to him. But they caught hopelessly in her throat. Another moment more and she felt great sobs welling up in her chest.
She turned again and hurried toward the black iron gates of the Fedorcenko estate.