Miri settled Vanya into bed while Sasha set the fire. Yuri hovered over Miri as she tore sheets to make a sling, peppering her with observations about potential complications, signs to observe and treat. He was so close his watch bumped against her arm. It was how they always used to work, but now she felt crowded.
“We must let him sleep,” she said. Vanya was already beginning to doze. “I’ll stay to watch over him.”
“I’ll keep you company,” Yuri said.
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“He could have a seizure.”
“He didn’t hit his head.” Yuri looked like he’d object, but Miri stopped him by holding up her hand and said, “Thank you for taking such good care of him, Yuri. But tonight, we’ll be fine. Please.”
Sasha nodded and slipped out. Yuri followed. When the door clicked closed behind them, Miri drank the rest of the vodka she’d poured for Vanya and collapsed into the chair. Horsehair jutted out from worn velvet where the stitches had failed. Outside, snowflakes swirled. It wasn’t a full storm, but it meant heavier snow and ice were coming. Sasha was right. If they were going to leave for Saint Petersburg, they needed to depart quickly. Which meant she needed to rest, but couldn’t. As quietly as she could, she paced from the chair to the window. An hour passed and then another. A gentle knock on the door made her jump. She looked to Vanya. He didn’t stir, and so she went to check to see who was there.
Sasha. He’d washed and shaved. He was trailed by the smell of soap and the scent of sugar. He wore a pressed shirt with creases along the arms, sleeves that were too short and a middle that was too large. Perhaps it came from Clay’s closet, whatever he’d left behind. Miri pulled him to the window where spindled fingers of frost climbed up the glass. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” she whispered.
“I could ask you the same.” Their faces were so close she made out the tiny frayed edges of the scar under his eye, the one she’d noticed the morning after the fire. “Your fiancé is angry, but it will pass. He’ll be good to you.”
“He’s still my teacher, isn’t he?”
“Is that what you want?”
“He’s not wrong. There’s more for me to learn.”
“There’s always more to learn. But in Podil you were a surgeon in your own right.” Sasha looked down. “If I’d been the one seeing you tonight for the first time in months, I would have recognized that you can work on your own. And I’d be holding you in my arms. Now. I wouldn’t have let go.”
“You’d be jealous.”
“Of course. It’s why I’d hold tight.” He was so close all she could think about was kissing him, and she was sure he thought the same. She saw it in the way he stared at her lips, tilted his head. But he stayed where he was. “You’ve put all your hair up again. I haven’t seen those tight braids since Kovno.” She’d done it without thinking. He went on, “I’m leaving. At sunrise.”
“No.” Her voice was too loud. Vanya rolled over. Miri grabbed Sasha’s arm. She felt his skin sink under her nails, but he didn’t pull away. “Please, don’t go.”
Sasha took a deep breath. “I’m going back to Kiev, to my grandfather’s friend, Avram Noskov. With Zubov onto me…”
“What do you mean?”
“Grekov’s coat has lost its power, that’s all. But Avram likely hasn’t. I’ll ask him to help find a way onto a train to Saint Petersburg. I’ll secure passage for you, your brother, and Yuri. And then I’ll go.” Miri leaned against him so her waist was pressed to his, and he came closer so she could taste the sugar on him just by smelling him.
“Where will you go? How will I be sure you’re safe?”
“I don’t know. But I can take care of myself.”