6

Leningrad, Russia

Tanya eyed the intricately carved fresco that stood above the main doors of the Moscovsky Rail Station in Leningrad. The men and women carved into the images looked so strong and happy. Maybe that was a sign that she, too, would find strength and happiness on the streets of Leningrad?

Probably not. Not when her heart ached so heavily for the only man she would ever love.

Tanya leaned back into the leather seat in the waiting room, frozen and unsure. She scowled at the smiling faces on the fresco. What did a stone statue know about life anyway? Turning back to the train platform, she watched the shifting shadows of bustling passengers dance across the pink-tinged tiles.

Were any of them like her? Alone.Unsure.Lost. Everyone else seemed to know exactly what they were doing and where they were going, as evidenced by the almost frantic rush on the platform. No one took time to glance backward at the lonely figure sitting in the waiting room with tears streaming down her face.

Her impulsive nature had always been her greatest weakness. Even as a child, her mother had constantly reminded her to think before she jumped in headfirst. Which hadn't stopped her from trading her mother's entire supply of red currant jelly for a copy of The Romance of an Empress when she was in the seventh grade.

Who cared about eating when there was a romantic novel to read? At least, Tanya felt that at the time. Two weeks of nonstop chores later, she had realized that perhaps the library was a better place to find books.

Nicolai had tempered her impulsiveness a little bit.

All right, a lot.

Nicolai had been her rock when the rest of her world fell apart. First her fathercarried away by navy-clad police officers claiming he was a Bolshevik sympathizer. Then her poor mother, dead from pneumonia weeks before Tanya had received word that her father had died in a prison camp. Tanya had been devastated. But through it all, Nicolai, her Nicolai, stood by her, held her, and loved her. Yes, without Nicolai, she would've been lost.

As she was right now.

Now, he was gone too. And Tanya was entirely alone in the world, sitting in a train station with the anguish of indecision and loss covering her heart with a black blanket of regret. If only Nicolai had been around this morning to talk her out of hopping on a crazy train to nowhere.

Impulsivity mixed with grief do not a great decision make. She should stitch that on a sampler someday to remind herself to never do something this stupid again.

She pushed out of the chair, grabbed her satchel and Nic's violin, and walked over to the ticket counter. How much was a ticket back to Moscow? Maybe she should go home and chalk this crazy adventure up to blind grief. No one would blame her.

Bile rose from her stomach as she gagged down a torrent of tears. No, she couldn't go back to Moscow. Not to an empty apartment and a life without Nicolai.

But could she survive here? Did she have the strength to start over?

Pinching her lips between her teeth, she turned toward the smiling stone figures over the door and started walking.

"I don't have a choice but to find out," she whispered under her breath as she used the hem of her coat to wipe her tear-soaked cheeks.

One foot after another, the echoes of each step resounding across the cavernous room, she made her way to the front doors of the station. Pausing underneath the golden beams that framed the doorways, Tanya turned back toward the intricately carved walls of the station.

Stepping into the road in front of the station, she shivered. The air was cold as the sun set behind the buildings in Vostanniya Square. She looked to both sides to get her bearings, clutching her stomach as it growled loudly.

"Here we go."

She started down the street, not sure of what to do. Maybe she should find herself something to eat? Her stomach turned to acid at the mere thought of food, just as it had every time she’d tried to eat since Nicolai died. But she must survive. And the first step was sustenance. Stepping into a tiny café at the edge of the square, she found a small table by the window and scooted into her seat.

"Privet! Do you want bread?"

The cheery waitress grated against Tanya's dark mood.

"Yes." Tanya inhaled the rich aroma of cooking kolbasa and potatoes as her stomach clenched. "And a helping of whatever you have on special."

It smelled just like home. Cringing, Tanya reminded herself that if she kept thinking about Nicolai, she'd never make it through this meal. Much less, the rest of her life.

"I'll put the order in." The waitress's smile disappeared as she jotted down the order.

Tanya turned toward the window, somberly studying the crowds of people as they hurried by. At least she had something to distract her from thoughts of Nicolai. A group of women made their way down the street, hauling baskets of produce on their shoulders. Their children ignored their grim faces as they scrambled between their legs playing a game of hide and seek as they followed their mothers down the street.

A regiment of soldiers strolled by in uniform, grim-faced and focused as they marched in rows down the street, their rifles strapped to their backs.

Tanya scrunched up her face and tried to remember the maps she had studied in school. Was Leningrad closer to Germany than Moscow? She thought so. Why hadn't she taken a train to Siberia and gotten far, far away from the threat of war? Siberia would've been safer.

And less civilized. In Siberia, they probably slept in tents and ate raw meat from tigers. At least in Leningrad she could find herself a quaint café that served human food like kolbasa and potatoes.

Glancing at the ticking clock on the wall, she realized it was already too late to find permanent housing tonight. She'd have to stay in a hotel and look for something more long-term tomorrow.

She waved at the waitress and beckoned her over.

"Do you need something, Miss?" The waitress's eyes twitched toward two men sitting at a table on the other side of the restaurant.

"Yes. Do you happen to know of an inexpensive hotel where I can find a room around here?"

The waitress harrumphed. "Not around here. The hotels around the square cater to travelers. You won't find a place for less than 150 rubles."

Tanya winced. One hundred and fifty rubles. That was a lot. But where else would she sleep? She quelled a wave of longing for her tiny apartment back in Moscow and reminded herself that this was her life now. "All right. Where's the closest one?"

The waitress pointed down the road, gave her quick directions, and then explained that lower-rent boardinghouses could be found down by the Neva River. She just had to head east and walk two or three miles.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." The waitress glanced at the men at the other table before turning back to her, her mouth opening and closing as if she seemed to be contemplating telling her something. "Around the square, people are more friendly toward outsiders. Once you get out of this area, you might want to keep your words to a minimum."

"Outsiders?"

But the waitress had already walked away to help another customer.

Five minutes later, she returned with a gray metal tray balanced on her left shoulder. "One order of kolbasa stew." She set the tray down, unloading a large yellow glass of lukewarm water, a small loaf of simple white bread, and a heaping bowl of kolbasa stew, laden with onions, garlic, and potatoes.

Tanya's stomach clenched as the aroma hit her nostrils, and she impulsively covered her nose. Tanya looked up at the waitress who now stared at her with empty eyes. "What did you mean about me being an outsider? I'm from Moscow."

The waitress glanced into the back of the restaurant. "Just be careful. People around Leningrad aren't exactly open to people from elsewhere."

Tanya forced herself to smile and once again thanked the waitress as she hurried off. She took a bite and swallowed before her stomach could revolt. She was no outsider. She couldn’t worry about the words of a silly waitress who didn't know anything about her situation. Tanya forced another bite and another until her stomach was full, her resolve growing with each bite. She could do this. She would make it here in Leningrad.

Nicolai had always said she was strong. She just had to trust herself. And take one tiny step after another.