The oil lamps cast shadows on the walls of the peasant bungalow with a gently sloping roof and thickly dressed logs. The small room, the gornitsa, held a bed and an undersized stove. It was usually reserved for guests, but Elena Lavrushsky used it for her sister-in-law, sixteen-year-old Anna.
Both Elena and Yuri, Anna’s brother, wore grim faces when Karena was ushered inside. Did they know about the meeting and the police raid? Karena believed they did and that Anna had alarmed them, coming home in such a hurry. Elena was pale and tense. Yuri kept rubbing his palms against his trousers and looking out the window.
“How is Anna?” Karena asked in a low voice.
“She is well. Why do you ask?”
“You need not fear, Elena. You know she was out tonight, don’t you?”
She sighed. “Yes, I tried to stop her from going, but she left anyway. She came back in tears, saying there’d been a police raid at the college green. Something about revolutionaries.”
Karena explained that Dr. Zinnovy was waiting in the carriage and why they had come. Elena’s eyes widened with alarm at the mention of the horse ride. She brought Karena immediately to Anna’s bed. The girl was awake, and Karena sensed her tension and fear.
“It’s all right, Anna, I’m here to help you. Did you borrow Sergei’s horse tonight?”
“Yes … I was so afraid. I didn’t think until I was halfway back to the bungalow. The horse is in your stable. The boy Stesha brought him back for me. Are the police coming here?” She grabbed Karena’s wrist.
“No, I don’t think so. Dr. Zinnovy, a very important man and friend of the czar, will see no harm comes to us. He’s outside now in his carriage. We are worried about you. Are you feeling any sickness? Any sudden pains or bleeding?”
Anna’s teeth chattered nervously, her brown eyes wide and frightened. She shook her head no. Karena smiled and held her hand, stroking the back of it as her mother had taught her to do to calm a patient.
“Good, then. You are a strong, healthy girl. Maybe we don’t need to ask questions. But Dr. Zinnovy is the best doctor in St. Petersburg. He wants to see you and make sure everything is normal.”
Anna looked from Karena to Elena. Elena nodded. “It is best, Anna. You will never again have a better doctor.”
“Yes, I will see him.”
Karena went out and returned a few minutes later with Dr. Zinnovy. He smiled benignly at the shivering girl.
“So this is Anna. Everything is going to be all right. Have you been examined before by a doctor?”
She shook her head no. “Madame Yeva helps me. She’s very kind.”
Karena looked proudly toward Dr. Zinnovy to see his reaction and was bewildered by a look of pain on his face.
Yuri stepped outside to smoke, and Karena remained with Dr. Zinnovy during Anna’s examination. He used special soap he carried inside his bag and asked Elena for hot water from her stove. Only afterward did he place his hands upon Anna’s bulging abdomen. With precise movements, he felt the position of the baby. Karena watched his face, but he showed no emotion in the presence of his patient, and Karena had no way of knowing whether all seemed well.
“Anna,” he said, his voice grave but confident, “I will not examine you internally. I am concerned your baby is in a delicate condition right now. I do not have all the right medicines and instruments with me. I want you to stay in bed and rest for a few days. Meanwhile, I want Madame Peshkova to send for a doctor from Kiev. I’m going to write down his name and give it to Miss Peshkova. She will give it to her mother in the morning.”
Karena looked on, trying not to reveal her concern. If Dr. Zinnovy was afraid that an examination would disturb the baby, then he must be concerned about a miscarriage.
“I’m going to leave some medications with your sister. She can discuss them with Madame Peshkova tomorrow. Right now, I’m going to give you something to help you sleep. It’s the best action we can take for your baby and yourself.”
He measured certain elixirs, turned them over to a worried Elena, and explained the dosages to her. Karena felt Anna’s hand tug at her sleeve. Her eyes searched Karena’s. “Is Sergei safe?”
Karena nodded, putting a finger to her lips. They exchanged smiles. Anna looked easier and settled down in her narrow bed.
A short time later, Karena departed the bungalow with Dr. Zinnovy. As the carriage brought them to the gate of the manor house, she turned to him.
“Is Anna in danger of a miscarriage, Dr. Zinnovy?”
“I fear she is. But if she follows my orders, I think it will lessen the possibility.” He leaned over and opened the carriage door.
Karena climbed down and turned to face him. “Will you come in, sir? Schoolmaster Josef and Madame Yeva will wish to thank you for coming to my aid on the road.”
“Ah? Do you truly wish for me to inform them that you were at a Bolshevik meeting and that I helped you escape the Okhrana?”
Her face warmed as she considered. “No, Doctor. Neither I, nor Sergei, would want them to know.”
“It’s wise for me to return to the hotel. I shall be leaving for St. Petersburg early in the morning, and I am confident the Okhrana will call on me tonight with many questions. I shall do my best to keep you out of this trouble, though I cannot promise they will be satisfied. They are most insistent,” he said with a touch of acidity. “They will, no doubt, come here, looking for Sergei.”
His eyes were cool and firm. “I want you to deny that you were there. My witness that you were with me will hold more sway than anything said to the contrary.”
“I don’t know how to thank you, Dr. Zinnovy.”
“Do not try. Go inside now. I would advise you to go straight to your room and avoid talking to anyone tonight. Give my recommendation for Dr. Novikov to Madame Peshkova in the morning.”
She thanked him again and watched the coach pull away until its silhouette faded from view in the moonlight.
Karena stood on the road, looking toward the manor, cheered by the lights glowing in the windows. She listened for Ilya’s approach on the gravel path that led from the manor to the bungalow where he lived with Grandmother Jilinsky and Uncle Matvey. She half expected Ilya to be waiting on the porch for her. She heard little except insects humming in the hot night and the rushing sound of the wheat in the breeze. The fragrance of harvest grains filled the air. She refused to dwell on the despicable beating of Grinevich or its inevitable consequences for Sergei, should his presence become known.
If Lenski expected to avoid another prison term in the Urals, he had better escape to neutral Geneva while he could. Soon, news of what had happened tonight would sweep through the telegraph wires, and soldiers and police would check every departing train.
A thought made her heart catch. What if Sergei believed he must flee with Lenski to save himself? She thought of her father. If Sergei disappeared, it would be a heavy blow to Papa Josef.
She hurried toward the manor, the sounds of the night chasing her heels. Sergei’s words earlier that evening repeated mockingly in her mind: “Nothing will go wrong. The meeting will be safe.”
The sound of the wind moving through the miles of wheat was not unlike rushing water. At times she found it the loneliest sound in the world.
An owl swept silently overhead, its wings visible in the moonlight. The moon was nearing the end of its journey for the night, sinking toward the horizon. Karena neared the Peshkov manor and made her way along the vegetable garden path that smelled of onions and chives, blooming oregano, and leafy basil. She came up the wood steps to the back porch, just as she and Sergei had planned.
On the porch, she retrieved the key she had placed there. If her luck held, Aunt Marta would not be busy in her beloved kitchen. It was past supper hour, but the family thought she had walked over to the bungalow with Ilya to sup with Grandmother Jilinsky and Uncle Matvey.
The click of the key in the lock might as well have been the crash of tin pans. She envisioned stepping inside and blinking as Aunt Marta and Madame Yeva came to meet her.
She closed the kitchen door, leaving it unlocked for Sergei. If he’d escaped with Lenski, would he even come home? How quickly life could change!
I wish I could talk to Uncle Matvey. She felt comfortable confiding in him, for he was imperturbable.
The comforting fragrance of Aunt Marta’s fresh bread hung enticingly about the kitchen. The bread would be there on the back of the big black stove, covered with a white cloth and waiting for the family gathering at the breakfast table.
A gleaming copper match-holder hung on a hook on the wall behind the stove. The floor was recently scrubbed, and the sideboard was in perfect order. This was Aunt Marta’s cherished domain, and the family honored her strict rule.
Karena replaced the key on its hook, hoping Marta hadn’t noticed.
There were no sounds coming from the other rooms. Her father would be reading in his favorite chair and her mother most likely going over the expenses of running the manor or the medical needs of the peasants and families. Her younger sister Natalia would be in her bedroom, probably writing letters. And Aunt Marta would be at her needlework.
She removed her shoes. She went like a ghost across the floor and through the door into the hall with narrow stairs to rooms on the second floor. The wood floor creaked beneath Aunt Marta’s small, multicolored rag rugs. Karena crept up the stairs. Reaching the top, she sped the last few steps to her tiny room with one window facing the front yard.
Once inside, she closed the door and collapsed onto her bed. Was she safe? Tomorrow the sun would rise and unveil everything that had happened in the darkness. What then?