Weeks went by, and as July warmth turned to August swelter, we settled into a comforting routine, but then one morning, two friendly-looking Red Army soldiers waited patiently just inside my classroom door. One of them fidgeted with a piece of paper as we all streamed in and took our seats. Pan Semoniuk approached the door — a few minutes late as usual — and looked up in surprise when he noticed the Red Army men.
“Good morning, Comrades, can I help you?” Pan Semoniuk asked.
One of the soldiers stepped forward. His face broke out into an earnest smile. “Maybe,” he said. “We would like to ask your students some questions.”
Pan Semoniuk looked hesitant for a moment. “If you wish,” he said finally.
The soldier walked into the middle of our classroom and faced us. He opened up his folded sheet. “I have information on family members for all the following people. If you know who they are, please help me find them.”
“Taras Melankovich?”
No one reacted.
“Mykola Boyko?”
No response.
“Ivan Tataryn?”
No response.
“Kost Chornij?”
A girl in the back of the class put up her hand. “He’s not here,” she said. “But I know he’s in this camp.”
“Do you know where I can find him?”
“He helps out in the soup kitchen,” she said. “Try there.”
The soldier took a pencil out of his breast pocket and made a note. He looked up again and said, “Luka Barukovich?”
All eyes turned to me. I stood. The soldier grinned.
“I am glad to meet you, Luka. We have found a Volodymyr Barukovich, a pharmacist from Kyiv. Is that your father?”
“Yes!” I could hardly believe my ears. “Where is he?”
“Back in Kyiv,” said the soldier. “He’s been assigned the job of head pharmacist at State Pharmacy Number Four, and he’d like you to go back home to him.”
“But don’t the authorities consider me a traitor? I was captured by the Nazis.”
“Haven’t you heard?” asked the soldier, smiling. “There’s been an amnesty. Stalin forgives you.”
“What about my mother?”
The soldier looked at his paper. “Raisa Barukovich, correct?”
I nodded.
“We are looking for her. If she’s still alive, we’ll repatriate her when we find her. Your best course of action is to go home to Kyiv now. Pack up and be at the gate tomorrow morning.”
I was so excited that I ran out to find Lida, but she was still in class, so I went back to my sleeping area and threw what little I had into my bag. Could it really be true? My father was alive! And they were searching for Mama. But what about Lida? I couldn’t leave her behind, not now when I’d finally found her again.
The trick would be to convince her to come with me. That made the most sense, seeing as both her parents had died. The American Red Cross and the Soviet Red Cross could keep on looking for Larissa. We could give them our address in Kyiv. Once Larissa was found, she could come live with us. It would be perfect.
When Lida came out at lunch and we sat down together with our bowls of soup, I told her of my news. She was not at all happy for me. In fact, she seemed frightened.
“I don’t believe this soldier,” she said. “My teacher has heard some frightening stories of people who were hurt when they tried to go back. Do you really think that Stalin forgives that easily, after all he has done?”
“If it had been an NKVD agent who was trying to get me back, I’d be worried,” I said. “But it’s not. It’s a Red Army soldier.”
She didn’t seem convinced, and her reluctance made me fume. I knew the difference between regular Red Army soldiers and NKVD agents. I had witnessed the difference in Kyiv and in the Underground. Red Army soldiers were conscripted. They were just regular people. The NKVD was the Soviet version of the Gestapo — trained killers.
“Perhaps you’ve been living with the Nazis for too long,” I muttered. But as soon as the words were out, I wished I could have erased them.
Lida said nothing for a minute. I looked over at her and saw that her knuckles were clenched white. “That is an awful thing to say to me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” I said. “But in the Undergound, we were fighting for everyone to be treated equally. That goes for Soviet soldiers too. Besides, don’t they need workers for rebuilding after the war? It doesn’t make sense for them to hold grudges.”
“What about me?” Lida asked. Tears filled her eyes. “You’ve been gone for two years. I can’t lose you again.”
I set my bowl down and reached for her hand. “Please come with me. The Red Cross will keep on looking for Larissa and my mother, even after we’ve left here. And when they find Larissa, she can join us.”
Lida was silent for a moment. Then she took a deep breath. “I don’t trust that soldier. I think he’s lying to you.”
That was not how I saw it at all. Could she not understand how important it was for me to go to my father now? He was waiting for me. He had asked me to come. If I didn’t go now, I might not get another chance to find him.
I could not believe how stubborn Lida was being about this. But I didn’t want to keep on arguing. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I have to, Lida. Please understand,” I told her.
Why couldn’t Lida be excited for me? I had found my father! Couldn’t she see why this was so important for me? Finally I said, “Come to say goodbye, or come with me. It’s your choice.”
She said nothing.
I grabbed my bowl of soup and stood up. I didn’t know what to say. “See you later,” I finally managed.
I spent the rest of the day wandering around the camp. I missed my old life. Soon I would be home, helping to make Kyiv whole again. If only Lida would come with me
* * *
I got up before dawn and walked down to the gate. I watched the sun rise. Would Lida come with me? That was my dearest wish. I never wanted to be apart from her again. She was as much my family now as Mama and Tato.
But maybe she wouldn’t even come and say goodbye.
Footsteps behind me, and then a voice. “You’re going home too, Luka?” said Kost Chornij, the man from the soup kitchen. He set his satchel beside mine.
“I am.”
“You don’t look very happy about it.”
“My friend Lida — I want her to come back with me, but she wants to stay here.”
“Why don’t you go find her? It’s not even six o’clock yet. I’ll watch your bag.”
Lida had just stepped out her door as I got there. Her eyes were red and her face looked tired. She was not carrying a bag.
“You’ve decided not to come with me?”
“I will see you off,” she said. “But I’m staying here. I wish you would stay as well.”
I stood there for a long moment, just staring at her. Why couldn’t she realize how important it was for me to go back to my father right now? Did she not love me at all? I almost asked her that out loud, but I didn’t want my memory of her to be spoiled with an argument. We walked in silence down to the entrance of the camp.
Kost Chornij wasn’t the only one waiting anymore. There were two others.
“Taras Melankovich,” said one man, holding out his hand. “And my cousin, Ivan Tataryn.”
Lida seemed surprised that others were also going back. Would she change her mind at the last minute and come with me? I dared to ask once more if she would, but just then her teacher, Pani Zemluk, arrived. She touched Lida’s shoulder.
“Lida, don’t.”
Lida took a deep breath, then turned to me. “Luka, I will not go with you. I want us to stay together forever. I want you to stay with me now —”
“I’m not staying here, I cannot,” I told her.
“And I cannot go with you,” she replied.
So that was it. Her choice was made.
I hugged her one last time. “Stay safe, sister of my heart. Maybe one day, you and your sister will join us.”
“I would like that,” she said, her voice choked with tears.
Just then a canvas-covered Red Army truck careened to a stop and that same soldier stepped out. He grabbed a clipboard and ticked off the names, then his eyes focused on Lida. “And who are you? Are you coming home with us today?”
Lida’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. For a moment I thought maybe she had changed her mind. She blinked, then said, “I need to find my sister first.”
“The Soviet Red Cross can help with that. What is your sister’s name and where were you two born?”
Lida was about to tell him, but Pani Zemluk squeezed her shoulder and said, “Children should be seen and not heard.”
Lida looked at me, her eyes pleading. “Please, Luka, stay here with me.”
Why couldn’t she understand? If our positions were reversed, would she turn her back on her own father? Why wouldn’t she just come with me? It would be perfect if she’d do that. All I could say was, “I must go back. My father is waiting for me.”
I climbed into the back of the truck. Kost stepped in behind me, and then the other two. As the truck sped away, I watched through a gap in the canvas as Lida got smaller and smaller.