On Monday afternoon, after a week of soliciting, Louise, Natalya, and Kaarina Varila met at the orphanage. Kaarina was effusive with her thanks to Louise and a bit more polite to Natalya. All three, however, were disappointed in the results. The money was a trickle; the need a vast inland sea. Louise felt she was failing. Everyone was a little frustrated. The three of them, however, dutifully started writing thank-you notes. Kaarina wanted each note to be personal. She wrote them out by hand—and if French, or Russian were needed, Louise or Natalya would write the note. Kaarina would copy it in her own handwriting before signing. Kaarina felt it was important that the person who was using the money do the thanks—and show how the money was used.
After several thank-you notes, Louise had to ask, “Kaarina, I don’t see any of the money being applied to things like books or even toys. When I was teaching first grade—”
Kaarina interrupted her. “I don’t need to hear about how you taught school in America.”
“I didn’t mean to compare.” Louise was a bit put off. “It’s just that these children probably haven’t been in school, some for several years.”
“We have a perfectly good education system in Finland. I think what the orphanage needs right now is clothing, blankets, and kitchen tools.”
“Well, sure, but are the children going to school?”
“Not yet.”
“But won’t they be behind?”
“Is this your famous Dr. Spock speaking?”
“Come on, Kaarina. This is just basic, you know, education. I was teaching back in America—”
“Back in America, back in America. You are in Finland and the children need many things more than books.” She paused. “And toys.”
“Louise,” Natalya gently interrupted. “Que se passe-t-il?”
Louise replied in French. “It’s about where the money is being spent.”
“Perhaps we should let Kaarina decide that.”
“I didn’t tell her or decide anything,” Louise answered, aware that she was sounding peevish. Louise knew she had her dander up. It was always the same. Basic needs never included the basic need of every society on earth: to teach the children how to think.
She expressed this opinion to Kaarina. Kaarina expressed her own opinion back. This was repeated. Then Louise lost her temper.
“Need I remind you that who pays the piper calls the tune?” Louisa said.
That hung in the air. She wished she hadn’t blurted it out.
Natalya cleared her throat. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?” she asked.
“Rien,” Louise spit back.
Kaarina had both hands on the table in front of her, her shoulders raised, the way animals make themselves look big before they fight.
“You Americans, with your money,” she said. “Too bad you don’t have an education system that can teach you how not to throw it around so stupidly.”
“Kaarina,” Natalya said.
Kaarina turned on her. “And I don’t need to hear from any Russians.”
Natalya held up a palm in surrender. She sat back in her chair, leaving the field.
Kaarina turned to Louise. “You don’t seem to understand. Finns don’t dance to anyone’s tune but their own.”
“Which could explain why you’re in the pickle you’re in right now,” Louise retorted.
Kaarina and Louise looked at each other. Louise realized that Kaarina’s pride would not allow her to speak first. She swallowed her own. “Of course, you’re the one who decides how best to spend this money.” She saw Kaarina’s chin rise almost imperceptibly in victory. She realized she’d just learned one of the basic rules of good diplomacy—and it was a very hard one to follow.
Natalya and Louise left the orphanage together in the dark around dinnertime, both clutching their coat buttons against the constant wind. Louise exhaled, somewhat dramatically, her breath forming a visible cloud lit by the faint streetlights. “That was a little rocky,” she said. She translated the argument for Natalya.
“Everyone is a bit frustrated that the money isn’t coming in as we’d hoped,” Natalya said.
“Yeah. I suppose so. In any case, we’ve got to come up with something better.”
“Sure, but what?”
Louise brightened. “Come over to my place,” she said. “I have a bottle of tax-free bourbon. Enough of that and who knows what we’ll come up with. Besides, after what just happened, I need a drink.”
“What is this bourbon?”
“Sort of like vodka made out of corn.”
Natalya grimaced. Then she said, a little apologetically, “Perhaps it would be best if you came to our place.”
“You don’t want to try bourbon?”
“No, it’s not that.” She hesitated. “We find it more,” she hesitated, “comfortable if we entertain in our own homes. Why don’t you come for tea?”
Louis shrugged. “OK.”
Fanya had already fed the children. Mikhail was still at work. After a brief reunion with Alina and Grisha, Natalya went to the kitchen to start making the tea, followed closely by Alina, hanging on to her skirt. Grisha, who’d been standing with one hand on the coffee table, started after his sister, cruising with one hand still on the table. Finding that too slow, he dropped to the floor and crawled rapidly into the kitchen. Fanya got up to go after the children, but Louise got there first. She swung Grisha up to her face, surprised again at how sturdy—and heavy—the little boy was. She pulled him in close to her feeling his heat.
Natalya came out with a plate of small boat-shaped stuffed buns and a pot of tea, followed by Alina, who stood just past the kitchen door watching Louise and her little brother. Louise quickly realized it must look a bit odd and loosened her hug on Grisha. Natalya set the teapot and buns on the table and gave Louise an understanding smile before she returned to the kitchen. Alina remained at the doorway, saying nothing. Louise sat down with Grisha on her lap and played with his hands while the tea steeped. Natalya returned, poured a cup of tea for Louise, and then picked up Grisha from Louise’s lap. Pointing at the buns with her chin, she said, “Eat. Please.”
Louise took one and found it filled with a surprisingly sweet cherry, not quite pudding and not quite jam. “What is this?” she asked. “It’s delicious.”
“Pirozhki, filled with cherry varenye.”
“Oh, my God in heaven,” Louise said with her mouth full.
Natalya smiled with pleasure.
Louise helped Natalya put the children to bed and the two of them returned to the kitchen. The teapot was empty and the pirozhki gone. Louise looked at the empty vessels a bit despondently. Natalya, however, smiled. She peeked into the living room to see that Fanya had retired to her bedroom and walked over to a cupboard. Reaching high, she pulled down an opened bottle of vodka. With a smile she placed a bottle of soda water and two glasses beside it on the table. Then, she went to the small icebox and put out a plate of pickles and tiny fish that Louise couldn’t identify.
The vodka soon had the two women talking more deeply. When they’d all been together with their husbands, they’d talked briefly about what they did before the war, but it had stayed mostly at a surface level. Now came more details and tentative disclosures that bloomed into deeper, more personal stories. Both women tried hard to be honest, but Louise thought Natalya was holding back and asking Louise to reveal more about herself than Natalya did. Louise thought it must be because of the in-and-out presence of Fanya.
Natalya couldn’t help noticing that Louise dropped comments about a life that would be unlikely for any but the highest government officials, yet Louise’s father didn’t even have a government position. Louise’s family seemed to have a car of their own. She even said that she had her own bedroom! And her mother had time to play cards and drive the car, all by herself, to a larger city where she bought clothes and other things. And they had three dogs. Three.
When Louise once let it drop that all her friends had similar situations to her own, Natalya didn’t believe this for a moment but decided to be kind and let Louise go on. Any friend was going to have a few flaws—and it looked like Louise’s was exaggerating about how good her childhood was. Natalya decided that she wouldn’t even bother reporting it to Sokolov.
Louise did mention something she called the Depression, which was a time when her family didn’t buy new shoes before school, as they usually did, and she went to work for her father in the family lumber business, because her father had laid off two of his workers. Natalya knew that one of the many flaws of the capitalist system was its horrible business cycles—which Soviet planning had eliminated. Louise talked about the Depression as if it were a major catastrophe. To Natalya, who’d lived through the famine of 1932–33 that killed six or eight million mostly Ukrainians, what Louise described was a bump on the road.
Mikhail walked in, his broad face opening in a smile when he saw Louise. He bowed slightly to her. Natalya rose to kiss him. He was unable to say anything in English other than, “Hello. Good day.” He said something in Russian to Natalya, made a slight bow again, then disappeared into the children’s bedroom.
“Misha says to please forgive him. General Kristall is visiting from Moscow. There is no escape.” Natalya chuckled. “He is Misha’s boss’s boss. That’s not his real name. Kristall is shorthand for Moscow State Wine Warehouse Number One. They make that vodka you are drinking, not wine. Misha will not get home until morning.” She smiled. “Tomorrow he is going to have a very bad head.”
“We have generals like that. There’s a lot of drinking in our army, too.”
“All armies have generals like that,” Natalya said. “But I think ‘a lot of drinking’ means something different to a Russian than to an American.” Smiling, Natalya then asked, “Does your Arnie drink?” Louise thought it was a bit forward but reminded herself that what was private in some cultures might not be in others.
“Hardly at all. The New Year’s Eve party was an exception,” she added hastily. “His mother told all her children not to drink anything at all. She says it’s a particular Finnish weakness.”
“So,” Natalya said, “has Arnie shown any signs of this,” she emphasized the word slightly, “weakness?”
“No, no,” Louise replied. She wondered why Natalya would even ask such a thing. It made her feel uneasy. Natalya seemed reticent about revealing her own private life but had no trouble asking sometimes pointed questions about Louise and Arnie’s. Had she known about the bug? But she didn’t want to feel suspicious about Natalya. She remembered her own mother telling her more than once that if you want to have friends, you can’t want ones without flaws. Such people didn’t exist. But spying on a friend was more than a flaw. She couldn’t just ask Natalya, because if she was spying on Louise, she’d say no. If she wasn’t spying, she’d also say no. It was obvious that trust couldn’t be based on words.
Mikhail came out of the children’s room and disappeared into what might have been another bedroom. He emerged with a pair of skis. Louise lit up. “Oh, you guys,” she said in English. She switched to French and started talking to Natalya. “This ski race they’ve concocted …” She didn’t finish.
Natalya had put her hand on Louise’s arm, shaking her head just slightly. She nodded sideways toward the closed door to Fanya’s bedroom.
Louise quickly recovered. “Is Mikhail going skiing someplace?”
“Part of Mikhail’s job is to go north to check on bridge widths, road surface conditions, that sort of thing. For tanks,” Natalya said. “He’s taking his skis in case he needs them.” She laughed. “He knows he won’t want to work on them tomorrow after a night with General Kristall.”
Louise laughed, joining Natalya’s small conspiracy, but she caught a glimmer of Natalya’s fear. She was so grateful that in America you could say anything you wanted without fear of reprisal. You could rely on the government and the press to always tell the truth. In America, a fact was a fact. Period.