VLADIMIR, AUNTIE, AND I STOOD SILENTLY AT THE DOOR OF A COZY, MODEST HOUSE, WAITING IN THE COLD TO SEE IF AUNTIE’S SISTER-IN-LAW STILL LIVED THERE. A RUMBLING thunder pulsed in the distance, as though a storm was on its way. I realized I’d been hearing it intermittently for the last half mile.
“It’s been many years,” Auntie admitted, “but she is a home-body. I think she’ll still be planted in the same place.” She knocked a third time. We’d been traveling for thirteen or fourteen hours since leaving Leningrad. If her sister-in-law didn’t live here, I planned on asking whomever did if we could please stay for the night.
“Who is it?” a muffled voice asked from behind the door.
“Galina, it’s Vera! Vera Raskova!”
A woman even older than Auntie opened the door. Her silver-rimmed glasses sat at the end of a strong nose; a halo of wispy gray hair had escaped from the bun at the nape of her neck. Before the door was half open, she exclaimed, “Vera!” and spread her arms to hug Auntie. “Come in, come in!” she cried, touching both me and Vladimir in a gesture of welcome while closing and locking the door quickly. “I’m sorry if I sounded unfriendly, but they’re so close. Did you hear them?”
“Whom?” Auntie asked.
“The Germans. Can’t you hear their guns? I’m so distracted, I …” Her voice trailed off. “But, Vera, I’m so happy to see you! Who are your friends? I’m Galina.” She held out her hand and shook mine and then Vladimir’s as Auntie introduced us.
“I’m just getting supper ready, so you can join me. Let me take your coats. Tell me all about your journey, and to what I owe this wonderful surprise visit.”
Vladimir hesitated. “I should be getting back. My wife will be worried.”
Galina, knowing nothing of our circumstances, glanced at him as she hung our coats on a rack, as if waiting for more, but Auntie said, “You’ll be out in the cold for almost two hours. Please join us — if only to get something warm in you.”
He didn’t need much convincing. “Whatever you’re cooking does smell quite delicious….”
“This way,” Galina instructed us. After living in an apartment all my life, to be in a house was exciting. It seemed so large, although the ceilings were low. We followed her into the kitchen, where a wood-burning stove filled the room with warmth and the deeply satisfying fragrance of a real fire.
“You have a cat!” I exclaimed as a small orange cat sat up nervously on a chair, jumped to the floor, and ran out of the room.
“I certainly do,” Galina said as she tied an apron over her dress. “She keeps all the mice outside where they belong! I call her the Tsarina. Do you have any animals, Ivan?”
I stared at her blankly for a moment. How could I possibly explain that the starving people of Leningrad were lucky to be alive, and that most animals had succumbed long ago? “No, Miss Galina, I don’t” was all I said.
Galina made us comfortable at her small kitchen table and generously fed us soup, bread, and tea. She and Auntie exchanged information about old friends, a little about Leningrad, and a few memories of Arseny. Finally Auntie said, “Galina, I have something to ask of you.” The old woman adjusted the glasses on her nose and waited for more. “Life has become intolerable in Leningrad. We were lucky to get out. Ivan’s mother is being transferred to work in the Urals.” Galina nodded as if she understood. “What I want to know, Galina, is … is if I could stay here with you. It might be for a very long time. Maybe until the war is over.”
“Of course!” she answered without hesitation.
“I also wanted to know if —”
But Galina interrupted her. “And what about you, Ivan? What are your plans?”
“My mother wants me to go stay with my uncle Boris, in the country southeast of Sviritsa. I don’t want to go.” It came out so strongly, I think I startled everyone.
“It’s his mother’s wish,” Auntie told Galina, “but honestly, I’m not sure it’s the best plan.”
“With all due respect to my mother, it’s a terrible plan. He doesn’t even know I’m coming.” I felt overwrought at the thought of leaving this warm place and being separated from Auntie. Without her, I was truly on my own. I’d have nothing of home left.
Vladimir reached over and patted me on the back. “I’m sure your mother knew what she was doing when she made this decision.”
I shook my head. “I think she’s sending me to Boris’s because there’s no other choice.”
Galina opened her mouth as if to speak, then sighed loudly. “I hope you will understand what I’m going to say in the right spirit.” My heart began to sink inside me at those words. “I hesitate to take on the responsibility of a child.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I under —”
“Wait, Ivan, let me finish. There’s enough food, and there’s enough fuel. We live in the country; we’re able to be more self-sufficient than city dwellers.” I forced myself to listen to her and willed myself not to cry. “But the Germans are very, very close. Many people have already left the village. Everyone’s frightened. We’ve heard such terrible things….” She glanced at me quickly, didn’t finish her sentence, and closed her eyes. “What I’m trying to say is that our town may be occupied soon. None of us knows what that will mean. There’s a chance I will leave for Kazan to be with my sister.” Auntie reached out and held her hand. “I welcome you both, but I’m reluctant to expose a child to these terrible dangers.”
I looked up at her. All I heard was I welcome you both. I thought, Oh, please let it be true. Please don’t send me away.
“Miss Galina, would it be possible for me to stay here for a few days? Perhaps a week? Just enough to rest. Then I will go find my uncle Boris.” I rushed on, “You’ll hardly notice I’m here! I’ll work very hard at whatever you want me to do. I can clean, I can … I can …” I stopped, feeling ashamed to be begging. I could see it was upsetting her, too.
Very quietly, Vladimir said, “You can come stay with my wife and me, Ivan — with Vera’s permission, of course.”
I was deeply moved. But before I could answer, Galina said, “No, no, no. I shouldn’t have said anything. It came out all wrong. I’m just worried, that’s all, and nervous. It’s not that I don’t want you, Ivan. It’s that I would feel so much worse if something happened to you than if it happened to Vera or me.”
“I understand, Galina,” Auntie said, sounding upset. “This is my fault. But if you knew what we’ve just escaped from … I’m sorry. I’ve put you and Ivan in a difficult position by coming here. I should have taken him directly to his uncle’s.”
Galina was quiet for a moment and leaned back in her chair. “I just want you to know it could be very, very dangerous.”
“Dangerous is something I know about,” I said, thinking of the constant bombardment and hunger that hounded our waking and sleeping hours back home.
She reached over, smoothed my hair away from my face, and stared at me. “When did you leave Leningrad?”
“About five o’clock this morning.”
“No wonder you look so tired.” She paused. “Why don’t we get a bed made up for you?”
She hadn’t said definitely that I could stay, but she hadn’t said no, either. I looked up at her with all the gratitude I felt in my heart and whispered, “Thank you.”