“I’m feeling fine,” said Alexander. “Really, there is no need to cry.”

He might as well have been speaking English. They continued to cry.

Alexander looked at Tatiana perplexed. But not only did she stand off to the side, but Vova stood by her.

“You are just the—oh, I can’t, I can’t, I just can’t,” cried Naira.

“Then don’t, Naira Mikhailovna,” Tatiana said mildly. “He is all right. Look. He’ll be fine.”

“Tania is right,” Alexander said. “Really.”

“Oh, dear man,” said Naira, grabbing his sleeve. “You’ve traveled so far. You must be exhausted.”

He wasn’t until five minutes ago. He looked at Tatiana and said, “I am a little hungry.” And smiled.

She did not smile back when she said, “Of course. Let’s go eat.”

Nothing was making any sense to a tired and hungry Alexander, who found himself suddenly losing his patience. “Excuse me, please,” he said, extricating himself from Axinya, who was standing in front of him, and making his way through the sea of people to Tatiana. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Tatiana backed away from him, averting her face. “Come on. I’ll make you dinner.”

“Can we”—Alexander found himself having trouble getting the words out—”just for a moment, talk, Tania?”

“Alexander, of course,” said Naira. “We’ll talk. Come, dear, come to our house.” She took him by the arm. “This must be the worst day of your life.”

Alexander didn’t know what to think about this day.

“Let us take care of you,” Naira continued. “Our Tania is a very good cook.”

Their Tania? “I know,” Alexander said.

“You’ll eat, you’ll drink. We’ll talk. We’ll talk plenty. We’ll tell you everything. How long are you here for?”

“I don’t know,” Alexander said, not even trying to catch Tatiana’s eye anymore.

They started walking, amid all the commotion forgetting their sewing. “Oh, yes,” said Tatiana blankly and went back to the table. Alexander followed her. Zoe ran alongside him, and he said, “Zoe, I need a moment alone with Tania,” and without even waiting for a response, hurried to catch up with Tatiana.

“What’s the matter with you?” he said to her.

“Nothing.”

“Tania!”

“What?”

“Talk to me.”

“How was your trip here?”

“That’s not what I mean. It was fine. Why didn’t you write to me?”

“Alexander,” she said, “why didn’t you write to me?”

Taken aback, he said, “I didn’t know you were alive.”

“I didn’t know you were alive either,” she replied, almost calmly, if only he didn’t see through the veil. Under it there was a storm she was not letting him near.

“You were supposed to write to me and tell me you made it here safely,” Alexander said. “Remember?”

“No,” Tatiana said pointedly. “Dasha was supposed to write to you and tell you. Remember? But she died. So she couldn’t.” She gathered up the material—the needles, the thread, the beads and buttons and paper patterns—stuffing it all into a bag.

“I’m so sorry about Dasha, I’m so sorry. Please.” Alexander touched her back.

Tatiana flinched from him and blinked back tears. “Me, too.”

“What happened to her? Did you make it out of Kobona?”

“I did,” Tatiana said quietly. “She didn’t. She died the morning we got there.”

“Oh, God.”

They didn’t look at each other, and they were silent.

Dragging Dasha down the slope to Ladoga, begging her to hold on, to walk, while Tania herself could not keep upright, yet pushing her sister forward, willing her to live.

“I’m sorry, Tatia,” Alexander whispered.

“Seeing you,” Tatiana said, “brings it all back, doesn’t it? The wounds are still so raw.” That’s when she raised her eyes and looked at him. And Alexander saw the wounds.

Slowly they walked back to everyone else.

Vova slapped Alexander on the shoulder and asked, “So how’s the war going?”

“The war is good, thanks.”

“We hear our guys are not doing so great. The Germans are near Stalingrad.”

“Yes,” Alexander said. “The Germans are very strong.”

Vova slapped Alexander’s shoulder again. “I see they have to keep you fit in war. I’m joining. I’m seventeen next month.”

“I’m sure the Red Army will make a man out of you,” Alexander said, trying to sound more cheerful. He watched Tatiana carry the large bag of sewing. “Want me to carry that?” Alexander asked her.

“No, it’s all right. You’ve got enough of your own things.”

“I brought you something.”

“Me?” Tatiana didn’t look at him when she said it.

What was going on? He said quizzically, “Tania… ?”

“Alexander,” Naira said, “tomorrow is our day to go to the banya. Can you wait until then?”

“No. I’ll wash tonight in the river.”

“Surely you can wait one day?” said Naira.

He shook his head. “I’ve been on trains for four days. I haven’t had water on me for too long.”

“Four days!” exclaimed Raisa, shaking. “The man has been on trains for four days!”

“Yes,” cried Naira, wiping her face, “and for what, for what? Oh, what a wasteland this war is, what waste, what tragedy.” The other ladies sniffled in agreement.

Alexander heard a small muffled groan escape Tatiana. He wanted her to look at him. He wanted to look into her face. He wanted her to tell him what was wrong. He wanted to touch her bare arms. He wanted to touch her so badly that… but his hands were full of his things. “Tatia…” he whispered, leaning deeply into her, nearly touching her hair with his mouth.

He heard her breath stop for a moment, and then she moved away.

In slight frustration he straightened up, noticing that Vova did not stray far from Tatiana’s side, and she did not appear to move away from him.

They ambled down the road. From the small village houses, neighbors poured out in milky lines, some shaking their heads, some pointing, some dabbing their eyes. Many saluted him. One middle-aged lady came over and gave Alexander a sympathetic hug. One old man said, “You make us all proud.” Why did Alexander think it wasn’t for his effort in the war? “The way you came here for your Dasha.” The man pumped his hand. “Anything you need, anything at all, you come to me. I’m Igor.”

Alexander asked quietly, “Tania, why do I feel as if everybody knows me here?”

“Oh, because they all do,” Tatiana said flatly, staring straight ahead. “You are the captain in the Red Army, who has come to marry my sister. They all know that. Unfortunately, she has died. And they all know that, too. And everyone is very sorry.” Her voice remained almost steady.

Sobs from Dusia from behind and Naira from the front. “Alexander,” Naira said, “at home we’ll give you plenty of vodka, and we’ll tell you everything.”

“We?” He glanced at Tatiana. He was hoping the we wasn’t going to be more than two. Why did he suspect it might be?

“Tania, how have you been?” Alexander asked. “How did—”

“Oh, she’s been great,” Vova interrupted, putting his arm around Tatiana. “She’s much better now.”

Alexander stared straight ahead, his gaze clouding. The tick inside him was multiplying.

It was at that moment—when he set his teeth and turned his face away—that Tatiana moved away from Vova to Alexander and put her hand on him. “You must be exhausted, hmm?” she said gently, peering into his face. “Four days on trains. Have you eaten today?”

“In the morning,” he replied, not looking at her.

Tatiana nodded. “You’ll feel better once you’re clean and fed,” she said, smiling. “And shaved.” She squeezed his arm.

He felt better and smiled back. He was going to have to talk to her about Vova. Alexander saw unresolved things in Tatiana’s eyes. The last time they had peace or energy to resolve anything was St. Isaac’s. A moment with her alone and things would get better, but first he had to talk to her about Vova.

“Alexander,” Axinya echoed, “we pulled our Tanechka right out from the jaws of death.” There was a loud wail.