Alexander looked at Tatiana walking next to him, feeling a liquid warmth ooze through him. “Please, let me carry that,” he said.

She was about to give him her sewing bag when Vova intercepted it, saying, “I’ll carry it.”

“Tania,” Alexander asked, “you didn’t by any chance run into Dimitri in Kobona, did you?”

Naira quickly turned around and hissed at Alexander, her eyes bright imploring cups. “Shh. We don’t talk about Dimitri.”

“That bastard!” exclaimed Axinya.

“Axinya, please!” said Naira, turning to Alexander and nodding. “She is right, though. He is a bastard,” she whispered.

Alexander stared at them all, wide-eyed. “Tania,” he said, “am I to assume that you did run into Dimitri in Kobona?”

“Hmm,” she said, and nothing else.

Alexander shook his head. He was a bastard.

Zoe on his left leaned in and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Another reason we don’t talk about Dimitri is because our Vovka’s got a big thing for Tania.”

Moving away from Zoe and toward Tatiana, Alexander muttered, “Really?”

Naira’s house at the top end of the village toward the river was white, wooden, and square. And small. “You all live here?” Alexander asked, glancing at Tatiana, who walked ahead.

“No, no,” Naira said, “just us and our Tania. Vova and Zoe live with their mother on the other side of Lazarevo. Their father was killed in the Ukraine last summer.”

“Babushka,” said Zoe, “I don’t think there’s going to be room in your house for Alexander.”

Alexander looked at the house. Zoe may have been right. In the front garden there were two goats, and three chickens in a wire coop. It looked as if they had plenty of room.

Following Tatiana inside, Alexander walked up a couple of wooden steps into a roomy glassed-in porch that had two small couches at one end and a long, rectangular wooden table at the other. Coming through the porch, he stood in the doorway looking into the darkened parlor room in the middle of which stood a wood-burning stove.

Taking up nearly the entire back of the room, the stove had a long cast-iron hearth and three compartments—the center for burning wood and two side ones for baking. The chimney went up and to the left. Above the stove was a flat surface covered with quilts and pillows. In many village huts across the Soviet Union, the top of the stove was frequently used as a bed. After the fire below went out, it was very warm up there.

In front of the hearth stood a high table for food preparation, and at the back was a sewing machine on a desk, and a black trunk. On the right were two doors, leading to what Alexander guessed were bedrooms.

Tatiana was by his side. “Let me guess,” he said to her. “You sleep up there?”

“Yes,” she replied without meeting his eyes. “It’s comfortable. Come inside for a minute.” She walked through to the desk on the side of the stove.

“Wait, wait,” said Naira from behind. “Zoechka is right. We really don’t have much room.”

“That’s all right, I have my tent,” said Alexander, following Tatiana.

“No, no tent,” said Naira. “Why don’t you stay with Vova and Zoe? They have room for you; they have a nice bedroom they could put you in. With a proper bed and everything.”

“No,” said Alexander, turning around to Naira. “But thank you.”

“Tanechka, don’t you think it would be more comfortable for him? He could—”

“Naira Mikhailovna,” said Tatiana, “he already said no.”

“We know,” said Axinya, walking through the porch. “But it really would be more—”

“No,” repeated Alexander. “I will sleep in my tent, right outside. I’ll be fine.”

Tatiana motioned him to her. He couldn’t get to her fast enough. They were alone long enough for her to say, “Sleep here, on top of the stove. It’s very warm.”

He kept his voice even when he said, “And where are you going to sleep?”

Her face turned red, and he couldn’t help himself—he burst out laughing and kissed her cheek. That made her even more red.

“Tania,” he said, “you’re the funniest girl.”

She backed away practically into the porch.

Smiling at her, he said, “Listen, I’m going to go—”

“Go with Zoe and Vova?” said Naira, coming into the room. “That’s a great idea. I knew our Tanechka could convince you. She can talk the devil into a new dress. Zoe!”

“No!” exclaimed Tatiana.

Alexander wanted to kiss her.

“Naira Mikhailovna, he’s not going,” Tatiana said. “He didn’t come all this way to stay with Vova and Zoe. He’ll stay here. He’ll sleep up here.”

“Oh,” Naira said, her breath taken out of her a bit. “And you?”

Could she keep herself from blushing? No, she couldn’t. “I’ll sleep on the porch.”

“Tania, if he’s staying, why don’t you change the linen on your bed so he’ll have fresh sheets.”

“I will,” agreed Tatiana.

“Don’t you dare touch them,” whispered Alexander.

Saying she was going to get Alexander fresh towels, Naira disappeared to her room.

Instantly they turned to each other. She couldn’t manage to look up at him, but she was turned to him and close to him, and—was she smelling him?

“I’m going to go and wash, and I will be right back,” said Alexander, smiling. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He wanted to take hold of hers. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m right here. Do you need soap?”

He shook his head. “Got plenty.”

“I’m sure you do. But look what else I’ve got.” Out of her desk drawer she pulled out a small bottle of shampoo. “Found it in Molotov. Cost me twenty rubles.” She handed it to him. “Real shampoo for your hair.”

“You spent twenty rubles on a bottle of shampoo?” he said, mock aghast, taking it from her and grabbing her fingers.

“Better than two hundred and fifty rubles on a cup of flour,” she replied, quickly pulling her fingers away and trying to change the subject.

“Was that twenty of my rubles?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “The rubles in your book came in very handy. Thank you.” She did not look at him. “Thank you for everything.”

“I’m glad they did, and you’re welcome. For everything.” He could not tear his eyes away from her. “Tatiasha, you’ve gotten so blonde.”

She shrugged casually. “It’s the sun.”

“And so freckled—”

“The sun.”

“And so—”

“Let me point you to the river.”

“Wait. Look what I’ve brought for you.” Crouching near his bag, he showed her many cans of tushonka, some coffee, a large bag of lump sugar, rock salt, cigarettes, and bottles of vodka. “And I got you another English-Russian book,” he said. “Have you been practicing your English?”

“Not really,” Tatiana replied. “I haven’t had time. I can’t believe you carried all that. It must have been so heavy.” Pausing, she said, “But thank you. Come on outside.”

Taking a towel from Naira, they walked through the porch and down the steps to the back garden. Alexander stood as close to Tatiana as possible without his body actually touching hers. He knew that six pairs of eyes were on them from the porch. Tatiana pointed. Alexander wasn’t even looking at where she was pointing. He was looking at her blonde eyebrows. He wanted to touch them with his fingers.

He wanted to touch her with his fingers.

Missing a breath, he touched the faint scar above the brow where she had been injured during the fight with her father. “That’s almost gone,” he said quietly. “Can’t even see it.”

“If you can’t see it,” Tatiana said lightly, “then why are you touching it?” She didn’t look at him. “Alexander,” she said, “can you look where I’m pointing? It’s right through the pines. Will you look? Just cross the road, and there’s a path between the trees. Walk down a hundred meters into the clearing. I do the laundry there. You can’t miss it. The Kama is a big river.”

“I’ll get lost, for sure,” said Alexander, bending to her ear and lowering his voice. “Come and show me.”