Naira said, “I thought Tanechka enjoyed doing the small things she does.”

Dusia agreed. “Yes. We thought it brought her pleasure.”

Alexander nodded. “Dusia, it does bring her pleasure. Next she’ll be bending down and washing your feet. But don’t you think the disciples need to pour drink for Jesus every once in a while?”

Dusia stammered, “What does Jesus have to do with anything?”

Alexander’s steel grip tightened.

Tatiana opened her mouth and—

“Fine,” snapped Zoe, “we’ll clear up.”

With a gentle pat, Alexander let go of Tatiana’s thigh.

Tatiana breathed out. After a few moments her fingers managed to let go of the table. She not only could not look at Alexander but couldn’t meet anyone else’s eyes either.

“Zoe, Vova, thank you,” said Alexander, grinning at Tatiana, who remained motionless.

“I’m going for a smoke,” he said. Tatiana could not even acknowledge him.

After he left, the old ladies leaned in to Tatiana and lowered their voices. “Tania, he is very aggressive,” said Naira.

Dusia said, “There is no God in the Red Army, that’s the trouble. The war has made him hard, I tell you, hard.”

Axinya said, “Yes, but look how protective he is of our Tanechka. It’s adorable.”

Tatiana looked at them with incomprehension. What were they saying? What were they talking about? What just happened?

“Tania, did you hear us?”

She stood up. Her sole defender in the world, her rifle guard, her battle brigade would have her unqualified support. “Alexander is not hard, Dusia. He is completely right. I should not be doing everything around here.”

They had tea and blueberry pie, which was so good that soon there wasn’t any pie left. After the old women went out for a smoke, Zoe, squeezing Alexander’s arm and smiling coyly, asked once again if he wanted to go to the fire. Alexander took his arm away and said no once again.

Tatiana wanted Zoe to go away.

“Oh, come on,” said Zoe. “Even Tania goes. With Vova,” she added with emphasis.

“Not anymore,” whispered Alexander, looking at Tatiana, who was putting sugar in his tea.

“Tania, tell Alexander that awful joke you told last week. No, it was so awful, we nearly died,” said Vova.

“I thought I’d heard all of Tania’s awful jokes,” said Alexander. There was something so achingly familiar and comforting about sitting pressed against his large arm that Tatiana felt a need to put her head on him. She didn’t.

“Tell him the joke, Tania.”

“I don’t think so.”

Vova tickled Tatiana. “Come on! He is going to die.”

“Vova, stop,” said Tatiana, glancing at Alexander, who intently sipped his tea and said nothing.

“I’m not telling him,” Tatiana said, suddenly embarrassed. She knew that Alexander would not be pleased with the joke. She did not want to displease him—not even for a single stupid moment.

“No, no.” Alexander turned to her and put down his cup. “I love your jokes.” He smiled. “I want to hear.”

Sighing and looking at the table, Tatiana said, “Chapayev and Petka are fighting in Spain. Chapayev says to Petka, ‘Why are the people screaming? Who are they welcoming?’ ‘Oh, some Dolores Ebanulli,’ replies Petka. ‘Well, what’s she yelling?’ asks Chapayev. Petka replies, ‘She yells, “It’s better to do it on your feet than on your knees.” ‘ “

Vova and Zoe roared with laughter.

Alexander sat stonily, tapping on his teacup. “These are the kinds of jokes you now tell at the fire on Saturday nights?”

Tatiana didn’t reply and didn’t look at him. She knew he wouldn’t like that joke.

Vova shoved her lightly. “Tania, we’re going tonight, aren’t we?”

“No, Vova, not tonight.”

“What do you mean? We always go.”

Before Tatiana had a chance to say anything, Alexander, with his hands still around his teacup, looked at Vova and said, “She said not tonight. How many more times will she have to say it before you hear it? Zoe, how many more times will I have to say it before you hear it?”

Vova and Zoe stared at Alexander and at Tatiana.

“What’s going on?” Vova said in a confused voice.

“Go on,” Alexander said. “Both of you. Go to your fire. But quick.”

Vova opened his mouth to speak, but Alexander stood up from the table, leveled a look at Vova, and said calmly and slowly, “I said go on,” in a voice that invited no argument. He got none. Vova and Zoe left.

Tatiana shook her head in amazement, staring at the table. Alexander bent to her, saying huskily, “Like that?” And kissed her on the head and went out to smoke.

After laying out her bedding on the porch, Tatiana helped the old ladies into bed. When she was done, Alexander was still sitting on the bench outside the house. The crickets were noisy tonight. Tatiana could hear the distant howl of a coyote, the murmuring hoot of an owl. She went to wash the dessert dishes.

“Tania, will you stop fussing and come here.”

Her hands still wet, she nervously stepped up to him. The relentless throbbing in the pit of her stomach would not subside, not for dinner or the dishes, not for the old women or the laundry, not for anything.

“Closer,” Alexander said, watching her for a few seconds. He dropped his cigarette on the ground and put his hands on her hips, bringing her between his open legs.

Tatiana was barely standing.

Holding on to her, Alexander looked up for a moment and then pressed his head into her rib cage just below her breasts.

Tatiana, not knowing what to do with her hands, placed them carefully on Alexander’s head. His hair was short and thick, straight and dry. Tatiana liked how it felt. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe normally. “Are you all right?” she asked in a whisper.

“I am, yes,” Alexander replied. “Tatia, instead of thinking about yourself, couldn’t you have once thought about me? Couldn’t you have just imagined me for five seconds, and what I was going through for six months?”

“I could have. I’m sorry,” she said.

“Had you done that, thought of me for five seconds, and written to me, you would have gotten letters back that would have eased every single one of your fears. And you would have eased mine.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I honestly thought that there could be only two explanations for your silence. One, you were dead. Two, you had”—he paused—”found someone else. I never imagined that any of the lies I spoke would get under your skin. I thought you had the ability to see clear to the truth.”

“I had that ability?” Tatiana said softly, caressing his head. “Where is your ability?” Found someone else? she thought. “Honestly.”

He rubbed his forehead from side to side against her. “What did Axinya call you? A warm bun?”

Tatiana couldn’t breathe. “Yes,” she muttered. “A warm bun.”

Alexander’s hands on her hips tightened. “A small warm bun,” he whispered.

Very, very gently, Tatiana stroked his hair with her shaking fingers. Her breath was so shallow it was not getting air into her lungs.

“This is too close, even by Fifth Soviet standards,” Alexander said at last.

“What?” she whispered, trying not to disturb the night. “Us? Or this house?”

“Us?” he said with surprise, looking up at her. “No. This house.”

Tatiana shivered.

“Cold?”

She nodded, hoping he wouldn’t touch her burning skin.

“Want to go in?”

Reluctantly Tatiana nodded again. All she wanted was for his hands to remain on her, tight around her hips, tight around her waist, around her back, around her legs, anywhere, everywhere, but tight and on her and permanent.

Alexander lifted his head to her. Parting her mouth, she was about to bend—

Suddenly Tatiana heard the shuffling of Naira Mikhailovna on the porch. Alexander lowered his hands and his head. Against her will she stepped away from him, just as Naira descended the steps, mumbling, “Forgot to go one last time.”