Tatiana had heard about the town of Tikhvin. The Soviets took Tikhvin from the Germans in September and were now fiercely struggling to hold on to it, to allow themselves a continuous railroad passage to the Ladoga food barges. Without Lake Ladoga there would be no food getting into Leningrad at all.

She had long ago stopped smiling. Carefully she said, “I wish you had succeeded with Dimitri. A promotion would have been good for him.”

“I agree.”

“And maybe if he had become a hero,” Tatiana went on evenly, “you wouldn’t have to marry my sister.”

His face falling, Alexander said, “Oh, Tatia—”

“But as it is,” she continued loudly, interrupting him, “you’re a captain, and he’s in Tikhvin. You’ll have to marry Dasha now, won’t you?” She stared at him unremittingly.

Alexander rubbed his eyes with his blackened hands. Tatiana had never seen him so unclean. She had forgotten all about him, so busy was she thinking all about herself. “Oh, Shura. What am I doing?” Tatiana said. “I’m so sorry. Come home. Look at you. Come. You’ll wash.” She said softly, “You can have a hot bath. I’ll boil the water for you. I’ll make you nice oatmeal. Come on.” She wanted to add darling but didn’t dare. Marry Dasha, Tatiana almost wanted to say. Marry her if it helps you live.

Alexander didn’t move from the wall.

“Please come, Shura.”

“Wait.” He bit his lip. “Are you upset with me because of your father?”

He didn’t fight, he didn’t argue, he didn’t say it wasn’t his fault. He just accepted responsibility and went on, as if it now was just another burden to be carried on his shoulders. Well, his shoulders were wide enough for several burdens, including some of Tatiana’s, and, oddly, to see him square his chest made her own lighter. Relief came at Alexander’s expense, but it was welcome relief nonetheless. She wanted comfort? There it was.

“No, Shura,” Tatiana said. “No one is upset. They’ll be overjoyed you’re alive.”

Alexander raised his eyes to her. “I didn’t ask about them. Are you upset with me?”

Tatiana looked at him with compassion. Underneath his battle armor, the man who commanded an armored battalion needed her. If he was wounded, she could bandage him. If he was hungry, she could feed him. If he wanted to talk to her, there she was. But now her Alexander was sad. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t for her father she was upset with him. But she couldn’t, because all she wanted was to give him comfort back. She didn’t want him to be sad for another moment.

Reaching out, Tatiana took hold of his hand. He had dirt under his nails and bloody scratches, but his hand was warm and strong, and it squeezed hers gratefully.

“No, Shura,” she said tenderly. “Of course, I’m not upset with you.”

“I just want you to be safe,” he said, his back to the wall. “That’s all. Safe from everything.”

Tatiana came into Alexander’s arms. “I know. I’m going to be just fine,” she said into his coat, feeling so happy to be hugging him that she was afraid of falling down. Brushing the hair away from her forehead, Alexander pressed his lips to her healing brow and whispered, “Don’t back away from me like before when I touch you.”

“All right,” Tatiana murmured, her eyes closed and her arms tight around him.

3

“Look who I found!” Tatiana exclaimed as Alexander walked in behind her. Dasha shrieked, running to him.

Tatiana went to put the water on to boil for his bath. She found soap for him, and fresh towels, and a razor, and Alexander went and had a hot bath.

“Is it warm enough?” she called to him from the kitchen, boiling more water, just in case.

His laughing voice carried from the bathroom. “No, not at all. Come, bring me another jug. Come in here, Tania.”

Blushing and smiling, Tatiana went and asked Dasha to bring Alexander another jug of boiling water.

He came inside the room all scrubbed and flushed and clean-shaven, so warm, his black hair so damp and shiny, his teeth so white, his mouth so moist that Tatiana didn’t know how she kept from flinging her arms around him. While he sat in his long johns and thermal shirt, Dasha went to wash his uniform. Marina, Babushka, and Tatiana clucked around him; everyone did except surly Mama.

Tatiana didn’t tell Mama she had eggs. She was going to, but when she saw that Mama was not prepared to forgive Alexander for yelling at her and Papa, Tatiana was not prepared to share eggs with her. Forgiveness had to come first.

Alexander had given them a kilo of butter. Tania hid it under the sack of flour on the windowsill. Mama had a weak cup of tea with some bread and butter, gruffly thanked Alexander, and went to work.

Babushka took some silverware, some silver candlesticks, some money, old blankets off the bed, and stuffed them all into a sack as she, too, got ready to leave.

Tatiana had to go and cook breakfast, but she remained in the room, sitting quietly in a chair, staring at Alexander.

“Where is she going?” Alexander inquired.

“Oh, across the Aleksandr Nevsky Bridge to Malaya Ochta,” said Dasha, coming into the room. Tatiana quickly lowered her gaze. “She’s got friends there,” Dasha continued, “and she trades our things for potatoes or carrots. She was good to them when things were good, and now they’re good to her when things are not. Your clothes won’t dry for a while,” she said to Alexander, smiling.

“That’s all right,” he said, smiling back. “I don’t have to report to base for four days. Will they be dry by then?”

Tatiana’s heart skipped with joy. Four days of Alexander!

“Tania, are you going to go and make breakfast?” Dasha asked, leaving again. Marina was in the other room, getting ready to go to university.

Alexander turned to Tatiana. “Tatiasha,” he said, “can I have some tea?”

Instantly she got up from the table. What was she thinking, sitting around? He must be so tired, so hungry. “Of course.” He was sitting and smoking, with his long legs stretching across the floor all the way to the couch. There was no room for Tatiana to walk past, and Alexander wasn’t moving his legs. Tatiana stared at him. He was smiling.

“Excuse me, Alexander,” Tatiana said quietly, trying very hard to keep a straight face.

“Step over them,” he said, lowering his voice. “Just take care not to trip. Because then I’d have to catch you.”

Turning red, Tatiana raised her eyes and saw Marina watching her from the door. “Excuse me, Alexander,” Tatiana repeated, keeping her breathy voice even.

Reluctantly Alexander moved his legs. “Come here, Marina,” he said with a sigh. “Let me take a look at you. How have you been keeping?”

Tatiana brought Alexander a cup of tea, making it nice and strong and sweet for him, just the way he liked it. “Thank you,” he said, looking up at her.

“You’re welcome.” She gazed down at him.

“My legs still in your way?”

“Yes, you’re too large for this room,” Tatiana whispered.

Before he could reply, Dasha came back with some clean sheets. “Girls, how does your Babushka do across the Neva?” Alexander asked, taking his tea and looking away from Tatiana.

Folding sheets and putting them away, Dasha said, “Yesterday she brought five turnips and ten potatoes. But all of Mama’s wedding dishes are now gone. After these candlesticks, I don’t know what else she’ll have to sell.”

“How about those gold teeth you took from the dentist, Dasha?” Tatiana asked. “Would the farmers like some gold?” She sat down at the table next to the wall, her back to Dasha, her eyes to Alexander.

“What could they possibly do with gold?”

“What would they do with candlesticks?”

Alexander said, “Ah, have light. Have heat. Use them as weapons against the Germans.” He turned to Tatiana. “Tania…” He smiled. “Where is this promised oatmeal? Where are those promised eggs?”