daughter from speaking German. When they stop grieving for you, they’ll be better. I know it’s hard now, but it will get better.”
“It’ll never get better. You think I don’t know what I was fighting for? I know. I’m not complaining about it. Not about that. But this isn’t life, not for me, not for my wife. This is just bullshit, pardon my language.” Because he could do nothing else, Nick heaved himself out of his chair onto the grass. Tatiana gasped. Alexander picked him up, put him back into his chair. “All I want is to die,” Nick said, panting. “Can’t you see it?”
“I see it,” she said in a low voice. “But leave my husband alone.”
“No one else will help me!” Nick tried to throw himself on the ground again, but Tatiana kept a firm arm on him.
“He won’t help you either,” she said. “Not with this.”
“Why not? Have you asked him how many of his own men he had shot to spare them agony?” Nick cried. “What, he hasn’t told you? Tell her, Captain. You shot them without thinking twice. Why won’t you do it for me now? Look at me!”
Tatiana stared at a darkly grim Alexander and then at Nick. “I know about my husband at war,” she said, her voice shaking. “But you leave him alone. He needs peace, too.”
“Please, Tania,” Nick whispered, bending his head into her hand. “Look at me. My revels now are ended. Have mercy on me. Just give me the morphine. It’s not violent, I’ll feel no pain. I’ll just drift off. It’s kind. It’s right.”
Tatiana looked questioningly up at Alexander.
“I’m begging you,” said Nick, seeing her vacillation.
Alexander pulled Tatiana up out of the chair. “Stop this, both of you,” he said, in a voice that brooked no argument, not even from the colonel. “You two have lost your minds. Good night.”
Later, in bed, they didn’t speak for a long while. Tatiana was scooped narrowly into him.
“Tania … tell me, were you going to kill Nick so that I wouldn’t spend any more time with him?”
“Don’t be ridi—” she broke off. “The man is dying. The man wants to be dead. Can’t you see that?”
With difficulty came Alexander’s reply. “I see it.”
Oh God.
“Help him, Alexander,” said Tatiana. “Take him to Bangor, to the Army Hospital. I know he doesn’t want to go, but he needs to go. The nurses are trained to take care of people like him. They will put the cigarettes in his mouth, they will read to him. They will care for him. He will live.” That man can’t be around you. You can’t be around him.
Alexander stopped talking. “Should I go to Bangor Hospital, too?” he asked.
“No, darling, no, Shura,” she whispered. “You have your own nurse right here. Round the clock.”
“Tania …”
“Please … shh.” They were whispering desperately, he into her hair, she into the pillow in front of her.
“Tania, would you … do it for me, if I asked? If I was … like him—”
He broke off.
“Faster than you can say Sachsenhausen.”
Click click somewhere, crickets crickets, bats and wings, Anthony snoring in the silence, in the sorrow. There was once so much Tatiana could help Alexander with. Why couldn’t she do it anymore?
Soundlessly she cried, only her shoulders quaking.
The next day Alexander took the colonel to the Bangor Army Hospital, four hours away. They left in the early morning. Tatiana filled their flasks, made them sandwiches, and washed and ironed Alexander’s khaki fatigues and a long-sleeved crew.
Before he left he asked, crouching by Anthony’s small frame, “You want me to bring you something back?”
“Yes, a toy soldier,” replied Anthony.
“You got it.” Alexander ruffled his hair and straightened up. “What about you?” he asked Tatiana, coming close to her.
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said, purposefully casual. “I don’t need anything.” She was trying to look beyond his bronze eyes, into somewhere deeper, somewhere that would tell her what he was thinking, what he was feeling, trying to reach across the ocean waters she could not traverse.
Nick was already in the camper, and his wife and daughter were milling nearby. Too many people around. The backs of Alexander’s fingers stroked her cheek. “Be a good girl,” he said, kissing her hand. She pressed her forehead into his chest for a moment before he stepped away.
When he was near the cab of the Nomad, he turned around. Tatiana, standing still and erect, squeezed hard Anthony’s hand, but that was the only indication of the turmoil within her, for to Alexander she presented herself straight and true. She even managed to smile. She blew him a kiss. Her hand went up to her temple in a trembling salute.
Alexander didn’t come back that night.
Tatiana didn’t sleep.
He didn’t come back the next morning.
Or the next afternoon.
Or the next evening.
She searched through his things and saw that his weapons were gone. Only her pistol remained, the German-issue P-38 he gave her in Leningrad. It was wrapped in a towel near a large wad of bills—extra money he had made from Jimmy and left for her.
She slept in a stupor next to Anthony in his twin bed.
The next morning Tatiana went down to the docks. Jimmy’s sloop was there, and Jimmy was doing his best to repair some damage to the side. “Hey, little guy,” he said to Anthony. “Your dad back yet? I gotta go and get me some lobsters or I’m gonna go broke.”
“He’s not back yet,” said Anthony. “But he’s going to bring me a toy soldier.”
Tatiana wavered on her calf legs. “Jim, he didn’t say anything to you about how many days he was going to take off?”
Jimmy shook his head. “He did say if I wanted to, I could hire one of the other guys coming here looking for work. If he doesn’t come back soon, I’m gonna do it. I gotta get back out there.”
The morning was dazzling.
Tatiana, dragging Anthony by the hand, practically ran uphill to Bessie’s and knocked until Bessie woke up and came miserably to the door. Tatiana, without apologizing for the early call, asked if Bessie had heard from Nick or from the hospital.
“No,” Bessie said gruffly. Tatiana refused to leave until Bessie called the hospital, only to find out that the colonel had been admitted without incident two days ago. The man who brought him stayed for one day and then left. No one knew anything else about Alexander.
Another
