Becomings Page 5

“I’m a child of winter.” She set the rifle aside. “Spring seems too far away for me.”

  “Dasha.”

  She turned and looked at him once more.

  He undid the top button of his tunic with careful fingers, and then raised up a chain from which a small pendant swayed, reflecting back the candle’s flame with a polished luster all its own. As it settled against the palm of his hand, she saw a turquoise cross inlaid against a background of copper filigree, suspended from twisted strands of small brass and antique glass beads, freshwater pearls, and turquoise.

  “My mother left me this.” His fingers traced the pendant with a familiar reverence. “It’s all I have that I can touch. Everything else is gone.”

  She stared at the pendant, then up to his face. “Do you miss her?”

  His expression turned thoughtful. “I know she’s still with me.” He pressed his hand to his heart. “Here.”

  “I never knew my mother.”

  “Do you love her, nonetheless?”

  Her brow furrowed. “How can I love someone I don’t remember, Alyosha?”

  “Because memories are the one thing we will always carry,” he said with a sincerity born from conviction. “Even if we don’t know where to look, they will endure.”

  She was silent for a long while, staring away, contemplating his words. “Love is only sorrow,” she said in a soft voice, as if to herself.

  “Why do you feel that way, Dasha?”

  She was still looking away. “Because it’s only ever meant loss for me.”

  “None of us can change what fate has decided for us, for better or for ill. But we can make the best of what we’ve been given by fate. There’s no sorrow in that.”

  She looked at him again. His face held a quiet earnestness in the smoky glow of the candle. Her lips parted as if to give him an answer, but she could find nothing else to say. She fumbled with her pack instead, and began to take things out and set them on the table. Her hand closed around the small wrapped half loaf of bread she had put aside the night before. Her lip trembled and she bit down, forcing it to still.

  “The news from Leningrad isn't good,” she said quietly.

  “That’s where you’re from?”

  She nodded, still staring at the bread. “Baba is very old, and not in good health.” She wiped at her eyes with a gloved hand. “Papa would have written if they got out.”

  “I’m very sorry, Dasha.”

  She burst into tears, a sudden flow of emotion that caught her by surprise, unable to stop them before they began, and no more able to stop them now than one might change the fate of a waterfall before it had run itself dry in its chosen time. She felt Alyosha’s arms enfold her, holding her as he began to rock her. She pressed her face against his shoulder, her tears flowing freely just as they had once done when she had let the music open up her heart. Her body shuddered with her sobs as she clenched her eyes shut, trying futilely to stop them, to hold them deep inside the way the earth hides its own sorrow within.

  After what seemed a long while, they began to subside, a gradual easing like the last soft fall of rain that follows behind a storm, a gift of leniency for what has gone before. She pulled away, and felt his arms release her with a slow loosening, like leaves letting go only when they know the time has come. Her cap had fallen away to the side. She reached for it self-consciously, and tugged it back on, snugging it down over her hair as she looked away.

  That night as she lay huddled in her blanket against a cold that seemed as much without as it was within, she was conscious of him close beside her, his breathing a low and comforting sound. She clutched at her blanket, and remembered the way he had held her.

  * * * *

  THEY CREPT BACK into the cellar, Darya following close behind Alexei. She pulled the canvas down and secured it, shutting off the last rays of the setting sun. Behind her, she heard him light the lone candle. She breathed in the earthy scent of its smoke as the flickering light cast muted shadows across the walls. She turned to see him watching her, a worn stub of a pencil paused over the book he held in his hand.

  “Are you all right, Alyosha?”

  He nodded, his eyes not leaving hers. “It’s what we were trained for, after all.”

  “You don’t hate them?”

  “Do you?”

  “I don’t know. I never really thought about it.”

  She sat down, and waited for him to finish recording it in his book. Her fingers stirred in the dust beside her, drawing aimless circles. She brushed off her hands and began going through her pack for their supper.

  She set another small loaf of bread on the table, and followed with a paper-wrapped cold sausage.

  “I saved this for tonight,” she said. “It’s from captured German rations.”

  He squatted down beside her and used his bayonet to separate the bread and sausage into two halves. He offered hers to her with a flourish and a smile that touched the corners of his eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t have any wine to go with this.”

  She laughed and covered her mouth with her hand.

  He was watching her with a curious expression. “Why do you hide when you’re happy, Dasha?”

  She composed her face. “There’s little room for that now.” She opened her canteen and tilted it to him. When he shook his head, she set it between them.

  “You shouldn’t hide the light away inside, Dasha.”

  “It’s only for a little while. When this is all over,” She gestured. “I’ll return to where I was. You will, too, Alyosha.”

  He chewed on his food, his face reflective, before answering. “They won’t let us, you know. We’re both still young, but our parents already experienced what happens.”

  A shadow passed across her face. She turned away, tearing off a large chunk of bread. “What do you mean?”

  “Dasha, listen.” He touched her arm so she would look at him again. His face had grown serious. “You think when this is over, they will let us make what is here.” He touched his fingers to his head. “Or here.” He pressed his hand to his heart. “You really think that?”

  “Of course.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t know them like I do.”

  “You shouldn’t talk like that, Alyosha,” she said. “If someone were to hear you . . .”

  “So you know what I mean.” He sat back. “We’ll have to leave this place, you know.”

  “Of course, I know that.” She was feeling flustered. “They’ll send us . . .”

  “No. I mean Russia.” His eyes were serious. “If you want to follow your heart, Dasha, really follow it, you will have to leave all this behind.”

  She shook her head. “Please don’t talk like that around the others, Alyosha.”

  “I won’t.” He smiled affectionately at her. “I know I can talk that way with you, though. Because you’re different. Like me.”

  She smiled back, a small curve of her lips she was barely aware of. She looked down at the bread still held in her hand. “We should finish eating, and get some sleep.”

  Later, when the candle had been extinguished, she lay with her blanket wrapped tightly around her body. The temperature had dropped during the day, and now without even the illusion of heat offered by the solitary candle, she found herself shivering. She blinked her eyes in the darkness, and touched her exposed fingertips to her nose and lips. The thin blanket beneath her did little to keep the cold from seeping into her. She clutched the blanket closer around her.

  “Are you cold, Dasha?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she whispered back between teeth clenched tight to keep them from chattering.

  She heard him shift and move closer. She tensed for a moment, and then felt his warmth begin to radiate against her back. She tucked her nose down close to her upraised collar. His arm rested lightly across her body, and she could feel his warm breath against her neck. After a while, she felt his breathing change as it deepened into the gentle rhythm of sleep. She settled a little more ag
ainst him, and let herself relax. Her eyelids grew heavy, lulled by the warmth of his body, and she felt herself drawn into the depths of sleep.

  She woke up later, aware only that it was still night. His hand was curled over her breast, as naturally as though it had been made to do so. She could hear his slow, heavy breathing as he slept, still captured by dreams only he could ever know, even if he never remembered them afterwards. Along with the steady heat of his body, she felt a stiffness pressed low against her back. She realized what it was, remembering stories the other girls had told her. She tried to still her breathing, but she felt her heart quicken in an unexplainable way.

  “Alyosha?” she said softly.

  He stirred. His hand fell away as he moved back. “Sorry,” he murmured apologetically.

  She gave a slight nod, a movement too subtle to be seen in the darkness, and settled down again. But her heart refused to slow down, and she found herself unable to return to sleep’s embrace.

  * * * *

  THE NEXT NIGHT, he settled down carefully beside her, but not touching. Only a thin space of air separated their bodies. She turned on her side, and waited. Nothing happened. She shivered, not so much from the cold yet, but because her heart was racing fast as though she were running.

  “Are you shivering again, Dasha?”

  She gave a slight, jerky nod, but bit down on her lip, afraid to speak.

  “Dasha?” He moved closer and put his arm around her as his body pressed against her.

  She tensed at first as she had before, still shivering. Her heart was racing now beyond her control. She kept her mouth closed, breathing only through her nose, trying to still it.

  “You are cold.” His hand folded over hers, shielding it with his warmth.

  Tears spilled down her face in silent trails. She wanted to wipe them away, but didn’t want to move her hand away from his.

  She felt the lull of sleep begin to draw her in as she settled against his warmth, her body curled inside his in such a natural way, she barely noticed. This time, she didn’t awaken during the night, and the dreams she remembered the next morning were of faraway places she had never seen.

  * * * *

  THEY RETURNED to their staging area after darkness fell on the next night.

  Darya felt a tug at her sleeve and turned to see Marta beside her. Marta indicated Alexei with a nod of her head. “How did he do?”

  “He did fine.” She watched him join a line where hot food was being served. He glanced back at her and smiled.

  Marta leaned her head close to Darya’s. “I think he likes you.”

  “No, of course not,” Darya said, looking away.

  Marta shrugged, but a small and knowing grin played on her lips. “Well, if not, you know Olga has eyes for him.”

  Darya turned her head, and saw another of her team taking a place in line behind Alexei. Olga said something to him in a low voice, and he glanced back at her before replying.

  “What are you afraid of, Snegurochka?” Marta teased. “That if you give him your heart, you will melt away? It’s just a fairytale, you know.”

  “I’m going to get something to eat. It was a long day today.”

  She began threading a path through the others clustered in small groups on the floor, eating or sharing conversation. Alexei intercepted her along the way, holding a bowl in each hand. “You want to sit over there? It’s less crowded.”

  She nodded and walked beside him, staring down, conscious of Marta’s eyes on her. She unslung her rifle and laid it carefully across her pack, then held the two bowls while Alexei did the same. They settled down beside each other.

  “It’s better than the last few nights,” she offered, unsure what to say. She spooned some of the hot soup into her mouth.

  “It’s the company that matters more than the food.” He glanced at her.

  She was watching some of the others sitting around, poring over letters they had received, in the careful way one does with something truly precious and cherished. She looked down at her bowl again and dug her spoon into it, keeping her head down while she ate.

  When she finished, she set the bowl aside. She brushed her hand across her head and took off her hat, feeling the loose hairs pull at it. She patted her hair down and ran an absent hand along her braid, checking it. She pulled it loose and shook it out, then began braiding it again by touch.

  “I was thinking . . .” she began. Her hands paused in their activity as she sensed him looking at her. “Perhaps you and I could write letters, and hold them for each other. In case something happens to either of us.” She glanced at him.

  He considered that, watching her fingers dip deftly in and out of her long blonde hair, gradually rebuilding its braid. “All right,” he said at last.

  “We’ll go out to another location tomorrow night,” she said, keeping her tone even. “I rotate between three places in this sector. This one is a more quiet area, but it has a very narrow field of view, so we’ll only be there two days. Patience and caution only go so far.”

  “High or low?”

  “Low. I feel less exposed with the earth around me.” She paused, not looking at him. “Some of the others prefer the wider view from up high. There are advantages with that.”

  “I’m more comfortable with the earth.” He smiled. “I worked on a farm, remember?”

  “Then get some rest.” She rose, accepting his empty bowl along with hers to take back to the line for washing. “We’ll file our reports tomorrow.”

  * * * *

  THE NEW LOCATION was cramped, and smaller than the one they had used before. One side had caved in, with twisted beams angled downward, collapsed beneath the weight of the upper floors. The cold wind wove its way through the rubble, a low whistling sound as they hunkered by the light of another candle.

  They had brought extra blankets, strapped around their waists. They huddled together now, sharing a blanket between them, as they spoke in low tones throughout the early part of the night.

  “They say we’re going on the attack soon,” Darya said.

  “When?”

  “Soon. They don’t tell me.”

  “What will you do, if things finish here?”

  She glanced at him. “Go where they tell me.” She looked away again, and stifled a yawn with her hand.

  “Tired?”

  “Not yet.” She indicated the candle, flickering around the last of its wick amid a widening pool of wax. “When that goes out.”

  They heard a low thrumming sound begin overhead, and turned their faces up to the darkened ceiling, tracking the motion as it grew louder.

  “Theirs or ours?” he asked, his eyes moving in the dim light as though trying to see further.

  “Ours. It’s coming from the east.”

  Despite her certainty, she continued to listen, until she heard the faint pound of bombs begin to detonate further away, inside the enemy’s lines. Dust sifted from the broken ceiling onto them. She ducked her head beneath the blanket as he pulled her closer. She could feel the vibrations from the explosions coming through the ground, a steady rumbling echo that rippled beneath the earth.

  She nestled her head against his shoulder as they listened to the decreasing noise of the engines overhead and the explosions in the distance. She felt her heart begin to pound again, as she became aware of their closeness. She started to pull away, but then hesitated. She turned her face up to his instead.

  “Alyosha . . .”

  He touched a finger to her lips, and her breath caressed his skin in a slow exhalation. He leaned closer and pressed his own lips to hers, the discovery of the beginning of a slow kiss where time seemed measured only by her longing.

  Her hand rose, uncertain what it should do at first until it found Alyosha’s. Her fingers slipped gracefully into his. She sensed the candle sputter, its last light dancing against the walls before going quiet, leaving them to darkness. Then her only awareness was his warmth as they lay back together, bodies closer tha
n before as they continued a long kiss that seemed to last into the night.

  She felt a stir of hesitation with the whispered rustle of clothing, unsure whether she knew what she was doing anymore, wondering about this awakened desire she barely understood. She kissed him harder, wrapping her arms tightly around his body, trying not to think but only to feel, confused by the range of emotions that passed through her too fleeting to catch, like the sparking trails of fireflies in the darkness.

  * * * *

  SHE SENSED the arrival of dawn, even within the darkened cellar. She could hear his soft breathing behind her, his arm draped protectively around her. She tried to think about what they had done. His warmth felt nice against her, guarding against the onset of a winter’s chill, but it meant something different to her now than it had before.

  She rolled away and got up hastily, turning away and straightening her clothes as he awakened behind her. She pushed her long braid underneath her coat and bent down to lace up her boots. She lit the candle to be able to see, then reached for her cap. He spoke behind her.

  “You’re a rarely beautiful woman, Dasha. You shouldn’t hide that.”

  She touched the cap reflectively, looking down. “We shouldn’t have done that, Alyosha,” she said softly.

  She picked up her cap and fitted it on her head before turning around. “We’ll go soon and take up our positions.”

  He was still lying there, looking up at her. A fine stubble covered his face, a shade darker than the reddish tint of his hair. “Are you sorry we did?”

  “No, not . . .” She shook her head and looked away.

  She heard him get up, the last warmth from the blankets lingering on him as he came up to her. She tensed at first as he put his arms around her, but then relaxed a little, still confused in her thoughts.

  "I wanted something more than this, Alyosha. I wanted . . ." She stared down at her fingers, grimed, their nails blunted. “Look at my hands.”

  He clasped her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “They're beautiful, still. Nothing will ever change that.”

  She looked at him, her grey eyes wide and serious. “I’ve already changed, Alyosha. And what we did, changes things even more.”