She groaned.

“See,” he said, the resolve in his eyes fading, “that’s exactly what you can’t do.”

“All right,” she said hoarsely, holding on to his sleeve. Reaching up, she traced his lips with her fingers. “Shura…”

Alexander moved his face away and stood up. The sheen had gone from his eyes. Tatiana stared at him in bewilderment. “I’m sorry about last night,” he said coolly. “I had too much to drink. I took advantage of you—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

He nodded. “I did. It was a terrible mistake. I shouldn’t have come here; you know it even better than I do.”

Speechlessly Tatiana shook her head.

“God, I know, Tania,” said Alexander, his face constricted. “But we live an impossible life. Where can we—”

“Right here,” she whispered, turning bright red, not looking at him.

The nurse walked in to check on Tatiana, looking askance at Alexander. They remained mute until she walked out.

“Right here?” Alexander said. “What, with the nurses outside the door? For fifteen minutes right here, that’s what you want for yourself?”

Tatiana didn’t reply. She felt as if she would have taken five minutes with the nurses inside the door. Her eyes remained lowered.

“All right, and then what?” Alexander said, letting out a heavy breath. “What then for us?” He paused. “What then for you?”

“I don’t know,” she said, biting her lip to keep herself from crying. “What then for everyone?”

“Everyone has it off in the alleys against the wall!” Alexander exclaimed. “And on garden benches, and in their barracks, and in communal apartments with their parents on the sofa! Everyone else does not have Dasha in her bed. Does not have Dimitri.” He glanced away. “Everyone else is not you, Tatiana.”

She turned onto her side, away from him.

“You deserve better than that.”

She didn’t want him to see her tears.

“I came here to apologize to you and to say I won’t let it happen again.”

She closed her eyes, trying not to shake, blinded for a moment. “All right.”

Alexander walked around the bed to stand in her line of sight. He wasn’t letting go of his rifle. Tatiana wiped her face. “Tania, please don’t cry,” he said emotionally. “Last night I came here ready to sacrifice everything, you included, to satisfy the burning inside me I’ve had since the day we met. But God was looking out for you, and He stopped us, and more important He stopped me, and I, in the gray of the morning, am less confused…” Alexander paused. “Though only more desperate for you.” He took a long breath, staring at his rifle.

Tatiana could not find her voice to speak.

Alexander said, “You and I—” then broke off, shaking his head. “But the time is all wrong for us.”

She turned onto her back, putting her arm over her face. The time, the place, the life. “Couldn’t you have thought this through before you came here?” she said. “Couldn’t you have had this talk with yourself before last night?”

“I cannot stay away from you,” he said. “Last night I was drunk. But tonight I’m sober. And I’m sorry.”

Tears choking her throat, Tatiana said nothing.

Alexander left without touching her.

3

Luga had burned, Tolmachevo had fallen, the German general von Leeb’s men cut the Kingisepp-Gatchina rail line, and despite the efforts of hundreds of thousands of volunteers digging trenches under mortar fire, none of the front lines would hold. Despite all orders not to surrender the railroad, the railroad was surrendered.

And Tatiana was still in the hospital unable to walk, unable to hold the crutches, unable to stand on her broken shinbone, unable to close her eyes and see anything else besides Alexander.

Tatiana couldn’t wring the hurt out of herself. Couldn’t drench the flame out of herself.

In the middle of August, a few days before Tatiana was to come home, Deda and Babushka came to tell Tatiana they were leaving Leningrad.

Babushka said, “Tanechka, we’re too old to stay in the city during war. We’ll never make it through the bombing, or the fighting, or a siege. Your father wants us to leave, and he is right, we need to go. We’ll be better off in Molotov. Your grandfather was assigned a good teaching post and during the summer we will stay in—”

“What about Dasha?” Tatiana interrupted with hope. “She is going to come with you, right?”

Deda said that Dasha would not leave Tatiana behind.

It’s not me she cannot leave behind, thought Tatiana.

Deda said that when the cast came off Tatiana’s leg, she, Dasha, and maybe their cousin Marina, too, would evacuate to Molotov. “Evacuating you right now is too difficult with a broken leg,” concluded Deda.

Yes, Tatiana thought, without Alexander to carry me, it is difficult indeed. “So Marina is staying in Leningrad, too?”

“Yes,” Deda replied. “Your Aunt Rita is very sick, and Uncle Boris is up at Izhorsk. We asked her if she wanted to come with us, but she said she could not leave her mother in the hospital and her father as he prepares to fight the Germans.”

Marina’s father, Boris Razin, was an engineer at Izhorsk, a factory much like Kirov, and as the Germans neared it, the workers, in between making tanks and artillery shells and rocket launchers, were preparing for battle.

“Marina should definitely go with you,” said Tatiana. “She—” Tatiana tried to think of a mild description. “—She does not do well under pressure.”

Deda said, “Yes, we know. But as always, it is the ties and bonds of love and family that keep people from saving themselves. Lucky for us, your grandmother and I are our own bonds. I would say not just bonds, but chains.” He smiled at Babushka.

“Now, remember, Tanechka,” said Babushka, patting her blanket, “Deda and I love you very much. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course, Babushka,” said Tatiana.

“When you come to Molotov, I’m going to introduce you to my good friend, Dusia. She is old, very religious, and is going to eat you right up.”

“Great,” muttered Tatiana, smiling wearily.

Deda kissed her on the forehead. “There are difficult days ahead for all of us. Ahead of you particularly, Tania. You and Dasha. Now that Pasha is not here, your parents need you more than ever. Your mettle will be tested, along with everyone else’s. There will be only one standard, the standard of survival at all cost, and it will be up to you to say at what price survival. Hold your head high, and if you’re going to go down, go down knowing you have not in any way compromised your soul.”

Pulling him by the arm, Babushka said, “That’s enough. Tania, you do whatever you have to do to survive, and damn your soul. We expect to see you in Molotov next month.”

“Never compromise on what your heart tells you to be right, my granddaughter,” Deda said, getting up and hugging her. “You hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Deda,” Tatiana said, hugging him back.

Later that evening, when Dasha came with Alexander and Dimitri, Tatiana mentioned that Deda had asked the girls to join them when Tatiana’s cast was off in September, and Alexander said, “That won’t be possible. There will be no trains in September.”

He usually avoided speaking to Tatiana, keeping his careful, silent distance.

Tatiana would have liked to speak back to him, but her feelings remained in unquelled turmoil, and she didn’t trust her outer face to hide the tremor in her voice or the softness in her eyes when she looked at him. So she said nothing, as usual, and didn’t look at him. Dimitri sat by her side.

Dasha spoke. “What does that mean?”

“It means there will be no trains,” Alexander repeated. “There were trains in June when you girls could have left, and there were trains in July, but Tatiana here broke her leg. In September, when her leg will be healed, there will not be a single train leaving Leningrad unless a miracle happens between now and when the Germans get to Mga.”