And tonight was one of those evenings. Please, Tania, please go away so I can be alone with him.

She heard a distant rumble. Overhead the airships floated by.

The hours at night and at morning and at day before night break, again the hours. Something had to be done. But what?

Tatiana came downstairs. She made herself a cup of tea to warm her cold hands and was sitting exhausted on the kitchen windowsill, looking out onto the dark courtyard, when out of the corner of her eye she saw Alexander walk past the door. She heard his footsteps slow down and then trail back. He stood in the doorway. For a moment they did not speak.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

She said coolly and bravely, “Waiting for you to leave, so I can go to bed.”

Alexander walked tentatively into the kitchen.

She glared at him.

He came closer. The thought of being able to smell him made Tatiana’s heart weak. He stopped short of that.

“I hardly ever stay late,” he said.

“Good for you.”

Now that no one was watching her, Tatiana stared unblinking at him.

Looking at her with remorse and understanding, Alexander said, “Tatiasha, it’s been very hard for you, I know. I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I blame myself. What did I tell you? I never should have come into your hospital room that night.”

“Oh, because before it was bearable.”

“It was better than this.”

“You’re right, it was.” Tatiana wanted to jump down from the sill and go to him. She wanted to ride the tram, to sit on the bench, to sleep in a tent with him. She wanted to feel him next to her again. On her again. But what she said was, “Tell me, did you arrange for Dima to be in Leningrad every night? Because every night that he is here, he tries to take liberties with me.”

Alexander’s eyes flared. “He told me he had taken some.”

“Really?” Is that why Alexander had been so cold? “What did Dima say?” Tatiana was too tired to be angry at Dimitri. Alexander came closer. Just a little more, she thought, and I’ll be able to smell you.

“Never mind that,” said Alexander, sounding pained.

“And you thought he was telling the truth?”

“You tell me.”

“Alexander, you know what?” She swung her legs off the sill and put down her cup.

Alexander came closer. “No, what, Tatia?” he said softly.

Tatiana smelled his maleness, his shampoo, his soap. Wanly she smiled. Then her smile vanished. “Please,” she said, “do me a favor and stay away from me. All right?”

“I’m doing my level best,” he said, taking a step back.

“No,” Tatiana said, and broke off. “Why are you coming over?” she whispered. “Don’t continue with Dasha.” She sighed deeply. “Like after Kirov. Go ahead. Go fight your war. And take Dimitri. He won’t take no for an answer, and I’m getting sick and tired of all this.” Of all of you, she wanted to say but didn’t. “Soon I’m going to get tired of saying no to him,” Tatiana added for effect.

“Stop it,” Alexander said. “I can’t leave now. The Germans are too close. Your family is going to need me.” He paused. “You are going to need me.”

“I’m not. I’m going to be fine. Please, Alexander… this is just too hard for me. Can’t you see that? Say good-bye to Dasha, say good-bye to me, and take your Dimitri with you.” She paused. “Please, please, go away.”

“Tania,” Alexander said, nearly inaudibly, “how can I not come and see you?”

She blinked.

“Who is going to feed me, Tania?”

Tatiana blinked again. “Well, that’s fine,” she said, very upset. “I’ll be making dinner for you and having it off with your best friend while you’re knocking my sister. Did I get the terms right this time? That is perfect, isn’t it?”

Alexander turned on his heels and walked out.

The first thing Tatiana did when she woke up the next morning was go and see Vera at Grechesky Hospital. While Vera was looking at her ribs, Tatiana asked, “Vera, is there anything for me to do around here? Is there any job for me at the hospital maybe?”

Vera’s kind face studied her. “What’s the matter? You look so sad. Is it because of the leg?”

“No. I’m…” The kindness got to Tatiana, who nearly opened her mouth and poured her heartache on Vera’s bleached and unsuspecting head. Nearly. She got hold of herself. “I’m all right. Just can’t go anywhere. Bored to tears. I stay on the roof all night, looking for bombs. Tell me, is there anything for me to do?”

Vera remained thoughtful. “We could use a hand around here.”

Tatiana instantly perked up. “Doing what?”

“There is so much to do. You can sit behind the desk and do paperwork, or you can serve food in the cafeteria, or you can bandage wounds or take temperatures or, when you get better, maybe even learn nursing.”

Tatiana smiled broadly. “Vera, that’s fantastic!” Then she frowned. “But what will I do about Kirov? I’m supposed to go back and make tanks there as soon as my cast comes off. When is it coming off, by the way?”

“Tatiana! The front is at Kirov,” exclaimed Vera. “You’re not going to Kirov. You’re not that brave. They give you a rifle there now and train you in combat before you can continue to work. You got out just in time, you know. But here we’re always shorthanded. Too many people volunteer, and not enough of them come back.” She smiled. “Not everyone can be lucky like you, having an officer dig you out of the rubble.”

If Tatiana could have skipped home, she would have.

That night at dinner, barely able to contain her enthusiasm, Tatiana told her family she had found a job close to home.

“That’s right! Go to work,” said Papa. “Finally! You can eat lunch there instead of eating here.”

“Tania can’t go yet,” said Alexander. “Her leg will never heal, and she’ll limp for life.”

“Well, she can’t continue doing nothing and getting a dependent ration!” Papa exclaimed loudly. “We can’t feed her. At work I heard they’re about to lower rations again. It’s only going to get harder.”

“I’ll go to work, Papa,” said Tatiana, still cheerfully. “And I’ll eat less, all right?”

Alexander glared at her from across the table, stabbing the mashed potatoes with his fork.

Papa threw down his fork. “Tania, this is all your fault! You should have left with your grandparents! It would be easier on our food situation, and you wouldn’t be placing yourself in danger by remaining in Leningrad.” He shook his head. “You should have left with them.”

“Papa, what are you talking about?” asked Tatiana, not cheerfully and a notch louder than she ever spoke to her father. “You know I couldn’t have left with Deda because of my leg.” She frowned.

“All right, Tania,” said Dasha, putting her hand on Tatiana’s arm. “Stop it.”

Mama threw down her fork. “Tania! If you hadn’t gone and done something idiotic, you wouldn’t have a broken leg in the first place!”

Tatiana ripped her arm from under Dasha’s and turned to her mother. “Mama! Maybe if you hadn’t said you would rather I had died instead of Pasha, I wouldn’t have gone and tried to find him for you!”

Mama and Papa stared speechlessly at Tatiana, while everyone else in the room was mute as well. “I never said that!” Mama cried, standing up from the table. “Never.”

“Mama! I heard you.”

“Never!”

“I heard you! ‘Why couldn’t God have taken our Tania instead?’ You remember, Mama? Remember, Papa?”

“Tania, come on,” said Dasha in a trembling voice. “They didn’t mean it.”

“Come on, Tanechka,” said Dimitri, placing his hand on Tatiana. “Calm down.”

“Tatiana!” shouted Papa. “Don’t you dare talk that way to us when this whole thing has been your fault!”

Tatiana tried to take a deep breath, but she could not, and she could not calm down. “My fault?” she yelled to her father. “It’s your fault! You’re the one who sent Pasha to his death and then sat and did nothing at all to get him back—”