Alexander shook his head. “Though few things give me more pleasure than to have you feed me”—he smiled—”we’ll be too far south. I won’t be able to get back in time for lunch.”

“Shura, let go of me. We’re on a landing in my building…”

He held onto her hand. Sensing something, she said, “What’s wrong?”

Alexander hesitated, and his chocolate eyes melted sadness onto her. “Oh, Tania. I have to talk to you.” He sighed. “I have to talk to you about Dimitri.”

“What about him?”

“I can’t now. I need to talk to you at length and alone. Come and see me tonight at St. Isaac’s.”

Tatiana’s turbulent heart hammered in her chest. St. Isaac’s! “Alexander, I can barely walk to the hospital three blocks away. How am I going to get to St. Isaac’s?” But Tatiana knew: if she had to crawl dragging one leg behind her, she would get herself to the cathedral.

“I know. I don’t want you to walk all that way without help. The streets are safe, but you…” He stroked her face. “Do you have a friend who can take you up there?” he asked. “Not Anton. A female friend. A single female friend you can trust, who can help you and drop you off nearby? Then you can just walk a block or two by yourself.”

Tatiana was quiet. “How am I going to get back home?” she said.

Alexander smiled, bringing her closer to him. “As always,” he said, “I will take you home myself.”

She stared at his tunic buttons.

“Tania, we desperately need to have a minute,” he said. “And you know it.”

She knew it. “This isn’t right.”

“It’s the only thing that’s right.”

“All right. Go.”

“Will you come?”

“I will try. Now, go.”

“Lift your—”

Before he stopped speaking, Tatiana raised her face to him. They kissed deeply. “Do you have any idea what I feel?” Alexander whispered, his hands in her hair.

“No,” Tatiana replied, holding on to him, her legs numb. “I only have an idea what I feel.”

That night a miracle happened. Tatiana’s cousin Marina’s phone was working. Tatiana begged Marina to visit her, and Marina came, around eight. Tatiana couldn’t stop hugging her. “Marinka, you are living proof that there is indeed a God in the heavens. I needed you so much,” she said. “Where have you been?”

“There is no God, you know that. Where have I been?” Marina said, laughing. “Let go of me. Where have you been? I heard all about your escapades in Luga.” She blinked. “I’m sorry about our Pasha.” Brightening a bit, she said, “Why do you look like a boy?”

“I have so much to tell you.”

“Obviously.” Marina sat down at the table in the room where just yesterday Tatiana had stood behind Alexander. “Is there anything to eat? I’m so hungry.”

Marina was a big-hipped, small-breasted, dark-eyed girl with short black hair and clusters of birthmarks on her face. She was nineteen and in her second year at Leningrad University. Marina was the closest thing Tatiana had to a best friend and a confidante. Marina, Tatiana, and Pasha had spent many summer days romping around Luga and nearby Novgorod. The difference in their ages had become apparent only a year or so ago. Tatiana simply no longer belonged with Marina’s crowd.

Tatiana hastily gave Marina some bread, some cheese, some tea and said, “Marina, eat quick, because I need to go for a walk, all right? You look pretty in that dress. How was your summer?”

“We can’t go for a walk. You can’t walk. Look at you. Talk to me here.” Mama and Papa were in the next room with Dasha, listening to the radio. Tatiana and Marina were alone in the room; Tatiana’s family was not speaking to her after yesterday. Chewing, Marina looked Tatiana over. “Start with the hair. What happened to your hair? And why is your skirt so long?”

“I cut my hair. And the skirt hides the cast. Get up. We need to go.” Tatiana pulled on Marina’s arm. She was in a hurry. Alexander told her to come after ten, and here it was nearly nine, and she was still at Fifth Soviet. Was she prepared to tell Marina everything to get her to help? She pulled again at Marina’s plump arm. “Let’s go. Enough eating.”

“How are you going to walk? You can barely hobble. And why do we need to go anywhere? When is the cast coming off?”

“Then let’s go for a hobble. The cast feels as if it’s never coming off. How do I look?”

Marina stopped eating and eyed Tatiana. “What did you just say?”

“I said let’s go.”

“All right,” Marina said, wiping her mouth and standing up. “What is going on?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“Tatiana Metanova! I know that something is seriously wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Tania! I’ve known you for seventeen years, and you have never asked me how you looked.”

“Maybe if your phone were working more often, I would. Are you going to answer me, or can we just go?”

“Your hair is too short, your skirt is too long, your blouse is white and tight—what the hell is going on?”

Finally Tatiana got Marina out the door. They walked slowly down Grechesky, to Insurrection Square, where they took a tram down Nevsky Prospekt to the Admiralty. Tatiana walked supported by Marina’s arm. She had a little trouble walking and talking at the same time. The walking took most of her energy.

“Tania, tell me, why did you jump off a moving train? Is that how you broke your leg?”

“It’s not how I broke my leg,” said Tatiana, “and I jumped off a moving train because that was what I had to do.”

“Did a ton of bricks fall on you because they had to, too?” Marina asked with a chortle. “Is that how you broke your leg?”

“Yes, and are you going to stop?”

Marina laughed. “I’m sorry about Pasha, Tanechka,” she said, much more quietly. “He was the best boy.”

“Yes,” said Tatiana. “I wish I had found him.”

“I know.” Marina paused. “This has not been a great summer. I haven’t seen you since before the war started.”

Tatiana nodded. “You almost saw me. I was very close to coming and visiting you the day the war started.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Tatiana wished she could have told Marina everything—about her emotion and her conscience, about her fear and confusion. What Tatiana did instead was tell Marina about Dasha and Alexander, and herself and Dimitri, and herself and Luga, and Alexander’s search for her. What Tatiana didn’t tell Marina was the truth.

Tatiana could barely trust herself not to slip in front of Dasha amid the ice of constant lies on which she skated. How could she trust Marina, who had nothing at stake? Tatiana didn’t tell her, sensing that truth forged a chasm between her and all the people she loved. How can that be? Tatiana thought, as they came to the Admiralty Gardens and sat on a bench. How can it be that deceit and treachery and secrecy bonded her to other human beings instead of truth and trust and openness? How could it be that she could not trust a member of her own family with a personal matter? This life just seems to breed contempt for other human beings.

The Admiralty Gardens were laid out on the banks of the Neva, between the Palace Bridge and St. Isaac’s. Tatiana was not far from Alexander. If she strained, she might be able to hear him breathe. She smiled. Tall leafy elms branched out over the footpaths and the benches much the same as they did in the Summer Garden. The difference was, in the Summer Garden Tatiana had walked and sat with him.

“Tania,” Marina said, “is there a reason we’re here?”

“No, Marina,” said Tatiana. “We’re just sitting and talking.” She wished she had a watch. How late was it already?

“I used to come to this park,” Marina said. “Once I even brought you. Remember?”

Tatiana, suddenly blushing, said, “Yes… I do.”

Marina said, “I’ve had some good times in my life. They don’t seem so far away. You think we’ll have them again?”

“Sure, Marinka,” said Tatiana. “I’m counting on it. I haven’t had any good times yet.” She smiled at her cousin.