“Coveting from you the best of what you have will eventually lead him into hell.”

“Yes, but me into death.” Alexander shook his head. “Unspoken underneath all his pleas and requests is that one word from him about my American past to the NKVD general at the garrison, one vague accusation, and I instantly vanish into the maw of Soviet justice.”

Nodding sadly, Tatiana said, “I know it. But maybe if he had more, he wouldn’t want so much.”

“You’re wrong, Tania. I have a bad feeling about Dimitri. I have a feeling he is going to want more and more from me. Until,” Alexander said, “he takes it all.”

“No, you’re wrong, Shura. Dimitri will never take all away from you. He will never have that much power.” He might want to. He just doesn’t know who he is dealing with, Tatiana thought, raising her venerating eyes to Alexander. “Besides, we all know what happens to the parasite when something happens to the host,” she whispered.

Alexander gazed down at her. “Yes. He finds himself a new host. Let me ask you,” he finally said, “what do you think Dimitri wants the most from me?”

“What you want most.”

“But, Tania,” said Alexander intensely, “it’s you that I want most.”

Tatiana looked into his face. “Yes, Shura,” she said. “And he knows it. As I said from the beginning—Dimitri has not fallen for me at all. All he wants is to hurt you.”

Alexander was quiet for a spate of eternity under the August sky.

So was Tatiana until she whispered, “Where is your brave and indifferent face? Put it on and he will back away and ask you to give him what you wanted most before me.”

Alexander did not move and did not speak.

“Before me.” Why was he so silent? “Shura?” She thought she felt him shudder.

“Tania, stop. I can’t talk to you about this anymore.”

She could not steady her hands. “All of this—all this between us, and my Dasha, too, now and forever, and still you come for me every chance you can.”

“I told you, I cannot stay away from you,” said Alexander.

Flinching with sadness, Tatiana said, “God, we need to forget each other, Shura. I can’t believe how not meant to be we are.”

“You don’t say?” Alexander smiled. “I will bet my rifle that your ending up on that bench two months ago was the most unlikely part of your day.”

He was right. Most of all, Tatiana remembered the bus she had decided not to take so she could buy herself an ice cream. “And you would know this how?”

“Because,” said Alexander, “my walking by that bench was the most unlikely part of mine.” He nodded. “All this wedged between us—and when we do our best, and grit our teeth, and move away from one another, struggling to reconstruct ourselves, fate intervenes again, and bricks fall from the sky that I remove from your alive and broken body. Was that also not meant to be, perhaps?”

Tatiana inhaled a sob. “That’s right,” she said softly. “We can’t forget that I owe you my life.” She gazed at him. “We can’t forget that I belong to you.”

“I like the sound of that,” Alexander said, hugging her tighter.

“Retreat, Shura,” Tatiana whispered. “Retreat and take your weapons with you. Spare me from him.” She paused. “He just needs to believe you don’t care for me, and then he will lose all interest. You’ll see. He’ll go away, he’ll go to the front. We all have to get through the war before we get to what’s on the other side. So will you do that?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Are you going to stop coming around?” she asked tremulously.

“No,” said Alexander. “I can’t retreat that far. Just stay away from me.”

“All right.” Her heart skipped. She clutched him.

“And forgive me in advance for my cold face. Can I trust you to do that?”

Nodding, Tatiana rubbed her cheek against his arm, pressing her head to him. “Trust me,” she whispered. “Trust in me. Alexander Barrington, I will never betray you.”

“Yes, but will you ever deny me?” he asked tenderly.

“Only in front of my Dasha,” she replied. “And your Dimitri.”

Lifting her face to him, with an ironic smile Alexander said, “Aren’t you glad now that God stopped us at the hospital?”

Tatiana smiled lightly back. “No.” She sat wrapped in his arms. They stared at each other. She put her palm out to him. He put his palm against hers. “Look,” she said quietly. “My fingertips barely come up to your second knuckle.”

“I’m looking,” he whispered, threading his fingers through hers and squeezing her hand so hard that Tatiana groaned and then blushed.

Bringing his face to hers, Alexander kissed the skin near her nose. “Have I ever told you I adore your freckles?” he murmured. “They are very enticing.”

She purred back. Their fingers remained entwined as they kissed.

“Tatiasha…” Alexander whispered, “you have amazing lips…” He paused and pulled away. “You are”—reluctantly she opened her eyes to meet his gaze—”you are oblivious to yourself. It’s one of your most endearing, most infuriating qualities…”

“Don’t know what you mean…” She had no brain left. “Shura, how can there be not a single place in this world we can go?” Her voice broke. “What kind of a life is this?”

“The Communist life,” Alexander replied.

They huddled closer.

“You crazy man,” she said fondly. “What were you doing fighting with me at Kirov, knowing all this was stacked against us?”

“Raging against my fate,” said Alexander. “It’s the only fucking thing I ever do. I just refuse to be defeated.”

I love you, Alexander, Tatiana wanted to say to him, but couldn’t. I love you. She bowed her head. “I have too young a heart…” she whispered.

Alexander’s arms engulfed her. “Tatia,” he whispered, “you do have a young heart.” He tipped her back a little and kissed her between her breasts. “I wish with all of mine, I wasn’t forced to pass it by.”

Suddenly he moved away and jumped to his feet. Tatiana herself heard a noise behind them in the arcade. Sergeant Petrenko stuck his head out onto the balcony, saying it was time for a shift change.

Alexander carried Tatiana down on his back, and then, with his arm around her, they hobbled through the city streets, back to Fifth Soviet. It was after two in the morning. Tomorrow their day would begin at six, and yet here they both were, clinging to each other in the last remaining hours of night. He carried her in his arms down Nevsky Prospekt. She carried his rifle. He carried her on his back.

They were very alone as they made their way through dark Leningrad.

7

The next evening after work Tatiana found her mother moaning in the room and Dasha sitting in the hallway, crying into her cup of tea. The Metanovs had just received a telegram from the long-defunct Novgorod command, informing them that on 13 July 1941 the train carrying one Pavel Metanov and hundreds of other young volunteers was blown up by the Germans. There were no survivors.

A week before I went to find him, thought Tatiana, pacing dully through the rooms. What did I do on the day that my brother’s train blew up? Did I work, did I ride the tram? Did I even think once of my brother? I’ve thought of him since. I’ve felt him not being here since. Dear Pasha, she thought, we lost you and we didn’t even know it. That’s the saddest loss of all, to go on for a few weeks, a few days, a night, a minute, and think everything is still all right when the structure you’ve built your life on has crumbled. We should have been mourning you, but instead we made plans, went to work, dreamed, loved, not knowing you were already behind us.

How could we not have known?

Wasn’t there a sign? Your reluctance to go? The packed suitcase? The not hearing from you?

Something we could point to so that next time we can say, wait, here is the sign. Next time we will know. And we will mourn right from the start.