Anastasia and Her Sisters (29 page)

“Yes, yes, thank you, Anton Ivanovich.” I steer him toward the door, open my hand, and show him the gleaming pearl. “Something for your trouble,” I add in a whisper. “And I need to ask you a favor.”

He stares at the pearl cradled in my palm and then at me, shaking his head. I’m afraid he’s going to refuse me outright,
or say something so loudly that we’ll be given away before I can even explain what it is that I want.

“What?” he says softly, but he still hasn’t taken the pearl.

“I need to have a conversation with Gleb Evgenievich. A
private
conversation—do you understand? Not for long—just for a few minutes. In the guardhouse, perhaps?” Anton is still gaping at me rather stupidly, and I know that I have to convince him quickly, before my sisters descend and put an end to my plot, which, I can see plainly, is weak and far from foolproof. “I want to say good-bye to him, and I may not have another chance, because I believe we may soon be separated and never see each other again.” I’m close to tears, and I plead, “Oh, Anton, please! Have you ever been in love? Surely you must understand what I’m asking!”

I see his features go through a shift, from puzzlement and suspicion, then veering toward understanding. “I do understand. And I hope you understand that I’m an honorable person, and if my mother and my sister were not in such great need, I would not consider taking what you are offering me.”

“You’ll do it, then?”

He hesitates, reaches out his hand, and I drop the pearl into his palm. His fingers close around it.

“When?” I ask.

My sisters are coming down the stairs, followed by Gilliard carrying Alexei. “Nastya?” Tatiana calls. “Nastya! Luncheon is being served! What are you doing?”

“I have to arrange it. I’ll speak to you later.” The door slams shut behind him.

“Whatever was that about, Nastya?” Olga asks curiously.

“Oh, poor Anton!” I say, laughing. “He asked what we’ve heard from Mashka.”

•  •  •

The letter he brought is from her. Tatiana reads it aloud while we eat.

Everything here is in a terrible state. Dirt and filth everywhere, everything disturbed and destroyed. They have gone through everything we have with their dirty hands—even the paper I’m using to write to you has been soiled. Everyone who comes into the house inspects our rooms and goes through our things. It’s impossible to write about anything cheerful, because there is no cheerfulness here. But God does not abandon us. The sun shines, the birds sing, and this morning we heard the church bells ringing. Oh, my dearest ones, how I do long to see you!

We avoid looking at each other. Olga sighs, and finally Tatiana says, “We must be strong.”

“Bastards,” Alexei says, and we all stare at him, surprised. Alexei has never been heard to use crude language. Mama would be appalled! I expect to hear a lecture from Tatiana, but I’m wrong.

“Yes,” she says. “Bastards.”

•  •  •

It is all I can do to stay calm until I hear from Anton. There is still the chance that he will simply keep the pearl and do nothing. Or that I have asked him to perform something that is clearly impossible. I have no idea how he’ll get the information to me—will we have to wait until there is another letter to deliver?

But I have underestimated Anton. When he comes to unlock the door to the exercise yard, he has a drawing for Alexei Nikolaevich, sent by Gleb Evgenievich. This is unusual—I can scarcely believe that it has been allowed. But it has: I see the commissar’s official stamp on the little sketch. A mouse wearing a chef’s hat and apron stands in front of a kitchen stove. A clock above the stove shows hands pointing to one o’clock, and a calendar page on the wall is turned to tomorrow’s date.

“See?” Anton says. “One o’clock. He must be preparing luncheon.”

Alexei points out the crescent moon shining through a tiny window. “It’s not luncheon. It must be a late-night tea.”

“Well, there you are,” says Anton, glancing quickly at me.

“How strange,” Olga remarks when Anton has again taken up his position by the door and is staring blankly into space. “I wonder why Gleb has sent this?”

I shrug and turn away so that she won’t see my face.

Marie’s bed next to mine is empty. I miss her. If she were here, I might tell her about my plan—or I might not. I lie awake, my eyes wide open, and I hope that my sisters are sleeping soundly. If anyone stirs, I will explain that I’m going to the lavatory. Sometime after midnight I slip out of bed and creep down the service stairs to the little hall next to the pantry. The outside door opens to the fenced-in yard, with a path leading to the kitchen building behind the house. This door is kept padlocked from the outside except when the servants are carrying our meals from the kitchen to the pantry. I try the door. It’s still locked. Anton has not come to unlock it. My hands shaking, I try again. Minutes pass, but it feels
much longer. Something has gone wrong. I fight back tears of disappointment.

Then I hear a click and a snap, sounds of a padlock being opened and removed. The door opens easily and I step out into the yard. There is no moon. A cold wind blasts, and the path to the kitchen building is slick with ice. I struggle to keep my footing, shove hard on the door to the kitchen, and nearly fall through when it flies open.

Gleb pulls me inside and closes the door. We stare at each other, our eyes getting used to the dark. I’m grinning like a fool. He reaches out and touches my cheek. I take his hand, bring it to my lips, and kiss his fingertips. “You arranged this, Nastya?” he asks.

“I wanted to see you,” I tell him. “It’s such a long time since we’ve spoken—not since last summer on the
Rus
.”

“I’m afraid we won’t see each other even now,” Gleb says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Anton says we must not even strike a match.” He tucks my hands inside his coat to warm them. “Have you heard from your parents?”

“We’re being taken to Ekaterinburg soon to join them. And you, too?”

“My sister and I have been told that we won’t be granted an entry permit at Ekaterinburg, and we’re likely to be put in prison if we go. I’m willing to take the risk, but she believes we should stay here.”

I lean my head against Gleb’s chest. I can hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. “We may never see each other again.” My voice is shaking. I don’t want to spoil these few minutes we have together with tears.

Gleb’s lips brush my brow. “I know. But we have so little time, and there is something I wish to say to you before we part. I love you, Anastasia Nikolaevna, and if it is ever possible, I will ask your father’s permission to marry you. He will surely refuse, but that will not stop me from loving you, now and always.”

I smile through the tears I can’t hold back any longer. “And I love you, Gleb Evgenievich, now and always.”

Gleb’s lips find my mouth and he kisses me, and I return the kiss. It’s as sweet as I knew it would be.

There is a light tap on the door. “It’s Anton,” I whisper. I don’t want to move out of Gleb’s arms.

He holds me tighter. “We must go. He’s risking everything. He could be shot for allowing us to be together.”

The knock on the door is more insistent. “God be with you and protect you,” I whisper close to Gleb’s ear. “Now and always.”

“And with you, dearest Nastya.” Gleb makes the sign of the cross over me and pushes open the door. “Now and always.”

I step out into the black night and follow Anton. How is it possible to feel so happy and so terribly sad at the same time?

•  •  •

Colonel Kobylinsky is gone with no explanation. This frightens us, because we have no idea what will happen now, and no one to ask. Every change frightens us, because it’s never a change for the better.

A beast named Nikolai Rodionov takes Kobylinsky’s place. He says that he is the soviet commander in the Urals, and he makes it clear that he hates us. Rodionov is not tall, but he is broad-chested and strong, with thick, stubby fingers. He
doesn’t believe that Alexei is still not well enough to travel. Rodionov sees my brother lying in bed, but later he sneaks back and surprises us, probably thinking he will catch Alexei up and walking around. He must have been disappointed.

Rodionov does whatever he can to make us as miserable as possible. He orders the locks removed from our doors. All of them.

“I shall not be deceived!” he bellows. “I must be able to come here whenever I wish, to make sure none of the prisoners has escaped!”

It would be enough to make me laugh if it were not so stupid. If only escape were possible! Even Monsieur Gilliard says the chances of our being rescued now are next to nothing.

I know that I will never again have a chance to speak to Gleb, and I play our few precious minutes together over and over in my head, like a scene from the cinema. But still I wait by the window in our bedroom and hope that Gleb will pass by, and that he will look up for just a second or two and I will see him smile and, if no one is watching, wave to me.

This morning I was at my window, hoping as I do every day for a glimpse of Gleb, just to know that he is still here, still alive. And there he was! He did glance up—as I knew he would—and I raised my hand and pressed it to the glass. Gleb raised his hand, too, and for a moment we gazed at each other. Our bad luck, though, was that Rodionov stepped out of the fish merchant’s house just then and saw us. He shoved Gleb into the muddy street, shouting, “It is forbidden for any person to look into the windows and to signal to another person! Anyone who does so will be shot immediately!”

I gasped and took my hand away. Gleb picked himself up, ignoring Rodionov, and made a little bow in the direction of where I stood. I blew him a kiss that he couldn’t see and watched him as he continued down Freedom Street toward the river and vanished from sight.

•  •  •

The snows have melted and the ice is gone from the river. On Papa’s birthday in May, we are told to be ready to leave the next day. Mama and Papa and Marie have been at Ekaterinburg for five weeks, and no matter how awful it is there, we are glad to be going. We spend the day preparing. We are not allowed to take much, but we put on the double brassieres and all the clothes we can and carry the pillows in which we’ve hidden jewels—minus only one pearl. I wonder about that pearl. I haven’t seen Anton since the night he allowed Gleb and me to have our short time together, and I wonder if somehow Rodionov found out about it. If he did, it would not have gone well for Anton. I hope that whatever fate has come to him, he somehow got the jewel to his mother and that it will help her and his sister.

At noon we are escorted between rows of soldiers to the river steamer,
Rus
, that brought us to Tobolsk months ago. We have our dogs with us. We board the
Rus
, and I think of last summer when Gleb and I linked our fingers on the rail of this boat and I felt sure our lives were somehow joined. I was right, but this is not at all like last summer.

My sisters and I are shoved into a dark, dank cabin and told that we may not lock the door at any time. A guard shuts Nagorny and Alexei in another cabin and padlocks the door.
Gilliard complains to the horrible Rodionov, reminding him that Alexei is sick and Dr. Derevenko needs to be able to get to him when he’s needed.

Rodionov says nothing, but only sneers. The door remains locked.

After two days the steamer arrives at Tyumen, where sentries herd us onto a waiting train. Gilliard is taken to a car somewhere at the end. The train rumbles out of the station, headed west toward the Urals and Ekaterinburg. Heavy clouds close in, and rain begins to fall in gray sheets.

We are offered a little food during the journey, but none of us wants to eat. Eventually I fall asleep, and when I wake up, we’re no longer moving. Daylight leaks in around the window curtains, which we’re not allowed to open. I open them a little anyway and peek out. We seem to be near a town, but the train has not pulled into the station. This must be Ekaterinburg. Soon we’ll be reunited with Mama and Papa and Marie, and that cheers me, because I’ve missed them so much. But then I begin to worry what will happen next. My stomach aches.

The rain still falls, and mud thick as pudding is everywhere. Several carriages have drawn up beside the train, and Rodionov barks orders: We are to gather up our belongings, get off the train, and board the carriages. My sisters and I do as we’re told, sinking deep in the mud that sucks at our boots. Mine are leaking. Tatiana tucks Ortino under one arm and drags a valise, staggering through the mud. My spaniel, Jimmy, splashes after me. Nagorny carries Alexei, with a thoroughly filthy Joy following them at the end of his leash. I look around for everyone who came with us—Gilliard, Countess
Hendrikova, dear Trina, General Tatischev, and the servants—but I don’t see them.

A soldier prods me painfully in the ribs with a rifle butt, but the thought that our family will soon be united keeps me going. Tears wash down Olga’s face. I make a feeble joke: “I do hope I have a clean pair of white gloves in my luggage.”

Tatiana stares at me as though I’ve gone mad. “You must be crazy, Nastya,” she says dully.

“Just trying to make you smile,” I explain.

“I doubt we’ll ever find anything to smile about again.”

My sisters and I crowd into a carriage, two soldiers—one tall, one short—squeezed in with us and our piles of luggage and the two dogs that gaze up at us helplessly. Nagorny and Alexei and his poor little Joy are being shoved into another carriage with Kharitonov and Lenka, and two more soldiers. But where are Gilliard and the others? The first two carriages pull away, and I assume the rest will follow.

Olga sits opposite me. She looks ill. “I have something to tell you, Nastya,” she says, and her feverish eyes gleam in her gaunt face. “I’ve destroyed the secret notebook that you found so fascinating.” She watches me with a ghost of a smile. “I’m not joking.”

I stare at her, my mouth opening and closing. “You know?” I manage to gasp.

“Of course I know! I’ve known for quite a long time. Why do you think I’ve made it so easy for you to find?”