The Silence of Trees (36 page)

I walked back to the kitchen and handed her four cloves of garlic to place under the four corners of the tablecloth, to ward off any evil spirits. Together we set out all the candles I had around the house, leaving one in the window to welcome travelers. We warmed the food on the stove and changed our clothes. Then I opened a window to cool off the kitchen, and we sat down to have some tea as we waited for the family to arrive.

"Katya, I invited Andriy Polotsky to come to Sviata Vecheria. He has no one else, and I thought it would be nice for him to spend the evening with us—"

"I think that’s great," she said with a smile. "I’m glad that you’ve reconnected."

"He’s just my friend."

"Don’t be defensive. Whatever he turns out to be, it’s okay." Katya reached for my hand and squeezed it. "I just want you to be happy."

"Thank you, Katya. I want you to be happy, too. I worry about you. I don’t want you to be all alone."

"I’m not alone, Ma. One can never be alone with a family like ours."

"You know that’s not what I meant," I said, but I let it drop. I didn’t want her to be sad.

"Robin is really sorry that she can’t make it," Katya said after a moment. "But she thanks you for the invitation,"

"Is everything all right?" I asked her.

"She had to be with a friend at the hospital," Katya said.

"I’m sorry," I said. "I really like her. I hope her friend is okay. Maybe she can come next year. It’s nice that she has such an interest in our traditions."

Mark and Christina and their girls came through the open door, and the calm was broken. My youngest granddaughters each gave me a kiss and then ran to the living room to peek at the presents under the tree.

"How are you, my beautiful mother?" asked Mark, hugging me from behind.

I turned around and looked at my son. He looked so much like his father. Christina walked over to me, holding a torte.

"Mama, just a little something for dessert."

"Christina." I shook my head. "Next time, just bring yourself. We already have too much food." But she looked offended, so I added, "Put it in the icebox, and we’ll have it for dessert. It looks delicious."

She smiled and headed toward the icebox. So much for my diet.

Ivanka and Roman came in from the front, and directly behind them were Zirka, Pete, and the twins. After getting a kiss from each of them, I snuck the twins over to the pantry and gave them each ten dollars, for ice cream. They rushed out to join the men in the living room watching television.

"Let the party begin; I’m here," announced Taras with arms full of presents. Anna came over, hugged me, and then immediately started stirring the borshch on the stove. I cautioned her not to add any salt when I wasn’t looking. Tanya came in carrying a wreath and went to hang it on the front door.

Taras followed her into the living room to set the presents beside the tree. This year’s theme was an all-natural tree, complete with berries, acorns, and popcorn garlands. Khvostyk loved lying underneath when I had the white Christmas lights turned on.

"Mama, you’re looking beautiful today. Is that a new apron?" Taras asked when he got back into the kitchen. He poured himself some coffee.

"Taras, it’s the same apron I’ve been wearing every year since you were married."

"A new haircut then?" he asked.

"Is my brother kissing up to you again, Mama?" asked Mark, coming into the kitchen.

"It’s not kissing up, it’s called complimenting. You should take some lessons."

"Is that your secret to success, Taras? Brown-nosing?"

The two men hugged and patted each other on the back. Then they went off to the dining room to tease the twins. Each was a godfather to one of the boys, and they had decided that this allowed them the special privilege of relentless teasing. It was also another source of competition, as each of my sons claimed the superiority of his godson.

"Is Lesya here yet?" asked Anna.

Katya hugged her sister-in-law and said, "She mentioned something about stopping by Natalie and Jerry’s to see if they needed any help with the baby."

As if on cue the doorbell rang, and I rushed into the living room to answer the door. The room smelled like pine and mulberry from all the candles.

First Natalie came in carrying my great-grandson.

"Hi Baba," she said, kissing my cheek. As she handed little Pavlyk to me, I noticed that she had a little belly. She caught my eye and nodded, smiling.

"Another one?" I asked, handing the little one to his grandfather.

"Another what?" asked Taras loudly.

"Another baby, Tato," said Natalie quietly. Of course everyone heard her, and she was ushered into the house with good wishes and blessings.

Jerry walked up to the door and shook off his boots, "Hi, Baba."

"Congratulations, Jerry." I said, and he smiled, his arms full of baby supplies and presents.

Lesya stood behind him and behind her was a tall silhouette.

"Hi, Baba," she said, pulling off her mittens, "You remember Luke."

Luke stepped into the hallway and handed me a bottle of wine.

I paused, then smiled as he greeted me. "It’s nice to see you again," he said. "Merry Christmas. Thank you for inviting me."

I went back to the front door and peered into the darkness. I wasn’t sure when Andriy would arrive, but I hoped he wouldn’t be late. Looking for Mark’s daughters, I spied them on the couch and walked over. As the youngest, they had an important responsibility.

"Girls, you must look out the window and watch for the first star. Only when you spot the first star in the sky can we begin to eat. This is important. As soon as you see it, you have to let us all know. Do you understand?"

The girls nodded seriously and ran over to the window in the living room. I walked back to the kitchen and asked Tanya to set the table.

"Baba, maybe next year I’ll have a boyfriend here too," she said, carrying plates. "I’m not much younger than Lesya, and I’ve been writing to Borys in Ukraine for almost seven years now. Hey, maybe next year he can come here for Sviata?"

"If he comes to America, Tanya, then he’ll be welcome," I said and put my arm around her. "Now get to work, and don’t forget to set an extra plate for the ancestors."

The doorbell rang and I caught the puzzled glances from some of the kids. As far as they knew, everyone had arrived.

"Is that the carolers already?" asked Mark.

"No, we have a special guest coming." Katya answered. "Mama reconnected with an old friend from home—the famous playwright Andriy Polotsk— and she’s invited him to dinner. Let’s be on our best behavior, everyone."

"Then we won’t be ourselves." Mark said playfully.

"Maybe he’s looking for inspiration for a new play?" asked Christina fixing her hair. "Or maybe he’s on the lookout for new talent?"

"No, no, no," I said, shaking my head. "He’s just my friend from a long time ago. He had nowhere else to spend the holiday, so I invited him to join us."

"Just be yourselves," I said as I walked toward the front door, trying to appear calm.

Andriy looked handsome in his coat and suit, and he was carrying a big bouquet of poppies, wheat, and blue cornflowers.

"You look lovely," he said, kissing both my cheeks.

When he entered the house, there was silence as everyone stood around watching us.

"This isn’t the noisy crowd you described, Nadya," he said playfully.

He turned to everyone, "Khrystos Razhdaietsia!"

To his traditional Ukrainian Christmas greeting of "Christ is born," everyone responded in unison, "Slavite Yoho!" Let us praise Him.

I took his coat and set it on the bed with the other coats. When I came back to the living room, someone had handed Andriy a cocktail, and he was chatting with Christina and Anna. They were positively glowing in his company. I watched him for a moment, admiring again how charming he was.

"Your friend seems nice," Lesya teased playfully, putting an arm on my shoulder. "Don’t worry. I’ve never said a word." She smiled at me and walked back to where Luke was sitting, discussing politics with Lesya’s father.

I went to the kitchen to check on the food. Andriy looked like he could take care of himself.

"We see it! We see it! It’s the first star, Baba!" the girls shouted as they ran into the kitchen.

"Good, good," I said to them. "Tell everyone to find their seats. We’ll be eating soon."

I heard their high voices commanding everyone to the dining room, and I smiled. It was always nice to have little ones in the house for the holidays.

"It’s time to sit down. Everyone to the dining room, come on," Katya said, herding everyone to their seats, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

I took the prosfora, bread blessed in church, cut it into enough pieces for everyone in the family, and coated the pieces with honey. Holding the plate, I walked over to the icon corner, crossed myself and said, "Bless this meal and all who share it." Then I added, "And please give me strength."

I scooped the last of the kutia into a serving dish and entered the dining room with the kutia and the bread. Everyone was sitting in his or her seat. The chair at the head of the table where Pavlo always sat was left empty, it would serve as the one seat we leave reserved for the ancestors. Beside it was my seat, and next to it sat Andriy. He winked at me and I smiled.

Everyone stopped talking when I entered. My family. When had it become so large? How had we been so blessed? Pavlo was always so proud of his children and grandchildren. I set the kutia and prosfora on the table and touched Pavlo’s empty seat, dusting away the many ancestors who had been invited to join our feast. I wanted to make sure that there was room for Pavlo. This was his family first and foremost. Our family.

I smelled a hint of tobacco and felt Pavlo there beside me. Taking a deep breath, I lit the white candle in the braided kolach. We would leave it burning through the night.

It was always Pavlo’s job to circle the inside of the house three times with the kutia, but this year the ritual fell to me. In the old days, the head of the household would throw a spoonful of kutia onto the ceiling. If it stuck, it meant that the family would be blessed with a bountiful harvest in the year to come.

The kutia was always the first dish, as it has been for thousands of years. I went first to the empty seat, scooping a helping of kutia onto the plate set for the ancestors: for Pavlo and Mykola, Ana and Niki, and for those who couldn’t be with us.

As I did this, I took a deep breath and said, "We have a few more guests on this night than we have had before."

I looked around at my family, my sons and daughters, my grandchildren. We’d our share of arguments and dramas over the years. I remembered one Christmas Eve dinner when Taras and Mark refused to talk to one another because of some disagreement about the best way to fix Mark’s computer. They sat on opposite sides of the table and glared at one another over the borshch. But by the end of the night they were laughing together and wrestling with their godsons.

It was always like that. We argued with passion, but we made up with passion, too. When it came down to it, my children were always there for each other. They had accomplished much in their individual lives, but I think I was most proud of them for their commitment to each other. I knew that it was a rare gift in this age of divorce and scandal. At least, that was what they showed on television talk shows.

I passed the bowl of kutia to Katya, who was sitting next to her father’s empty chair. She took over my job of spooning out the portions onto everyone’s plates.

"I recently received a letter from my sister in Ukraine," I said. "I did not know that she was alive. Somehow she survived the war and was married . . . to an old friend. She told me what I had always feared, that my mother, father, and older sister Laryssa were killed by the Ger—" I looked at Luke. " —in the war. My sister’s son, Mykola, died during the Soviet war in Afghanistan, and her husband, Stephan, died last fall."

I felt the tears in my eyes, but I kept talking. "So tonight we open our home to them. We welcome my family and Pavlo’s family. We welcome all those we have loved and lost. My beloved Pavlo, our dearest Mykola, Ana and Nicholas. My Baba and Dido, and all the ancestors who share with us blood and tradition."

Katya finished serving the kutia and set the bowl down in front of me before returning to her seat. As she returned to her seat, a gust of wind came through the window I had left open in the kitchen. I could hear the wind chimes shaking outside. They had come. The house felt more full; the light a little different. I knew that if I peered in the corners, I would see their eyes peering out at me, my family. We were together.

I didn’t know if anyone else sensed the change, because I was afraid to look in their eyes. Instead, I focused on the candle burning bright in the kolach, and I continued, "My Baba always taught me the importance of names. They carry power. They are connected to our spirit, to our blood. Our names reveal a great deal about us, and they carry with them the power of our ancestors.

"Many of you know that when people came to America, their names were often changed—by themselves or by others who could not pronounce the unusual surnames. Some chose to make a new start by shedding their old names. To protect others or themselves from a past they had to leave behind.