“Then I’ll join up with an ataman.”
“The men who took her were probably working with an ataman. You’d join that type of scum? Don’t be a fool.”
“I was a fool when I didn’t go looking for her.” And she’d suffered enormous hardships because of it. “I won’t let her down again.”
“If you leave this train, you’ll be letting her down far more than you did before. She doesn’t need revenge, Filip; she needs you.”
“And what of honor?” She was Russian nobility. Honor was everything. She’d said so herself when she’d told of how she’d destroyed the Bolshevik gold.
Anton folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve found your wife again. You get another chance. Do you have any idea what I’d give for another chance at life with Veronika? Finding Nadia was a miracle. Don’t throw that away.”
Did Filip want another chance at life with Nadia? Of course he did. But the crimes she’d suffered . . . How could he walk away from that and expect her to walk away from it, too, with no justice?
“At least talk to her,” Anton said. “Because if you leave, you’ll never see her again. And right now, she’s sitting on that bench convinced you don’t want her anymore because of what those men did to her.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then tell her.” Anton went back inside, leaving Filip with the rhythmic swoosh and click of the train moving east, ever farther from the men who’d taken and ravaged his wife. The men who had escaped justice. The men he wanted to punish.
Filip had two choices: he could seek justice, vengeance, and honor, or he could have a future.
He wanted justice. He also wanted a future with Nadia—but how could she be happy with a man who had failed her so completely? Leaving would ensure his death. But would staying be any better? His choices, his inaction, his inability to protect her, they would always hang between them. Filip had seen what living with failure could do to a person. It had destroyed his father. It would destroy him, and it would destroy his marriage.
The air was bitterly cold, especially without a hat. Nadia still had his. His nose and fingers grew numb, but his thoughts didn’t. They were just as tumultuous as they’d been since the moment he’d seen her again. She was thinner now, her hair not so glossy and far shorter, her face changed by hunger. But she was still beautiful, still resilient. And he still loved her.
He went back inside. He’d say goodbye, at least, before he went seeking vengeance that he knew he wouldn’t find. Anton saw him first and stood, walking away to give Filip and Nadia some privacy.
Nadia stared out the window but looked up when he approached. She kept whatever emotions she was feeling hidden other than the redness of her eyes. Had she been weeping? He sat next to her, and she remained silent, waiting.
“If you’ll tell me what you can about those men, I’ll go look for them. See that they’re punished and that your honor is avenged.”
“Filip . . . I don’t think that’s wise.” Her voice was small.
“Duty and honor demand it, don’t they?”
She shook her head, looking weary. “Duty and honor demanded you serve in the emperor’s army. But that didn’t stop you from defecting to the Družina, did it? Because it was the right thing to do.”
“That was different. I also had a duty to my people. But I failed you, Nadia, and I don’t want to fail you again.”
“Then stay.”
It was such a simple request, one he wanted to follow. And yet . . . “What about those men?”
“It’s not worth it, Filip.”
“You’re worth it.” She was worth several deaths. “You’re worth it, and yet, when you disappeared, I didn’t even look for you.”
Her eyes widened with surprise, but she didn’t speak.
“I was shot on patrol the day you were taken. It was days before I knew you were gone. Dalek overheard your conversation with your old fiancé. Between that and the missing annulment paper, we assumed you’d run off with Petrov and were on your way to Shanghai.”
Nadia’s face fell. “You thought I abandoned you? I would never do that.”
“But you didn’t marry me by choice. And I made mistakes, and he was promising a better life than I can ever give you. So I doubted, and you suffered. Finding those men will be my penance.”
She took a shuddering breath. “I’ve seen what war is like without the legion’s brotherhood. It is danger and chaos and misery. If you leave, you’ll disappear forever.”
“If I don’t leave, how can I redeem myself? I promised to protect you, Nadia, and I didn’t.”
“You don’t have to redeem yourself, Filip. You can’t. But God can, and He will. This war has taken a lot of things from me. My family, my heritage, a year with you—a baby. I don’t want it to take our future too. Let it go, Filip. I’m ready for peace.”
The war had taken a lot from him too. War had been the defining feature of his life since 1914. He wanted to go home, but it was hard to move past the conflicts, the hurts, the betrayals, the monumental cruelties. Yet, in a strange twist, the war had also given him an independent country, a beloved wife, and a burgeoning faith. And maybe faith was more than attending mass with his grandparents, saying grace before meals with his wife, and desperate pleas to God when no one else could help. Maybe faith was also a belief that God could somehow wipe away all the sin, pain, and error that haunted Filip’s life.
He glanced at Nadia. Those few months when they’d been together as a married couple had been the best of his life. Duty suggested he find justice for her, but it also suggested he stay with her and do everything he could to make her future a good one. If she could leave it all behind, then shouldn’t he try to do the same? To trust God to help and bless them, despite his failures? “Peace. And Czechoslovakia. Is that what you want?”
She studied his face, and when she spoke, her words were mere whispers. “I just want you to love me again.”
He put his hand on her arm, the uninjured one. “I never stopped loving you, Nadia. Even when I thought you’d abandoned me. Under all the hurt, the love never went away.”
She looked down, blinking rapidly. “Even knowing what those men did?”
He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips into one of the scabs lining the back of her fingers. “I only hope you can forgive me for doubting you and not finding you sooner.”
She nodded. Her emotions weren’t so hidden now. Relief and joy washed over her face, and she gave him a smile, one that contained forgiveness and hope. He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped an arm around her waist. With his other hand, he caressed her cheek. He hesitated to do more. She was wounded, and hard months and a plummet into an icy river had left her body frail.
She leaned into his hand. “You can hold me a little tighter, Filip. I’m not going to break. Not now that I have you again.”
One of her hands went to the back of his neck, and her fingers brushed across his skin. He’d missed her touch, craved it, longed for it with an ache that never lost its intensity. He pulled her closer, and when their lips met, Filip knew everything was going to be all right. He felt in her an exact mirror of his own sentiments: love, desire, and a determination to forge ahead together. Their time apart hadn’t destroyed what they’d built. Love remained, powerful and resilient, and it would carry them forward.
They sat in the back of the train, but before long, someone noticed their kiss and the men around them began to cheer. Filip didn’t let that distract him from his efforts at reacquainting himself with his wife’s mouth. But the emotion that cheer represented fit the moment perfectly. He had Nadia. And together they were going to their new country.
Chapter Forty-Seven