“The dangers of living in a modern city are just tremendous. You take care, young man.”
Accepting this fatherly advice, Valenko pushed on.
As he began his way down the street he desired, he passed by the babushka who was still animatedly conversing with herself.
“That limousine missed me by only inches. Probably some high-brow Party chief was inside, late for a date with his mistress. These days an individual life just means nothing. Now, in the old days, how different things were…”
The old woman’s words soon faded as he quickened his pace. Upon rounding the next corner, he found himself sliding uncontrollably on a patch of thick ice.
Awkwardly, he caught his balance. Life on land is more dangerous than it is 1,000 meters beneath the sea, Valenko thought. He finally saw the brightly lit windows of the shop he was looking for, less than a quarter of a kilometer distant. He breathed a sigh of relief only upon being certain that the doors to the Pushkin Toy Store were definitely open for business.
Gorshkov Street was located near the large park Valenko had passed on his way from the base. He knew it well, for it was home to a number of naval personnel, especially those with families. Dominated by a dozen rather ugly steel high-rises, the street offered both excellent access to the port facilities and to Petropavlovsk’s central park.
By the time he reached number thirteen, Valenko was anxious to gain respite from the biting cold. With numbed feet and hands, he gratefully ducked into the main hallway of the building. Here, relief was almost instantaneous. Luxuriating in the warmth, he was greeted by a wrinkle-faced duty woman.
“Good evening, young man. Can I help you?”
Valenko spotted the woman. She was seated behind a tiny, cluttered desk beside the elevator.
“Yes, Comrade, I’m here to visit the Kuzmins.”
“Well then, sir, first I’ll need to have your name.
Are they expecting you?”
Making the most of her lowly position of authority, she eyed the newcomer suspiciously while readying her notebook.
“I’m Captain Valenko, and yes — the Kuzmins’ are expecting me.”
“Ah, an officer no less,” observed the old-timer as she carefully wrote this information down.
“Well, enjoy yourself. They are certainly a lovely family.”
As he approached the elevator, the duty woman again spoke out.
“I’m afraid that lift won’t be doing you much good. It hasn’t worked properly since the day it was installed. The stairs are right here to your left” Expecting as much, Valenko found the stairway and began his way up to the third floor. The effects of the biting cold had completely dissipated by the time he reached the door marked 301. He knocked and, almost immediately, the door swung open.
“Captain Valenko?” greeted a tall, attractive young woman, whose exotic, almond-shaped eyes instantly held his stare.
Almost shyly, Valenko nodded.
“That’s me. You must be Galina. And all this time I thought Stefan was bragging about your beauty.”
Guiding a strand of long black hair behind her ear, she responded with a slight blush.
“Actually, I’m Ivana, Galina’s sister. Does the compliment still stand, though?”
“Of course it does,” Valenko said, but his smile revealed a hint of embarrassment.
As she beckoned him inside, he quickly took in the apartment’s cramped yet cozy ambience. Serving as a combined living and dining area, the room he entered featured a large sofa, with two stuffed chairs filling the far corner and a fully set dinner table placed before them. Several tasteful landscapes were hung on the walla, while a familiar, haunting symphony echoed from the radio.
“That’s Borodin, isn’t it?” he asked as he allowed himself to be led toward the couch.
“Actually, it’s his Symphony Number Two in B minor,” Ivana returned matter-of factly “Ah, In the Steppes of Central Asia,” Valenko continued fondly.
“It’s been much too long since I’ve heard this piece. As a youth, it was my very favorite.”
“As it was mine,” revealed his escort, who stood beside him while he took a seat.
“In my opinion, very few composers have captured the spirit of the Motherland as well as Alexander Borodin.”
He nodded in agreement.
“When I was a lad, my father would put this record on the victrola and I would lie there and picture myself riding with the Tartar horsemen.”
“To me it has always been the song of the untouched woods and mountains,” Ivana countered.
“Even on the coldest of nights, I can listen to this piece and instantly transform myself deep into the spring oak wood.”
A particularly haunting melody emanated from the speakers, and both listeners silently soaked it in. It was Valenko who broke the spell.
“You know, Stefan didn’t mention anything about having other guests present. Where is he, by the way?”
“I’m sorry,” Ivana said.
“Both proud parents are busy preparing little Nikolai for his first formal dinner party. Actually, Stefan didn’t even know that I would be here. I was offered a break in my studies, and took this chance to help my sister out while Stefan was at sea.”
“And where are you attending school?”
“At the Institute of Music in Kiev,” answered Ivana.
“If all goes well, I should be teaching by next spring.”
“That is a most admirable profession. I didn’t realize that I was sitting here discussing Borodin with an expert.”
His remark caused a broad smile to cross Ivana’s face. Taking in her natural, innocent beauty, Valenko found his attraction growing.
Something in the way she met his attentive stare reflected a mutual feeling.
The unexpected cries of a baby sounded, and they both turned in time to see Stefan Kuzmin enter from the adjoining bedroom. Nestled proudly in his arms was a squirming, blond-haired infant, dressed in a navy blue sailor’s suit.
“Good evening, Captain,” Stefan said excitedly.
“I hope we haven’t kept you too long.”
“Nonsense,” said Valenko as he rose from the comfortable couch.
“Ivana was being a perfectly charming hostess.”
Following Stefan was a thin, attractive woman.
There could be no doubt as to her identity. Except for a rather short hair style, her deepset dark eyes and other exotic features were an exact match of the woman who stood beside him.
Stefan Kuzmin gathered them all together and began the introductions.
“Galina, at long last you’re to meet the man I’ve told you so much about, our illustrious Captain Valenko.”
“That’s Petyr to all of you,” Valenko instructed. He greeted Galina with a hug and a kiss on each cheek.
“This meeting has been most anticipated by me, also,” he added.
“Your husband is very proud of you, and rightfully so.”
A high-pitched whine of protest followed, and Kuzmin lifted the bundle he had been carefully holding.
“No, little fellow, we haven’t forgotten you. Nikolai Petrovich Kuzmin, meet your esteemed godfather.”
Stefan handed his son to Valenko, who cradled him a bit awkwardly at first. “Don’t be afraid, he won’t break,” Galina advised.
Not accustomed to handling such a fragile, valuable load, Valenko was a bit uncomfortable. It was only after meeting the youngster’s pale blue, inquisitive stare that his apprehensions eased. When the youngster’s face lit up with a happy grin and the little fellow cooed a gurgling welcome, the captain instantly relaxed. By the time the first bottle of champagne was opened and the appetizers served, the two were well on the way to becoming the best of pals. Their friendship was sealed when Valenko reached down into his mesh sack and removed a long, rectangular box wrapped in bright red paper. The lad had a great time tearing the wrapping off, but needed his mother’s expert hands to remove the gray plastic, cylindrical object securely packed inside of an inner box.