Lubochka had gathered various strands of love under one roof. For Sablin, she felt the sort of pitying love that one feels for a child; she loved Osip for his ability to provide for her, but her passion was reserved for Klim and Klim alone.
Lubochka watched him sitting in the armchair and writing something down in the notebook she had given him. He scratched his thick eyebrow and chuckled to himself. He had probably thought of a joke but didn’t want to share it with anyone yet.
She cherished every memory of him ever touching her. The one when he had brought her a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders to keep her warm or when he had gently placed his hand on her belly after she had told him the baby was kicking.
Lubochka did her best to persuade herself that she wasn’t feeling jealous, but one day, as she was walking down the corridor, she heard Klim’s voice.
“If you cut my hair crooked,” he said, “that hard-boiled crew will laugh me out of the classroom.”
The door to the bathroom was slightly ajar. Lubochka tiptoed to it and saw Klim sitting on a low stool. His shoulders were covered with a white sheet, and he was trying to sit still while Nina trimmed his hair.
“How much longer?” he asked.
“Hold on a minute.”
She blew the cut hair from his neck and took the sheet off his shoulders. Lubochka had never seen her cousin half-naked like this before. She drank in the sight of his broad, swarthy back and his reflection in a mirror—his chest covered with dark hair and the narrow strip of hair running down into the waistband of his trousers.
“I think it’s turned out well,” Nina said. “Do you want me to cut a little more from the left side?”
“No, I don’t.”
Suddenly, Klim pulled Nina close to him.
“Stop—” she gasped. “What if someone—”
He lifted his wife and put her on a low cabinet by the wall. Klim parted Nina’s knees and pressed himself to her, and Lubochka felt as though her heart was about to burst. Nina put her arms around him and sank onto his shoulder. Suddenly, her gaze met Lubochka’s.
“Don’t forget to clean up after yourselves,” Lubochka said and staggered to the kitchen, scarlet with emotion and with tears starting in her eyes.
26. THE SAFE
Osip met Klim after the lecture.
“I’ve arranged everything. Get your team ready—you leave at nine this evening.”
“Where am I going?” Klim asked.
“The Whites have broken the front near Kursk. Morale is low, and soldiers are deserting, so, the army’s political administration is summoning all of the propaganda reserves. The propaganda car stays here, I’m afraid. You’ll travel in a separate compartment, and you can find yourself a transport when you get there. Here’s your warrant.” Osip handed Klim a piece of paper. “I called the Cheka office—the secretary will wait for you until six. Bring your team’s employment cards, and she’ll give you all permission to leave. They’re expecting you in Kursk.”
Klim turned pale. “What about you?”
“I’m also going to the front, but not with you. My train leaves in two hours.” Osip squeezed Klim’s hand. “Stay faithful to the revolution! When you talk to the soldiers, remind them that the Red Army has to be invincible. If the Whites defeat us, they’ll restore the Tsarist government, bring back the landlords, and punish the workers for rebellion. They should remember that they have created the world’s first state of workers and peasants.”
Osip called in at the canteen to speak to Lubochka.
She went into the corridor holding a coffee grinder in her hands. “We got a hold of real coffee,” she said. “Smell!”
Osip dutifully inhaled the scent of the coffee but breathed out too hard so that the dark brown powder went all over Lubochka’s dress. “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed.
She shook the coffee grounds from her skirt. “Don’t worry. I’ve gotten ten pounds of the stuff. Do you want a cup of coffee?”
Osip shook his head. “Thank you, no. I’ve come to ask a favor. Do you think you could visit my parents and bring them something—maybe bread or money?”
Lubochka looked at him, frowning. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to the front.”
“When?”
“Now. This moment.”
Lubochka dashed home with her heart thumping and tears running down her cheeks, still holding the coffee grinder in her hands. She wished that she could just drop down dead in the street. One minute she was cursing Osip, and the next, she was remembering how tightly he had held her when he had said goodbye.
She had begun to scream so loudly that the entire kitchen staff had run into the corridor to see what was going on.
Osip had looked at Lubochka with a pained expression. “You have to understand. Now isn’t the time to think only of saving your own skin.”
“I’m only thinking about our baby! Don’t you understand it could be left an orphan?”
She had told him that he didn’t love her anymore and would rather risk a bullet to the head than go on living with her. “Go to hell,” she had said. “Just see if I care.”
Osip had grabbed her by the arms.
“Don’t think badly of me, Lubochka,” he had said. “Drop me a line if you have a chance—I’ll look forward to getting a letter from you.”
On the porch of her house, Lubochka met Sablin. He looked unlike himself in his new soldier’s overcoat with a knapsack on his back.
“Where are you going?” Lubochka asked.
It was clear that Sablin wasn’t expecting to see her there. “I’m going to the front,” he said, tipping his cap.
She took a step backward and hit her back hard on the railing of the porch. “What do you mean? Have you all gone mad? You can’t go! What about your leg—”
She stopped as she heard the gate squeak. Nina and Klim ran into the yard.
“Dr. Sablin, we are ready,” Nina cried.
“Tell me what’s going on!” Lubochka demanded.
Klim looked at Nina. “Go with the doc. I’ll catch up with you two later.”
He took Lubochka gently by her shoulders. “We need to talk. Let’s go inside.”
They entered the house and went into Lubochka’s room glowing with the evening sun. She put the grinder on the table strewn with half-made swaddling clothes.
“Do you still have Nina’s employment card?” Klim asked.
“Yes,” Lubochka said.
“Is it at the canteen office?”
“No, it’s here.” She pointed at the safe that had once kept Klim’s father’s legacy. “The burglars often rob canteens, so I had to bring the papers here. Just in case.”
“Can I have it, please?”
Lubochka looked at him in surprise. “Is Nina going to leave her job?”
“Yes. We want to get out of Nizhny Novgorod,” Klim said. “Without her employment card, we can’t get permission from the Cheka.”
Finally, Lubochka realized that they were planning to escape from the land of the Soviets. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Klim. How dare he ask her for anything? She had given him shelter and helped him find work, and now, he was going to leave her alone and pregnant just when she had been abandoned by her husband.
“I hope this is some sort of joke,” she said and, beside herself, hurled the grinder at Klim. It missed and hit the wall, and coffee grounds scattered onto the carpet.
“Lubochka, don’t be ridiculous—” began Klim, but she interrupted him.
“Or what? Are you going to kill me to get into the safe? Come on, then, why don’t you? I know that physically you are more than a match for me, but you’re not getting the code from me no matter what.”