“I’m sorry I hit you,” I said.
Marko locked eyes on me. He didn’t change his expression or say a word. Instead, he kept his eyes on mine for a moment, and then nodded.
I headed for my car, my body so light I could have raced the Porsche to the next stoplight. I managed six steps before I heard his voice behind me.
“Hey little sister, what’s your name?”
I acknowledged his question with a quick turn and a smile. Three steps later he gave me the customary follow-up. He hadn’t spoken it for decades, but it sounded as though I’d heard it yesterday.
“What does it mean?”
This time I simply extended my arm over my head and waved. I didn’t turn around lest he see my face. Lest he spy the moisture in my eyes and I resembled a pathetic little girl, the kind of weakling I’d been before he’d made me strong, when I was a child and he was my hero.
As I fiddled with the door lock, he started his motorcycle, let it idle for a few seconds, and revved the engine to the red line twice, pausing for emphasis. Each roar felt like a kiss on the cheek.
I climbed in my car. Found some Kleenex in my purse and checked my face in the rearview mirror. Took a good look at myself.
Your name is Nadia.
My name is Nadia.
It means hope.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
An author presentation at the Ukrainian Museum in New York on April 26, 2013 resulted in my meeting Professor Roman Voronka and Dr. George Saj. It was during a fabulous reception that these extraordinary men sparked my interest in Ukrainian Displaced Persons camps. Special thanks to Professor Voronka for sharing authentic historical details that significantly enhanced the manuscript. Mark Wyman’s excellent treatise, DPs: Europe’s Displaced Persons, 1945–1951, served as reference, as did the essays included in The Refugee Experience: Ukrainian Displaced Persons after World War II, published by the Canadian Institute of Ukrainian Studies Press at the University of Alberta. Thanks also to Mrs. Zirka Rudyk, former Ukrainian schoolteacher and friend, for reading the final draft and sharing her expertise on all matters Ukrainian.
Finally, I am indebted to Alison Dasho at Thomas & Mercer for championing Nadia Tesla’s cause.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in America to Ukrainian immigrants, Orest Stelmach spoke no English when he started his education. He went on to earn degrees from Dartmouth College and the University of Chicago. He has held a variety of jobs, including dishwasher, shelf stocker, English teacher in Japan, and international investment portfolio manager. The Altar Girl is his fourth novel in the Nadia Tesla series, following The Boy From Reactor 4, The Boy Who Stole From the Dead, and The Boy Who Glowed in the Dark. He resides in Simsbury, Connecticut.