Berta turned back from the window. “You seriously think that’s funny, Olga?”
“We’re just having fun, zaichik. Don’t be such a sourpuss.”
Berta wandered back to the little circle and took a seat. “It’s late. I want to go to bed.”
“Why don’t we all go to bed?” said Yuvelir. “I’m sure there’s one around here big enough for all of us.”
“Now that’s an idea,” said Olga, standing and stretching her little body and nearly falling over.
“Even for me?” asked Alix. She had persuaded Lenya to go home without her. Now she could stay up with the young people and get into all kinds of mischief and he couldn’t do a thing to stop her.
“No, not for you, maya krasavitsa,” said Valentin with a yawn. “You’re much too refined for that.”
“You mean old and fat,” she replied glumly.
Berta was bored with her friends and wished they’d go home. She wanted to go to sleep. She wanted Hershel by her side, safe and warm in their bed. She wanted him to curl up behind her and wrap his arm around her waist.
It had been three weeks since she found the pistols in Hershel’s office and since then everything had changed. Now she was always on edge, anxiously awaiting the next calamity. He had tried to reassure her, telling her that it was only the one time, a favor for a friend, but she didn’t believe him, not really. She kept hearing boots on the front steps and watched for the Okhranka at the door. She couldn’t sleep and when she did she had nightmares of blue men galloping across frozen landscapes.
“I know,” Olga said with a childish clap of her hands. She ran to the drapes and pulled off the tieback cord. “I’ll go and hide and whoever finds me can tie me up and do whatever they want to my body.”
Yuvelir said, “Now, that’s a wonderful idea.”
“Yes, I’m all for it,” Valentin chimed in.
“I thought you only played that game with me,” Valya said sulkily. He wasn’t having much luck with the varnish.
“Tryn-trava, darling,” Olga said with a wave of her hand.
Berta hated that phrase. Loosely translated, it meant that everything was going to hell anyway, so what did it matter? But it did matter. Her life mattered; her family and home mattered. They mattered very much.
“It’s late,” she said to the others. “It’s time for all of you to go home. I’ll call a cab.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. We’re just having fun. You could hide with me,” said Olga.
“Doesn’t sound like much fun to me,” Alix said, rolling over and pulling the blanket up over her shoulders.
Yuvelir said to Berta, “I’d find you first, I promise. You wouldn’t have to bother with these lice.” He nodded in Valentin’s direction.
“I’m not playing your stupid game,” Berta replied. “I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.”
“Then we’ll just have to play without you,” said Valentin.
Olga said, “Yes, we’re very sorry, Berta, my sweet. But we won’t let you kick us out. We’re here to stay. It ’s for your own good. We can’t let you waste your life sleeping away your days.” With that she grabbed the cord and ran from the room shouting, “Give me to the count of thirty. No fair cheating. Count to thirty.”
Yuvelir and Valentin counted out loud in unison, then ignored her wishes, skipped to thirty, and ran after her. Valya sat back on the cushions and looked over at Berta with half-closed eyes. “I’ve played that game one too many times with her. Now, if you were to play…”
Berta shot him a look and walked back to the window. She could see fragments of the cold dawn through a jumbled tracery of ice crystals on the window. The tracks from the sleds were nearly obliterated by the last of the storm. The only evidence of her guests’ comings and goings were faint definitions under the new snow in the road.
Alix sat up with a heavy sigh and swung her feet to the carpet. “Poor Berta. I’m afraid we haven’t been very good guests tonight. Well, I’m going home. I’m exhausted.” She stood up and leaned her fingertips against a little table for balance. “I’ll probably have to ring up for the car. I can’t imagine Lenya remembered to send it back for me. That would be his revenge. Keep me waiting for it.”
A sleigh glided up the road and pulled into the drive. At this hour Berta knew it had to be Hershel and hurried to the front door. Stepping outside she stood under the portico, shivering with her arms clasped over her chest while she watched him climb out of the cab. “Hurry up, it’s freezing out here,” she called to him.
The horse stamped his feet and shook his head, jingling the bells on his harness. When Hershel straightened she saw in the growing light that his coat was stained black in the front, that he wasn’t wearing a hat or gloves, and that his hair was wet and matted against his scalp.
“Where have you been?” she asked, once he had joined her at the door.
“When we get inside.”
“What’s that stain? Is it blood?”
He didn’t answer her but led the way into the house. Alix was in the foyer putting on her coat. “There you are,” she said. “Everybody was asking about you. I hope you told that cabman to wait. Lenya took our car and stranded me here. Isn’t that just like him?”
“You’ll have to call your own cab,” Hershel said, striding past her to the stairs. “I’ll need that one.”
“You’re going out again?” Berta asked.
“Come up, I have to talk to you.” His tone was flat and chilling. The two women stood there a moment watching him climb the stairs. “I’m sorry, Alix,” she said without taking her eyes off her husband.
“Don’t be, milochka. They want what they want. What ’s the point of arguing? Go up to him. I’ll be all right.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Go on, I’ll ring you tomorrow.”
Berta kissed her on both cheeks and hurried up the stairs.
She found Hershel in his bathroom with his shirt off and the hot water running in the sink. Steam curled up and clouded the mirror. He was using her good scissors to cut his beard close to the skin. There were curly black hairs on the counter, more floating in the water, and even more stuck to the blades.
“What’s the matter, Hershel? You couldn’t give Alix the cab? That ’s not like you.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t.” He applied a thick layer of shaving soap over his face and chin.
“Why are you shaving off your beard?”
There was a knock on the door.
“That ’ll be Vera,” he said. “Tell her to bring up three suitcases. Not the big ones. I want them easy to carry.”
Her stomach churned. “Are you going somewhere?”
He dipped his razor into the hot water and then, leaning forward to get a better look, scraped a swath off his cheek. The beard made a crackling noise as the razor wiped it away. “Please, Berta. Just do as I say.”
She opened the bedroom door and found Vera standing there wearing her nightdress with a shawl thrown over her shoulders. After Berta explained what she wanted, Vera asked, “Shall I pack them for you, Madame?”
The question threw her for a moment. It hadn’t occurred to her that she might be going somewhere. “No, that’s all right. Sorry to bother you this early.”
“S’all right, Madame. No bother.”
Back in the bathroom, Berta found a stranger standing in front of the mirror, dabbing at a dribble of blood on his chin. With his beard gone, Hershel’s face was pink and vulnerable like the underbelly of a newborn animal. The oval forehead was familiar, as were the dark eyebrows, the Tartar ’s eyes with the long lashes and the high-bridged nose. But the mouth was new, a surprise, a complete stranger, and it changed his whole appearance. She had never seen it before.