Ulya bought New Way and went home to prepare her message about her transfer to SD.
42
Natasha
July 1942
With the windows blackened, the house was in darkness. A single candle burned for light. It was after curfew and Natasha awaited Serezha’s arrival at any minute. She felt chilly, unsure. How would he receive her news?
Her waistline had thickened. Anyone interested in finding an answer could explain it with her regular visits to the German restaurant and the food parcels Hahn supplied her with. Not her aunt. Although gynecology was not her specialty, she’d confirmed Natasha’s condition and was not happy. On the contrary.
“Is it a German bastard?” She glared at Natasha with burning, reproachful eyes. And at her “No, Aunty,” screamed, “Do you think I don’t know where you spend some evenings? Where do you get all these delicacies? People have seen you going with a Fritz to the restaurant and —” Her nostrils flared with fury. “You better get rid of it or—” she spat out the next words, “otherwise, get out of my sight!” Natasha cringed at the words her aunt lashed at her.
“Aunty.” She threw herself to her and knelt. “It’s not what you think. Please, please don’t think so badly of me. But I can’t, believe me, I can’t tell you who fathers my future baby.”
“You tell me, or I don’t want to see you here again!”
Natasha got up from her knees and, biting her lips to control the sobs, spoke with desperate firmness, “It will be the way you want.”
Natasha saw her expression freeze, and, after the crushing silence, her aunt shut the exit door after herself with a crash, leaving Natasha pondering, nausea rising in her stomach. The only chance to save her child was to go to the partisans. At that moment, disturbed and trapped in the situation when she had no right to disclose her affiliation with the Underground, she forgot she had to talk with Serezha before making a drastic decision. And where would I go, anyway? The thought crossed her mind, immediately followed by doubt. How was it possible her kind and loving aunt Anna, the closest thing she’d ever had to a mother, would kick her out?
The following days went without Natasha crossing paths with her aunt at home. But today, there was that gut feeling that in the next hours everything might fall into place. What do I do if Serezha decides I should follow my aunt’s advice? She slumped on the floor and vomited violently.
Deep in the night, a knock jerked Natasha from her slumber. The door opened and there he was, crossing the doorway, a little bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. “Natasha,” he exhaled.
She flung herself to his chest. “Will you stay?”
He shook his head. “Just wanted to see you and say how much I miss you.”
“But do you have a minute?”
He consulted his watch. “I’m sorry.”
There was no time to go round-about. “Serezha, I’m pregnant.”
Undisguised astonishment touched his pale face as though it were siphoned of blood. “Pregnant?”
“What do I have to do? My aunt wants me out of the house.” She heard his quick intake of breath and stared across at him, her heart pounding.
They stood in silence for a long, painful minute until he ventured, “But now? It’s impossible, it is just impossible.”
Her body stiffened in shock. So be it. As her aunt insisted.
Leaving him on the threshold, Natasha went to the table, pushed it aside and, after moving one floorboard, pulled from under it a slip of paper—Hahn’s dispatch. “Here.” She took a step to Serezha and stretched her hand toward him.
He took the folded paper, pushed it into his bootleg, and the next moment, he clasped her body tightly to his. “Darling. Darling Natasha. We’ll do our best to save this child. Our child. We will.”
Tears she’d held in check for so long slowly found their way down her cheeks.
He didn’t kiss her as he always did while parting with her, he only touched her face, brushing her tears away, whispering sweetly, “Natashen’ka. Natashen’ka.”
With his innate sensitivity, he apologized before uttering, “I hope getting information from Hahn is still acceptable for you.”
“Don’t worry, Serezha.”
“Something else. Tell your aunt, we handed over her last delivery of the medicaments. Tell her, they saved the life of . . . she knows who.”
“My aunt?” The shock of discovery hit her full force. “My aunt?” she repeated.
“I’ll talk to her about your situation.”
He disappeared in the darkness, leaving her with a light shining in her heart. My baby. Your papa loves you. And your aunt will too. She smiled at the thought.
43
Ulya
August-September 1942
The gallows in all the central parts of Vitebsk were never left vacant. Here and there hammers knocked, busy erecting new ones. People were corralled and forcibly escorted to the places of execution. More and more Communists, partisans, and Underground members were put to death by hanging. Merry places for Germans. When she could, Ulya skirted them or hurried past with her head down, sparing herself from the shows and the German soldiers amusing themselves. No such luck today though.
“Heinz, me on the background of this one!” one said, positioning himself so the hanging body could get into the picture. Two more joined. “Hey, Andreas! Just take a close-up of the two of us.” Their arms around each other’s shoulders, both smiled into the camera. The happy faces intended no doubt for their mothers or friends or children. To their Lizchens, Gertrudchen, Annchens. For them, they were heroes.
For the local people, these fascists who amused themselves, were the three times accursed occupiers. Not for all, a voice inside declared. There were
