Daughters of the Night Sky

It was another wartime promise I could keep, though it would be a great deal harder than a train trip east or a dozen small cakes for hungry children. The remainder of her family was in Aix-en-Provence, which might as well be on the other side of the globe. I would need funds and visas that were both hard to obtain as the country rebuilt itself.

I had promised to inform her family. I had promised to give them Yana’s drawing and to ask them to remember her. To entrust her personal effects to the post seemed both foolish and cruel to her family.

I would have to find a way to fulfill my promise in person.

Vanya’s childhood room still smelled of the innocence of youth—the scent of pine from his bureau, pencil shavings, and books. Even a lingering whiff of chalk on the slate from his school days mingled with the dust particles in the air. His paintings and sketches, ranging from the childish to the masterful, still papered the walls. His favorite books lined his shelf, organized by title, diligently as any librarian. On his little desk was a small toy airplane, not unlike my beloved Polikarpov.

Antonin Solonev had the same ruddy face and walrus mustache as when we had met during the first days of the war, but his eyes looked decades older. Decades sadder. In the depth of his dark eyes, so much like his son’s, I saw proof of Natalia’s words. He had loved his son dearly, and Vanya’s death gnawed at him like an unrelenting cancer.

“I am more glad than I can say that you’ve come to stay with us, my dear,” he said as we sat down to the table. It was laden with good food—beef and vegetables far beyond what Mama was able to procure in Moscow. The farms to the east hadn’t been destroyed in battle or were not as depleted in the service of the army as the ones in the west.

“I’m honored that you’ve asked me, Comrade Solonev,” I said, unable to forget the cold manner of our last meeting.

“My dear, please call me Antonin. I trust you’ll find your room comfortable.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“It is my hope that your stay will be of some duration,” Antonin said, patting my hand. “Natalia enjoys having another chick in her nest.”

“I don’t know how long I will be able to stay,” I admitted. I thought of the specter of Vanya that permeated his room like smoke, and knew it wouldn’t be long.

“We know how hard it must be right now. Everything is so unsettled for you,” Natalia said. “You can stay here to find your feet. And when the time comes, we can help you find another young man from a good family. Vanya wouldn’t want you to be lonely forever.”

I flinched, feeling the blood drain from my face.

“Not right away,” she pressed.

“The local officials have been speaking of this,” Antonin interjected. “Our young women will need to do their part to replace our fallen soldiers. Young men will not be in great supply, and we can help make sure you find a good match.”

“I appreciate your concern,” I said. “It’s a lot to think about.”

“Of course,” Natalia said. “You’re a beautiful young woman. You have time to sort things out. We’re in no rush to see you leave.”

“You’re very kind,” I said, pushing the food around on my plate. Their son is dead only a few months, and they’re marrying his widow off. Oh, my Vanya, how could you have come from such people?

“We want you to feel like the daughter of this house,” Antonin urged. “We will provide for you just as Vanya would have us do.”

“There is something,” I said, setting my fork down and bringing my eyes to his. “I would like to take one of my fallen sisters’ medals and personal effects to her family in France. She doesn’t have any family left here. Would you be able to help me arrange for the papers?”

“Things are in a bit of disarray, but I’ll see what I can do,” Antonin said, stabbing a chunk of beef and looking thoughtfully past me, mentally tracing the lines of red tape he would have to maneuver to procure the papers.

“You shouldn’t go alone, my dear,” Natalia said. “It’s so far.”

“I think I can manage,” I said, failing to keep the disdain from my voice. It doesn’t matter how many medals I have on my chest, how many bombs I dropped on the heads of the German army. Because I am a woman, I must be protected.

Antonin looked at me indulgently and shot his wife a silencing look. “We’ll see what can be done in the next week or so, dear,” he said. “It is right for you to pay respect to your comrade’s family. And when you return, you can give more thought to your plans.”

Plans. Russia needed to be rebuilt, and I needed to find my place in this new world.