Daughters of the Night Sky

The grounds near the convalescent center would have been lovely under good care, but as with so many things, war had made pruning and weeding a needless waste of energy, and the once-orderly flower beds had been left to neglect. I couldn’t quite make out whether the stately old building was once a hotel or simply a manor house claimed from the old nobility and repurposed, but the hum of soldiers and airmen in various stages of recovery gave it a renewed purpose the walls hadn’t seen in years. I could feel the usefulness radiate from the cool bricks and wondered if the old stones were grateful to be more than a stop along the road for weary travelers or a vain tribute to inherited wealth. I liked to think so.

“I wrote to your mother just before I left the front,” Vanya said as we meandered about the patchy lawn. I was irritated that I had to use him for support as I walked but was calmed by his solid form at my arm.

“Just as well that she should know, I suppose. I hope you told her not to worry.”

“Darling, I told her I was sending you home to her.”

I turned to him, too quickly, and took in a ragged breath as my stitches pulled from the sudden movement. I steadied myself by placing my hands against his chest. “Without asking me?”

“Katya, all I had was a two-line telegram telling me you had been injured in the line of duty and so badly hurt they were sending you here instead of back to the front. You realize that they send men who are half-dead back to the front lines?”

“I’m sure they do, but the doctors are more cautious with the aviation regiments—you know this. We can’t be so easily replaced.”

“True enough, but darling, I had no idea what was going to be left of you. When they gave me leave to come see you…” His voice cracked as he sought the words. “I was sure it was to say goodbye. I promised your mother that if I found you in any condition to be moved, I’d see you back on the next train, plane, or automobile headed to Chelyabinsk. The back of a truck, if it’s what I could manage.”

“It’s not all that bad, my love. It hurts when I move, but I imagine I’ll be well enough in a few weeks.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever hold you again.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I said. “I’m too stubborn.”

“Thank God for that,” he whispered. “Please promise me you’ll go back to your mother? Stay safe? This was too close, darling. Far too close.”

“I can’t be a coward,” I said, my words muffled against his drab-olive shirt. “I’ve made a promise.”

“And you’ve honored it. You’ve been so brave—all of you. We hear about your regiment all the time. It’s been my solace. To hear how you’re performing beyond anyone’s expectations, to imagine you working around the clock, flying a dozen missions a night.” He held me now at arm’s length, his deep coal eyes blazing into mine. “You could leave service now and sleep knowing you’ve done more for Mother Russia than millions of the soldiers who had to be forced into duty.”

I felt the truth of his words wrap around me like a shawl—one knitted just for me with the love and patience of a grandmother. Warm. A thin but comforting buffer from the outside world. I could have shuffled them off just as easily as I could my babushka’s wrap, but I let myself luxuriate in their woolen softness.

I could have argued that just because I had accomplished a good deal didn’t mean I wasn’t capable of doing more. That I was obligated to do more if I was able.

But I looked into Vanya’s eyes. The desperation there wasn’t that of a man fighting to keep his wife’s safety—he was a man fighting for his own life.

“You’ve been in service for almost two years,” he said. “Go home. Heal properly. Keep up morale at the flight school with tales of your exploits. They’ll give you your teaching post. You’d still be doing your part.”

“It wouldn’t be knitting socks,” I allowed. I’d still have to deal with chauvinist prigs like Karlov, but I had battle experience that even he couldn’t belittle now. A few letters from the right people and the job would be mine.

Vanya, knowing me as he did, saw my thoughts as clearly as though they were printed on my forehead. “You’d be invaluable to the war effort. We need well-trained, eager young pilots as much as we need food and ammunition. And you’ve been at the front. You can train them to know what to expect and how to survive better than any of the commanders in Chelyabinsk. Think of that. Saving lives before they’re even put at risk.”

“I’ll consider it,” I said at length. “I can’t imagine leaving the girls behind. Not now. We just lost our commander and three other pilots and two navigators besides.”

“Take your time,” he said, kissing the side of my face. “You’re not up to travel just yet. I know what your loyalty is. I’ve made my wishes known, and what I can only expect are your mother’s as well. I trust you to make up your own mind.”

“Thank you, my love.”

“God, what I wouldn’t give for a month alone with you. A week isn’t enough.”