Daughters of the Night Sky

CHAPTER 21

November 1943, the Crimea, Sorties: 478

My dearest Katinka,

This letter brings with it all the love and blessings a mother can bestow upon her daughter. I am pleased to hear your wounds have mended and that your regiment has earned such honors. Pleased and unsurprised. You have always been one to quash a challenge that others would think insurmountable. You have your father’s heart.

I have news of my own that I hope will cause you more joy than grief. I have been in the company of a Colonel Grigory Yelchin. He has been overseeing much of the industry in Chelyabinsk Oblast, reporting directly to the highest echelons in Moscow, including the little factory where the ladies and I sew the uniforms for you and the other brave citizens at the front. We formed a friendship some months ago—he and his late wife were quite fond of ballet as well, so we had much to talk about. Just last week he asked me to become his wife. I confess I have spent most of my hours since then wondering how you will react to the news. He is a good and kind man, dearest Katinka, and I know you will love him in time.

I will never forget your papa, Katinka. I can say little else about the world these days with such certainty. You know what love is now, having found your Vanya, and I want to remember what it is to be a beloved wife once more. It won’t ever be the marriage your father and I had, but I think he will make me as happy as I can be until you and your husband are nestled safely around my supper table, warm, well fed, and far from harm’s way. I fear this letter won’t reach you until after the deed is done, so if I cannot ask your opinion on the matter, I will ask you, humbly, for a daughter’s blessing.

With all my love,

~Mama

“Lucya Yelchina.” I tested the name on my tongue. Beautiful. Unfamiliar, almost foreign.

“Who is that?” Polina asked from her bunk.

“My mother,” I said. “She’s remarried. That’s her new name.”

“How lovely,” Renata chimed in. “You must be so happy for her.”

“Yes,” I said, knowing the nobler side of me wished my mother the companionship her marriage would give her. “She’s been alone quite some time. It sounds like she’s made a good match for herself.”

“You don’t look convinced of that,” Oksana said, peering up from her book.

“Stop being so damned observant,” I said, wishing I had something other than my mother’s letter to lob at her.

“Too many years as a navigator,” she said. “Risk of the job.” She closed her book. “Speak. I won’t take you up in the air if you’re distracted.”

“It’s just odd to think of her with someone other than Papa, that’s all. The way she spoke about him, I thought she’d never love anyone else again. It’s disconcerting to find out it isn’t true.” I folded Mama’s letter and placed it back in the envelope and tucked it in with the rest of her letters and those from Vanya.

“That stands to reason,” Oksana said. “Our parents are supposed to be monoliths. Unchangeable. Solid. It’s unmooring when we discover they’re human.”

“Mama deserves her happiness,” I said, not wanting to imagine what this Grigory Yelchin might be like and how he’d managed to woo my mother after years of solitude.

“Write her to tell her so,” Polina said. “It will make you feel better.”