Sashenka

“Will they be settled together? Please say they will. They love each other, need each other—and without us…”

Hercules shook his head. “No. If they were in an NKVD orphanage for children of traitors, they’d be split up, their names changed. Besides, there might be an all-Union search for a brother and sister together and they’d find them. They’ll be safer separated. There are thousands of lost children now, millions even, the stations are full of them.”

“But that would mean they’d lose a brother and a sister as well as their parents. They’d cease to be part of the same family. Vanya, I can’t bear it. I can’t go through with it.”

“Yes,” Vanya replied, “you will.”

“They’ll be settled in separate families,” continued Satinov. “I have the families in mind. They’re couples without children, not involved in politics in any way—but decent, kind people. If you come back, if all this is nothing, if you’re just exiled, you won’t be able to live in Moscow for a long time but the children’ll be ready for you, I promise. And they’ll come and join you wherever you are. But if not, and things look bad…”

“Tell me who they are, please, these families. Who are they?” beseeched Sashenka, her voice cracking.

“No one except me can know where they settle. Helping children of Enemies of the People would cost all of us our heads. But I can do it, Sashenka. The paperwork’ll be lost, and they’ll disappear safely. You’re not alone. Many sent their children to the countryside in thirty-seven. So this is my offer. If you accept this, I swear that I’ll watch over your children as long as I have breath in my body. It will be my life’s mission. But you have to decide right now.”

Vanya looked at Sashenka and she looked at him. Finally she turned to Satinov.

“Oh Hercules,” she croaked—but she nodded.

She tried to hug Satinov but he shrank from her and she understood how he felt because she’d felt it herself. When doomed friends were put on ice in ’37, waiting for arrest, she avoided them as if they were infectious, as if they carried the plague, because in those times such connections could be fatal. Now she was the leper and this dear friend was helping her.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “You’re a decent man, an honest Communist.”

“Believe me, I’m not so great,” Satinov said.

“All right,” he said then. “First, I have telegrams to send. Get the children ready tonight. You can send them anytime from tomorrow. Or you can wait until one of you is taken and you know more. You depart tomorrow for Stalinabad, don’t you, Vanya? But if they take you, will you be able to get a message out? I’m leaving tonight on a special Central Committee train so I’ll be in Tiflis tomorrow. I’m heading a new mission and I’ll be in the south for a month. It’s a blessing because it means I can help you. I’ll give you my telegram details. And this is important: if you’re arrested, I need time to settle the children before the Organs come looking. Vanya, you know what I’m saying. Don’t even think about harming yourselves. Give me the cover, whatever it costs you. I’ll use it well, understand? Now, stage one. Would Carolina take them on the first part of the journey?”

Sashenka thought of the stick-thin Volga German woman. For a moment she hesitated. In her flux of fear, Sashenka wondered if the nanny would betray them. Truly they could trust no one. Then, “Yes,” she said, “I believe she’d go to the ends of the earth for those children.”

“Get her,” said Vanya but Sashenka was already knocking on Carolina’s door. When she saw Carolina’s anxious face, she realized that the nanny knew something was wrong—she hardly needed to explain. A few words sufficed.

Sashenka fought back tears and understood from the grim determination on Carolina’s face and her set jaw that she had observed their suffering of the past hours.

“Come and join us,” said Sashenka. The distinctions of mistress and servant vanished in a second, their power to save (or destroy) each other making them equals.

“Right,” said Satinov when Sashenka and the nanny returned. “You understand that whatever happens, I was never here. Vanya, Sashenka, the last time we ever met was at the Granovsky at dinner with my wife. We didn’t talk politics. I know nothing of your fate. You must book Carolina’s tickets and passes as soon as possible. Call the station, work out times, right now, tonight even.” He placed two identity cards on the table. “These are the papers for two orphans from the Dzerzhinsky Orphanage. Carolina must travel on her own papers but the children’s tickets will be in false names. There are constant inspections on the stations and trains these days. Sashenka, destroy the children’s passports—don’t leave them in the dacha!”

“Where should Carolina go?” asked Sashenka. “Could she take them home with her to her village?”