Gone by Nightfall

by Dee Garretson

  “Our father had red hair because my grandmother is Scottish, though our grandfather was American,” I explained. “She had the same red hair when she was young.”

  “It’s very distinctive,” Dmitri said. “I like it.” He sounded as if he meant it, which surprised me. Some people acted as if our hair color were a burden we had to bear, or worse, that redheads were so out of control with their fiery tempers, they’d bring disaster to any family. My red hair had been an additional mark against me with Pavel’s mother.

  I watched Dmitri examine the room, which I realized was in quite a state. At least the rabbit cage was clean and didn’t smell; the rabbits dozed in one corner next to each other. The rest of the room looked like no one had straightened it up in weeks. Miles’s manuscripts were piled everywhere, some of the stacks of paper topped with Stepan’s tin soldiers. Stepan claimed he couldn’t remember history unless he could use his soldiers to set up the battles, though for some reason the soldiers were always accompanied by his collection of Dymkovo toys, the colorful little clay ducks he loved. Sometimes both sides would be made up of ducks, and they’d end up intermingling, grouped in little circles, a nicer thought than actual men throwing themselves into hell.

  “I hear your former tutor left quite suddenly,” Dmitri said as he hobbled all around, examining some of the books on the shelves and Hap’s drawings stuck on the walls. The latest ones were mostly of kikimoras, the strange spirits from Russian folktales that some described as little old women with large chicken feet. Hap’s versions of them were rather scary.

  “And I heard the reason the poor fellow left was because he thought the house was cursed.” Dmitri moved over to the globe and put his fingers on it to make it spin. I noticed again how long his fingers were. His hands were those of a pianist. An image flashed into my head of him sitting next to me on a piano bench, leaning in to turn the pages, his eyes fixed on me. The image was so clear, it was like a memory, though of course it had never happened.

  My face felt hot and I put my hands on my cheeks to cool it down. What was wrong with me?

  “Yes, he thought he saw a kikimora and found her wet footprints in his room,” Miles said. He walked over to a pile of manuscripts on a table by the window, acting as if he had just noticed them. Very casually, he took one off the top and moved it to the bottom of the stack. That meant it was something he didn’t want either me or the tutor to read. It was probably some lurid, gothic-type horror story. He and Hap delighted in coming up with outrageous scenarios Miles could write.

  Miles turned back to face us. “Monsieur Girard even saw her moving down the hall late one night. A small, dark shape scurrying away from his door.” I noticed that Stepan had his eyes fixed on the floor.

  “Interesting.” Dmitri studied the room like he was trying to memorize it. He went over to a cupboard and opened it. I almost expected a deluge to fall from it, because as usual it was crammed full of a jumble of old games and books and art supplies.

  “Stories about kikimoras can be quite frightening to the gullible,” Dmitri said as he reached in and pulled out a robe of blue silk with stars embroidered on it. The robe was one Miles used when he told fortunes. Dmitri laid it over a chair, then reached in the cabinet again and pulled a piece of black fabric from under a broken microscope. He held it up and examined it as if he’d never seen fabric before, and then put it over his shoulders like a cape.

  “A little short for me,” he said. “My older sister was one of the gullible ones. My younger brother and I convinced her our house was haunted. It was too easy to do: strange noises in the night, wrapping ourselves in gray cloth and walking about, that sort of thing. Very childish of us, I know, and we later confessed when we saw how upset she was.” He pulled the fabric off and tossed it back inside along with the robe, shutting the door.

  I’d never seen all three brothers rendered speechless at the same time. I was impressed despite myself. Maybe Dmitri Antonovich wasn’t just full of book knowledge. Though, looking at him, I found it hard to imagine him as a boy playing pranks.

  “Why don’t we talk for a bit about where you are in your studies?” Dmitri asked, as if he hadn’t noticed the boys’ reaction.

  “Where you actually are,” I said to them. “Not claiming you haven’t learned something you’ve covered so it will be easy for you the second time around.”

  “We only did that once,” Hap said, sounding indignant. “And that was three or four tutors ago.”

  Miles picked up another piece of paper, crumpled it up, and threw it in the direction of the fire. It didn’t make it that far, but Hap scooped it up and tossed it the rest of the way.

  “Yes, don’t believe everything my sister says,” Miles added. “She’s actually the real troublemaker of the family. Would you believe she once ran away, intending to join the circus?”

  I put up my hands. “Miles! Stop. I’m sure Dmitri Antonovich doesn’t want to hear our family stories. That was years ago.”

  Stepan piped up. “Maybe the tutor wouldn’t want to hear, but he might like to see you juggle on horseback and on a unicycle. That’s her talent. She was sure the circus would give her a job. Show him how you can juggle, Lottie.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment and forced myself to take a couple of deep breaths. When I opened them, I saw Dmitri looking at me.

  His mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “That is quite a talent,” he said. “I’d like to see that sometime.”

  I absolutely could not picture myself juggling in front of him. I’d drop everything.

  Miles’s attention was caught by something out the window. “Charlotte, your friend is in the courtyard.” He turned around and smiled at me. “When are you going to tell us about your mysterious peasant?”

  “Don’t be such a snob.” I needed to get downstairs and see if the man I’d seen earlier was still watching the house. Ivan would have to be careful when he left if the man was still there. “He’s not my mysterious peasant. Mr. Sokolov, my brother is just trying to stir up trouble. Miles, you know very well it’s Ivan.”

  “It’s mysterious that Ivan comes all the way to Petrograd to visit you.”

  I didn’t like the sly tone in Miles’s voice. I hadn’t realized he’d been paying attention to Ivan’s visits. “Stop acting like you don’t know he delivers the wood.” Miles could be so infuriating at times. I knew I shouldn’t let him bait me. It was always better to ignore him. “I have to go to the hospital, so I won’t be back until after dinner,” I said. “Hap, I’m counting on you to let Dmitri Antonovich know the schedule.”

  When I opened the door to leave, Nika tumbled inside. I knew what she’d been doing.

  “Nika, you shouldn’t eavesdrop!” I scolded.

  She got up and smiled. “I’m not Nika. I’m Sophie.”

  The twins never gave up trying to fool us. “You are definitely Nika. Where is Sophie?” I asked.

  Sophie poked her head around the door. “I’m here, but I’m Nika. We wanted to meet the new tutor.”

  I noticed that Polina had succeeded in getting them dressed, but they still had orange hands and hair. “Where’s Polina?” I asked, wondering how they’d managed to escape from her again.

  “Nika, I mean Sophie, spilled milk on her,” Sophie said. “She had to go change.”

  The best way to get them back to Polina without an argument would be to give them a look at the tutor. “Dmitri Antonovich, may I present my sisters, Sofiya Feodorovna Cherkasskaya and Veronika Feodorovna Cherkasskaya,” I said. “They’re a little hard to tell apart if you don’t know them, but Nika has a scar on her cheek from falling out of a tree she wasn’t supposed to climb.”

  The two giggled. Dmitri bowed. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, ladies.”

  The twins’ eyes widened. Nika grabbed Sophie’s hand. “You have a nice nose,” Nika blurted out, and then she dragged Sophie out of the room.

  Dmitri looked totally bemused. “I’ve never been complimented on m
y nose before,” he said.

  He actually did have a rather nice nose. “Nika has an odd fixation on noses,” I told him. “Don’t mind them. I’m sorry they seem to have lost their manners. I’m sure they’ll be back, but just send them away if they are nuisances. Now I really do have to go.”

  “Charlotte, wait,” Miles said. “Have you seen Raisa lately?”

  Something was definitely odd. No one knew I had planned to see Raisa the night before except Raisa. It was too much of a coincidence for Miles to bring up her name when he hadn’t spoken of her for months. She said she’d seen him, but I couldn’t believe she’d have mentioned we were going to meet. It would put Miles in danger to know about any of our black-market arrangements. I couldn’t ask him about it in front of Dmitri, though. I’d have to get to the bottom of it later when I could talk to Miles alone.

  “I did, as a matter of fact,” I told him. “We met for tea and she gave me a book of poems she thought you’d like. It’s in my room if you want it.”

  He looked away. “I was just curious. When we were working on the magic trick, I remembered how much she liked helping us. I’m not much interested in poetry these days, but maybe I’ll take a look at the book later.”

  Miles never explained any of his thoughts to that extent. It was as if he was making excuses. He never made excuses. This wasn’t the brother I knew. “Go,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.”

  As I went out in the hall and closed the door behind me, I heard Stepan. “Dmitri Antonovich, tell us the truth. How close are the German troops to Petrograd?”

  I almost went back in to hear Dmitri’s answer, though I didn’t know if he’d actually tell the truth. In a way I hoped that if the news was bad, he would lie. I didn’t know how Stepan had gotten it in his head that we could be overrun by the German army at any moment. No matter how often Miles went over the map with him to show him that the front line was hundreds of miles away, Stepan couldn’t be convinced. He’d been a worried child even before the war, prone to nightmares, which had gotten more frequent the longer the fighting dragged on.

  I hated that he had to grow up worrying about war. He’d never forget it. None of us would, of course, except maybe the twins if the war ended soon. My stomach clenched as the anger rose in me, the anger I felt each time I thought of the war. It wasn’t fair, any of it, and it was all caused because some powerful men couldn’t be satisfied with what they had. They always had to grab more. The worst of it was that we were powerless to do anything but try to keep going until the war ended.

  I hurried to my room, shut the door, and then went to the window. The man was still there, though he was stomping his feet and moving around like he was cold and wanted to leave. Ivan would have to be careful, but I knew he’d agree with me—we weren’t going to let an Okhrana spy get the better of us. The hospital would keep going, at least. I would make sure of that.

  I got the rubles to pay Ivan and put them in a small envelope. I knew the butler thought Ivan and I had some sort of scandalous flirtation going on, and I wanted to encourage that presumption, so I put some of my mother’s perfume on the envelope to make it seem like a love note. Since it bulged with the rubles, I’d have to hold it so Archer wouldn’t get a look at how thick it was. Even the totally infatuated wouldn’t write that many pages.

  Before I left the room, I picked up the book of poetry. It was a volume by Pushkin. I didn’t remember Raisa ever being particularly interested in poetry, but I supposed she could have turned to it as a distraction from not being allowed her music. I set it back down and headed to the kitchen, wondering if I’d completely misread Miles’s lack of interest in Raisa.

  I heard Archer complaining as I came down the stairs to the lower level.

  “Those hooligans will bring down more and more bad luck on us! Three of the red-haired troublemakers! One would be bad enough. And not even the general’s own children! He should have sent them back to America after that woman died.” Archer never referred to my mother except as that woman.

  I’d heard all of it before. Many times Archer said such things right in front of us, muttering loudly enough to himself that we could hear it. There was no way to stop it. Miles, Hap, and I talked about telling our stepfather, but we knew Papa depended on Archer, so we’d decided just to put up with it. Archer had come to Russia years ago with Papa’s first wife, who was also English, and he’d stayed after she died, becoming a fixture in the house.

  The housekeeper, as always, tried to defend us. “Mr. Archer! You stop right now! They are good children, just high-spirited, and the general would be lost without them.”

  “It’s all right, Zarja,” I said as I came around the corner. “You don’t need to stand up for us. I know my brothers are a bit trying.”

  Archer sniffed. “More than a bit trying. They are a bad influence on Stepan. They’re sure to end up in jail someday. Did you know they have been collecting materials to make fireworks? Monsieur Girard informed me, and I took the liberty of confiscating their supplies. Mr. Miles had the audacity to claim it was for a science experiment. They could have burned down the entire house!”

  “If it’s too much for you, you can always retire, Mr. Archer,” Zarja said. “I’m sure the general would give you a generous pension, and then you can go back to England.”

  He sniffed again. “Someone has to stay and protect this house.”

  I didn’t want to be drawn in to their ongoing bickering. I headed to the back door, waving the envelope so that the scent of it filled the air around me. As I opened the door, I heard Archer mutter, “Just like her mother. Always running after men, even peasants!”

  He’s just a sad old man, he’s just a sad old man, I chanted to myself, determined not to snap at him. It wouldn’t do any good, and if he saw me get angry, it would give him a reason to feel superior. I did allow myself to slam the door behind me, but it didn’t make me feel much better.

  The snow had stopped, but it was still very cold. Ivan was waiting in his sleigh. “Little sister, you should have on a hat,” he called as I walked across the courtyard.

  “I know,” I said, already feeling the chill on the top of my head. Ivan was bundled up in a long sheepskin coat and a fur hat, bits of ice in his beard. He was Yermak’s younger cousin, though they looked enough alike that Ivan could be mistaken for Yermak’s son. Before the war, Ivan had had the reputation of being the fastest woodcutter in the neighborhood around the dacha, but after he was conscripted and sent to the front, he lost an arm and was sent home. He could still cut an amazing amount of wood, though no one bothered to have competitions any longer. There weren’t enough men left, and the women cut the wood they needed, not caring about proving who was the best.

  His sleigh appeared to be piled full of wood. I knew that only half of it was wood, stacked onto crates full of food.

  “Any problems this trip?” I asked as I handed him the envelope.

  “Not for me, though others have run into trouble. Things are getting worse. Too many soldiers have deserted and they are hungry. They’ll stop a sleigh full of food and take what they want.”

  “Don’t come if it’s too dangerous. Olga and the little ones need you.” I felt I had to say it, but once the words were out of my mouth, I tried to keep a flutter of panic down. I didn’t know what we’d do without the food. There were such long lines at the shops, and we couldn’t buy enough in any one place for all the patients.

  He grinned and pounded his fist on his chest. “I’d like to see them try to stop me.”

  “Be careful when you leave,” I said. “There is someone in front of the house who may be watching us, but I don’t think he saw you since you came through the back. When you come next time, keep an eye out.”

  “A dirty spy watching the general’s house! I’d like to get a hold of that swine and teach him some respect!” Ivan squeezed his fist together like he was crushing something in his hand.

  “I’ve heard things may be back to normal befo
re long,” I said, repeating what I heard from Papa almost every day.

  “Ah, if only it were so. I hear that too, but I also hear some people claim they can get milk from chickens,” Ivan said. “We shall see. The land captains are getting more and more demanding that we prove we don’t have any food to turn over to them. No one is happy with that.” His face turned serious. “I hope I can keep coming to town, but you should make other plans in case I can’t.” He slapped his leg. “Enough serious talk. We’ll have faith things will improve. And how are the little girls?” he asked. “Olga says she is counting the days until you come in the summer. She can’t wait to see them.”

  “They are fine and healthy,” I said, though the panic was increasing. I didn’t know how to make any other plans to get supplies.

  “Good, good. Where is Yermak? I thought he’d be here to help unload.”

  “He took my stepfather somewhere. I’ll help.”

  We had a whole system worked out where Ivan would place the wagon so that he could unload the wood he’d brought for the house, and then slide out the crates of food to be carried into the carriage house without any neighbors seeing what we were doing. I didn’t trust some of those people. I wasn’t even sure I trusted Archer not to report us if he saw.

  Yermak had made a special cupboard for the food inside the carriage house so I could take it into the hospital bit by bit as if I’d bought it at a shop along my way. The cook at the hospital knew where the food came from and wouldn’t report us, but since there were others in and out of the building all day, it was better to be cautious.

  When we had finished, Ivan climbed back up in the sleigh and jerked his head toward the house. “Old Archer is watching us out the window. I see his face is still as sour as vinegar.”

  “Yes, he doesn’t change.” I reached up and put my hand on Ivan’s sleeve. It would give Archer even more to grumble about. “Thank you,” I said. “Stay safe.”