The next morning, after they ordered room service and had breakfast in bed, Nadia talked Kache into singing and playing his guitar in a park so she could film him. At first, he resisted. But she had agreed to come to Anchorage, so he agreed to play a song for a couple of squirrels.
Before long, there was a crowd not just of squirrels, but clapping, foot-stomping people. Bills and coins dropped into his guitar case by the handfuls and soon covered the felt lining in the bottom of it. Kache hadn’t played in public since he was eighteen. People kept approaching him, asking where he played. Did he have a CD or a website? Was he on iTunes? Kache kept shaking his head, saying, “No, man, sorry. This is all I have, right here.”
A short, sinewy man handed Nadia his card and told her to have Kache call him. Nadia laughed when she showed it to Kache. “As if I am in charge of you. Your boss.”
“He owns a bar. He probably thought you were my manager. Like a guy playing for pennies at the park has a manager.”
“Pennies? You make three hundred fifty-seven dollars.”
“You made it. It was your idea. You were the event coordinator. And you inspired their favorite song. Did you see how much they liked the ‘Nadia, You Unknotted Me’ song?”
“Everyone was clapping to it, and some even danced.”
Kache lifted his shoulders. “I just showed up and played, so give me ten bucks and we’ll call it good.”
“Really? I have never had money.”
“That three hundred forty-seven bucks will last you a long time back at home.”
Her eyes flashed, and she started to respond but stopped.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. It is very much money. I know it will not pay for all, but I want to pay for some of my clothes, not only this deduct you pretend to do.”
“Wait. I have an idea. Put this in your college fund.”
She smiled at that and agreed that she would.
• • •
Nadia slept the entire four-hour drive to Caboose. She had been a trooper, but although she seemed to want to take the whole city in her arms and bring it back with them—a huge bouquet of streetlights and cars and people and buildings—she was also exhausted by it.
His cell phone rang. It was Greg Barrow, reporting that Vladimir Tolov had left the Old Believer village about ten years ago. None of them had heard from him since. He’d asked around town too, and no one he’d talked to knew him.
Kache thanked Greg and pulled into the Caboose Safeway parking lot to pick up a few things they needed. The news about Vladimir wasn’t a surprise. Still, he couldn’t wait to tell Nadia. But she was sound asleep. He would just be a minute. He covered her with his jacket so she wouldn’t get cold and locked up the truck, cupped his hand against the window, and looked in. She was so tired and so pretty. He’d surprise her with a bag of peanut M&M’s. She couldn’t get enough of the things.
Inspired by the Halloween display, he grabbed a fancy, five-piece carving set. The photos on the back looked like the pumpkins had been carved up by Renoir. Those definitely hadn’t been around when he was a kid—at least, not in Caboose.
In the dairy aisle, while he checked dates on yogurt, he heard a familiar voice sing, “My boyfriend’s back and he’s looking at the yogurt. Hey la, hey la, my boyfriend’s back.”
He turned to see Marion pushing a cart up the aisle. “Hey, Mare,” he said and gave her a hug.
“I keep telling the guys you’ll be down to the Spit Tune. I say, ‘Don’t worry. He promised.’”
“I did?”
“Practically. Almost, anyway. How’s it going?” Her dark eyes went from teasing to genuine. “Snag said you’re working hard at the homestead. God, I’d love to see that place again. Lots of memories. Is it tough to be out there?”
“Thanks for asking. Actually, I’m enjoying it. Surprised?”
“Yes. But I’m glad to hear it. Glad you’re back too. I’ve missed you, Kache.”
Marion would make a good friend for Nadia. The thought of Nadia made him drop his yogurt in the basket, grab a gallon of milk, and say, “I’ve gotta run.”
“Kache, I—”
“I really am going to try to come play with you guys soon.”
They kissed cheeks, and he rushed to the candy aisle to grab the peanut M&M’s.
CHAPTER
FORTY-EIGHT
In Nadia’s dream, Kache was singing, interrupted by Russian voices calling back and forth as if she’d last heard them only hours ago instead of a decade. Some were complaining about the cost of toilet paper, and she wondered how this fit into her dream about flying from building top to building top with Kache. Then there they were, a few Old Believers soaring alongside them, asking one another if they remembered to pick up the oranges that were on sale. It would be good to have the oranges. And then they were throwing the oranges at her, and she woke up, sitting up in the truck. Where was Kache? Where was she?
The Safeway parking lot. And in front of her, two Old Believer women in their bright, printed sarafans, loading groceries into their truck. Did she know them? Had they seen her? She lay back down, straining to hear, but they said nothing more. The doors slammed, the engine started, and the headlights glared through the windshield while Nadia kept her face pressed to the vinyl seat. Those women could have been her little sisters, and she would not know them by their voices, and perhaps not even by their faces. They were ten and eleven when she last saw them. Now they were older than she had been then, wearing two braids instead of one. Married. Grown women with families who went shopping for oranges and paper towels. It could have been her sisters or someone else from the village. It even could have been Katarina.
When Kache finally unlocked the door, she bolted up. She shook all over. “Why did you leave me?”
He apologized before she told him what happened and then apologized again after. He was sincere, but she still could not believe he left her like that, asleep and unaware. Anyone might have wandered up to the truck and seen her.
“Will these help my standing?” He held out a bag of the chocolate-and-peanut candies she loved.
She grabbed them. “No. But I will eat them anyway.”
“I won’t ever do that again. No matter how peaceful and beautiful you look sleeping, I will wake up your sorry ass. Deal?”
“My sorry ass? What are you saying? Because of the scar you say this?”
“Nadia. Oh God, no. I am so sorry. It’s just an expression. I wasn’t thinking.” They were quiet until they pulled onto the road that led out of town. “I’m an idiot.”
“What if Vladimir had seen me?”
“Vladimir is long gone.”
“How are you this certain?”
He tried to take her hand, but she slipped out of his grasp and folded her arms. He let out a long sigh and rubbed his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve asked around.” He told her that his friend the mechanic knew many of the Old Believers and had found out about Vladimir from numerous sources.
“So he has been gone all this time?”
“He has.” Kache stayed silent for several miles until he said, “I bet he went back to Oregon. You said he wandered into your village one day, telling a tale, right? There were no other women of marrying age.”
Nadia’s face fell into her hands. “I worry about my sweet sisters, if he somehow got to them. I only fled. I didn’t protect them.”
“You protected them and yourself by leaving. He told you he would kill them all if you said anything. My guess is he moved on a long time ago. Your sisters weren’t of age yet, right? There was nothing for him there. Nadia, I can go and scope things out, pretend I just took a wrong turn.”
“That is old trick. It is not possible to just wander in without trying with all your might to find this place. You can so-call ‘wander’ into the bigger village, Ural—ev
en though everyone knows you are snooping, they will probably be friendly. But you have to hike into Altai or take ATV. They are not believing it was accidental, and it may make them suspicious, especially if you ask any questions related to me.”
A truck approached from the other direction, and she dove down to the floorboard until they passed.
“We’ve got to think of some solution so you don’t have to hide. Look, you’ve been hinting around about going to college. You went to school when you lived at home, right?”
“Of course. I learn English, math, many things.”
“Then you’re going to need your school transcripts, the record of your education, and your birth certificate too.”
She stared at him. “Shit damn.”
He smiled. He always smiled when she swore, which seemed to make it less effective, less satisfying, but she still liked to swear whenever the occasion called for it. “Shit,” she said again.
“They say it happens,” he said and reached across the back of the seat to place his large hand on that soft space he liked between her shoulder and her neck.
CHAPTER
FORTY-NINE
As Sleep deprived as she felt with all the late-night goings-on with Gilly, Snag set her mind to scheduling a dinner with Kache out at the homestead. She hadn’t seen him in weeks. She dialed his number as she walked, pulling the wagon with her deliveries, waving to the passersby who called out to her. Kache didn’t answer, which wasn’t a big surprise. He was busting out ten different projects. But Snag swore she’d keep calling until they set a date.
Nadia had been allowed more than enough time to acclimate to people. She’d been in town—Snag had heard it from about five different people. Something about Kache’s cousin.
Ha! More like kissing cousin. If she could sleep with Kache, she could certainly say howdy and shake hands with Snag. She’d been out to see Lettie and even to Anchorage, for Pete’s sake.
Not that Snag had minded delaying the visit for her own reasons. But now she was determined to face down her failure and her breach and stand herself in that house, come what may.
Snag had procrastinated on scheduling the dinner for another reason besides her own issues and trying to accommodate the Old Believer: it was worry over Lettie. Lettie wasn’t very strong, and it was a long trip, a long way from the hospital if anything should go wrong. Since they’d stopped giving Lettie the blood pressure meds, she was doing much better mentally. Snag knew that wasn’t so physically. But Gilly had said she’d go, and since Gilly was a nurse, that made Snag feel better.
Kache and Snag kept missing each other at the Old Folks’, playing a lot of phone tag, leaving rambling messages to keep each other caught up. The fact that he was not only sleeping with, but also living with this woman gave Snag some concerns. But it wasn’t her business. She was finally in her own business, and what a joyous relief. She was sixty-five and in love, and for the first time, someone loved her right back.
But she had to at least get out and meet Nadia. It was odd, first of all, that Kache was involved with a woman from the Old Believer village—it wasn’t like they mingled with the heathen much. But even odder, Snag herself had once, long ago, had an encounter with an Old Believer. At least, she was pretty sure she was an Old Believer. It was so long ago but still vivid in her mind. The Winkels’ was the very last homestead before you reached the remote Russian villages, so Snag supposed that if any family were to have multiple rendezvous with Old Believers, it could very well be the Winkels of Caboose, Alaska.
• • •
Snag was thirteen years old, down at the beach, loading the wheelbarrow with coal and a metal pail with mussels. It was one of those summer days that stretches on and on. She was content, alone, with the sunshine warm on the back of her neck and arms as she foraged among the rocks. The tide was out, and it was so bright that the dimpled wet sand mirrored the mountains. She heard something and looked up, half expecting the bear and cubs they’d been spotting all summer, but instead, she saw a girl about her age, strolling down the beach. She wore a long, brightly flowered dress and carried a kerchief, her blond hair blowing behind her. She walked directly up to Snag and said hello. Snag heard an accent but didn’t know where the girl was from. She could have come walking across the water from the USSR for all Snag knew.
The girl asked if she had water, and Snag let her drink from the thermos. The girl said, “I walk much farther than I plan. Are you boy?”
“No.”
“But your hair is short and you wear trousers and you are tall like boy.”
“Yep. That’s right. But I’m a girl.”
The girl flung her hair so that the wind caught it again, a silk flag threaded with gold. “I am girl also.”
“Obviously.”
“I am married. I am going to have baby.”
“No way. You’re too young for all that.”
“It is because of my culture.” Her lip trembled, and her chin crinkled up.
Snag nodded as if she understood.
The girl said, “You have this pretty face. Like pretty boy.”
Surprisingly, this didn’t sting. It sounded like a compliment. Snag grinned despite herself.
“Will you do me favor?” the girl asked. “This secret favor?”
Snag nodded, knowing she would do whatever the girl asked.
“Will you kiss me?”
Kiss her? That was the last thing Snag had imagined, but it began to seem like the most natural thing in the world, kissing this girl, on this beach, on this day.
So Snag said, “Yes.” She set down her pail of mussels next to the wheelbarrow half-filled with coal, and she placed her arms around the girl’s waist, the way she had seen men do in the movies. The girl knew what she was doing far more than Snag did, which, of course, wasn’t saying much, but they managed to kiss and kiss some more. It still remained one of Snag’s sweetest, loveliest memories. They took a break from the kissing and watched the sky settle into layers of reds, yellows, and lavenders, which reflected in foam cresting the quieted waves. Eventually, the girl rose from where they’d been sitting on a large piece of sun-bleached driftwood. She said, “Tide returning. I must to go back.”
Snag asked, “Can you meet me here tomorrow?”
“No. I cannot come back again. Not ever.”
Snag hung her head.
“We feel sadness together.” The girl reached out and hugged Snag, and Snag held her tightly against her chest, where deep inside, she felt something shift, a permanent settling in. “Good-bye.”
“So long,” Snag said.
The girl let go and began to work her way back along the beach in the direction from which she’d come. Then she turned. “My name,” she called out over the cries of the gulls, “is Agafia!”
• • •
As vivid a memory as it was, Snag wondered many times if she’d merely imagined her. Snag was young, confused. She knew enough not to try to kiss any of her friends at school. There really weren’t any she wanted to kiss. And then this girl with lips the color of fireweed came out of nowhere and disappeared just as quickly? Maybe it was nothing more than a desperately needed daydream of a perplexed adolescent. Still, she found herself on that particularly ordinary day pulling her red wagon with vigor, the wheels turning as her mind turned up that name: Agafia. Strange, the things we remember.
• • •
As Snag rounded the bend above the McNicols’s Jellies and Jams shop, she spotted a row of cormorants resting on a driftwood log, holding their wings open to dry like flashers exposing themselves. “Why, aren’t you proud of yourselves?” she said.
Her phone rang, but the birds just stared at her like they were beyond annoyed with cell phones. It was Kache, inviting her and Lettie to Thanksgiving. After she asked what to bring, she asked if there was anything she needed to be careful about, that migh
t offend Nadia.
“What do you mean?”
“You know, the religious thing. There must be a lot she doesn’t approve of.”
“Aunt Snag, I told you. She isn’t an Old Believer. I mean, she came from them, but she doesn’t subscribe to their belief system.”
“I see.” Snag felt as if she had one leg over the edge of a bridge. She didn’t know if the water below was freezing or warm, too shallow or deep enough, but it called to her just the same. “So, Gilly’s going to come with us. Is that okay? I thought it would be good for Mom to have a nurse out there.”
“Of course. That would be good. I like Gilly.”
“Me too. A lot.”
“She’s great.”
“She’s incredible,” Snag added. “Did I tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Oh, just that Gilly is my girlfriend.”
“Yeah, I know you’re friends. You’ve been hanging out at the Spit Tune, right?”
“And we go other places.” Snag stopped walking to catch her breath and steady herself. “Like bed. We go to bed.”
“Oh?” And then, “Ohh. Oh, I get it.” And then, “That’s cool.”
“Is it? Cool with you?”
“You know what I really want to say, Aunt Snag? Good for you. It’s about fucking time. I’m happy for you. In fact, that just made my day.”
A lump in her throat. Some days, it just felt like the whole world was on your side. “That’s sweet of you, Kache. Thank you. And I’m looking forward to meeting your Nadia.”
“Better not call her mine. It might get me in trouble. She might start quoting Mom’s Betty Friedan books.”
“Well, good. I like her already.” Snag realized she liked everybody at that moment. Kache was cool with her and Gilly. Of course, she’d left out the other part he wouldn’t be so cool with. One step at a time, she told herself as she took the last hill toward home.
CHAPTER
FIFTY
How to explain to my passionate ten-year-old son that his beloved dog Walter was a broken and battered pile of agony at the bottom of a cliff? I can’t. I won’t. Glenn made his way down the treacherous drop—God only knows how he didn’t kill himself in the process—to see if he could save our dear, sweet Walter, each step full of such consternation, knowing our dog would be dead or worse.
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