Blooms of Darkness

60

What Mariana guessed would happen finally happens, but a bit differently from how she had imagined it. While they are sitting under an oak, drinking tea and contemplating the fire, three short men suddenly appear. They are dressed in old leather coats. “Get up, woman, and come with us,” one of them orders.

Mariana is stunned. “Why?” she asks. “What did I do?”

“It’s an order,” he replies.

“I refuse to obey this illegal order.”

“Why be stubborn, woman?” He speaks in an intentionally relaxed way.

“I never did harm to anyone. Why should I go with you?”

“You can make your arguments to the authorities. Meanwhile, get up and come with us.”

“I refuse to go. I have a son, and I have to watch over him.”

“I repeat what I said. Get up and come with us. The interrogation will be short, and afterward they’ll let you go. Why are you being stubborn? It’s not helping you.”

“Why?” She raises her head, as though she has just woken up.

“There’s no why. This is an order.”

“What is my name, if you’ve been sent to get me?” She musters her courage and cunning.

“Mariana Podgorsky,” he answers, and shows her the piece of cardboard in his hand.

“I won’t go. Evil tongues must be answered with contempt.”

Even to that the man responds with moderation and says, “If I were in your place, I wouldn’t be stubborn.”

“But I am being stubborn.”

“If so,” says the man, and he pulls a pistol from his belt, “we’ll have no choice but to shoot you. Our order is to bring you in alive or to kill you. It would be easier to kill you and put an end to the whole business.”

Hugo sees the three men up close. They are short, sturdy, and indifferent. He wants to approach them and beg for Mariana’s life, but he is so frightened that the words freeze in his mouth.

The pistol and the coldness that accompany the man’s last words apparently convince Mariana, and she rises to her feet.

Now it’s clear — she’s a head taller than they are.

“Walk, and we’ll follow you,” he says without raising his voice.

Hugo and Mariana start walking. The men don’t hurry them. After a few minutes of walking, without turning her head back to them, Mariana asks, “Why do you need me? I’ll thank you if you tell me the truth.”

“You have nothing to be afraid of. The Russians aren’t like the Germans. With the Russians, nothing is arbitrary. Every innocent person will be freed. You’ll be freed, too. After all, you didn’t kill anyone.”

“I didn’t commit any crime, and I didn’t murder.” She clings to those words.

“You have nothing to fear.” He continues talking in a moderate tone of voice. “They’ll investigate and examine, and in the end they’ll let you go. You need some patience, that’s all.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To the headquarters.”

“They’ve hardly arrived, and they’re investigating already.”

“A week has passed since the region was liberated. Now they’re checking into everything, and in a little while new life will begin.”

“Since my childhood, I’ve supported myself. No one helped me.” Mariana brings a new tone into the conversation.

Hugo feels as if he’s in a dream, constricted and bound. Even to reach out and take her hand, even that small gesture, is not within his power.

“Mariana,” he whispers.

“What, honey?”

“Where are we going?”

“You heard,” she says curtly.

It turns out they were very close to the city, and right near the river. Hugo remembers clearly the long walks he took with his father. Those were always times of contemplation, mindfulness, and love of nature. He had especially liked the summer walks. On Friday afternoons, on their way home, they would meet bearded Jews going to synagogue. Seeing those Jews, his father would fall silent. In answer to Hugo’s question as to whether those were the real Jews, his father would give a long reply that would confuse things more than it clarified them. Hugo remembers his father’s slight embarrassment and the silence that accompanied it.

“Are we going to walk through the city?” Mariana asks, again without turning to face them.

“The headquarters are located on the outskirts of the city. We’re not far from there.”

“Why don’t you let me go, brothers?” She addresses them without imploring.

“We’re on duty, and our duty won’t permit us to do things like that.”

“We’re brothers, we’re all Ukrainians and the children of Ukrainians,” Mariana says. “What if you tell them that you couldn’t find me?”

“We’ve already been looking for you for three days. We can’t come back empty-handed.”

“I’ll pay you double.”

“We’re Communists and believe in Comrade Stalin.”

“We’re Ukrainians and believe in God and Jesus His Messiah,” Mariana replies. “Leaders come and go, but God is eternal.” There is strength in her voice.

“Communism has done away with the old beliefs.” He isn’t swept away by what she says.

“I would be careful about defying God,” Mariana says. “God is in heaven, and He hears everything. On Judgment Day, we’ll all stand before Him.”

“Are you threatening us?”

“I have no pistol to threaten you. I wanted to remind you that Ukrainians didn’t lose their faith in God even in the dark days.”

“What do you want? We’re just on duty and doing what we’ve been told to do. If you have any complaints, raise them at headquarters. There they will clarify everything. There everything is in order. They’ll hear you out and free you.”

“I want to remind you that I’m a loyal daughter of our tribe. None of us is the height of perfection. I was in the underworld with the God of our fathers. I never abandoned Him, even for a moment.”

“In heaven you’ll be found innocent,” he says curtly.

“I hope that you’ll also find me innocent, if only for the sake of my son, who doesn’t have a living soul in the world.”

“Where’s his father?”

“God knows.”

“Tell them everything in headquarters. They’ll listen to you and let you go.”

“They’re Communists. They don’t believe in God. If I were in your place, I would let the woman go. How much are they paying you for me?”

“We’re Communists. We do everything because of our faith,” he says, rejecting her request.

They reach the outskirts of the city, and Hugo immediately recognizes the area. The place is full of poplars; they appear in every yard and on every sidewalk. His father had a Ukrainian childhood friend there, a man whom they would sometimes visit on their way home after a walk along the river.

All of a sudden shouts are heard, shouts that shatter their tranquility. At first they sound to Hugo like expressions of wonder or condolence, but soon it becomes clear that they are the sounds of fury before an attack. In no time at all they are showered with stones. Mariana hugs the suitcase, trying to protect her face. The guards grin. “The people have recognized you. How do they know you?” one of them asks, hoping to provoke her.

“They’ve gone crazy,” replies Mariana, as though it didn’t concern her.

They walk on in the green tranquility of spring. What happened to them a few minutes ago now seems like an unrelated outburst, and Mariana repeats her request. “Leave me be. Let me go home.”

“To what home?”

“My mother died. I’ll go to my sister’s.”

“Your sister won’t be happy to see you.”

“How do you know?”

“We spoke to her at length.”

“My sister is subject to moods.” Mariana tries to dismiss the unfavorable impression.

But when they emerge from a long, quiet alley, people once again recognize Mariana and throw stones at her. This time the guards are quicker and they shout at the stone-throwers to stop. When that doesn’t work, they fire shots into the air. Then it stops immediately.

“You did well,” says Mariana, breathing a sigh of relief.

They aren’t far from the headquarters. Mariana keeps muttering, but the guards don’t respond. They are tense, and if anyone dares to throw a stone or blunt object at them, a guard threatens the person with his gun. It’s apparently important to them to bring Mariana to the headquarters neither beaten nor wounded.

In the months that follow Hugo will think a great deal about that painful trip. He will try to remember everything that was said and everything that was implied. Mariana knew what awaited her. She tried to get herself out of it, but everyone was against her, and not even her courage helped her.

Even now, her self-control and her tall beauty do not escape Hugo’s eyes. Not even humiliation dampens her bright expression. “God, protect Mariana,” Hugo says, and he feels his knees go weak. Meanwhile, they arrive at the headquarters.

“We’re here,” says the man with the pistol, pleased that he has succeeded in bringing the captured woman to the entrance of the cage.

Mariana puts the suitcase on the ground. “Watch this, honey,” she says. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere.” She kisses Hugo’s forehead. Then she walks unhurriedly toward the low gate, bends down to walk through it, and disappears.