Page 13 of A War Apart

Han would be back soon. He couldn’t find out.

I struggled to my feet. I needed to burn my clothes. I couldn’t let him see. He’d blame himself.

The kitchen fire was still burning from earlier, when Marya Ivanovna had made our breakfast kasha. I added the wood and put my torn sarafan on top. The dress caught quickly, despite the blood-soaked fabric.

Clean. I had to clean the sitting room. Han couldn’t see the sitting room.

The muscles in my stomach clenched, making me cry out. I had to be more careful how I moved. I didn’t want to hurt the baby.

I stepped into the sitting room. Marya Ivanovna. What would I do with the body? Han couldn’t see Marya Ivanovna’s body.

I’d have to drag it outside. Back to the garden. Kyril Kyrilovich could do something with it afterward. He loved Han. He wouldn’t let Han find out.

I grabbed an arm and dragged the body through the kitchen. It was so heavy. My stomach clenched with the movement, and I doubled over. It hurt so much. They must have bruised something in my stomach.

The muscles relaxed again, and I pulled my load harder. I had to get it out before Han came back.

Too slowly, I made it to my garden. He wouldn’t look out here. I pushed the body out the door and turned back.

A trail of blood led through the house. I had to clean it. He couldn’t see the blood. He’d know something had happened.

Marya Ivanovna had left the dishwater in the big wooden tub. I upended it on the kitchen floor, turning the crimson blood pink.

Rags. I needed rags. Where did we keep the rags?

I found a pile in the corner. They weren’t clean, but they would have to do. I started scrubbing the floor. Han would be home for supper. I had to finish before then.

A sound came from the front of the house. Han? I froze. He couldn’t find out.

A scream, then a pause. A trembling voice asked, “Hello?”

Not Han. Yegor Miloshovich’s grandson. He worked in the stable twice a week. What was his name? I couldn’t focus.

“Is anyone here?” the boy called.

I opened my mouth to answer, but my stomach clenched again. The words became a scream.

Quick footsteps sounded, and the boy came into the kitchen.

As the clenching stopped, I realized I was naked. I needed to cover myself, not let the boy see me naked, but I had to finish cleaning before Han returned.

“You’re hurt!”

“Not my blood.” I kept scrubbing. I had to finish.

The boy stood in the doorway, eyes wide and face ashen. “Han Antonovich is in Selyik, right? I’ll go find him.”

“No!” Han couldn’t see this. He had to stay gone until I finished cleaning.

He stepped closer. “You need help, Mila Dmitrievna. I’m going to get your husband.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but another clench of my stomach muscles dropped me onto the ground. “Anna,” I managed to gasp. “Get Anna.”

He stared at me for a moment, then rushed out the door.

I lay in the puddle of bloody water, my face on the floor. The clenching was happening more often. Something was wrong.

How long had I lain here? Hours. It had been hours. Anna Ilynichna was coming. I had to stay calm until Anna came.

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