Aimie Runyan - Daughters of the Night Sky

“Do you think I can do this on my own, Katya?”

“No,” I answered. “No one can. But with a regiment like ours behind you, you stand a chance.”

Hospital beds were more precious than the fallen tsar’s old gems, so after a week, Oksana was transferred back to the front against the doctor’s wishes, and I was sent to a convalescent center even farther east from the front lines, on the outskirts of Stalingrad. I had the privacy of my own bedroom, which was the most luxurious sleeping arrangement I’d known since the war broke out. The beds were more comfortable, the food somewhat better, but the medical staff and their supplies were far more scant than in the hospital. But as my side wasn’t in need of close medical attention, I gratefully gave my place in the hospital to those more grievously injured.

One night as I slept, I felt a warm body slide behind mine on the mattress and strong arms encircling me, carefully avoiding the injury on my right flank. It was still full dark, and I was too deep in slumber to be alarmed. My subconscious—the only part of me that lingered in wakefulness—knew the person meant me no harm. A person with foul intent wouldn’t have taken care to move so gently or to cover my exposed feet with the blanket. I did not scream but struggled to open my eyes to see who had joined me. I could tell it was a man’s arm as I became more aware of the waking world.

I summoned the strength to turn over, bracing my stitches as I turned, to see Vanya’s long eyelashes already resting heavily on his high cheekbones. He was seconds away from deep sleep, exhausted from the journey that had brought him to my side. I lowered my lips to his, gently, slowly tasting his sweetness. It had to be a dream. I burrowed my body as close to his as I dared and embraced him with all the strength I had left. His form felt too solid for the dreamworld. He did not vanish as I pulled him closer. I choked back a sob of relief as the reality of him in my arms began to register.

“My Vanyusha,” I whispered through my tears. “I love you.”

“And I love you, my darling Katyushka. Sleep, my lovely.” His soft snores filled the silence as soon as the words escaped his lips.

Vanya must have gotten word of my injury and been given leave to come to me. Such a thing wouldn’t have been permitted in a proper hospital, so I lay in the warmth of his arms, momentarily able to bear the restlessness I’d been feeling as my health improved and my regiment moved farther west.

I woke up to find myself still ensconced in Vanya’s arms and wondered what I could have done to have made me worthy of this comfort again.

“Good morning, darling,” he crooned in my ear. “How are you faring?”

“In your arms? As well as I’ve ever been.”

“Don’t tease, Katyushka. Tell me honestly.”

“I have a dozen stitches or more in my side. No infection. No pain medication, but I’m handling it well enough.” I didn’t call attention to the wooden shards that had shredded my skin. His face was blanched enough.

Vanya lifted my blouse and saw only a pristine white bandage covering my flank. He traced the edge of it with the tips of his fingers. When I moved to pull the hem down to hide the injury, he grabbed my hand, kissed my palm, and removed the top entirely. I looked to his face and saw circles dark as my night skies beneath them. His skin was tinged an unhealthy shade of gray, and he was far too thin. What troubled me most was the lack of fire in his dark eyes. An exhaustion that went far beyond sleep.

He caressed my breasts with hands roughened by months of incessant work at the front. “You’ll stop me if I do anything that hurts you?” he whispered into my neck. “How I’ve missed my beautiful Katyushka.”

I nodded.

His hands explored enthusiastically, as though mine were the first body he’d ever been given leave to claim, but as gently as if I were crafted of porcelain.

I felt his caresses go from feather light to intense in their desperation. I knew I ought to keep him at arm’s length for the sake of my recovery, but he’d been too long denied, and I was no less eager, despite the constant ache in my side. He entered me carefully and supported his weight on his forearms so that his torso barely brushed against my own. He moved slowly and deliberately, scanning my face for the first sign of discomfort.

He found his climax quickly, his expression sheepish, but I kissed the worry from his stubbly cheek as he repositioned himself, cradling me to his chest once again.

“I promised myself I wasn’t going to do that,” he said, his lips brushing against my forehead.

“You should know better than to make promises you don’t intend to keep.” I nuzzled his sharp collarbone with my nose, trying not to ruin the moment with the worry for his gaunt frame.

“I haven’t disturbed your stitches, have I?”

“Not at all, dearest.” The throbbing was no more than it usually was after a walk, so I took it as a good sign that all was still mending. “How long are you here?”

“I have a week, more or less,” he said, the lightness in his voice disappearing. “I couldn’t be spared for any longer.”

“I’ll take it,” I said, kissing his knuckles. “Tell me how you’ve been, Vanyusha. Really. The postcards, they conceal more than they tell.”

“My commander would be happy to hear that, at least. How else can I do? I fly a mission, hope to survive it, and fly another.”

“You look so thin.” I rubbed his cheek with my thumb, tracing the cheekbones that now protruded painfully due to the regimen of malnutrition and fatigue on which the army managed to survive.

“You’re not exactly plump and rosy cheeked, Katyushka.” He ran his fingers over my ribs, which were, admittedly, closer to the surface than they’d been when he’d last held me. “God, I can’t believe they almost got you.”

“Taisiya…” I still couldn’t say her name any louder than a whisper.

“I know, darling. I was told. I’m so very sorry. I know she was a good friend.”

“The oldest one I had,” I said. I stopped stroking his cheek, unable to draw a full breath. I’d not formed any lasting friendships in my girlhood. The others could never understand my ambition. Taisiya was the first.

“I’ve had some goodbyes to make as well,” he said, brushing my forehead with kisses. “One was my own navigator. A freak bullet and he was gone. I kept thinking of our days back at the academy, with you in the rear cockpit. Imagining that it had been you. I couldn’t sleep for three nights together.”

I gripped him tighter, stifling a grimace as my stitches pulled slightly. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered into his chest.

“Do you mean it?” he asked, brightening.

“Of course I do. I’m going to survive this mess. You are, too. We’re going to make a life together. We made a pact, remember?”

“Let’s get you up and go for a walk,” Vanya said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

The grounds near the convalescent center would have been lovely under good care, but as with so many things, war had made pruning and weeding a needless waste of energy, and the once-orderly flower beds had been left to neglect. I couldn’t quite make out whether the stately old building was once a hotel or simply a manor house claimed from the old nobility and repurposed, but the hum of soldiers and airmen in various stages of recovery gave it a renewed purpose the walls hadn’t seen in years. I could feel the usefulness radiate from the cool bricks and wondered if the old stones were grateful to be more than a stop along the road for weary travelers or a vain tribute to inherited wealth. I liked to think so.