Aimie Runyan - Daughters of the Night Sky

“Charming old crone,” Vanya said, discarding his mud-caked shoes.

“One who didn’t ask questions,” I said. “We couldn’t ask for better.”

“I suppose,” he muttered, removing his socks and trousers.

I perched on the edge of the bed to remove my own soiled garments but felt my muscles seize in protest after the slog. My hands shook involuntarily, and the room grew fuzzy about the edges like a newsreel.

“Can you move to the side, dearest? I—I need to lie down.”

“Of course. You’re run ragged. Let me help you with your coat, and you can rest before we find food.”

I stood on wobbly legs, allowing him to remove the thin coat. I felt an uncomfortable tearing sensation at my right side as he pulled the garment loose.

“Sweet Jesus, Katya.”

I looked down to see the right side of my dress soaked red.

“My—my stitches,” I mumbled, and fell into his waiting arms.

“Look at me, my love,” I heard his rich baritone croon in soft tones. “Open your eyes.”

For the second time in as many months, I peeled open my reluctant eyes to the cruel glare of hospital lights.

“Vanya?”

“Thank God,” he breathed, kissing my knuckles. “The accident—you lost a lot of blood. The doctors are convinced you’ll make a full recovery.”

“Good,” I managed to rasp.

“Ah, Captain Soloneva. Good to have you back with us.” A buoyant man in a white lab coat appeared by my side. “Too anxious to return to your post, I understand. Well, not to worry. You’re patched up and healing fine. You should be back to the front within a few weeks.”

I looked over to Vanya, who blanched visibly at the doctor’s pronouncement.

“Very good, Doctor,” I whispered.

“That’s the way. Now get all the rest you can. I’ll be back in the morning to check your dressing.”

When the doctor’s footsteps faded into silence, Vanya reclaimed my hand. “The only place I could get help was a military hospital. They wouldn’t treat you if you weren’t enlisted. I had to show them your real papers.”

The drab-green uniform jacket and slacks he wore said all I needed to hear. There would be no second attempt at an escape. My heart ached for him, but I felt a sort of relief. Now I would go where I was needed. But then in rushed the fear, which was just as quickly overwhelmed by my disgust with myself for aching to flee my duty. Round and round I went, the morphine spinning me into a blur.

Seeing me stare at his uniform, Vanya nodded. “They wouldn’t have let me anywhere near here without showing my rank.”

“When?”

“In the morning. It was all I could manage—I don’t think they fully believed my cover, but they’re in no hurry to execute an officer at the moment.”

I closed my eyes against the words. How much he’d risked to bring me here.

“I told them I was taking you home,” he whispered. He didn’t add the words that I knew were waiting so eagerly at his lips: Make it true. Please go back to Miass as soon as you’re able.

I stroked the too-prominent ridge of his cheekbone. Thank you for not asking me.

“I’m so sorry, Katyushka,” he whispered in my ear. “All I ever wanted was to keep you safe.”

“I know, my love. Perhaps this is all as it should be.”

“No, darling. None of it is. But we have to see it out to the end now.”

“We will,” I said, summoning all the confidence I felt, and more than a little I manufactured. “Fly smart, my love. You once gave me that advice—keep up your end of the bargain.”

October 1943, Sorties: 456

Vanya took the news of my return to the front with his usual stoicism. His letter said that he understood my decision, that he was proud of my dedication and of my promotion. Captain Soloneva. I’d been back only a few days, and while my return was greeted with cheer, there was a darkness in the eyes of my sisters in arms that hadn’t been there before. They had seen some horrific battles in my absence. I kept my own betrayal to myself. They didn’t need the burden of knowing how close I’d come to deserting them.

We stood today as General Chernov awarded our regiment a new honor: we were now the Forty-Sixth Taman Guards for our work protecting the Taman Peninsula. We smiled for the cameras, and a few of us gave words, but the mood was subdued. Sofia and Taisiya’s absence, and that of our other fallen comrades, was acutely obvious in everyone’s faces.

The women sat and enjoyed their meal, the conversation pleasant but not lively.

“I’m glad you decided to come back,” Oksana said to me, pulling me aside. “How’s the side?”

“Fair enough,” I said. “It aches in the rain, but I expect it always will. Nothing that will cause any real troubles.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “I was worried you’d scurry back to safety once you got a taste of life away from the front.”

“I nearly did. My husband asked me to. Invoked my mother’s wishes, even.”

“Then why did you come back?”

“Your telegram, not to put too fine a point on it,” I said, taking a sip of the warm tea as a restorative against the chilly winds of early winter that licked at our cheeks.

“I hope I didn’t incite you to do something against your will,” she said, her piercing gray-blue eyes probing mine.

“No. I don’t think I really could have gone home, no matter how happy it might have made Vanya or Mama. Taisiya and I worked too hard to get here to leave before the end.”

“Brava,” Oksana said without a trace of irony. “And you accept my offer? You’ll serve as my second in command?”

“Yes, though I’m surprised. You have more-experienced navigators, not to mention pilots, at your disposal.”

“But they aren’t you,” she said. “I have all the tactical skills Sofia imparted to me, I can confer with others, but I need you to help me with the women. I can manage battles and strategy, but I can do nothing for morale. Sofia had the gift—she could manage both—but I know I don’t have her way with people. Can you help me with that?”

I nodded and lifted my tea, clinking cups with Oksana. “Whatever you need, Major. One condition, though.”

“And what might that be?”

“I assume you’re flying your own plane. You have to take me on as your navigator.”

“I’ll give you your own plane,” Oksana said without a moment’s hesitation. “You’ve earned it a dozen times over. Though most of the women here have as well.”

“No. If I’m to help you out on the ground, we have to learn to work together. I don’t think there’s any better way for you and me to get to know one another than in the air.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I do better in the air.”

“You know, I don’t think we’re very different. I’ve always felt better in my own skin up in the air.”

“I miss her, Katya,” Oksana said, her eyes scanning the room, as though searching for listening ears.

“And I miss Taisiya. I always will. She was my dearest friend.”

“Tomorrow night,” she said. “We’ll head up together. I don’t expect that I’ll be able to teach you much, and that’s a relief.” She looked at the women around us, now chewing their celebratory meal in silence, then leaned in close to me. “Now do your job. What can we do to make this seem more like a celebration and less like a funeral? We’ve had plenty of those.”

I handed her my empty cup and took the battered violin case from the corner of the mess hall where I’d stowed it. Though I hadn’t played in months, the chin rest molded to my face like a lover’s caress, and the bow felt as familiar in my fingers as taking Vanya’s hand in mine. After three notes the eyes of the room were all on me. Cheerful, choppy notes made for dancing. A few girls recognized the tune and began to sing. One pulled out a harmonica to accompany me, but there was no piano. No Sofia to play it for us.