Cold Blood (52 page)

When would life change so that everything went well at the same time? Was every effort I made destined to fail or were my efforts simply insufficient? How the hell was I to have known that Glebov was Lili's father? And how was I to handle this knowledge? I didn't think I could look at her body in the same way.

However, it only reinforced the lesson: be surprised by nothing. And there would be other lessons too, I was certain, that would rise up and strike me when their time came.

The shadows of the past were in there murmuring with the river. There was one good thing, that Glebov was dead. The memory of Elizaveta would start to fade. She'd release me, become an occasional visitor only, become someone I could take by the hand in the dappled sunlight and talk of things past.

I wouldn't be bitter, wouldn't rail against life. I'd say to it, Thank you for everything, everything: for war, revolution, love, the struggle. There's no lot sweeter than trying, no fate more joyful than to be a pilgrim. I'd say, Thank you for not having taken my life. Thank you also for Xenia. Too bad she and Glebov got tucked up together and produced Lili. It would have been a delight to breed with her. She'd have got the Rykovs on their feet again. Whatever errors there've been, put them on my slate.

To Elizaveta I'd say, No love could have equalled ours. We were closer to Heaven than God Himself. And for the last time I'd draw down the lids of her empty eyes, my fingers not lingering.