The Midwife of St. Petersburg (25 page)

Anna watched, crying, unable to speak.

Karena wiped the baby’s eyes, face, and nose again, and the baby
sucked in its very first breath, followed by a cry. Karena was jubilant. She held the baby high enough for Anna to see.

“May God bless you and guide you on the long, difficult pathway of life,” Karena whispered.

Karena worked quickly now with brown cord, a boiled knife, and an odd assortment of ointments. The main work for this third-stage delivery was almost done, though aftercare was to follow.

As she worked, she hardly heard the sounds outside the bungalow give way to wagon wheels, horses, and voices.

A moment later, Madame Yeva rushed into the gornitsa and looked around, gave a nod of apparent satisfaction, and caressed Karena’s shoulder in a display of pride over her success. Their gazes met, and smiles were exchanged.

“Good, Karena, very good.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But only seven and a half months …” She frowned.

“The infant looks perfectly healthy, Mother. I can see nothing wrong.”

“We will hope. I will also examine her—and Anna.” Yeva went to the bedside and spoke to Anna, laying a palm on her forehead. She frowned. “Do you have a fever?”

Anna gave a quiet, exhausted sound.

“First, let me have a look at your new baby.” Yeva took the infant over to a table.

A minute later, Karena could not silence her own gasp. “Mother!”

Karena stared at Anna, shocked. What had happened? A moment ago, Anna had managed a weary little smile when she saw the baby. Now—

Anna was turning a pasty color with purplish splotches beneath her eyes. The weak wails of the newborn filled the bungalow as the gusty wind shook the walls. Anna’s lips formed words, but her voice was so weak that Karena could hardly hear. “Sergei. Serg …”

“Take the baby,” Madame Yeva told Karena.

Karena laid the infant beside Anna and then wrung a wet cloth and applied it to Anna’s face and throat.

Madame Yeva hurried to examine Anna.

Karena joined her. “Did I do something wrong?” she kept whispering, but her mother was too intent to answer.

Fear clamped around Karena’s insides like iron fingers. Her eyes went to the cloths beneath Anna, staring at the area of bright crimson.

Yeva kept massaging and kneading Anna’s womb, her face tense with perspiration.

Karena could not move. The exhilaration she felt only minutes ago drained away, and horror now rushed in to take its place. Guilt shouted down upon her conscience.
I must have done something wrong. I should have waited for Madame Yeva or gone for the other midwife, Marina
.

Elena came in and, seeing what was happening to her young sister-in-law, let out a muffled sob.

“Karena!” Madame Yeva snapped. “Hand me more cloths.”

Karena could hardly move; her hands felt heavy and clumsy.

What did I do wrong?
Unless the hemorrhaging could be halted … She fumbled in her attempts to help her mother with the blood-soaked cloths.

Elena knelt before the icon displayed on its shelf, a replica of the special icon called the Black Virgin of Kazan. She struck a match and lit the candle below the image. She brought her palms together and lifted her face. “Saints of Holy Mother Russia, come now to our aid and save Anna, my dear sister.”

Karena watched, knowing that Anna was going to die and that there was nothing she could do. She had failed her. She had come with confidence, assured that she could deliver the baby on her own. There were times in the process when she’d been almost pleased that Madame Yeva had not been here. And now …

Karena took Anna’s hand. How cold and clammy she felt. She held it between her own, as though by holding tightly, she could hold on to the girl’s life.

“Sergei … tell him … tell … Sergei … take care of … our baby.”

“I will tell him,” Karena whispered as tears flooded her eyes at last.

“Yeva.”

Madame Yeva laid a hand on Anna’s brow. “I am here, Anna.”

“Promise … baby … Sergei’s baby.”

“Yes, I promise, Anna. We will not forget it is Sergei’s child.”

Karena bent over Anna, took her limp hand, and placed it on her newborn for the last time. Anna’s fingers tried to pet the tiny body nestled beside her.

There was a banging on the front door—or was it the wind? A moment later, the door flew open, and footsteps sounded. Ilya stood in the doorway but did not enter. He turned to look back over his shoulder and gestured. Sergei came forward, tense. He looked frightened. He stared at the scene, the blood, and Anna.

Karena rushed to him, snatching his arm, urging him forward. “Quick, Sergei, she’s dying. Go to her. Tell her you love her. Promise you’ll be a good father to your daughter. Allow her a brief moment of your of love. You owe her that.”

Sergei looked grief stricken. He dropped his head against his palm and shook it in desperation.

Karena pushed him. “Go.” He seemed to rally and went to Anna’s bedside.

Karena and Madame Yeva moved back to allow them a final moment together, alone.

“Anna, Anna, I’m sorry—forgive me—I love you, Anna.”

Karena stood, devastated. Sergei was kneeling beside the bed, his dark head bent, his arms around Anna, his face on her neck. Anna’s hand came to life again and managed to reach his dark head, where she patted him.

Against the lone whine of the wind came the wail of the baby girl—a girl, so soon without a mama and with a papa who must ride away into the dark night.

Karena sat on the porch step, her head resting on the post, the wind pushing and tugging at her with brief gusts.

“I failed her,” she said in a low, dull voice.

Madame Yeva stood on the porch above her, looking down. Karena saw pain in her faded blue eyes, in the pale, damp face, as the wind mussed her golden hair touched with gray. Yeva’s lip quivered. Karena felt her mother’s hand on her head, smoothing her hair.

“You did not fail, Karena. What happened was beyond your control. It would have happened whoever delivered this baby. I could not have stopped it—not even Dr. Zinnovy.”

Karena saw a distant thought reflected in her eyes as she gazed off toward the fields.

“Such tragedy as this happens all too often in the Louisa and the Catherine wards,” she said.

Anna’s sheet-draped body was carried silently out of the bungalow. The most pathetic sound for Karena was the cry of the motherless baby.

“What did Sergei name her?” Karena asked quietly.

“Anna, of course. He could hardly do less.”

“What will become of her? Sergei must go to St. Petersburg.”

“I’ve asked Elena and her husband to care for her. After all, Yuri is her uncle. I’ve promised to pay them. Elena is not unhappy to have the baby here. They have none of their own, and she has desired a baby girl. Sergei agrees that, for the present, it seems the best solution. Elena has a cousin who recently birthed, and she will have mother’s milk enough for baby Anna.”

“If only she hadn’t gone to that meeting last night. If only Sergei had taken the matter of Anna seriously. Maybe none of this would have happened.”

“Do not speak of last night, Karena,” Madame Yeva said in a tense, hushed voice. “The decisions are made, and we must leave them and move on.”

Karena could not help thinking about it. Poor Anna, sixteen, and her life was over with a whimper. Since a very young age she had worked in some capacity in the fields with her family, and then to have fallen for a reckless young man like Sergei, who selfishly took advantage of her.
If I had known sooner about what was going on, could I have stopped it from ending in this bitter harvest? I could have talked to Anna—tried to make her see that her recklessness would lead to a path of thorns and briars
.

And Sergei. In one day, he had lost both his father and Anna. And the baby, if she lived, would be greatly affected by her parents’ sin.

Karena would remember baby Anna and do all she could for her as she grew up.

Ilya Jilinsky walked up from the carriage waiting on the road. His fair head shone in the moonlight.

“Sergei’s safely away now, Madame Peshkova. Shall I bring you and Karena back to the manor house? Or do you want to wait longer to see how the baby does?”

Madame Yeva lifted her scarf over her head and came down the steps. “There is nothing more we can do tonight, Ilya. The child is in capable hands with Elena’s nursing cousin. Come along, Karena, before you fall asleep leaning on the post. Thank you, Ilya, you have been a great help this night in finding Sergei for us. Where is Uncle Matvey?”

“I saw him when I was looking for Sergei. That must have been two hours ago. At that time, he was talking to Colonel Kronstadt. By now, Uncle’s probably retired to our bungalow.”

Then Aleksandr Kronstadt had not departed when the Okhrana officer Durnov brought Papa into town under arrest. Was he staying the night, prepared to ride out in the morning? Karena had, for a short time, forgotten her own dilemma, and now it all came thundering back. What awaited her with Kronstadt?

T
he next morning, on the first day of September, Karena awoke late.

When she came down, the house was quiet and shrouded with a sense of gloom.

Natalia met her with a sad face.

“Any news?” Karena asked.

“Mother has ridden over to see how the newborn is today. Ilya was here earlier. He said Major-General Durnov has not shown up this morning. And Colonel Kronstadt rode out early for St. Petersburg.”

Karena looked at her sharply. “Kronstadt—has left for St. Petersburg?”
What? Without me?
she almost said, but caught herself. Natalia knew nothing of her visit to the political meeting, and Karena wanted to keep her younger sister uninvolved.

“Yes, he left. Are you surprised?”

Karena shrugged. “I expected the Okhrana to hang around longer and make our lives miserable,” she said quietly.

Natalia’s face changed, showing her true horrors. “Poor Papa.” The tears were about to start, and Karena went to her quickly and gave her shoulders a little shake.

“Stop, it will only weaken us. We must be strong, Sister. It is not over yet. Remember, Uncle Viktor has the ear of the czar. He may be able to do something for Papa. In the meantime, we must carry on. If we allow ourselves to weaken, we will fall like a house of cards.”

Natalia wiped her eyes and nodded. “Boris left with the conscripts.” She swallowed hard, and Karena made a soothing sound.

“He will come back.”

“If he doesn’t—”

“Don’t think that. The more you think such things, the more despondent you’ll become.” She looked down at Natalia’s left hand and acted shocked. “What is this, I ask?”

Natalia smiled through her tears and held out her hand, showing a glimmering ring with a small pearl. “My engagement ring. Isn’t it absolutely beautiful? It’s wished on, so I can’t take it off. Boris got it from his grandmother yesterday to give me before he left for Warsaw. Mama is pleased too.”

“And no wonder. Boris is a fine young man. I’m sure you’ll have ten children like Job and his wife—seven sons and three daughters.”

Natalia smiled. “Ten children! Five maybe.”

Karena had steered her away from her fears, and now Natalia was all chatter and large plans. They would stay on the land, and if Karena married Ilya, they could all be one large, happy family raising children and wheat.

Karena kept smiling at the words “stay on the land,” but her throat tightened. Natalia did not yet know, and Karena could not bear to tell her. Madame Yeva be must the one to speak of the prospect of losing the farmland and manor house. It would not only mean leaving everything that was home but also their friends among the peasants, people they knew and cared about, like Elena and Yuri.

Karena turned her mind back to Aleksandr Kronstadt while Natalia lost herself in discussing her dreams. Why had Kronstadt left without
arresting her? Or had he left? Maybe he would come back to take her to St. Petersburg.

“Oh, I almost forgot … Colonel Kronstadt left you a message. It’s over there on the sideboard by the coffee and pancakes.”

Karena went at once and found the sealed envelope leaning against the vase of flowers placed by Aunt Marta. She opened it quickly. The firm black writing read simply:

Karena smiled faintly and read on:

Alex … not merely Colonel Kronstadt, not even Aleksandr, but
Alex
.

She felt the first renewal of something akin to excitement. Was this his casual way of saying her secret would remain with him?