Dmitry Narinskiy
Two Suns
Historical novel

© Dmitry Narinskiy, 2024

Let's be like the Sun! Let's forget about who
Is leading us over the roadway of gold,
Let's only remember that we're brightly striving
To reach for the diferent, the new and the strong,
And to reach for the evil, in our dreams of gold.
Let's always address our prayers to the unearthly
In all of our earthly desires!

K. Balmont

A heart's ignited by the sun.
The sun so quickly to eternity is driving.
The sun is an eternal window
To the golden blinding.

* * *

A pauper heart is flled with evil,
Burnt and ground up.
But our souls are mirrors:
All refecting gold.

A. Bely

Part I
The Turbulent Years

Chapter 1: Return to the Poltava Region

«Is this truly the end? Is it an eternal farewell?» The enchanting dark-haired girl couldn't tear her gaze away from the window. For the first time in her life, the journey felt like a tragedy.

The renowned Kiev hills, adorned with golden-domed inclusions, vanished around the bend, already obscured by a gentle green haze. Farewell, Khreschatyk Street, with your cozy pastry shops and bookstores! Farewell, student debates and concerts featuring transient celebrities! Farewell to dreams and aspirations…

For some reason, memories of riding the funicular along her favorite Route 15, tracing the slope of Saint Volodymyr Hill, came flooding back. And then, how the electric carriage offered a breathtaking view of the picturesque slopes and the sprawling Podil below, nestled by the buildings of St. Michael's Golden-Domed Monastery.

A mundane rural existence awaited the girl. Was this truly what young Olga had envisioned when she entered the Higher Institute of Public Education, which was the amalgamation of the former Imperial University of St. Vladimir and the Higher Education Courses For Women!

Having escaped to the metropolis from the countryside, she immediately felt at home in Kiev. Despite the city's lingering echoes of the turbulent events of the past decade, it had sprung back to life. Vibrant and dynamic, filled with literary associations, theater and dance studios, cinema and circus – all, of course, brimming with innovation and experimentation. It seemed as if the city was inundated with young people, eager to transform the world, purging it of all the sordidness and darkness left by the tumultuous and dreadful post-revolutionary years. Suffering, uncertainty, and famine – what did those matters signify? A new life and a brilliant future lay ahead!

Seventeen-year-old Olga, replete with hope, journeyed towards her coveted Kiev, oblivious to the thorny path to knowledge that lay before her. Yet, in essence, nothing truly terrible had befallen her; such was the nature of time, casting its hardships upon all.

And then, out of the blue – expulsion! It was suddenly discovered that her older brother, Ivan Gurko, was a Yunker (the rank for a volunteer at military service in the Imperial Russian Army in 19th and 20th centuries) at the Grand Duke's Konstantin Konstantinovich Kiev Infantry Military School – an institution that had also graduated the notorious White Guard General A. Denikin. Ivan had enlisted in the Volunteer Army, defending Perekop from the assaults of the Red Cavalry, but beyond that, his fate remained unknown to his kin.

How did this information surface at the institute? Olga herself had never dabbled in politics. However, she had witnessed a great deal: the ever-changing flags at the small station, seeking refuge in the cellar from shelling and the intoxicated adherents of successive «authorities,» and her own mother, a resolute Cossack, succumbing to typhus within a matter of days.

The whirlwind of parties, ideologies, wars, and revolutions left her bewildered. Such were the thoughts of the girl. Yet, it turned out that these matters were of significance, even decisive, to others. The institutes had special commissions that identified students with unsuitable family backgrounds or socially-alien views. «Socially alien! I wonder if they themselves ever experienced hunger?»

At least she managed to secure a job referral. Her «appropriate» worker-peasant background aided her in that regard!

And there she was – almost back in her homeland. The Poltava Governorate, Lubensky Uyezd (District), and the quaint village of Lazirky. As Olga arrived at the small station, a cascade of childhood memories flashed before her eyes…

* * *

Now she found herself in an ancient Cossack village perched on the lofty banks of the Sliporid River. The school consisted of merely two clay houses, modest mud huts for the younger and older pupils. The principal, a genial and elderly figure, greeted her warmly, saying, «Make yourself at home, my daughter. Get comfortable.» At first, the locals looked upon her with a hint of wariness (as is often the case in villages towards strangers), but overall, they were friendly, awaiting the arrival of an elementary school teacher for quite some time…

Olga prepared herself for the inevitable scrutiny and gossip, maintaining a poised and affable demeanor, with a touch of dignity. Judging by the welcoming glances, the community embraced the newcomer.

One young lad, with a short and sturdy physique, in particular, exhibited special favor. Olga had not paid much attention to the local boys upon her arrival, but this one seemed to appear near the school far too frequently. So often, in fact, that one day, when she encountered him at the gate, the teacher could not resist asking:

«Isn't it a little late for a first-grader?»

«I actually graduated school, Mrs. Gurko,» the boy replied nonchalantly.

«And what do you do now?» Olga pondered to herself, «Impressive, he even speaks well.»

«My father owns the mill, and that's where I work,» he answered.

The heir to the «flour-milling dynasty» was named Anton. When he escorted Olga home, he hesitated at the gate, bid her farewell, but then mustered the courage to say:

«We have dancing on Saturdays. You should come to our club.»

Olga was taken aback; this was unexpected. «You are quite bold,» she thought.

«You're always alone. You've been here for three months now, and you only go to and from school, to the store, and to the river,» he observed.

«Are you stalking me?!» Olga inquired cautiously, as she cherished her moments of solace by the river, indulging in girlish reveries. Witnessing eyes were not needed.

«No, I just happen to see you,» he responded, entirely unashamed.

«He certainly has a nerve,» Olga mused.

«So, I'll come by the day after tomorrow?»

«Please do, you're welcome.»

Olga was surprised by how readily she accepted the invitation. It was about time she embraced this new life. The evenings had been rather lackluster… «Well, perhaps I shall become a 'beautiful miller'…» she chuckled sadly, feeling that Kiev seemed more distant and unattainable than ever before.

Not even a month later, the situation began to take on more clarity. Olga was well aware of how swiftly news spread through the villages. Thus, she was not taken aback when Zoya, a local high school teacher, who had recently started at the Zemstvo school, requested a serious conversation.

Zoya informed her of a recent gang rampage in the vicinity. The most infamous incident was an attack on a train transporting expropriated grain. The raid was unsuccessful; the guards proved steadfast. However, a dozen Red Army soldiers and raiders lost their lives. While the instigators were apprehended, numerous others remained at large, suspected to have had a hand in the crime. Many people knew or suspected the identities of these accomplices, yet they kept their knowledge concealed.

«The miller Kravchuk certainly aided them, and his son Sasha was seen with the gang in Sotnyts'ke. He hasn't been in Lazirky since. Nobody has provided concrete evidence against them, but their house and mill were searched. To be fair, it seems they searched everyone,» Zoya disclosed in a hushed tone. «I mean, Anton didn't seem involved, but who can truly say? They say weapons were hidden at the mill.»

«People can be so imaginative,» Olga frowned, disliking such gossip.

«Don't be hasty,» the teacher took offense. «He's a sought-after suitor, well-to-do. But be aware that you might get ensnared like a chicken in a fox's mouth.»

«Zoya, did I say I was getting married?» Olga interjected and walked out of the classroom where the heart-to-heart conversation had taken place.

Truth be told, she had no intention of getting married just yet, even though Anton had already dropped unmistakable hints. Olga responded to the advances of the «sought-after suitor» with restraint. Still, it was not the life she had dreamed of, not in the least…

* * *

It was spring once again. The March day gleamed with such brilliance that it almost dazzled Olga's eyes. The icicles hanging from the rooftops seemed like airborne splashes and sunlit bunnies, while the roosters joyously crowed at an ungodly hour. As she approached the school, Olga reflected on her nearly year-long tenure as a teacher, and everything seemed to be progressing well. Working with children brought her immense joy, witnessing their successes and growth. The students were naturally drawn to her serene and astute demeanor, and her undeniable beauty further captivated their attention. Respected by parents and cherished by her pupils, her professional life flourished. However, she dared not dwell on other aspects; it was best to let everything continue as it had been…

Yet, on this particular day, something felt off during the lesson. Her thoughts seemed scattered, and even while mechanically repeating the phrase, «The children are glad for spring,» she sensed the restlessness of her first-graders. Whispers and fidgeting filled the classroom. Their gazes fixated on the window, where the once frosty patterns had already thawed.

«What on earth did you see out there?!» Olga exclaimed, her curiosity piqued. She turned to look outside.

Approaching the school was a slender young man, dressed in a distinctly un-rural manner. Olga could hardly believe her eyes: it was Leonid!

Chapter 2: «Stationmaster»

Since as far back as he could remember, Leonid had always fallen asleep to the soothing sounds of rolling wheels. The rhythms of the railroad, the glimmering lights, and the steam locomotive's gentle hum mesmerized him. Vast expanses, uncharted lands, and unfamiliar bustling cities called out to him. It seemed that life without the railroad was unimaginable!

This sentiment was deeply rooted in the Mirachevsky family, as they frequently had to relocate due to the zealous work ethic of its patriarch, Mikhail Mirachevsky, an esteemed employee of the Kiev-Poltava railroad. Though their stations changed (currently being Solonytska), their apartments shifted, the railroad remained a constant presence.

Similarly steadfast were the household rules established by Olga Mirachevsky, the capable young mistress of the house. The position of assistant stationmaster demanded diligence and responsibility, and Mikhail entrusted the management of their home unconditionally to his wife. Despite being twenty years her senior, he guided her with affectionate tutelage, recognizing Olga's competence in handling any task. Under her watch, the house was always immaculate, and a delectable dinner awaited them each evening, complemented by a well-tended vegetable garden.

Their love for their son, Leonid, was not indulgent, yet neither were they excessively strict. The warmth of home and a sense of security was what they wholeheartedly provided him.

Mikhail was strict at work, but at home, he was kind, flexible, and exceedingly caring. With his son, he eagerly shared his knowledge and expertise during any free moment, as if keen to impart all he knew.

Fishing did not particularly captivate the young Leonid, but he delighted in crafting trains and animals from wood and clay. However, the most captivating moments were when his father began taking him along to inspect neighboring whistle-stops.

Leonid fondly recalled that spring day, shortly after Easter, when his father whispered the words at dawn:

«Rise and shine! We're in for an adventure!»

Devouring his breakfast, he eagerly inquired minute by minute:

«Where are we headed? What will we be doing?»

Mikhail smiled mysteriously, heightening the sense of anticipation. Only when his father placed him onto the waiting handcar did Leonid realize that a grand journey lay ahead.

His inaugural ride on the handcar was a marvel: the rhythmic clatter of the wheels, the spring breeze caressing his face, the trees flashing by, and the clouds racing across the high blue sky! It made him want to throw back his head and shout with unbridled joy, though the rush of emotions momentarily stifled his breath…

Leonid cherished his father's stories about road construction, about the challenges of laying tunnels and building embankments and bridges. To him, being a railroader was undoubtedly the most esteemed profession in the world!

And then, there were his mother's tales, whether true accounts or folklore, Leonid listened to them with rapt attention. It was no surprise that Olga always carried herself with grace. She proudly narrated the legacy of her great-grandfather, Arkady Shpirkan, who had served as the estate manager for Count Hercule Morkoff and was rumored to be the count's illegitimate son. Olga took pride in recounting how A. Suvorov himself acknowledged the Count's valor, and during Napoleon's invasion, he led the Moscow People's Militia and earned accolades for his role in the Battle of Borodino.

Arkady had even established an extensive garden and constructed a house on the Chervona farm in the Podolia Governorate, which became the Shpirkan family's cherished home.

Yet, Leonid was most intrigued by the contemporary events his mother shared. Olga's uncle, the intriguingly named Aristoky, had served as an assistant captain on the famous yacht «Shtandart,» and this granted him acquaintance with Tsar Nicholas II himself. To Leonid's astonishment, strict court protocols were abandoned on the yacht, and officers and sailors freely mingled with the royal family, even chatting with the grand duchesses. Aristoky had, in fact, had the privilege of dancing with them.

Leonid relished this particular anecdote, which revolved around the sailors donning Roman soldier armor for a theatrical performance. They were instructed to maintain stern expressions while looking at their commander. However, upon seeing the royal family seated opposite, they couldn't help but smile.

«What's wrong with that?» Leonid chuckled.

«Imagine! The play was unfolding with tragedy on the stage, the commander rallying them for battle, and there they were, smiling, glancing at the royal box,» Olga recounted with amusement.

Envisioning sailors in sandals staring at the Tsar And Tsarina, Leonid erupted in laughter.

As he understood it, Aristoky thoroughly enjoyed serving with the Sovereign Emperor.

But there was another uncle, Markel, of whom Olga spoke reluctantly and sparingly, and Leonid only learned the details later. Markel held contempt for the Tsar, viewing him as an oppressor of the working class, which led him down the path of revolution. He formed a circle, distributing revolutionary pamphlets among the gymnasium students in Kamianets-Podilskyi, raising funds for a printing press, and even managing to establish one. However, they still lacked the funds they needed. Consequently, Markel resorted to robbing the post office, resulting in injuries to a courier and a policeman. He was subsequently apprehendd, along with all members of the circle, and put on trial, an affair of national importance heard in Kiev. Markel was eventually sentenced to penal servitude, followed by exile to the distant region of Yakutia. Upon his return, he rekindled his involvement in the revolutionary cause.

«What a life!» Leonid marveled. «They've been to so many places and witnessed so much!» In his imagination, he pictured himself as a courageous captain weathering a storm or a pioneer in Siberia, much like Yermak Timofeyevich.

With such extraordinary ancestors, Leonid couldn't help but believe that fate had something equally extraordinary and fascinating in store for him!

* * *

To tell the truth, Leonid's daily life also boasted plenty of extraordinary experiences. How many could claim to have bathed in a river with brackish water or luxuriated in the lake aptly named «Salty»? The village of Solonytsya itself seemed to announce its presence on saline soils. The local water bodies teemed with delectable fish, a true delicacy…

During the summer, the village children flocked to the lake with enthusiasm. Upon reaching its shores, they promptly shed their clothes and dove into the water, creating majestic fountains of splashes and savoring the brackish taste on their tongues. After their invigorating dip, they engaged in their cherished game «Chumatskiy Shliah,» (Chumaks' Route) a tribute to the ancient path to the Black Sea, once trodden by the salt-carrying Chumaks.

Alas, true salt marshes eluded this locale, but the boys delighted in discovering spots where salt crusts formed along the lake's edge, particularly during the heat. Their fervor knew no bounds as they diligently extracted salt grains, relishing the endeavor, and ultimately devouring their prized salt-infused rye bread with sheer delight!

* * *

Upon completing elementary school, new adventures beckoned. In the village, there existed only a one-class public school – a zemstvo school, so for further education, Lubny, the district town, was their destination, merely a few versts (miles) away by train. The railroad assumed an even more prominent role in Leonid's life…

The jaunts on the train proved thoroughly enjoyable. Amidst exuberant banter and playful jostling, the boys hopped aboard the local train and reached their destination with infectious excitement. However, amidst the boisterousness, one girl stood out by her composure. Olga Gurko, who was familiar to Leonid, seemed to exude an air of calm majesty as she gracefully found her seat and settled in. It was on one fateful day that Leonid Mirachevsky took particular notice of her and saw her in a new light… As neighbors, their fathers worked together – Sergei Gurko served as a railway foreman at Solonytska station.

Perhaps, the pivotal moment occurred when Ivan Shramko, always in a hurry and making a ruckus, accidentally pushed Olga while boarding the train. She stumbled precariously, nearly losing her balance on the elevated steps. In the nick of time, Leonid reached out from above, clasping her under the arm:

«Hold on!» he exclaimed, chastising his comrade. «Ivan, what are you doing?!»

«I didn't mean to; it was an accident,» Ivan retorted in his characteristic manner. «In any case, she didn't fall, did she?»

«Thank you,» Olga responded with grace.

«And weren't you frightened?» Leonid inquired with genuine concern.

Her face illuminated with a serene, grateful smile. A smile that was undeniably beautiful…

From that moment onward, Leonid began to view his neighbor with newfound attentiveness, subtly assuming a protective role over her.

Chapter 3: The Great Catastrophe

Overnight, the world collapsed in an unexpected twist of events. Yet, at Solonytska station, nobody fully grasped the impending calamity, except, perhaps, Mikhail Mirachevsky. He had forewarned that if the war persisted, trouble would ensue.

Initially, the vast Russian Empire's entry into the war seemed remote from the daily life of a small Ukrainian village. However, soon farewells to future soldiers echoed in the huts, and excited boys eagerly shared news of their relatives conscripted to the frontlines, using the newly acquired term «mobilization.» Gradually, the once tranquil station of Solonytska was drawn into the tumultuous whirlwind of wartime. Trains laden with troops, supplies, and weapons arrived from the west, while those heading eastward brought refugees, wounded, and prisoners. Echelons piled up, not only at major hub stations but also, gradually, at smaller stations like Solonytska.

As autumn waned, Mikhail found himself toiling ceaselessly, working around the clock. Exhausted, he would return home, barely having time to exchange words with his son. While Olga maintained her composure, she grew increasingly anxious as managing the household became increasingly challenging due to shortages of familiar goods and even firewood.

* * *

One fateful day, the boys hastened to the station upon hearing of a prolonged delay of a train carrying refugees. At first, their boisterous group strode confidently, feeling masters of their domain, but their excitement waned as they neared the wagons. Silently, they huddled closer, moved a little further away from the railroad tracks, nudging each other along, their remarks growing subdued until even the most vocal amongst them fell silent.

Their collective gaze fell upon a sight etched forever in their memories.

Haggard women with soot-blackened faces sat near the wagons, some cradling wailing infants, while older children huddled nearby. Suffering, fatigue, and fear of the unknown etched deep lines on the faces of ordinary people, compelled to abandon their homes due to war. For the boys, it was an eye-opening revelation of the true face of war, far removed from the headlines penned in newspapers…

Amidst conversations with the refugees, they learned that most hailed from the western provinces of Vistula Land. Curiously, the boys even managed to communicate with a group of their peers, finding no hostility in the strangers' expressions.

For a few moments, the two groups, the locals and the refugees, stood there, scrutinizing each other, until a young lad of about fourteen broke the silence with a question:

«Brothers! Do you have any bread? There's still a long way to go…»

Ivan, unable to resist, interjected with a jest, «Maybe we do. But not for you!»

«Wait a minute,» Leonid intervened. «Are you guys hungry?»

The bread beggar bashfully lowered his eyes, prompting Leonid to spring into action.

«Well, you wait here.»

They promptly returned with provisions – boiled potatoes, bread, dried apples, and cherries, and seeds.

They returned from the station with a sense of duty fulfilled, and the following day, they agreed to come again with provisions. The train was eventually allowed to proceed late into the night, heading toward Kharkov, where refugee reception centers awaited.

For eleven-year-old Leonid Mirachevsky, that day marked a turning point, crystallizing the significance of events unfolding around him, illuminating his parents' behavior, overheard adult conversations, and his own emotions.

* * *

Yet, the true trials had only just begun. Alongside the influx of refugees, disease crept into the village.

When Mikhail fell ill, Olga forbade her son from going near him, sensing danger. Leonid yearned to be of help and pleaded.

«I can give him some water! Why can't I help more?»

Olga remained steadfast, and the doctor's diagnosis confirmed her worst fears – «typhus» sounded like a dreadful verdict. For two weeks, the patient battled in a feverish haze, but his weakened body, exhausted from months of arduous work and anxiety, struggled against the infection.

Days passed in a blur – funeral, wake, an influx of acquaintances and strangers, followed by the profound quietude of an empty house.

As Leonid sat there silently, his gaze fixed on his father's photograph adorning the dresser, vivid memories flashed before him – fishing on the Sula, attending fairs in Poltava, and the precious moments of learning from his father about steam locomotives. He couldn't fathom a world without his father – the man who had been his mentor, his hero. It seemed impossible that Mikhail would not return, strolling out of the kitchen to resume his daily routines…

Olga approached her son, tenderly stroking his head, breaking the spell of silence. Leonid shuddered, sighed deeply, and finally allowed himself to cry – for the first time since he had learned of his father's death.

* * *

The beloved family of Mikhail was not only left without a caring husband and father, but Olga and twelve-year-old Leonid were now bereft of a breadwinner and without any means, even losing their state apartment. A life of hardship commenced, and only Olga's indomitable spirit steered them forward, securing a corner for them in Solonytsya. She worked tirelessly, taking on any part-time job available.

Yet, the events outside their small world gripped the entire vast country, leaving no one untouched. The revolution that unfolded in Petrograd in late February reverberated in Kiev. The overthrow of the tsarist government, followed by the fall of the Provisional Government in October 1917, spurred Ukrainians to forge their own state. However, the path forward was uncertain – a conundrum of how to navigate the Great War with minimal losses, reconcile the aspirations of the people with the interests of landowners and industrialists, and address the demands of diverse political factions. The challenges were manifold, and solutions varied greatly. The future of the fertile lands of Malorossiya (Little Russia) was a matter of contentious debates…

As power changed hands, governments succeeded one another, and the World War metamorphosed into a civil war. Throughout these tumultuous years, the armies of different factions swept through the lands of the Poltava Region: the Red, the Austro-German, Petliura's haidamakas, the Directorate troops, the White Volunteer Army, and, once more, the Red Army. This list omitted the fleeting raids of atamans Makhno and Grigoriev!

During this tumultuous period, all military operations were accompanied by a series of hardships for the local population. Contributions, seizures, and levies became a common occurrence, further exacerbating the already trying conditions. In the midst of the chaos, robberies became the norm, taking advantage of the lawless atmosphere prevailing during those turbulent times with peasant uprisings flaring up here and there throughout the province.

Amidst this turbulence, the orphaned Mirachevsky family struggled to survive. The young widow, Olga, shouldered any available work, mopping floors or accepting whatever odd jobs came her way. In times of scarcity, they traded clothes and utensils for food. As Leonid grew older, he joined in to lend a hand whenever possible.

* * *

Throughout this tumultuous time, Olga harbored a deep longing to return to her homeland, the picturesque Podolia Governorate, to the embrace of her family, the Shpirkans. As soon as the turmoil began to subside, she set her sights on packing her belongings, seeking to fulfill her heart's desire. Meanwhile, young Leonid pondered his future path and, without hesitation, gravitated towards the calling of the railroad, a passion that had beckoned him since childhood. With conviction, he set his sights on Kiev, where his uncle, Andrei, resided, and fate favored him, casting a benevolent smile upon the seventeen-year-old lad.

Fate intervened as the Railway Construction Technical School presented a golden opportunity. Leonid's admission was secured with the support of his mother's petition and the compelling documentation, for he was indeed the son of a distinguished railroad employee.

Though this momentous event brought joy, it also heralded the departure of Olga, as she embarked on a journey to Chervona.

However, there was something else that Leonid regretted about leaving Solonytska station, which had become his cherished home. His mother discerned the melancholy in his eyes and correctly surmised the cause, but she playfully inquired:

«Do you not wish to leave, my dear?»

Leonid endeavored to respond with confidence, «What gives you that impression?»

«I sense a lack of cheerfulness,» she observed.

«All my friends will remain here. Ivan has no plans to go to Kiev…» Leonid paused, hesitating, before adding, «Perhaps I'll visit him again to bid farewell.»

Olga understood her son well; his sorrow did not stem from leaving his friend but rather from his thoughts revolving around the captivating Olga Gurko. Ah, such is life, he must live it and eventually choose a life partner…

Leaving the house, Leonid hastened towards Olga's street.

Chapter 4: Fragile Girl Shoulders

The untimely demise of Olga's mother left her to navigate the challenges of life prematurely. Tatyana, a sturdy and resilient Cossack daughter, was the very embodiment of tenacity, refusing to be cowed by anything, not even illness. Her children could scarcely recall a moment when their mother was unwell, for she was always steadfastly tending to their family's welfare.

Her husband, Sergei, a short, agile man with a neatly trimmed beard, toiled diligently as a railway worker, earning a modest income. To augment their means, the Gurko family relied on their garden's bounty, livestock, and the toil of their hardworking children, two sons and two daughters.

Olga, had a particular responsibility: tending to the geese. Though the task was not particularly onerous during the summer, guiding them to the river, where they knew the way, she could go for a swim or lay down with a book. The crucial part was not forgetting to keep an eye on her wards so they could safely return home, her wandering thoughts sometimes led her astray.

«What on earth is this?» Mother couldn't fathom. «She stares into space as if she's not here.»

«Come on, mom! Look at that cloud! It looks like a ship…» Olga found it challenging to tear her eyes away from the sky, which enticed her with its captivating shapes.

«A ship!» Tatyana exclaimed, raising her hands in exasperation. «You have ships and dogs on your mind, but you forgot about the geese! Now, we have to go looking for them from all over the village again. Look, they've run away!»

«Excuse me, mother…» Olga swiftly drove the flock of feathery mischief-makers into the yard with a skillful wave of a twig, cackling playfully as if making fun of her.

«You, stupid,» Olga said, her irritation directed at the geese. «Their necks may be long, but they can't see beyond their beaks.»

«Do you want them to stand up and stretch their necks to look at the sky too?» teased her sister Maria. The mother joined in the laughter, admiring her daughters, «They're all so lovely.»

By the way, Olga was well aware of the fairness of the reproach. Recently, a neighbor's goose was crushed by a freight train on the tracks. Had the birds run towards the railroad, it would have been a disaster.

Even Maria, who was closest to Olga in the family, occasionally scolded her younger sister when they were peeling walnuts with disdain from the poisonous green peel, working together:

«Shorty, stop daydreaming, hurry up, or we'll be at this all evening! I need to wash my hands.»

For the local children, household chores were part of their routine life at Solonytska station. However, Olga seemed to approach these tasks with a sense of duty. She appeared as if she were brought here from some other world with her thoughtful gaze. Yet, she was not a quiet girl. Quite the contrary – with her pretty, round face and lively dark eyes, she was remarkably bright and quick-witted. Her sharp tongue occasionally caught others by surprise. Her thoughts, though, often wandered far away, perhaps to the horizon line where the steel rails disappeared.

* * *

The realization of dreams came to fruition after enrolling in a women's gymnasium. The district town of Lubny on the Sula River, surrounded by lush green gardens, boasted of its size and featured two gymnasiums – one for men and another for women. The local train conveniently took the children of railroad employees there without any charge, and the journey was brief and not too far.

Olga's immediate and lifelong affection for her vocabulary lessons began. Finally, her fantasies found expression in correct, compelling, and eloquent words. Books, the cherished companions of romantically inclined young ladies, became her favorites, although not the sole ones.

During her trips to the gymnasium, Olga somehow managed to forge a friendship with Leonid Mirachevsky. Or perhaps, he became her constant and caring companion.

«But Leonid is mine, only my beau,» Olga mused. «He looks out for me… He'll offer me his hand or carry my backpack. Besides, he doesn't care about the ridicule from the boys. Being with him is genuinely fascinating.»

He was truly not dull. Leonid always took the lead in starting songs during their journey and invented engaging games when the children gathered at various houses in Solonytska station in the evenings.

It soon became evident that they both shared a passion for reading. For Leonid, it felt like expanding space, pushing the boundaries of the horizon. Books, especially thrilling adventures, prompted him to ponder, explore adult life, and dream of remarkable exploits.

Literature provided Olga with an escape from reality, not that her life was challenging – well, at least not until her mother fell ill – but it was not the reality Olga desired. She took great pleasure in keeping the house clean, appreciating its order and coziness. However, she did not particularly relish digging in the ground or tending to animals. Nevertheless, rebelling at Tatyana's house proved futile as the bossy mistress suppressed any whims with unwavering authority.

* * *

In the Gurko family, all the children shared a harmonious bond with each other, and the sisters were always well-protected. One could easily promise a neighbor who was getting a bit unruly, «I'll tell my brothers…» Their family seemed to expand like clockwork, with new additions arriving every two years, as if by design. However, while the older brothers were later drawn apart by the revolution, the girls remained steadfast friends.

The boys matured rapidly and eventually left for Kiev: Stepan enrolled in St. Vladimir's University, while Ivan joined military school. Now, the family was held together, as the head of the family aptly put it, by «woman's troubles.» Some of their land had to be leased out.

When the brothers visited, they lent a hand with heavy chores and, in their free time, engaged in endless debates. Stepan had come under the influence of the Social Democrats and actively participated in revolutionary circles, while Ivan, like most of the Yunkers was ready to lay down his life for the Tsar if the need arose.

«The country will descend into chaos without tsarist power!» the younger brother fervently exclaimed.

The eldest endeavored to remain calm and held on to hope of changing his brother's perspective. «Have you forgotten the Khodynka Tragedy? The numerous victims during the coronation – where was the response? No one took responsibility! And what about Bloody Sunday in 1905?»

«Oh, come on,» interposed their mother, «what are you saying!»

«The authorities care little for ordinary people; their suffering is deemed worthless! Our people may be kind and forgiving, but they possess an excellent memory. When the time comes, they will remember everything!» Ivan argued passionately.

Tatyana crossed herself fearfully, while Ivan continued to assert that the people were partly to blame for the tragic events, citing how the crush on Khodynka Field was fueled by everyone's love for freebies. According to him, giving people complete freedom would only lead to self-destruction, wreaking havoc on everything around them.

Sergei frowned, disapproving of these heated squabbles. He advised his sons, especially the eldest, to refrain from quarrels at home, and if they had disagreements, they should settle them by going «all the way to Kiev.» The sisters listened intently, sensing the echoes of a grand, tumultuous life, but they were yet unsure which side to take in this dispute.

* * *

However, their everyday life changed too soon, and it was no longer the time for mere verbal battles; instead, they faced very real ones. Whether the station was seized by the Bolsheviks, Haidamakas, German troops, or unknown forces, the teenage girls had to seek refuge in the underground. The emergence of each «new power» often left them feeling utterly powerless.

«Ivan is right,» Maria whispered as they descended into the cellar once again. «You see what's happening!»

Olga concurred; life «under the tsar,» with its tranquility, predictability, and sense of security, now appeared as a distant fairy tale. No one could predict what the future held. However, even in their darkest dreams, the sisters could not have fathomed that their mother would pass away, shattering their world.

Following Tatyana's demise, the father did not grieve for an extended period; he soon found a new mistress. A good-natured, sociable man with an appreciation for women's beauty (and, by local standards, quite wealthy), he became a sought-after groom. As we know, men of such caliber do not lead solitary lives.

Maria, the closest person for Olga in this world, hastily arranged her own destiny by getting married; she had already turned eighteen.

And Olga found herself all alone, surrounded by her father's new family (her stepmother with her two sons) – yet still alone. Throughout her life, she had felt like an outsider, not receiving the warmth and affection she craved from her parents. Her mother's reserved nature kept her preoccupied with household duties, leaving little room for attention and tenderness. Strangely enough, even her father seemed to favor her older sister more. Now, burdened by the responsibilities of a stepdaughter, the weight of everyday life fell upon the fragile shoulders of a fifteen-year-old girl, who was utterly unprepared for this role.

One evening, she wandered to the station and settled on a bench, gazing at the fleeting windows of a passing train that never stopped. Her thoughts turned to her sister – Maria, who had ventured far to the north, to Bryansk, alongside her husband, a railway engineer – and a sense of melancholy washed over Olga. «Ah, I wish I could grow up quickly and live a life of my own,» she dreamed.

The train, whisking away its joyous passengers, seemed to bring with it dreams of a different, undoubtedly more beautiful life. A life free from a worn-out vegetable garden, and most importantly, a life without a stepmother…

In that moment, Alexander Blok's poem On the Railroad, which she had once transcribed into her gymnasium diary, flashed in her mind:

… Once only a Hussar, carelessly leaning
His elbow on the scarlet velvet,
Smiled gently at her in passing…
In passing – and the train rushed on.

Just so, futile youth flew past,
Worn out in empty fantasies…
Till iron railroad longing shrieked,
And shrieking tore its heart apart…

«Well, no!» thought Olga. «I will not succumb to ennui! My dreams are not in vain. I will achieve everything I want!»

Impatiently, she waited until she completed her schooling, and then she set forth to enroll in a labor school in Kiev. A whole new world awaited her there!

Chapter 5: Matchmaking in Lazirky

Olga didn't hesitate for long after Leonid's sensational appearance in Lazirky. It was no ordinary visit from an old friend; it was a marriage proposal – unexpected and sudden, almost from the doorstep, after two years of not seeing each other.

She vividly remembered that June day in Kiev. Having completed the last exam of the summer session at the Higher Institute of Public Education, she and her girlfriends strolled down the boulevard from the Red Building of the former university to Khreschatyk Street. Near the bustling Khreschatyk Street, their path was obstructed by a lively group of young men who immediately sought to make their acquaintance. But among them stood Leonid, now grown up, lean, clad in the uniform of a railroader, his face beaming with a smile. What an extraordinary encounter!

Strangely enough, in the city, they seldom crossed paths. Though they attended the same university, their interactions were infrequent. Olga was a philology student, while Leonid, a free student, majoring in Physics and Mathematics, primarily focused on his education at the technical school of railroad transportation, which left him with scarce free time. Their relationship in Kiev, therefore, felt peculiar – perhaps the intensity of their respective academic pursuits left little room for sentiment or perhaps life's hardships stood in the way. Nonetheless, Olga always cherished the rare moments of meeting her childhood friend.

On that evening, the young men celebrated the conclusion of their studies at the technical college. The next day, Olga would return home, while Leonid was bound for an internship as a mechanic on the Central Asian railroad.

«Oh, what a dreadful prospect!» Olga couldn't help blurting out at the time, thinking to herself «To the middle of nowhere, amidst dust and heat, a mere mechanic.» Taking note of how deeply it affected him. His smile vanished instantly.

Back home, Olga couldn't shake the memory of how Leonid had gazed at her – his happy eyes never leaving her side. His sparkling humor endeared him to all her girlfriends without exception.

«Olga, you're lucky! Clever, polite – and with a bright future,» Galina said with unmistakable envy. «What a handsome young man with those blue eyes!»

«What future? Have I not grown up with railroads? Do you think I haven't seen a mechanic?» Olga retorted, trying to deflect her true feelings.

Yet deep down, she knew she wasn't being entirely honest, not only with her friends but with herself. She couldn't bring herself to admit that Leonid Mirachevsky meant more to her than just a friend. Perhaps, it was because he had never spoken openly about his feelings either.

«What have I done? I fear I've hurt him. But really, Central Asia isn't all sunshine and roses. I was merely showing sympathy,» Olga tried to rationalize her actions.

In that moment, it seemed he wanted to say something, but after her foolish remark, he never found the courage to do so.

* * *

And now, a completely transformed Leonid arrived in Lazirky – an urban resident, a student at the esteemed Moscow State University of Railway Engineering.

How did he end up here?

«Imagine, I was traveling from Kamyanyets to Moscow, via Kiev, of course. And on the platform, I literally bumped into Ivan Shramko. Remember him?» Leonid explained.

«The redhead? Of course! We were almost neighbors,» Olga recollected their most adventurous companion in their quest for knowledge during their «gymnasium journeys.»

«He informed me that you're no longer a student and have become a teacher here in Lazirky,» Leonid continued. He paused briefly, then with determination, he added, «I realized I couldn't miss this opportunity.»

He fell silent, turning away from the window. Then, speaking much more softly, he continued:

«I'm surprised you didn't notice. But you've always been somewhat independent, haven't you?»

And finally, he smiled once again.

«I came here to marry you. Will you accept?»

The gravity of his words left Olga stunned, momentarily silent.

«Aren't you going to say anything?» Leonid looked puzzled.

Olga's eyes flickered with uncertainty. «To say or not to say it?» she pondered. «You've never directly spoken about your feelings before, have you?»

Before Leonid could respond, Olga continued, «No, of course, your sentiments were evident without words. And it wasn't just me,» they shared a synchronized smile. «But you never made any moves, did you? And then you disappeared.»

Leonid turned serious.

«That's true. But what could I have offered you back then? I was a poor student,» he explained. He silenced any objections from Olga with a decisive gesture. «No, listen! You deserved better than that.

And you're right – I am still a student now. However, I stand on much firmer ground, and I'm confident in it!»

Olga listened in amazement, realizing that there was much she didn't know about her childhood acquaintance and that many more revelations were yet to come.

After a moment's silence, as they gazed out the darkening window, Leonid continued, «And then I disappeared… You remember, it was during the vacations: you went to your father, and I had my practice…»

«But you never even mentioned going to Moscow!» Olga interjected.

«I wasn't planning on it!»

«Did you decide overnight?»

Leonid chuckled. «Looks like we're having our first disagreement!» he said playfully, pulling the slightly resistant girl closer. However, Olga gently pulled away.

«Listen…» Leonid's expression softened. «During the vacation, I worked part-time as a driver's assistant, commuting back and forth. That's when I met my uncle in Moscow – remember, I mentioned him? Vitaly, my mother's brother. He's an amazing man! He and his wife, Rebecca, treated me like family. They don't have children of their own. It was his idea – I might not have realized it immediately. I might have waited a couple more years. But then everything seemed to align perfectly: I graduated technical school, got my diploma, completed two courses at the Institute of National Education in Kiev, and Moscow's top university. Uncle Vitaly guided me on what to do.»

Leonid continued, justifying his decision, «So, everything fell into place swiftly. I had to make a quick decision – the school year was about to begin…»

Olga's heart softened at his sincere explanation, and she sought to change the tone of the conversation, lightening the atmosphere.

«Do you remember how we used to joke about the abbreviation of the name of our institute in Kiev?» she asked with a smile.

Leonid breathed a sigh of relief. «I knew you'd understand. You've always been so perceptive. Good girl!»

He tenderly embraced his beloved once more, and this time, she didn't pull away. Leonids unwavering determination and calm confidence won her over completely and irrevocably. The next day, they married right there in Lazirky, without delay, as if he feared she might change her mind.

* * *

There wasn't much to pack: only a few belongings and, of course, her cherished books. They had been a solace to her during the long winter evenings in this remote wilderness. As they arrived at the station in the dark, a blizzard was beginning, likely the last one of the year after the thaw had given way to cold once again.

In a small waiting room, the couple sat together, their happiness apparent in their own unique ways. They were completely alone at this late hour, waiting for a train that was running a little behind schedule. Olga glanced at the wall clock, her nerves starting to show.

«Do you feel anxious?» Leonid asked gently. «Don't worry, everything will be fine. I'm sure you'll enjoy life in Moscow.» He observed Olga's excitement, contemplating that she was not just a bride but a soon-to-be wife.

Olga managed a weak smile in response, but Leonid misunderstood her emotions. While he noticed her growing anxiety, he didn't quite grasp the depth of her feelings.

Suddenly, the tranquility of the moment was shattered by heavy footsteps approaching the waiting room. A dense figure emerged in the doorway, and Anton Kravchuk opened his coat to reveal a rifle. Olga cried out in shock, and Mirachevsky stood up slowly, prepared for the unexpected turn of events.

For a moment, the two young men stood facing each other in tense silence. Leonid made a move as if about to say something, but the angered rival aimed his rifle at him. Olga pressed herself harder against the hard bench, fearing the direction of the muzzle.

«Did you think you could do that to me?» Anton's demeanor had transformed from courteous to that of an enraged predator. His heavy breathing, flaring nostrils, and bloodshot eyes gave him an intimidating appearance. The dim lamplight and the lantern outside the window seemed to accentuate this.

«Oh, now I see… Unfortunately, this realization came too late. I should have heeded the warning…» Olga thought to herself.

«You thought you could play games with me?! Let's play then…» The miller cocked the rifle. Apparently, this was the very weapon that had eluded the police.

Having survived the nightmares of the Civil War, Olga was all too familiar with how such situations often ended. This terrifying scene felt real, not like a bad dream.

«You don't like losing, do you?» Leonid's voice sounded distant to Olga.

«I have the final say!» Anton threatened once more, the muzzle of the rifle still menacingly close.

«This is no game!» Mirachevsky advanced a step, now resembling a beast ready to pounce.

«I'll shoot you!»

«She never promised you anything! Did she? She didn't make any commitments?» Leonid could sense Anton's hesitation and tried to take another step.

«Stop! I'll kill you regardless!»

«Come on!» The student locked eyes with his rival, showing no fear.

The sturdy country boy never expected the city slicker to be so stubborn. «He's not afraid!» In one swift leap, Leonid lunged at Anton, knocking the rifle out of his hand and sending him to the floor.

A sleepy station duty officer emerged from a side door, seemingly indifferent to the tense situation.

«Your train is arriving, folks. Hurry up.»

He finally noticed the scene on the floor and quickly pulled out a whistle from his pocket. Olga regained her composure and cried out:

«Help! Anton is going to kill him!»

The on-duty officer let out a shrill whistle and hurried to separate the boys. The girl quickly picked up the shotgun and sought refuge behind a nearby column.

From the adjacent station house, where the line department was located, a policeman came running. The other duty officer had just managed to drag Anton Kravchuk away. He immediately turned his attention to Leonid and proceeded to apprehend him.

«It wasn't his fault!» Olga exclaimed as she jumped to her feet. «He was defending himself!»

The policeman hesitated for a moment, then cautiously reached for his holster with his free hand. Before him stood an agitated girl, holding a sawed-off shotgun!

«Peter!» The duty officer wanted to intervene, but he couldn't approach the struggling Kravchuk. He held the boy more firmly, urging him to calm down.

«It has nothing to do with the girl, Peter!»

At that moment, Leonid realized that the current threat to his wife came from the policeman. He struggled to break free from the officer's grip but found himself back in the strong hands of the law.

«Come on, Miron, let's take them both to the station. And you,» the policeman observed that the young lady was not a threat, «hand over your rifle and come with us. We'll sort this out there.»

«Old man, you're quite something!» Leonid, surprised by the officer's sudden trust, tried to catch his breath.

«I served in the navy, in Kronstadt,» the «old man» revealed himself to be a young man. He added approvingly, «And you, young student, are not half bad. I didn't expect this!»

«We still need to find out what kind of student he is,» the policeman grumbled, roughly nudging Mirachevsky forward with the seized shotgun.

Anton had clearly calmed down, his anger subsiding, and he appeared visibly subdued.

At the station, Peter seated the miller down and directed Leonid into a holding cell. He simply nodded casually at a chair in the opposite corner to Olga.

«I have to go,» the duty officer said hurriedly, «the train is about to arrive.»

«Wait. Mr. Pavlenko will be back soon, and then you can leave. Trains are always late, it's nothing new.»

He sat down at the table and unfolded a piece of paper. However, he hesitated to draft a report. «He's illiterate and inexperienced.» The teacher thought right away. «How can he be taken seriously, trying to assert his authority,» she thought.

«What makes you think that this one,» the policeman nodded toward the holding cell, «is a student?»

«I met him the other day at the train station. He was asking about the girl. I mean for directions to find the school.»

«What for?»

«Peter! He came here to get married. The boys are fighting over the girl!»

At these words, Kravchuk leaped to his feet.

«Sit down!» The policeman, a young and somewhat brash fellow, shouted at him and cast an unkind glance in Olga's direction. The «authorities» seemed to have their own preconceived notions about the situation.

«You claim you're here to get married? And with a shotgun?!»

«It wasn't his weapon!» Olga was desperate, realizing that the situation was taking a serious turn. «Please, officer, let us go. We'll miss our train!»

«That's right. What train? Now, you're going to join your accomplice!» The policeman noticed tears welling up in Olga's big brown eyes and added sternly, «And don't cry here!»

«So?» He turned to the duty officer again. «Who came with a shotgun?»

Miron only sighed and scratched the back of his head.

«You didn't see it?» the «investigator» concluded.

«You're right, I didn't see it. But I'm sure it wasn't his,» Miron nodded in the direction of the cell.

«Not his, huh?» A booming voice sounded from the doorway. Pavlenko, an older and more experienced figure, had arrived. «What's the matter, Kravchuk? Did you manage to find a weapon after all? Did you borrow it from your father or inherit it from your brother?»

Peter slowly rose from his chair, making room for the senior officer.

«So, what do we have here?» The chief gave a stern look to everyone. «Martynov, report.»

However, Martynov appeared somewhat confused, realizing that the incident's picture was not entirely clear.

«Well,» Pavlenko leaned back in his chair, «let's start from the beginning. And did you check the citizens' ids?»

Martynov had to release Leonid from the cell. After examining their documents and hearing accounts from Miron and all sides of the conflict, the chief summarized, «That's it, young newlyweds, go where you need to go,» and handed back their papers. «We'll take care of our own business here, of local importance, so to speak.»

«What about the report?» The failed «chief» regained his senses.

«We will write one,» Pavlenko reassured him. He then nodded to the Mirachevskys, «Goodbye.»

They left the station and embraced each other tightly. They were still shaken by the encounter. As the long-awaited train approached the station, they rushed to board it, nearly colliding with the duty officer.

«Watch out, youngsters!»

«Thank you!» Leonid firmly shook Miron's hand. «If it hadn't been for your help…»

«You'll be just fine,» the duty officer grinned and winked at Olga. «Your student is quite the fighter! Hold on to him, girl!»

The train's horn sounded.

«Hurry up!»

Only when the train gained momentum could Olga finally exhale. She was still frightened, but now she looked at her fiance in a completely different light. He appeared calm again, even smiling. That smile dispelled her fear and uncertainty…

Yet, despite calming his beloved, Mirachevsky couldn't sleep for a long time. He found comfort in contemplating the sound of the wheels. Now, Leonid realized that Miron's help had played a crucial role in their escape.

If it hadn't been for the intervention of the head of the department… It was fortunate that he had obviously been stationed in Lazirky for a considerable time and perhaps had personally apprehended criminals here. If the other officers were like Peter, their sympathies would not be in favor of the student – he was a stranger to them. And perhaps an even more estranged element than the understandable miller-kulak (wealthy or prosperous peasant). «What about the international proletariat anthem? Where is the justice?» The realization of this fact tormented his soul terribly. While the first part of the incident, the scuffle with the rival, was even somewhat satisfying to recall («how he stood up for her!»), the aftermath was something he wished to forget as soon as possible.

* * *

Indeed, Olga Gurko departed Lazirky just in the nick of time. The age-old village was undergoing transformations in its long-established way of life… Subsequently, an artel with the evocative name «Nezamozhnyk,» meaning «Poor Man,» was founded there.

However, fate beckoned the young men onward, leading them through Kharkov and onward by rail to Moscow.

Chapter 6: For a Better Share

In those years, Moscow warmly welcomed all who sought a new beginning. Young and old, rich and poor, from the «former» or «present,» people from all walks of life tried to establish themselves in the Red Capital and forge a fresh destiny. They settled in its alleys, cramped rooms, and barracks, clustering in the suburbs, yet persistently clinging to hope for a change in their fortunes.

Yakov Maretsky's decision to relocate from the Taurida Governorate to Moscow was a well-considered and arduous one. His wife, Maria, had been suffering from a prolonged illness, necessitating the attention of capable doctors. Moreover, the future of their children demanded attention, especially their eldest, Mark, who was already sixteen!

Nonetheless, parting with their beloved hometown of Henichesk was no easy task. It had experienced a literal blossoming just before the revolution, becoming an official city only in 1903. The construction of the port had transformed the landscape: mudbrick houses in the center were replaced by sturdy stone structures, streets were paved, and even the main square, which once rivaled a swamp in inclement weather, now looked quite decent. Various trading offices, including foreign ones, hotels, restaurants, coffee houses, and taverns had sprung up. Yakov himself was engaged in his own business, buying goods from villagers and reselling them at the city market or port.

Yakov had married a treasure of a wife: beautiful, thrifty, and from a reputable family – the daughter of a wealthy shopkeeper (the Bersovs' store was located near the market in the city center). As fate would have it, she bore him two children – first, a son to assist the father, and then a daughter to support the mother. It seemed that Yakov's love for Maria only grew stronger after the birth of their children.

Yakov cherished his offspring: Anna, a delicate flower with captivating green eyes, and Mark, a spirited force whose energy needed channeling from an early age. At the tender age of five, the responsible duty of looking after his one-year-old sister was entrusted to the eldest son, Mark. It quickly became evident that responsibility was the boy's second most prominent trait, following his boundless curiosity, for which there seemed to be no end. Mark was intrigued by everything, and who better than his father to explain the unfathomable!

It became apparent to Yakov that his son needed an education beyond the Talmud alone. «Perhaps grammar school would suit him better. He should attend a cheder and should strive for greater things.»

* * *

«Maria,» the father, feeling both fatigued from the continuous questions and genuinely delighted, called out to his wife, «how did you manage to give birth to my son just in time for the opening of the library! That must be it; that's why he has this insatiable thirst for knowledge!»

The establishment of the opulent Public Library, the first in Henichesk, became a noteworthy event that drew both approval and discontent from the local press and bazaar-goers alike. Some questioned the abundance of books, arguing that the Torah was enough.

«Oh, Yakov, do you want your son to be a nar (fool) like Moysha, who only knows how to chase pigeons and cats?» His wife reminded him of the foolish offspring of the Winklevich family, adding with a chuckle, «And besides, with the streets being paved that year, would you also say our son has a heart of stone?»

Before Yakov could respond to his wife, young Mark had another question. «What is a library?» he inquired. And then, without pause, he asked, «Is there really such a thing as a heart of stone?»

«A library is a place filled with many books,» Father tried to be patient, eager to bring the never-ending conversation to a close. «And a heart of stone is an expression used for children who lack empathy and torment their parents with incessant questions.»

Little Anna, the younger sister, stood up for her beloved brother. «Mark is good!» she declared, not fully grasping the nuances of the conversation but sensing the changes in her father's tone. Mark, the restless and inventive elder brother, was her hero. He was the best in the world to her, and in return, he cherished his little sister tenderly.

* * *

In general, everything was going well for the Maretsky family. They lived harmoniously, not wealthy but not impoverished either. In a port city, only the indolent or inebriated would become destitute, but Yakov was diligent, astute, healthy, and robust – qualities essential in his line of work.

However, the Civil War did not merely sweep through Henichesk – it nearly obliterated it. The small port in the Melitopol district, situated on the outskirts of Crimea, faced attacks from all sides: shelled by armored trains on the railroad, visited by every faction fighting in Ukraine. The destruction inflicted gaping wounds on its streets, and sorrow and fear permeated the homes of its inhabitants.

Of course, the residents were resourceful people; they sought refuge in local catacombs and stockpiled food to outwit Germans, Whites, Reds, Greens, and other punitive detachments. These ancient dungeons concealed secret passages that baffled outsiders, but the boys, forbidden from going near the catacombs due to their former use by smugglers, still managed to learn and explore a lot. Mark, naturally curious, couldn't resist involvement in such significant matters, yet attentive parents promptly put an end to his attempts, ensuring he didn't partake in unsafe underground exploration. Disobeying was out of the question.

However, strangely enough, the real catastrophe struck in 1921, after the Civil War in the South had already ended. Henichesk seemed destined to never recover: plagued by typhus, subject to shootings by the Cheka, and plunged into a terrible famine. A famine in a land known for its abundance of bread, a place that had grown into a city thanks to its flourishing grain trade…

* * *

No one believed it, even though gradually the townspeople were transitioning back to peaceful life. But the prospects had dried up here, and supplies were depleting after enduring so many pogroms and requisitions…

Recalling the horrors he had endured, Yakov suspected that his wife's sudden and puzzling illness was a result of the endless searches and threats they had faced. The walls of their once-reliable house now seemed inadequate to protect the family.

Perhaps, that's why he found himself agreeing with his daughter when she spoke about leaving. Anna observed with eagerness as those who had held the town together departed Henichesk, one by one.

«Daddy, everyone is leaving from here,» her voice trembled, «I wish we could go to Kharkov, too. There's a new Ukrainian capital and real life there now.»

«Eh, what kind of life is real, daughter?»

«I don't know. It's just… there, not here.»

A lump formed in his throat. Amid the daily struggles for survival and Maria's health, he had overlooked this despair. He glanced at his son – serious and silent. Understanding his father's unspoken question, he simply nodded. And who could doubt it? These two were always on the same page.

Yes, I should have made up my mind long ago. He pulled Anna closer, rubbed his son's shoulder.

«Well, if we're going to the capital, we're going to the main one!»

«Daddy!»

«Oh, tsores…» Maria sighed.

«Why the distress, Mom?» Mark asserted confidently. «There are good doctors there too.»

* * *

Mark adored Henichesk, just as children hold dear everything associated with the earliest and brightest years of their lives. It was astonishing how much this small town encompassed! The bustling, colorful bazaar gave way to the tranquility of the new embankment, where composed locals strolled, and the hush of a narrow street with soft dust underfoot abruptly yielded to the lively bustle of the central «avenue.» The port's incessant hum, where carts rattled on the flooring day and night, barges rumbled, and movers shouted, retreated before the serene calm of the deserted Arabat Arrow.

In this place, the feeling of crowdedness and confined space, so often found in many provincial towns, simply dissolved, for on all sides lay vast expanses! On one hand, the boundless water surface, and on the other, an endless steppe. The air carried not just scents but also tastes, where the salty sea freshness mingled with the aroma of steppe grasses. Mark, naturally observant, had ample time to notice all the subtleties and nuances, the shifting moods and ever-changing aspects of nature as he ran errands for his parents or wandered with his friends.

Perhaps, it was the diversity of Henichesk that had a significant impact on shaping his character. However, it also meant that he was destined to outgrow his hometown, feeling the urge to explore beyond its limits.

* * *

Of course, Mark supported his sister's desire to leave Henichesk. What prospects awaited him in this town? The grueling toil at the port, assisting his father on commercial trips, or, in the best case, working for the Bersovs – his grandfather Zeide wouldn't refuse his only daughter's son – with the potential of becoming a storekeeper. However, firstly, these options held little appeal for the inquisitive young man. Secondly, they seemed to fade away on their own. Despite the bright memories of his childhood, the impressions of the harsh years weighed heavily on his future.

Mark couldn't yet precisely articulate what he aspired to do. Initially, he entertained the idea of joining the navy, but he had witnessed its less glamorous aspects since childhood and realized that there was little romance in the navy. Then, a completely different realm captured his imagination.

Over the years, Mark had repeatedly observed airplanes circling above the city and the sea, sailing gracefully through the sky with their engines moderately humming or pouncing fiercely like hungry seagulls, dropping deadly cargo. Sometimes, he received reprimands for his hesitance, being told to hurry to the basement for safety. Instead of hiding, he tried to watch each aircraft closely. Those were remarkable days, as various models soared through the sky: Voisins, Farmans, Nieuports, Sopwiths, and more.

Once, Mark had the extraordinary luck of witnessing an airplane with a truly enormous wingspan. At the time, he didn't know its name, Ilya Muromets, but it left a lasting impression on his imagination. Excitedly describing it to his friend Sergei, Mark exclaimed, «It's huge! The wings! The rumble it made was so loud, I could feel the vibrations inside me!» He gestured vigorously, trying to imitate the roar of a four-cylinder engine, and then ran around the yard with arms outstretched, reveling in his delight.

Even earlier, he had observed Lebed hydroplanes taking off and circling over the sea from the northeastern Azov coast. The airplane factory built in Taganrog in 1916 tested its new machines over the water, and sometimes they ventured beyond Taganrog Bay, much to the delight of the boys. When they heard the distant murmur of the engine, they would rush to the embankment to catch a better glimpse of the marvelous aircraft gliding in the clouds above the sea surface.

However, it was during the war that Mark truly witnessed the beauty and power of these winged machines, as they demonstrated their capabilities in combat conditions (if only his parents didn't interfere with watching these battles!).

By the time he turned fifteen, it had become clear to Mark that if he were to choose a profession, it must be connected with this new technology, with the sky. But in Henichesk, with its limited opportunities, and for a boy like Mark, the sky seemed so distant and unattainable…

The unexpected decision of his father to move to Moscow brought new opportunities. However, Yakov embarked on a reconnaissance trip to Moscow himself. In the city, the new economic policy, as insiders claimed, had already begun to work miracles, reviving the seemingly impossible with a life-giving elixir.

Chapter 7: Hopes and Losses

A couple of months later, Yakov returned to fetch his family. He had departed with a heavy heart, venturing into the unknown, but he returned with confidence that everything would fall into place as it should.

In the mid-1920s, as new societies, artels, and trusts emerged almost daily, there arose a need not just for laborers – there was plenty of that – but for people who were savvy and resourceful. Fortunately, Yakov managed to find a job rather swiftly. As a citizen of Jewish origin in a new place, the natural course was to approach the synagogue – they always offered help to their own people.

They advised him to seek out a certain Baruch Berkovich, the headman of a construction artel. Fortunately for Yakov, but to the dismay of Baruch, the artel's foreman had gone rogue and was expelled in disgrace. This was the perfect opportunity for Maretsky senior to utilize his experience as a traveling salesman, his negotiation skills, and, of course, his imposing appearance. «Schtark vl a ferd – strong as a horse,» his father used to say about him. The short, stocky Baruch gave Yakov a shrewd look but sternly inquired:

«Where are you from? What can you do?»

«From Henichesk…» And briefly, Yakov recounted what he had been doing since he was very young. He was immediately hired. The new occupation suited him perfectly, and he quickly became an indispensable assistant to the headman. Baruch even helped him with housing, introducing him to the right people.

* * *

Yakov shared all this with his family as they hurriedly packed up their rustic belongings. The journey was arduous, especially for Maria, but finally, they arrived in Moscow…

The capital immediately overwhelmed them with the clamor of the station square, the shouts of merchants, the clang of street – cars, and the rumble of wrought iron wheels on the sidewalk. In the evening, it dazzled them with bright shop windows and lights, astounding them with the abundance of advertising, especially in the main streets. Mark was enthralled. Since childhood, he had possessed the ability to marvel at even the smallest things and to find the extraordinary in the ordinary. Consequently, he immediately fell in love with the diverse and vibrant crowd, and with the seemingly endless streets that the streetcar carried them along from the station. The young provincial barely had enough time to turn his head, observing passers-by and reading the bright, promising signs: «Artel of Gastronomic Goods,» «Confectionery Cooperative,» «Metallotrest: Our Drills, Scythes, Axes – all Strong and Sharp.»

«Look at The Haberdashery Manufactories! It's not like the Bersov's store; have you seen their window?!» Mark marveled, familiar with the wisdom of trade from childhood, and astonished by the capital's grand scale.

«Anna, look, look, look! This is how the capital dresses!» Mark even leaned out of the window to catch a glimpse of the elegant girls – the kind he had only seen in movies – emerging from the arcade doors.

«Don't break your neck,» his father chuckled.

«Oh, the dresses are so beautiful…» Anna caught her brother's mood, and her apprehension towards passers-by transformed into curiosity.

«I'll get you a dress, don't worry.»

«You're boasting, son. Moscow has a temperament; it won't accept just anyone.»

In reality, Yakov, who himself had never been afraid to embark on a new venture, was pleased.

«We'll be kind to it, so why shouldn't it accept us!»

«You're quite the braggart, Mark!» The sarcastic tone held no malice; his sister trusted him wholeheartedly.

Only Maria did not share her family's optimism. Pale and exhausted from the journey she could barely bear the stifling heat in the crowded streetcar and tried not to sigh too loudly so as not to upset her husband and children. Only occasionally did she whisper to herself, «Meshuggah, meshuggah.» Yes, to newcomers, this city often seemed a little crazy.

* * *

They arrived at a rented apartment on 3rd Meshchanskaya Street, two cramped rooms without a kitchen – quite a fortune for those times. Yakov had deliberately chosen this neighborhood for its proximity to the former Sheremetev Hospital, now transformed into the Institute of Emergency Care, located on Bolshaya Sukharevskaya Square. Just in front of the hospital, standing like a fairy-tale palace at the foot of the renowned Sukharev Tower, was the bustling main market of the capital. The Moscow Soviet had closed down the market during the revolutionary turmoil, denouncing it as a «hotbed of speculation and crime.» However, with the advent of the New Economic Policy (NEP), trade had spontaneously revived, nearly matching its previous scale.

Thus, a new chapter in the family's history began. At home, Anna diligently cared for her mother, managed the household, and attended typing courses, while Mark found employment in his father's artel. The years of revolution and war communism had left many buildings dilapidated, necessitating not just repairs but restoration as well. Simultaneously, new constructions were unfolding, leading to numerous orders for their brigade. The team was friendly, and Baruch, the leader, meticulously selected personnel based on reliable recommendations, ensuring smooth holidays and the observance of the Sabbath.

In the evenings and on weekends, Mark took the opportunity to explore the unfamiliar cityscape. Following a self-imposed rule, he ventured from the center, the Kremlin, into different directions, acquainting himself with the city, its customs, and its habits – traversing on foot or aboard streetcars like a true Muscovite. Everything was new and surprising, but when he reached the Moskva River, the bustling wharves reminded him of his native port, and he felt at home.

His exploration initially centered on the neighborhoods of Sretenka and Meshchanskaya Sloboda, where intricate facades of revenue houses stood alongside sturdy stone buildings from the last century and wooden two-story shacks inhabited by a diverse and often unreliable population. The Sukharevsky market was a place to be cautious about, and Anna was strictly forbidden from going there alone. Yakov also warned his son, «Don't venture in there unless necessary; it's not a place for leisure. And keep a close eye on your pockets!»

As understandable as his father's instructions were, they proved challenging to follow in practice, given that nearly all roads led through the market. The adjacent streets, filled with shops, stores, and inns, were essentially an extension of it. Yet, the newly minted Muscovite found this unusual place fascinating. He visited as if attending the movies, gaining experience from the sights and sounds. And when he sensed suspicious glances – «he's prowling around, seeking out a thief; there are plenty of hooligans now» – he would cautiously retreat, imagining himself as a protagonist of a detective story. There was something elusive that drew him to the market.

One Sunday, as he strolled along the rows, he heard a sudden commotion behind him – shouting, whistling, and cursing, as if a wave of chaos was approaching. From a distance, Mark had witnessed such occurrences before. As he turned around, he saw a boy emerging from the sea of people, pushing him, and then disappearing into the crowd. Mark could have apprehended the hoodlum, but for an instant, their eyes met, and he found himself frozen. Following closely behind was a policeman, shrilly whistling, and a short while later, a panting, bewildered, heavy-set citizen arrived.

The scene played out as a typical occurrence in the market. Mark noticed that no one else in the crowd seemed bothered, and life resumed its normal pace. Nevertheless, the weight in his pocket felt unusual, prompting him to reach for the source of the heaviness.

Once out of the crowd, he ducked into the first alley to examine the «foundling» – a costly cigarette case. «What should I do? Should I go to the authorities?» he pondered, feeling perplexed. He couldn't understand why he refrained from apprehending the thief, a blueeyed, attractive young man who appeared to be around his age. There was something in the thief's gaze that halted him – perhaps slyness, as if they were comrades sharing a secret, or an undeniable, composed seriousness. Mark was certain that he wasn't going to take any action. Was it compassion, a sense of camaraderie, or maybe fear of the consequences, knowing the ways of the local public? Whatever it was, fear wasn't what he felt.

«Discard it! Toss it away and forget it,» his self-preservation instinct whispered, urging him to make the sensible choice. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he secretively stashed the cigarette case under the mattress at home. A surprising thought crossed his mind: «This is my first secret…» Strangely enough, within the friendly Maretsky family, secrets, even when they surfaced (mostly about the boys' mischief), had a tendency to be revealed swiftly.

He hadn't yet decided what to do with the stolen item, but from that day on, every time he passed through the market, he searched for the pickpocket. Mark couldn't help but wonder if the thief had been caught on that ill-fated morning. Nights were spent restlessly, cursing himself for unwittingly becoming an accomplice.

A week or two later, while leaving the house, Maretsky nearly collided with the blue-eyed pickpocket.

«Sacha,» the unpunished thief introduced himself briefly, extending his hand.

Mark introduced himself and shook the grubby, five-fingered hand. Surprisingly, a sense of relief washed over him – he saw a way out of the delicate situation.

«Why didn't you report me? I could've been caught,» the pickpocket inquired, studying Mark with unabashed interest.

«I had second thoughts,» Mark admitted, realizing that he indeed had.

«Well, I'm grateful,» the pickpocket remarked jokingly, extending his gratitude. «Where's the item? Did you get rid of it already?»

«You're insulting me! It's right there, waiting for you. Let me get it for you.»

When the item was returned to its rightful owner, Mark finally breathed a sigh of relief. Sacha inspected the cigarette case and expressed his dismay:

«Oh, what a waste of effort. And it was such a serious gentleman.»

«What's wrong?»

«I don't believe it's gold. Well, I might get a few pennies for it, at least.»

As they strolled together towards the square, Mark couldn't help but ponder how this newfound acquaintance defied the stereotypical image of a street thief. Sacha was a blond, well-built but notably thin young man with delicate features and an exceptionally smooth way of speaking. Something about him didn't quite add up.

Nevertheless, that day marked a significant turning point for Mark – unexpectedly, he had found a friend.

* * *

The more Maretsky got to know Sacha, who happened to be a year younger than him, the more he understood why he hadn't reported him. Sacha Voisky hailed from Tver, born to an officer in a destitute noble family and a former maid. He recounted his life with a subdued demeanor, devoid of any emotion.

«The last time I saw my father was in 18. He returned from active duty, from the war. It was barely a week, and then he left to fight again, this time against the Bolsheviks. He assured me he'd be back soon, said they wouldn't last long,» Sacha paused for a moment. «But you see how it turned out… He vanished, and I haven't heard from him since.»

While such a narrative was sadly common during those times, it remained no less tragic. His mother was left grappling with desperate attempts to find work. Eventually, she fell in with a lover, a shadowy figure who elicited persistent disdain from the young boy. This new «father» coaxed them into relocating to Moscow.

Once in Moscow, the stepfather engaged in dubious dealings in the Sukharevsky market and soon got carved up, right in front of Sacha's mother. Since then, as his newfound friend recounted, she had been «a bit out of sorts,» and Sacha took on the role of the sole breadwinner.

* * *

Despite living in different worlds, the two young men shared much in common: their curiosity and hunger for new experiences led them to seek out and discover the wonders of the big city. Although Sacha held some disdain for Moscow, he acknowledged its abundance of attractions – movies, theaters, museums, and the plethora of newspapers and magazines. Their mutual passion for reading connected them effortlessly. Mark undeniably lagged behind Sacha, the latter being reared under the vigilant guidance of his father from his tender years. And Mark admired Sacha's remarkable memory; he could remember the contents of all the books he had read and could even quote from them. They often exchanged books, though it seemed that Sacha had somehow acquired some rare volumes from the Sukharevsky market.

By that time, Mark had been toiling at the brickyard, having joined the school of the working youth, and he convinced Sacha to do the same, persuading him that his intellectual prowess warranted pursuing higher education at an institute.

«Are you kidding me? You want me to become part of the working youth?» Sacha sadly protested.

«Well, first you'll have to get a job at the factory. I'll ask around. I think Baruch has a brother-in-law at the candy factory. I'll also ask my foreman. But it might be tough for you at the brick factory,» replied Mark.

«I'm not afraid of hard work. But don't you see? I'm disadvantaged!» argued Sacha.

«What kind of nonsense are you talking about? Nobody here knows about your father,» Mark playfully jested. «And besides, why would you consider yourself disadvantaged? You have everything.»

«What do you mean, 'everything'?» Sacha slyly squinted and tapped his forehead. «What about this?»

«That's exactly what I'm saying! You've got a brilliant mind!» Mark emphasized.

«Maybe we should seriously give it a try,» Sacha finally conceded.

Mark was delighted; it seemed he had successfully convinced his friend. However, Sacha's shenanigans did not hold much appeal for him. Besides, the New-Sukharevsky market, with its orderly rows of stalls and vigilant guards, was a far cry from a place he found enjoyable.

Meanwhile, Sacha was captivated by the idea of pursuing higher education. He began making plans, yet remained undecided about his future. He felt he could excel at anything he put his mind to.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans. On a warm April evening, the two friends attended an operetta that had opened six months prior – a musical performance of Dunayevsky's Grooms. Although it was a comedy, Sacha was preoccupied with worries about his mother, who had been drinking heavily with a neighbor the previous day.

The performance ended late, and as Sacha returned home, he noticed a commotion near his house. Smoke and flames emerged from the cellar window where he and his mother resided in a tiny room. Fueled by desperation, he pushed through the crowd to reach the burning building. Despite attempts to hold him back, he broke through the fire. Tragically, a burning beam collapsed at that moment. The firemen managed to rescue him, but he was left unconscious and severely burned.

For three days, Mark visited both patients in the emergency room. His mother had been struggling with another course of treatment for two weeks, while Sacha remained unconscious due to his injuries. And thus, Mark lost his best friend…

The trees along the boulevards were veiled in a green haze, and the air carried the intoxicating scents of young leaves, freshness, and damp earth, along with something intangible and exhilarating. This time of year always held the promise of something new, something positive – a sense of renewal. And yet, it was also a time of profound loss!

Mark wandered the streets in a daze. Despite his naturally optimistic disposition, always meeting difficulties with a smile, he felt utterly bewildered. The tragic loss of his best friend had taken him by surprise, leaving him emotionally disoriented. Even his beloved books, which had always been close companions, couldn't provide solace during this trying time.

Witnessing his son's profound distress, the seasoned Yakov shared his wisdom:

«Life goes on, my son. You have to carry on despite the pain of loss. It'll hurt, and that's something you'll have to live with. But believe me, only hard work can ease that pain, little by little, yet it will never completely vanish.»

Mark, on the verge of tears, looked up at his father. The words continued to flow:

«So, all I can advise you, my son, is to work diligently, study diligently. Don't give up, no matter what challenges come your way. And be prepared for other losses that life may bring.»

«Daddy, is this your way of comforting him?» Anna was taken aback by her father's unexpected speech.

«I'm not trying to comfort him. Everyone has to find their own way to cope. I'm simply trying to prepare him for the realities of adulthood,» Yakov explained.

«I understand now, Dad. Thank you,» Mark replied gratefully.

* * *

Two years later, Maria also passed away. With his school days behind him, Mark felt a newfound clarity of purpose. He could now embark on his journey to Leningrad, where his dreams of the sky beckoned him.

Beloved little sister, who was experiencing a difficult farewell, and their father remained in the capital. But for Mark Maretsky the Moscow chapter of his life had come to an end, and in that moment, it seemed as if it were for good.

Chapter 8: «To Moscow…» and in Moscow

The Mirachevsky newlyweds' journey to Moscow took them through the Southern Railway Station in Kharkov, one of the largest in the former Russian Empire, where they had to make a transfer. After enduring several tedious hours at the station, they finally found themselves aboard the train. Olga, exhausted by the dramatic events of the past twenty-four hours, was slowly dozing off…

Her life up until that point had been a challenging struggle for survival. They lived in a rented apartment with the girls as dormitories were scarce, and those fortunate enough to secure a spot were not to be envied. The new authorities strangely allocated the most unsuitable premises for students in Kiev: the former museum of Kyiv-Pechersk Lavra, barracks once housing prisoners during the war, and even St. Michael's Golden-Domed Monastery, now devoid of its famous gilding, was converted into a dormitory. A sign on its gates read: «Housing for proletarian students.» Olga had to visit her classmates there and recalled the narrow cells and the cheerful, despite cramped conditions, residents.

Leonid gazed at his wife («wife!» – he enjoyed using that unfamiliar word) and tried to discern her thoughts. He was well aware of Olga's reserved nature; even in her school years, she sometimes appeared older than her peers.

«But how frightened she was at the station! And not for herself, that's for sure.» He realized with astonishment that he was grateful to that country boy, the rejected suitor, for the dangerous incident that had revealed Olga's feelings, of which Mirachevsky had, perhaps, not been entirely sure until then. Yes, she was pleased. Yes, she had accepted the «marriage proposal.» They got married. But his passionate temperament craved more. Now, the events of yesterday's fright unequivocally proved that their love was mutual.

«What are you pondering?» Leonid's question came so unexpectedly that Olga flinched.

Unsure of how to express herself, she didn't respond right away:

«Perhaps, about the peculiarities and twists of fate.»

He understood, of course. He was contemplating the same thing himself. But he wanted to uplift her spirits, so he asked with mock indignation:

«Are you calling our marriage a twist of fate?!»

«Well, if you think about it, we're truly stepping into a new life right now, at the gates…»

«Wow! That's what a degree in philology gets you – the ability to string words together like that! I wouldn't have thought of that. But it's late; let's get some rest.»

* * *

The unpleasant residue of the incident at Lazirky station finally dissolved as the train slowed down and glided through the Moscow suburbs, and Olga's heart fluttered with excitement: «To Moscow, to Moscow…»

The Bryansk railway station, the southwestern gateway to the capital, was initially dominated by the imposing platform – Mirachevsky couldn't help but grin as his wife descended to the platform, visibly astonished by the glass-and-steel structure spanning over the tracks. The place erupted with loud exclamations, spiraling into the vortex of customary commotion, with helpful porters weaving through the fray, leading to a bustling square teeming with individuals, carriages, and assorted vehicles.

For Olga, the first sign of their new life was a ride in a taxi-car, a recent addition to the capital's transportation.

Leonid whistled for the porters and hurried towards the bus stop, suggesting, «Let's go for a ride! It's a pity we won't catch a breeze.»

«How far is it?» Olga asked.

«Not that far. Are you tired?» asked Leonid, sensing her agitation.

«A little.» Olga was really out of her depth.

«But, Madame Mirachevsky,» he playfully bowed, «you'll get a glimpse of the city.»

They hopped into a sleek black car with a yellow stripe on the side and a canvas top, gracefully maneuvering through the crowd as they crossed the Borodinsky Bridge and ventured farther into the city. «Here is the Moscow River! The Garden Ring!» proudly narrated the aspiring railroad engineer. «He seems to excel as a tour guide too!» Olga couldn't help but admire her husband in every way.

Soon, the car entered a serene alley, and the bustling city noise vanished as if it had never existed. As they reached the final destination of their journey, Leonid's home in Tryokhprudny Lane, the vastness of Moscow seemed to shrink to merely eight square meters. It was an unexpected revelation…

Olga stood in the middle of the small, narrow room furnished with a bed, a small table, a chair, a coat rack, and a bookcase. In the corner, a hospital-like bedside table served as a cupboard with a primus stove resting on a metal tray (a thoughtful addition!).

Seeing her hesitation, he wrapped his arm around her and said, «Wife, I honestly warned you that my accommodation is far from ideal. Private rooms in Moscow are extremely rare now, especially in the center. But look, I moved the primus stove here so I wouldn't have to suffer in the communal kitchen.»

Embarrassed that Leonid might perceive her involuntary – not disappointment (as she was no stranger to the hardships of communal living) but rather surprise – Olga explained, «You know, it's just such a contrast…»

«A contrast?» he inquired.

«Yes, exactly. After the vastness of the big city…»

«Ah, I see now!» he breathed a sigh of relief. «It's a thing! Moscow is an intriguing city; you'll be surprised more than once as you get used to it.»

And Olga did get used to it. She quickly learned to navigate a city she had never visited but had only read about. Of course, at first, Leonid took her everywhere: the Patriarch's Ponds (only one of the three still existed), the boulevards, Arbat, Kuznetsky Bridge, Petrovka, Red Square, theaters, and, of course, the stores.

«You need a new dress!» Leonid declared confidently the day after their arrival. «And shoes!»

Mirachevsky still had two years left until graduation, but he couldn't be considered a poor student, thanks to his part-time job as a machinist's assistant, which paid well. Additionally, the NEP (New Economic Policy) allowed him to engage in commerce without fear. Since his days in Kyiv, Mirachevsky had skillfully organized his life and involved his friends in ventures that benefited everyone. In short, the student had some money, though not much. And now, Leonid was doing his best to augment their finances. He bought haberdashery goods from the capital and brought them to Kyiv, and in return, transported sunflower seeds from Ukraine to the capital.

Summer was approaching, and it was time for a vacation. However, there was no honeymoon in sight, so they had to accept it. As he departed, she continued to settle in and soon began to look like a true Muscovite. The streetcars «A» and «B» were almost always crowded, making leisurely walks more appealing. Leonid was right – Olga adored the contrasts of Moscow the most. Turning from the bustling Tverskaya Street onto a boulevard and then into some lane near Arbat, she felt transported back to the last century, expecting to encounter a lady with a dog, adjusting her hat, any moment. Beloved literary works seemed to come to life here, and their characters felt almost tangible.

* * *

Certainly, the reality in the country had evolved significantly, far from the world of classical literature. Party discussions, adopted economic plans, the fight against illiteracy, and the promotion of chemical knowledge under the slogan «Mass protection from gases – the cause of the working people!» now dominated the scene.

The events of the war anxiety in 1927, the crisis in relations with England, the rupture of diplomatic ties, Chamberlain's ultimatum, talks of the inevitability of war, and the revived hopes for the Bolsheviks' downfall passed unnoticed by Olga. An extensive propaganda campaign against the «conspiracy of the world bourgeoisie,» Polish pans, and internal counterrevolution unfolded against the backdrop of food difficulties. Knowledgeable individuals hinted at impending changes and advised exchanging paper money for tsarist gold rubles. However, Leonid remained calm and endeavored to protect his family and home from any potential shocks.

* * *

By the fall, it became evident that the Mirachevsky family was expecting a new addition, and Leonid strongly advised against his pregnant wife taking on any work. Thankfully, Olga was handling the pregnancy quite well. There was only one instance when she felt uncomfortable, during a demonstration they attended to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the October Revolution. The students and teachers of MIIT (Russian University of Transport) marched together, and Olga happily joined Leonid's merry group of friends.

Despite the cold and windy weather, and the long wait for the military parade to finish in the square, the atmosphere was filled with excitement. Bravura music and impassioned speeches resounded from loudspeakers, colorful posters and cartoons floated above the crowd, and the promise of a resolute «answer to Chamberlain» (without a doubt!) stirred the patriotic fervor. As they almost jogged across Red Square (for some inexplicable reason, they had to move quickly), Olga suddenly stopped and turned pale.

«Are you feeling sick?» her husband asked, genuinely worried.

«No, no, I just need to sit down for a moment.»

He helped her to the embankment where he took off his coat and laid it on a damp bench.

«Leonid, why?» she inquired.

«Just sit down and get some rest,» he replied.

Her discomfort passed swiftly, and in the following months, it hardly resurfaced.

* * *

Yet, at times, Olga felt uneasy in Moscow. Her husband was often away from home (no blame on him – he was studying and preparing for exams, while also working part-time), and her relatives were not nearby. «If only mom were alive…» The euphoria of moving to the capital had waned during pregnancy, replaced by a sense of loneliness. Despite the care and attention from her 23-year-old soon-to-be father of the child, he couldn't always fully grasp her current emotional state. Even though their room frequently hosted gatherings with friends, and on the rare weekends they had together, they invariably joined friends for outings to the movies or theater. Yet, she yearned for more moments of solitude and privacy…

Letters from her beloved sister, Maria, who at that time resided with her children and mother-in-law at the Tikhaya Pustyn station in the neighboring Kaluga Governorate, brought comfort and support to Olga. Wrapped in a cozy blanket, she read her sister's message: «I am worried about you. Though you don't complain, I can sense that your spirits are not as cheerful. Consider my proposal. It might not be proper to say, but Natalya has taken the place of our mother, and she will warmly welcome you here. The surroundings are delightful. Come, and we will have more fun together.»

Leonid noticed her reading and asked, «Why stay indoors? It's so lovely outside, with the scent of spring in the air. Shall we take a walk?» As he observed her carefully, he inquired, «Are you feeling unwell?»

Silently, Olga handed him the letter. He sat beside her on the bed, read through the lines, and embraced his wife. «Honestly, Id hate to see you go,» he admitted. She remained quiet, and he continued, «I know I haven't been giving you enough attention lately… Your Maria is probably right…» He nodded, as if agreeing with certain thoughts. Then, with his characteristic casualness that charmed everyone, he said, «Still, being in the company of experienced mothers will put you at ease. And I won't worry about leaving you alone.»

«Of course!» Olga exhaled with relief, «You'll be able to prepare for the exams in peace.»

«It's settled. I'll take you there this weekend.»

Everything worked out wonderfully: the next weekend coincided with Easter, granting workers three days of rest. Just like two years ago, they found themselves at Bryansk station, but this time they were only a short distance away from a small station near Kaluga. The Golovachev household immediately felt like home. The surroundings were filled with beauty, and beyond the pine forest lay a gem of the area – the former Tikhonova Pustyn monastery, which lent its name to the station. Although approaching it was not recommended due to the presence of a military unit, the distant view of the still-preserved church domes was a sight to behold.

Strolls in the picturesque countryside had a calming effect on Olga, and she especially enjoyed the small pond, where she lingered by the shore, inhaling the refreshing pine-scented air, reminiscent of her tranquil childhood days at Solonytsya pond.

On his departure, Leonid promised to return in a couple of weeks, on May Day. However, to his wife's joy, he surprised her by arriving on the evening of April 29th. Olga appeared well, rejuvenated, and most importantly, completely serene, even with the approaching important day.

«Natalya, Maria, you are truly magicians!» he exclaimed, laying out the treats he had brought. «Now, I am absolutely certain: we will have a healthy son!»

«We shall see,» Olga and Maria exchanged conspiratorial glances. According to various women's omens, it seemed a girl was expected, and Natalya was convinced of it.

During the night, the contractions began. On May 1, a perfectly healthy baby was born. However, Leonids expectation of a son was not met. It was a daughter – the Mirachevsky's first-born child. Yet, the young father's joy knew no bounds, and he jokingly remarked, «Look how much she enjoyed the November demonstration! She decided to participate in May Day too!»

Olga and Irina, the name chosen by the parents for their daughter, continued to reside in Tikhaya Pustyn for another three months while the head of the family underwent his exams and embarked on a surveying internship. Nevertheless, whenever he had some free time, he unfailingly appeared at the Golovachev residence.

«My Konstantin has a soft spot for his girls,» exclaimed Maria's mother-in-law, «but when it comes to Irina, he simply can't stay away. Oh, how fortunate you are, Olga!»

Indeed, one could hardly imagine a more devoted and caring father.

With almost a full year remaining before graduation, the future looked promising for the young family.

Part II
The Great Turning Point

Chapter 1: Toward Destiny

Mark was not the only one turning the page of his life. The country itself was on the cusp of a new era, where words like «industrialization,» «plan,» and «five-year plan» had become part of everyday parlance. These words now defined the life of the Soviet people, and the nation was abuzz with unprecedented enthusiasm for building, developing, producing, and mining…

However, not everyone rejoiced at the successes of socialist construction, as reported in the newspapers. Detractors and enemies lurked in the shadows, threatened by the onward march of «Our locomotive, fly forward! At the commune is a station…» – the cheerful lyrics of songs broadcasted from every loudspeaker. The state dealt mercilessly with these real enemies, determined to safeguard its vision.

In essence, the Great Turning Point had arrived, reshaping families and destinies, while also paving the way for monumental achievements, albeit at the cost of colossal losses. Yet, at that time, thoughts of these sacrifices were overshadowed by the younger generation's boundless enthusiasm. The youth, untainted by the «cursed tsarist past,» wholeheartedly embraced the opportunity to construct their radiant future. The grand scale of communist ideals and transformative plans mesmerized them with courage and possibilities…

Now, the future of Mark Maretsky rested squarely on his shoulders and the favor of the admissions committee of the military school. In Leningrad, he paid a visit to Grigory Bersov, his mother's brother, who lived on Shpalernaya Street, now renamed Bolshevik Voinov Street, which brought some unintentional reassurance. «A good sign!» Mark thought. «The path to a military career is within reach!»

Shpalernaya Street turned out to be splendid, devoid of any overt military presence. Instead, it boasted impressive houses and even palaces, like the Tauride Palace where the Duma met, along with a prison colloquially known as Shpalerka. Nonetheless, Grigory warmly welcomed his nephew and explained that barracks from Tsarist times still stood, housing the Manege of the Cavalry Regiment and the officers' barracks of the Life Guards Horse Artillery. «First, I should explore the city,» Mark decided the next day as he walked toward the Neva River from Shpalernaya Street (the «revolutionary» names had yet to take hold, and streetcar conductors announced stops in both old and new ways). His destination was the Petrograd side.

Upon reaching the Equality Bridge (aka Troitskiy), Mark paused. This was where the legendary pilot, V. Chkalov, was rumored to have executed his first daring aerial feat, passing between the supports directly over the water. As he envisioned the spectacle, Mark's thoughts drifted back to his first year in Moscow…

* * *

Balancing work at the factory during the day and attending school in the evening, Mark found himself inundated with an abundance of impressions and worries. Childhood fantasies were now a distant memory, as the bustling capital demanded action from those who dared to dream. In various corners of the city, Mark encountered posters from the Dobrolyot society, urging workers to contribute to the construction of an air fleet, along with vibrant agitations from Osoaviakhim. And then, a spectacle that would forever stir his soul – the air parade commemorating the tenth anniversary of the revolution, where the remarkable Valery Chkalov showcased his awe-inspiring skills at Khodynka Field, Central Aerodrome. Though Mark couldn't attend the event in person, he marveled at the aerial acrobatics from a spot amidst the crowd of enthusiastic onlookers.

From that day forth, Mark's dreams began to rekindle, and he applied himself diligently to his studies, meticulously tackling additional assignments. The only aspect he lacked was physical training, but soon, an Osoaviakhim club opened at the factory, and joining was a breeze. Furthermore, he discovered that he could submit an application for admission to the military school directly through the local Osoaviakhim organization, which also facilitated a preliminary medical examination.

* * *

Mark had little concern about his health, as he inherited his father's robust constitution. However, an elderly surgeon during his medical examination, upon observing Mark's posture, hesitated before delivering a verdict and posed an unexpected question:

«Young man, did you sustain any childhood injuries?»

Mark found himself flustered – who hadn't experienced childhood mishaps?

The surgeon continued, «You have a minor spinal deformity. You may get another X-ray, but I doubt it will reveal anything different from what I can see now. I regret to inform you that the flight deck is off-limits for you.»

The revelation was perplexing. «A deformity? How? From where?» Mark was at a loss.

«I am healthy, fit, and strong – 'gesund und stark' (unhealthy), an old phrase from his memory resurfaced.

„Do not worry, your overall health is excellent; the deformity is minor. If aviation means so much to you, consider applying to a technical school. There, you might still find opportunities aligned with your passion.“

Life wasn't over, but the news left Mark wandering down the street with a gloomy air. „If only Sacha were here now,“ he thought, longing for his friend's support. „Hey, falcon! Don't fold your wings prematurely!“ – he could almost hear Sacha's voice. He shook his head vigorously to dispel the haunting illusion.

How could this happen? He felt perfectly healthy. Then, his father's words came to mind:

„I've told you a hundred times, and I showed you how to lift properly! Remember how your back hurt when we were fixing the workshops in Maryina Roshcha District?“

Once again, his father was right. Mark had never paid much attention to the occasional backache.

„Perhaps, you could study somewhere in Moscow?“ Anna, his sister, suggested with sympathy and hope.

„What a sister I have! And you call that support…“ Mark chuckled at her innocence.

The initial shock subsided, and he began to reason calmly: „I love machines, right? Absolutely. Working with tools? Definitely! Am I well-versed in physics? I outshine everyone in my class. Did I attend Polytechnic for nothing?“

At the grand Moscow museum of knowledge, the exhibits captivated and enticed him, but the most alluring was the radio engineering exhibition. Whenever possible, Mark eagerly attended the lectures on the subject.

As for his spine, there might be a chance for treatment. I shouldn't let the first setback shatter my dreams. No, the Maretskys were not ones to give up so easily.

„Well, Anna, fixing an airplane is quite different from fixing your sewing machine, isn't it?“

„That's the spirit, good for you,“ Yakov praised, „there's no reason to give up when destiny beckons.“

With a newfound determination, Mark set his sights on the Leningrad Military-Technical School of the Red Army Air Force, in the former capital – the very birthplace of the revolution.

* * *

Filled with nervous anticipation, he was nevertheless certain that he would pass the exams; there was no doubt about it.

The Military-Technical School was housed in the historical edifices of the Second Cadet Corps, located on Krasny Kursant (Bolshaya Spasskaya) Street. Across from it stood the Infantry courses, occupying the premises once home to the topographic school. Farther away, the former barracks of the Nobility Regiment now served as the Military Theoretical School of the Red Air Force.

During those times, the nation demanded skilled military personnel. The rapid rearmament of the army during the initial five-year plan necessitated the mastery of new equipment. Standing once more on Troitskiy Bridge, Mark felt as though this was his calling.

„Am I trying to convince myself?“ he pondered, forcing a sad grin. However, he answered with confidence, „What need is there to convince oneself? It's already decided. Everything is right!“

The exams were aced, and he proudly became a „red cadet.“ The former Cadet Corps barracks in Leningrad became his home for the next few years.

* * *

Leningrad presented itself to Mark in various ways: its orderly layout and grandiose buildings exuded a haughty and serious grandeur, an allure that captivated the young man. The people of Leningrad also appeared friendly, albeit reserved (though he would later learn that the city was home to diverse personalities). Nonetheless, there was an underlying sense of coldness in the air, perhaps driven by the brisk Baltic wind. That was the impression Mark had of the city.

On the other hand, Moscow, with its bustling streets and joyful commotion, resonated much more with Maretsky's southern temperament. Still, during his leaves of absence, he immersed himself in museums and streets, absorbing the rich cultural atmosphere of the great city.

As the warmth of the season arrived, he could venture out to the beach, preferably outside the city, where the Gulf of Finland offered serene sandy shores.

At the urging of his friend Valeriy a fellow Leningradian, Mark was drawn to Sestroretsk, a once bourgeois and now proletarian resort. Valeriy convinced him that no other beach near Leningrad could rival the beauty of this place. Valeriy proved to be right, as they arrived at the station, greeted by a splendid station building with a covered gallery leading to the recreation area itself. Walking a little further, they felt as if they had stepped into a fairy tale. For Mark, who grew up near the sea, this was a sight of unparalleled beauty – a pine forest gently met the long coastal strip of sand, creating a magical scene!

„Oh wow…“ he couldn't help but marvel, „Sorry, Arabat Arrow, but you're not holding the advantage right now.“

„I told you! You have never seen a sea or sand like this.“ Valera teased.

After exploring the park and its various attractions, the cadets settled on the beach. There, an unexpected encounter awaited Mark – a young man accompanied by an elegant dark-haired beauty. Valeriy was quick to notice them, but Mark's gaze was fixated on the horizon.

„Look at her, she's like a goddess! Aphrodite!“ Valeriy exclaimed.

„Yes, yes, I remember. Your grandfather was a historian, so myths were your fairy tales. That's why you see goddesses everywhere!“ Mark replied, glancing around and noticing many pretty girls nearby.

„Not like that! Stop staring! Don't even think about it!“ Valeriy was suddenly afraid of the competition.

But it was too late. Both of them were mesmerized by the enchanting girl. Two pairs of eyes were now fixated on her. However, the „goddess“ paid no heed to their gazes and seemed indifferent to their admiration.

Undeterred, the young men decided to swim and dive, impressing other vacationers who applauded their antics. Yet, they made no impression on the unapproachable maiden. Mark decided to take a direct approach.

Valeriy chuckled, „It's a fortress that can only be stormed.“

„What fortress can resist my charms?“ Mark retorted playfully.

„This one. She's got an attitude,“ Valeriy warned.

„You're mistaken, comrade cadet! She doesn't? If a girl doesn't react to the intrusive advances of strangers, that's a big plus!“ Mark declared with determination as he headed straight towards the couple (with no clear plan in mind-improvisation was always his forte).

„Young man, are you from around here?“ he inquired, turning to the beauty's companion, who appeared to be a teenager of about fourteen years old.

No, we're from Leningrad. You want something?» He replied.

«It's just I made a bet with my friend, who owns this wonderful palace now: kids or old men?»

Seeing confusing, Mark explained, «I mean, is for pioneers or pensioners-veterans of the Revolution and Civil War?»

The young boy chuckled. The girl glanced at Mark. Up close, she appeared even more beautiful: her immense hazel eyes held a mocking gaze, yet her countenance retained an air of seriousness.

The conversation had begun, though Mark couldn't consider his impromptu particularly successful. However, it served its purpose.

«So, what's here now?» Mark asked, silently congratulating the girl, «She doesn't fall for stupid jokes.»

«It's a sanitarium, just like before. There was a resort here before the revolution,» the talkative boy replied. «Aren't you from Leningrad?»

«I'm from Moscow. We study here. And my friend is a fellow countryman of yours,» Mark gestured towards Valeriy. «We're from the military-technical school. This is Valeriy, and I'm Mark.»

«I'm Vladimir, and this is my sister Bertha,» the boy introduced them with a sly smile. «Mom only lets me go to the beach under her watchful eye.»

Mark's heart leaped with joy at the mention of the fact that she was his sister, but it was evident that the boy was too young to be her boyfriend. And what a name – Bertha! A unique name that struck Mark like lightning.

Curiosity drove Valeriy to ask, «And how does your husband look at these errands for mom?»

«It's none of your business,» the girl responded confidently.

«What husband! She doesn't have a husband,» the boy chimed in, earning two appreciative and one critical glance.

Time flew by, with the conversation mainly revolving around aviation technology among the young men. Bertha remained somewhat distant from the discussion. When the time came to part ways, she declined the offer to be walked home, signaling her lack of interest in continuing the acquaintance. They bid farewell politely.

«I see,» thought Mark, «she probably has more suitors than the trees in this forest. What are a couple of green cadets to her?»

«Well, what did I say?» Valeriy gloated. «This fortress is impenetrable!»

«You wait and see. In a year's time, you'll be at our wedding,» Mark responded determinedly.

«Who's getting married?» Valeriy inquired.

«You still don't get it? I will be marrying Bertha,» Mark answered with unusual seriousness.

«Of course, you are! How about proposing right now?» Valeriy teased. «I bet it wouldn't work out. She wouldn't even look at us. You only know her name. How are you going to find her?»

«You'll see. We just have to hurry,» Mark declared, resolute in his pursuit of the girl.

With determination, Mark followed the siblings. He still wanted to walk them home, but he needed to adjust the plan so as not to be too obvious.

Fortunately, by evening, the platform was teeming with vacationers, creating a crowd in which it was easy to get lost. The boys tried to stick close to the station building, but their attempts were almost foiled a couple of times when Vladimir, not particularly adept at this, inexplicably pulled Bertha towards the timetable. Mark attempted to blend into the background, but Valeriy's exaggerated gestures drew attention. Their predicament was saved by two little girls who began crying loudly and whimpering. Bertha got distracted, and the novice detectives managed to slip away in the crowd. They were the last to board the next carriage, keeping a discreet eye on Vladimir and Bertha until they reached the Finland station.

The task became more challenging as the brother and sister made their way to the streetcar stop, where the pursuers could be easily spotted.

«You have to sit in the third or, better, the fourth car,» insisted Valeriy. «That way, they won't notice us.»

Mark dismissed the suggestion, saying, «Oh, come on. We won't even see where they're getting off.»

They settled into the second car with difficulty, squeezing past other passengers and hearing unflattering remarks directed at them. Seated by the window near the door, they spent the entire journey.

Finally, Bertha and Vladimir got off at the crossroads of Liteyny Avenue (Volodarsky Avenue, of course – thanks, conductor!) with Nevsky Avenue (Avenue of the 25th of October). Seeing a crowd at the bus stop on the opposite side, they opted to walk instead. The couple passed Vosstaniya Square and turned onto Suvorovsky Avenue. After crossing one intersection, they entered a narrow street lined with mediocre stone buildings, sparsely populated. The boys had to watch from around the corner. At one point, Bertha glanced back, as if sensing their presence, and the boys had to quickly hide. Once they dared to reemerge, the street was empty – they had missed them! But just as they were about to mark the right entrance, one of the front doors slowly closed, almost rewarding them for their efforts. Left with no other option, they beat a hasty retreat, unsure if the beautiful girl might decide to look out of the window.

Satisfied with both the outcome and the adventure, the cadets made it back to their barracks on time. Mark exulted, «What a coincidence! 3rd Sovetskaya, 3rd Meshchanskaya! Another good sign.» Yes, in Leningrad, he seemed to have quite a stroke of luck with street names. As for his luck with the enchanting Bertha – that remained an unanswered question…

Chapter 2: «I Came, I Saw, I Convinced!»

Oh, how sluggishly the days passed until the next leave! Mark, who had been diligently studying, now found himself frequently distracted, sometimes not even hearing the teacher. Thanks to Valeriy who occasionally nudged him in the side, the lovesick cadet was saved from complete bewilderment! Only the practical workshops at the airfield, where Maretsky could happily spend hours, went according to plan – his restless nature craved action and more action!

The image of the elusive Berta lingered in his mind. Mark was tormented by doubts, his mood mirroring the capricious Leningrad weather: from hope for reciprocity to the certainty that such a captivating girl must surely have a suitor.

«That mockingly condescending gaze…» he pondered, lying in his bunk after lights out. «But it's not disdainful… And there's a hint of fiery temperament; if she disapproved, she would have let us know we were unwelcome… But she didn't, did she?»

«She didn't, right, Valeriy?» Mark inquired.

«Oh, come on. When you arrive, your Aphrodite will be taken aback, and she'll thaw like the Snow Maiden.»

«Uh, no. She's not Aphrodite. She's Artemis!»

Valeriy, incidentally, informed him that the neighborhood where Berta lived was called PeskI (an ancient name) or Rozhdestvenskaya Sloboda, and all streets called Sovetskaya were once known as Rozhdestvenskaya Streets, as the Church of the Nativity of Jesus stood on the sixth of them.

«Though it seems to have been demolished recently as well.»

«Well, that's understandable; times have changed,» Mark thought about construction artels, perhaps out of old habit.

«Yes,» Valeriy agreed, «but the new names are still a mess.»

«And not all of them are named thoughtfully,» he added.

Two friends exchanged understanding glances, but Mark didn't feel particularly bothered by all these changes. The most crucial thing was that the street remained Third.

The morning of the eagerly awaited day dawned overcast, despite the fine weather the night before; clouds had gathered, hinting at impending rain. Yet in his dreams, he had pictured a romantic stroll…

Finally free, Cadet Maretsky arrived at House No. 26 dressed impeccably, carrying two enormous bouquets (thanks to his mother, he had grown accustomed to orderliness and neatness, but today his uniform looked especially dashing on him). With a grand gesture, he lightly kicked the entrance threshold as a token of gratitude, then stepped into the coolness of the building.

After calling the first apartment and obtaining the necessary information from a venerable old lady, Mark courteously bowed to the bewildered elderly lady, who had likely long grown unaccustomed to such gestures of attention.

A tantalizing aroma of homemade baked goods wafted from the cherished door on the third floor. Inhaling the sweet scent and pressing the doorbell, the cadet wistfully recalled his mother's pies (she was a master at baking), fidgeted on his feet, adjusted his bouquet, straightened his uniform… – but no one answered the door, despite the sounds emanating from the apartment. Trying again, Mark decided he would wait for victory, especially since the leave had just begun, the rain had yet to arrive, and there was no rush…

A wave of vanilla and cinnamon scent from behind the door, which was sharply opened, nearly knocked him off his feet. An older, yet still strikingly beautiful woman stood on the doorstep, donning a flour-stained apron with a kitchen towel draped over her shoulder.

«Full house, and no one to answer the door,» she exclaimed, not with anger, but with indignation, into the shadows of the corridor, and then looked at Mark in surprise. Unperturbed, he recognized her as his future mother-in-law, sharing the same stature and bushy eyebrows.

«Good afternoon. This is for you,» he offered with a courteous greeting, handing over the bouquet and delivering a slight, respectful bow.

«You must be mistaken, young man?» she responded with astonishment, yet still appreciating his politeness.

«I'm quite certain I'm not,» Mark smiled, openly inviting. «You're Berta's mother, aren't you?»

«Ah, of course,» the woman's eyes sparkled with a familiar slyness, as if to say, «Another contender, let's see…» – «Bertha, you have a visitor. A very gallant young man! Thank you. Please come in.»

The cramped hallway was illuminated as a gray-haired man emerged from a room with a little girl on his shoulders, both laughing. Vladimir followed them.

It was time to introduce himself.

«Mark Maretsky, a cadet of the military-technical school,» he stated with a sense of pride and confidence.

«It's Mark, Mommy! I told you! About the guys in Sestroretsk…» Vladimir chimed in…

«Oh, that's right! I'm Anna, the mother of this lively troublemaker,» she introduced herself.

«I'm Alexander Galper,» the man said, gently lowering the little girl to the floor. «Rose, go play,» he instructed, then warmly shook Mark's hand, displaying genuine interest in the guest with a good-natured smile, devoid of any ulterior motives.

To the left, at the back, beyond the hallway, a table came into view, and there was Berta in a white apron, much like her mother's, carefully arranging another batch of pies on a baking tray (her proud profile quite captivating). Vladimir was already pulling at Mark's sleeve, eager to show off his latest creation:

«I built this machine! You have to see it!» he eagerly exclaimed.

But Mark, resolute, headed toward the kitchen, or rather, what appeared to be a makeshift kitchen set up in the hallway. With slow grace, Bertha wiped her hands and showed no sign of surprise as she accepted the bouquet.

«Thank you,» she said, but couldn't resist asking, «How did you find me?»

«It's a military secret,» he replied with a playful twinkle in his eye.

«I can imagine…» her teasing smirk reappeared.

Oh, that look! Mockery again.

«You know what military secrets are? Then, we'll understand each other without words!»

«Let's have some tea. Berta, Anna, stop teasing us with those enticing aromas! Vladimir, help set the table!» the wise patriarch of the family decided to defuse the situation.

«Yes, yes,» Mark said gratefully, «the aroma of your pies wafts all over the entryway. Is it cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla?»

«Do you know anything about cooking?» Anna, experienced in the tricks of potential suitors, wondered if Mark was simply being polite.

«No, I'm not. I'm just a gourmand. And my mom was an exceptional cook.»

«Was? What happened?» she asked, sensing there was more to the story.

«She passed away two years ago,» he said with a touch of sadness.

The woman offered a comforting pat on his shoulder. «Well, you're in for a treat. Let's go to the room.»

As it turned out, Berta's older brothers, Boris and his wife, Mikhail, along with her sister Julia, her husband, and their daughter Rose – a whole community, as Mark thought – resided in the three-room apartment. In the past, the Galper couple had raised eight children under one roof, but most of them had already flown the nest. Once, they had an eight-room apartment. In the twenties, they had to sacrifice part of the apartment, including the kitchen, although they managed to keep the gas stove – a rarity for those times.

At the table, only a tall, young man in his thirties with fine facial features was present (the others had gone to the movies):

«Mikhail,» he introduced himself briefly, noticing the two bouquets adorning the room. He couldn't hide his irony, «This is the first time you've come to us, and you want to get married right away!»

The brave cadet felt a bit embarrassed, but there was no turning back now.

«You know, I'm ready right now, but I think we should get to know each other first,» Mark replied.

The parents nodded approvingly, and Vladimir shouted enthusiastically, «I agree to such a son-in-law!» Berta seemed about to respond with a retort, but then she changed her mind and burst into laughter. In that moment, she saw him in a different light, realizing he was more than the self-assertive guy she initially perceived. And he has such a beautiful smile.

Her laughter was pure and ringing, and it caught Mark off guard, leaving him thinking, «What a nice girl… So different… Yet somewhat similar to Anna!»

Mikhail, clearly enjoying the interaction, added teasingly, «Berta is a girl with a temper. You still have time to change your mind.»

With determination, Mark quickly composed himself and responded, «I appreciate the advice. I undertake to study this temper thoroughly,» casting an expressive glance at Bertha.

And thus, began the exchange of questions and stories, as it always happens between kindred spirits who have overcome the initial awkwardness of a new acquaintance.

Alexander, originally named Isaac, was a tailor, but not an ordinary one; he specialized in crafting military uniforms. The workshop was situated right in their home, and all the children, to varying degrees, had acquired the skills of this profession. After graduating, Berta became her father's right-hand woman and was now the «official» employee of the family atelier, which had now shifted to civilian orders.

The help of the older children was particularly crucial during times of war when the workshop was inundated with orders.

«If it weren't for the boys, I would have never made it through. But then, things got so tough – we feared we wouldn't survive. The repairs, alterations… It cost a fortune! You couldn't find good fabric anywhere, day or night, except on the Sennoy market, and even then, it was exorbitantly expensive!» The elderly tailor sighed, recalling the times of hunger, market raids, goods requisitioning, and constant fear for his family.

«Almost everything valuable in the house had to be exchanged for food and fabrics,» his wife echoed.

«But the NEP somewhat improved the situation,» added Alexander.

«Yes, you know, the new bosses surprisingly had a taste for finer things,» his wife chimed in.

«And one must thank their wives, especially the 'exes',» Mikhail contributed.

«Well, Mikhail knows better; he's a renowned movie fan,» Berta said with a touch of humor, but it was evident that she spoke about her brother with great admiration.

Mikhail worked at the Soyuzkino Leningrad factory and was credited as a cameraman for several famous films that Mark had already seen. Among them were not only the serious Strange Shore, which dealt with the re-education of a sailor who had lost his vigilance, but also the lighthearted domestic comedy, The Grandmothers' Revolt. Mark had seen it with Sacha, and they had a delightful time.

This film presented a humorous tale of «forbidden» love between a Jewish girl and a Russian guy. Interestingly, it was the grandmothers, with the assistance of the Komsomol cell, who understood the situation and came forward to help the young lovers.

«Oh, the Grandmothers' Revolt? That was something!»

«Did you enjoy it?» asked Berta.

«There were some truly funny moments! The old ladies were excellent,» Mark replied.

Mark listened with keen interest and observed the furnishings: elegant furniture, tasteful curtains adorning the windows, and framed photographs capturing the Galper family during their younger days. It was evident how diligently they endeavored to preserve the warmth and harmonious family atmosphere. Anna, too, aspired for such comfort, although her circumstances were more limited. Upon learning that the young man hailed from Third Meshchanskaya Street, the occupants of Third Sovetskaya Street found much amusement.

The ambiance in the apartment was welcoming and congenial, extending a friendly embrace to the guest. The Galpers were genuinely well-disposed, and Anna empathized with the hardships faced by the Maretsky family. Having experienced the tumultuous years of 1905, the revolutions of 1917, and the famine during the Civil War in St. Petersburg-Petrograd, they could understand the trials that had befallen the amiable young man.

«Yes, these days we have pies aplenty. But in the spring of 18, I remember, a mere ounce of bread was a rarity… around 30 grams per person. We endured it all,» Anna's eyes welled up with tears.

«Come now, Anna, don't,» Isaac's voice quivered with emotion. «You know, during those times, Petrograd was reeking of dried fish. That's all we could get. I'll never eat vobla again in my life!»

«Fish saved us in Henichesk too,» Mark recalled those years vividly, reminiscing on the hunger that gripped the nation. He recounted how he had to seek refuge in the cellar during the pogroms.

In essence, these two families, having weathered the storms of change, found a profound connection and shared experiences.

Tragic memories were abruptly interrupted by the scent of burnt pastries.

«Oh!» Berta suddenly leaped from the table, «the pies!»

«How could we forget?» Mom lamented.

«It's all because of the cadet, my girls,» Alexander teased good-naturedly.

«I'll help!» Mark eagerly offered, hurrying after the young mistress.

He was unnecessary in the cramped kitchen, Berta was more than capable of handling it herself. She swiftly retrieved the baking tray.

«At least they didn't burn too badly, and I don't think they're all ruined…» she hurriedly placed the pastries on a plate. «But what to do with the burnt ones?»

«I vow not to let them go to waste!» Mark declared, eager to win her favor.

Throughout the tea party, he racked his brain for a way to be alone with Bertha. «Should I ask her for a walk? But will she agree?» These thoughts consumed him, and he sensed that now was the opportune moment.

Maretsky hesitated a little, «Um, we're supposed to get to know each other.»

«We?!»

Is she going to revert to her previous behavior?

«Alright, me. But will you give a poor cadet a chance?» The hope in his voice was hard to say no to.

«Alright, what do you suggest?»

«Get ready. I've got something to show you.»

When they stepped outside, the sun was shining and not a trace of rain lingered in the sky. Grateful for the pleasant weather and Bertha's agreeability, Mark inquired, «Have you been to the Aeromuseum?»

«You mean the one that replaced the Suvorov Museum? No.»

«That's alright. I'll be your tour guide.»

He adopted the most suitable tactic: women admire men who are passionate about their work. And if they can also articulate it in a captivating manner… Well, as the famous heartbreaker Valeriy used to say, «girls fall in love not only with their ears, of course, but with them too.» He certainly knew a thing or two about such matters!

In the Aeromuseum, Mark showcased an unexpected side to his companion: intelligent, well-read, and courteous. This provincial lad was making quite an impression. Few St. Petersburg gentlemen could rival him, and their chances were dwindling rapidly. Bertha regarded Mark with a newfound warmth and interest…

As he bid farewell to the girl and walked along Third Sovetskaya Street, Mark noticed something intriguing:

«I would change the name of your street to ours,» he remarked.

«Why is that?» inquired Bertha.

«Your surroundings fit me better,» he explained.

«Didn't you like it here?» she asked.

«Oh, I absolutely loved it. It's so cozy. My sister in Moscow is trying to create a similar ambiance, but…»

Mark paused, searching for the right words to convey his feelings.

Bertha understood and gently touched his arm, saying, «Ambiance is important. When I have my own family, I want to create a warm and inviting space for everyone. A big table to gather the whole family. But, of course, ambiance isn't the most crucial aspect. It's all about the relationships, isn't it?»

Her seriousness melted into a smile, and she added playfully, «Though a big round table is a must!»

«I guarantee you a table!» Mark replied.

«Did I say I would sit at that table with you?!» she teased.

Without engaging in an argument, Mark simply responded, «We'll see.»

They were nearing Bertha's house.

«But that doesn't mean we can't go to the movies, right?» he inquired.

«We'll see,» she playfully echoed, and with a laugh, she disappeared into the entrance.

As Mark made his way back to the barracks, he was filled with a newfound sense of confidence. He was certain there would be movies, walks, and even a wedding in their future.

* * *

Soon, it became evident that they were a perfect match for each other. Bertha, daring and strong-willed, proved to be surprisingly tender, accommodating, and understanding – a true ideal life companion for a military man. Their affection for each other was tender and attentive, and Mark quickly integrated himself into the family circle, leaving no doubt that they would soon marry.

A year later, Mark Maretsky, a courageous graduate of the Leningrad Military-Technical School of the Red Army Air Force, fulfilled his promise: he legally wedded Bertha Galper. The occasion was bittersweet, as Mark was assigned to the Nizhny Novgorod region, bidding farewell to the beloved and numerous family.

Filled with hope and enthusiasm, the young couple embraced their new journey – a new city, engaging work, and an independent life awaited them.

Chapter 3: Mastering Spaces

Leonid graduated from the institute precisely during the «Great Break,» a period of extensive transformations in the country. The first five-year plan for national economic development was adopted, setting the course for rapid industrialization, which necessitated the accelerated development of railroads. The People's Commissariat of Communication Routes of the Soviet Union was actively engaged in this endeavor, particularly valuing experienced specialists. Among them was Engineer Mirachevsky whose profound knowledge of railroads dated back to his childhood. His background as a skilled machinist, extensive practical training, outstanding natural aptitude, and organizational skills made him a highly esteemed employee. Excellently passing his exams and brilliantly defending his master's thesis paved the way for a promising professional career.

* * *

Olga was struggling in vain to feed Irina, who was being stubborn and refusing to eat. Frustrated, the mother raised her voice at the resistant little girl, but just then, the door swung open – Leonid, as always, arrived just in the nick of time, bearing a cake and sweets, and entered the scene of resistance.

«What's all the noise? No quarreling, girls!» he chimed in, immediately sweeping up his beloved daughter in his arms as tears began to form in her eyes.

Olga breathed a sigh of relief; her husband had a special way of handling their daughter – with him, her capriciousness vanished in an instant.

«So, how did the defense go?» That was the question of the day. Perhaps, that was why she had been so nervous while awaiting his return; she worried about how it all went, and the baby, of course, sensed her mother's emotions and reacted in her own way.

«Take a wild guess how it turned out?» Leonid playfully teased, as was his boyish tendency to pose riddles.

«Judging by the cake, Id say congratulations are in order,» Olga replied, always amused by his playful nature (he was such a child sometimes!).

«Yes, but on what?»

«Is it related to the defense?» She played along, entering his game.

«Aim higher!»

«With an outstanding defense?» Her laughter couldn't be contained now; he looked like a mischievous little boy, only grown up, with a little minx in his arms, trying to pull off his glasses.

«Olga, they're keeping me in the department!»

«I always knew my husband was a genius!» It was time for a loving embrace.

Later, Olga inquired, «Did even Professor Nedorozhny back down? You know he's the only teacher who could seriously complicate the defense.»

«Well, you know, knowledge is light, and light always overcomes the darkness! Even the darkness of ignorance among certain false scientists,» he replied with a hint of rebellion.

«You're a rebel, Leonid! And a chatterbox. At least try not to speak out too much at the institute. You know what kind of people are there…»

And so, the Mirachevsky family celebrated a true festive evening. Leonid passionately recounted the defense details, and Olga radiated with happiness. The endless trips and her husband's perpetual absence in search of income would now come to an end, allowing them to live like proper human beings!

The beginning of their new life was marked by a well-deserved vacation. The three of them spent a short break in Chervona: Olga had yet to meet her granddaughter, and Leonid missed his mother and the old Shpirkanov house with its vast garden – the place that, in his childhood memories, seemed boundless.

* * *

After a journey to the former Podolia Governorate, where time seemed to move in a measured and provincial manner, the harsh realities of everyday life awaited them. Olga's premature joy about a quiet period in their family history turned out to be short-lived. Her husband, an employee of the capital's university, was not content with peacefully working in the department and lecturing to students. No, that wasn't his cherished dream. Olga remembered his vivid childhood stories about distant lands and adventures, but she assumed that as children grow up, dreams are left behind. However, Leonid proved to be an exception – a dreamer-practitioner who turned his fantasies into reality.

It became evident that her husband's scientific work involved constant business trips, often leading to long and uncomfortable expeditions. Spartan living conditions, harsh weather, and other challenges made Olga uneasy. The room in Trekhprudny Lane served merely as a brief resting place between the ever-increasing number of journeys. If Professor Lepeikin, a favorite of students, often repeated the Latin aphorism «via est vita» meaning «life is a road,» then it could be said of Mirachevsky that his entire life was a journey.

The country had been woefully short of reliable highways (not just railroads) in the past, but the construction of factories across the Union and the development of new fields in Siberia demanded a transportation revolution. Designing new routes required months of laborious fieldwork, conducting detailed studies of the terrain.

In essence, Leonid's childhood dreams had come true. Adventure was an integral part of his life, but sometimes it could be perilous.

* * *

By mid-June, Mirachevsky was dispatched to the Volga region, where the construction of the Saratov-Millerovo railway line, initially planned by the tsarist government before the outbreak of World War I, was underway. This project held great importance as it aimed to connect the Volga regions with the Black Sea ports. Leonid assumed the role of senior engineer for the technical survey party.

It was only at this point that Olga truly understood the path she had chosen in life. Leonid, shuttling between the Volga region, Rostov, various points of the route, Moscow, the institute, and family life, was often exhausted, yet he felt utterly content. A life brimming with love and passion for his work energized him. He reveled in engaging cases, adored his «girls» at home, and passionately debated in the department, seeking truth. All of this seemed to invigorate him even more. Olga admired her husband's tireless energy – it seemed that the more he gave, the stronger he became. However, it also occasionally irritated her. Every woman feels more at ease with a reliable shoulder to lean on, someone to be there at any time, not just once a month.

And Leonid, who had already proven his capabilities in the southern direction, was entrusted with the next responsible and incredibly challenging task: research in Siberia. The assignment was slated to be lengthy, with no possibility of returning to Moscow. Therefore, the Mirachevskys faced the difficult decision of how to proceed with their lives.

After the department meeting, Professor Lepeikin caught up with him in the lobby:

«Leonid, you understand the importance of this project,» he said loudly, shaking Mirachevsky's hand. «And you know, if I were younger, I would be envious of you: such opportunities, such uncharted research territory!»

He then added in a lowered voice:

«But I sympathize with you, frankly. It's a very… extremely challenging environment there. It's almost Yakutia.»

«Thank you, Pyotr,» Leonid was touched by his beloved teacher's concern. «But, as you know, we go wherever the Motherland sends us.»

Lepeikin's tone became serious:

«I wish you good luck. And take care of yourself…» His worry was evident.

«Don't worry, Professor. You and I will be designing roads beyond the Arctic Circle!»

In reality, Leonid was experiencing conflicting emotions. He was pleased with his new assignment: being entrusted with such a responsible task fueled his enthusiasm. On his way home, he already began envisioning future routes, searching for the one true direction in the impenetrable wilderness. However, his joy was tempered by the need to explain the situation to his wife. He couldn't fathom being apart for a year, and perhaps even longer. How could he hint at the possibility of taking his family with him?

The task was further complicated by the fact that the survey was set to begin in March, before the spring floods thawed the roads.

Olga immediately sensed that her husband was withholding something when he shared how his day had gone. She observed him playing with their daughter, and though she didn't rush him or ask any questions, she knew he would eventually confide in her. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but feel anxious: his hesitation indicated that the matter was serious.

Once Irina fell asleep, Leonid, looking guilty, started to speak hesitantly:

«Olga…»

«A business trip?»

«No, Olga. An expedition.»

«Does that mean for a long time?» For some reason, Olga wasn't taken aback by the news.

«Not only that. It's also very far away.»

To be honest, she had anticipated something like this for a while. The development of Siberia was a constant topic of conversation among her husband's friends, who debated the best routes to lay, considering the challenges of climate and terrain.

«And what do the guidelines say for pioneer families in such situations?»

He smiled (acknowledging her irony!):

«The guidelines do not prohibit families from accompanying survey party personnel.»

He then continued with a furrowed brow:

«But you could stay. I even think it might be better for you to stay. You see, this is the northeast of the Siberian region, almost Yakutia (the professor's words came to mind, by the way), and it's uncertain how Irina will tolerate this climate.»

«Look, I won't pretend that I'm thrilled about all of this. But how long will the expedition last: six months, a year? What's your vision for our family life?»

«She wants to go? Great!» That was exactly the answer he had hoped for.

«Our life will be beautiful and extraordinary!»

«Shh, you'll wake her.»

«And we'll have a few more babies.»

… Falling asleep, Leonid said:

«And by the way, I'm the head of the party…»

* * *

The small caravan, having departed from Irkutsk, was resolutely pushing forward through the snowy kingdom – everything around them was a pristine white: the road, the trees, and even the horses' faces were covered in hoarfrost. Olga couldn't help but reminisce about the long journey on the comfortably heated «international» carriage of the swift Moscow-Vladivostok train that had commenced from the Yaroslavl station in the capital. But now, for her, a native of the blessed warm lands, the discomfort was palpable: they had traveled, probably, over a thousand versts (if one were to reckon in the old way) from Irkutsk. She thought wistfully: «What a Decembrist wife! If only I had known…» While Moscow was already experiencing the thaw, winter here showed no signs of receding, and they were drawing near the location where the expedition was to be established. Traveling along the ancient Irkutsk-Yakutsk postal road felt especially arduous due to their unaccustomedness to the conditions.

«Tell me, Leonid, who needs railroads in this remote place?»

«People live everywhere…»

It felt as though the snowy thicket had no end, but then the aroma of smoke reached their senses, and a settlement suddenly emerged on the path. The sleigh entered a courtyard, almost concealed under the snow, and stopped beside a hut adorned with exquisite carvings, like something out of a fairy tale.

The driver tossed aside his heavy fur attire and assisted the travelers. The house was warm and toasty, and at a long table, men were gathered, sipping tea. From the cups, saucers, and the towering samovar, fragrances of tea and medicinal herbs wafted through the air. Steam emanated from the frost as newcomers entered. A robust woman, seemingly the hostess, hurried over to them. She helped them with their coats and expressed concern over Irina:

«The child, the child is completely frozen! Have some tea, it will warm you up.»

The bewildered little girl gazed at the captivating scene and was unwilling to let go of her father's hand.

After they had shed their outerwear, cups were brought to them, filled with surprisingly salty tea mixed with milk (they later learned it was a traditional drink in these parts). Witnessing the perplexed expressions of the new guests, Nadezhda threw up her hands:

«Oh, right! The child needs something sweet! I'll go make some.»

Soon after dinner, they fell asleep almost instantly. And before dawn, beneath the still starry sky, they set off once more.

After a few days, the road led them to the river, and they continued their journey along the Lena's bank. Eventually, the road immersed itself back into the forest. They arrived at their destination, the unknown Kirensk, when the sun was already setting. The pines parted, revealing a remarkably beautiful sight: a small town amidst a snow-covered field adorned with tracks of sledges and skis – the frozen river itself (the opposite bank was dotted with boats trapped in ice). In this bend of the Lena River, where it merged with the Kirenga, stood the village. The snow gleamed with a pink hue in the setting sun, and bluish columns of smoke billowed above the huts – this is how Olga would later recollect her very first impression of Kirensk.

They were expected upon arrival. The chairman of the district council, Kurekhin, had received a telegram from Moscow requesting all possible assistance to the survey expedition, and thus everyone who arrived was promptly accommodated in their homes.

The next day, Kurekhin decided to give them a tour. He showed up in the morning, inquired if they needed anything, and suggested a walk:

«You will be able to take a look at our town, the sights, so to speak», and, glancing skeptically at Olga, added, «Just dress warmer, we don't have the climate for the capital's… styles here.»

«Understood, girls?» Leonid laughed. «You won't even need to unpack those styles.»

The Mirachevskys hadn't expected to find anything captivating in this remote wilderness, but it would have been impolite to decline the hospitable host's offer. They strolled along the street, where the occasional passers-by stopped to greet them and observe the newcomers with curiosity. The town was truly bustling, featuring stone and log houses, many adorned with mezzanines and peculiar shutters on the windows. Some of these houses had once belonged to prosperous merchants, fur traders, timber magnates, and grain merchants, while others were the residences of businessmen and shipowners. One of the houses, with its blue-trimmed windows, had even sheltered the exiled Decembrist Prince Golitsyn.

«You have such unique architectural details here,» Olga remarked.

«And there's much more we have that others don't. Our town is ancient; the Cossacks established an ostrog (fortress) here as far back as 1630. We hold on to our customs,» the chairman explained.

«What kind of people do you have here? Will they be willing to join my expedition?» Leonid inquired, more concerned about the practical aspects of hiring workers.

«You must be cautious in the district: there are fugitives and the dekulakized (dispossessed peasants) hiding around here,» the chairman cautioned. However, he quickly corrected himself after Mirachevsky cast a meaningful gaze at him, then shifted his gaze to his wife, «Well, that was in the summer, nowadays they've probably driven them all away. But we have many educated individuals, including former exiles. My grandfather, an engineer, was exiled here from Samara Governorate. By the time his sentence was over, he had established a family and a home here. This place was close to his heart.»

«What was your grandfather in for? Did he dissent against the Tsar?» Olga inquired.

«Oh, yes! A political exile,» the chairman confirmed.

«My grandfather's brother was also like that,» Leonid recalled the stories about his mother's uncle Markel, «After serving his time in the Kara katorga, he settled somewhere not far from here, in Yakutia.»

As they approached the river, they spotted two temples on the left: an impressive stone one and a wooden two-story structure with mica windows, appearing as if from an old engraving due to its weathered and darkened appearance. The chairman explained, «The former Trinity Monastery has been here since the 17th century, known as the Ust-Kiren Monastery. The wooden church is St. Nicholas, and the cathedral used to be the main one.» Sighing involuntarily, he added, «Tomorrow we'll hold a meeting to get to know the people better.»

«It's a sight to behold!» Leonid exclaimed, already looking forward to exploring the surroundings of Kirensk, «But I couldn't see any bridges. What about in the summer?»

«There are no major bridges here, and the wooden ones built by the locals are destroyed during the ice drift. So, in the summer, transportation is primarily done by boat, and there's also a ferry crossing. When the ice melts, our three rivers will be fully visible – that's when you'll see the true beauty! Notice that hill over there? It's called Krasnoarmeyskaya, but its actual name is Sokolinaya Gora. The best views are from there.»

«Three rivers? I only read about two!» Leonid shivered, feeling the cold.

«Well, I suppose your books don't cover everything. Look to the left on the other bank of the Lena, you'll find the Telyachikha River flowing into it from the north. There are ship repair shops over there. And to the right is our Kirenga River,» the chairman elaborated.

«Well, for now, it's frozen over,» Olga said, trying to warm up.

«Olga, we're in the Venice of Siberia!»

«It's time to head back; the young ladies are already feeling cold,» the chairman expressed concern.

The next day, the club, originally built by merchants for their own needs, was bustling with people. Engineer Mirachevsky addressed the gathering, explaining the purpose of the expedition:

«Your region is rich, as you all know, and its development requires the construction of roads. Kirensk holds a strategic location in a region where the government and scientists have long contemplated building a road to connect with the Turkestan railroad. That's why we're here: survey parties are currently active all across the East Siberian region.»

«They say they'll stretch the road all the way to the ocean!» A lively voice called out from the back rows.

«That's the talk. But whether that road becomes a reality depends on all of us. So, my comrades, if any of you wish to be part of this crucial endeavor, please sign up.»

Leonid had not anticipated the party to recruit workers so swiftly, but his joy was premature. The volunteers couldn't endure the harsh working conditions for long: weeks spent on arduous treks exploring vast territories. Kurekhin explained the locals' seasonal habits:

«People here are used to hard work during the summer, but in winter, they tend to retreat into a sort of hibernation, focusing mainly on hunting. Leonid, you should look among the Evenks; some of them are willing to collaborate.»

«I'll search everywhere. Thank you for the guidance; Saveliy is a clever fellow and knows these places well.»

«Yes, and what a skilled hunter he is!»

The main research commenced during the summer. Before departing, Mirachevsky warned Olga that they would be away for at least a month. She had to come to terms with it.

The plan involved descending the Lena and then moving a little further east. In one of the villages along the shore, they managed to hire two strong, reserved men – a father and son. Saveliy suspected they were former kulaks (wealthy peasants) who had escaped exile, but they proved to be diligent, moderately amicable, and reliable enough, and that was all that mattered to the party chief.

The terrain became increasingly challenging, with occasional encounters of marshy areas. They had to adapt the plan, altering directions and deviating from the original route. The survey parties often traversed uncharted and undeveloped lands, at least according to their maps. However, the taiga wilderness concealed not only natural treasures, but also other dangers. The guides had issued warnings – fierce individuals were lurking in the forests. Rumors circulated about entire settlements of kulak families and fugitive criminals hiding from the authorities within the taiga.

«Well, Saveliy, who do we have to fear out here? There's hardly a soul nearby!» They had just arrived at a small stream, and Mirachevsky scanned the opposite high bank with binoculars.

«Some say that Ataman Bugor was spotted in these parts not too long ago. His great-great-grandfather once established a stockade where our town now stands…»

«You have quite the belief in legends, don't you?» The party chief smiled at the guide.

Leonid himself knew that the impenetrable forests of Siberia and the Far East could be dangerous. Former convicts, who had nowhere else to go, settled in these remote areas. Some led peaceful lives within the thickets, while others survived by robbing local peasants and small merchants. During his extensive expeditions, the engineer had encountered many of these individuals and heard countless stories.

Ignatiy Bugor was a legendary figure in these parts. No one knew exactly where he was, and opinions about him diverged. Some considered him an embodiment of Stepan Razin, attributing his exploits to acts of justice, while others (albeit in hushed tones) deemed him an ordinary bandit, ruthless and cruel. His henchmen prowled the vicinity, seeking their prey. Ignatiy himself fueled the rumors about his kinship with Vasily Bugor, a Cossack tenant who had journeyed to the Pacific Ocean. It was this intrepid Cossack who founded Nikolsky pogost in the 17th century, which later transformed into Kirensky Ostrog on an island at the confluence of two rivers – the Lena and Kirenga.

«Why shouldn't I believe it? And it's not some mere legend… Last September, his men plundered an entire wagonload of treasures. And not just food, but anything that could fit into a wagon. Everyone around here knows about that raid. Of course, Ignatiy shot the guards, and then he finished them off… But what happened afterward – you can't even fathom it!»

«Buried with honors,» Leonid muttered.

«The next morning, the villagers awoke,» Saveliy continued, his tone devoid of amusement, «and found their goods piled up in the middle of the street.»

«Is everything beneath the banner of righteousness?»

«Not everything, of course. The Bugrovites themselves need to survive somehow!»

«Alright, storyteller, let's set up camp here. Tomorrow, we'll figure out how to cross to the other side.»

By the time they had established their camp and hastily prepared supper, darkness had enveloped the surroundings. Leonid cherished these late hours when everyone else was asleep, allowing him to sit beside the extinguished fire, gazing up at the stars entangled in the treetops, and listening to the nocturnal sounds of the taiga. No, he needed to sleep; tomorrow, a challenging crossing awaited them. Climbing into the tent, he wrapped himself in an old, homemade plaid (a reminder of Olga), removed his glasses, carefully placing them beside him, and soon drifted off to sleep.

Mirachevsky was abruptly awakened by a sharp push in his side.

«Ignatiy that's the boss! Look, he's got glasses.»

It was the twilight hour before dawn, when darkness veiled everything, and only a faint light touched the eastern sky above the forest, while the shore lay hidden beneath a thick shroud of mist. The armed men cautiously peered into the tents, but seemingly, no new orders had arrived, so they remained as silent guardians. The whole scene resembled a peculiar, wordless movie.

The red-haired guy, who had woken Leonid up earlier, guided him towards a short, robust young man who clearly seemed to be the leader. In the semi-darkness, the engineer couldn't discern the features of his face.

«What is going on here? Who are you?» Leonid began calmly, despite the cold morning and the excitement that gripped him.

«Hear that!» the redhead retorted with an unpleasant grin, though not loudly. «They came uninvited and now they ask questions!»

«Wait, Semyon,» the chief gestured to the guy with an expressive look.

«Why? You, strangers, came here and went to bed. Feeling at home?» Semyon persisted.

The leader waved him off irritably, and the redhead stepped back. «You don't seem easily frightened,» the stranger said with a low, pleasant voice.

At that moment, someone lit a torch, and Leonid finally got a glimpse of the man's face. Black curly hair, a matching slightly graying beard, a shrewd gaze, and a mocking expression – overall, the first impression was somewhat favorable. «But if anything goes awry, he won't hesitate to act…» Leonid thought to himself, before speaking up:

«I have nothing to fear. I'm the head of the survey party, and everyone here knows that. But I'm curious to know why you need me.»

«I am Ignatiy Bugor, the chief of these lands,» the man introduced himself.

Laughter echoed around. Saveliy emerged from a nearby tent and was immediately seized by a burly individual. Bugor continued, his tone both humorous and authoritative:

«You are now at my disposal.»

«That's impossible. We have an important mission to accomplish…» Leonid objected.

«Perhaps you will, that remains to be seen. For now, gather your belongings and don't cause trouble. I'll handle anyone who resists,» Bugor nodded towards the guide who attempted to break free, his hand hovering over his holster.

«But I can't leave the surveying instruments. I'm responsible for them,» Leonid tried to reason.

Bugor nodded, then ordered Saveliy to be brought forward, and inquired:

«Can you get the men back?»

Saveliy remained silent.

«Proud too, I see. Very well, be quiet. Once the others wake up, pack up everything and return it as it is.»

Turning back to Leonid, Bugor clarified:

«Return it where?»

«To Kirensk.»

«Understood. And ensure there's no pursuit. Otherwise, you'll lose your boss.»

* * *

Leonid packed his belongings, bid farewell to Saveliy, and asked him to inform his wife and the chairman that he had crossed paths with another group of prospectors in the taiga and would be working with them temporarily. Two boats awaited the bandits near the shore.

As they sailed through the fog, it felt like a haunting dream to the engineer. He couldn't fathom what was happening – these men had taken nothing: no possessions, no provisions, not even weapons.

«Why do you need me?» he inquired.

«Well…» Bugor evaded the question.

They sailed for quite a while. The current picked up, and the increasing noise suggested that rapids might lie ahead. Indeed, the boats docked on the opposite shore, concealed behind towering boulders, and the group ventured deeper into the forest. At first glance, it seemed like an utterly untamed place – no trail or broken branches. To Leonid's surprise, a clearing with several dugouts and tents suddenly emerged before them. Clothes hung on ropes between the trees, people bustled around two fires, and the scent of porridge and fish filled the air.

«Here we are,» Bugor gestured around his domain. «We'll have breakfast now, and then we'll talk.»

Another fire was arranged for them nearby. Over the meal, Ignatiy began:

«Don't worry, Leonid. Nothing will happen to you. I need a reliable assistant, someone competent. You'll stay here for a while, help me with a matter, and then we'll send you back, safe and sound.»

Mirachevsky was about to object, but Bugor didn't let him speak and continued:

«You'll stay for a while, get to know each other better, and then we'll decide how you can be of use. Don't try to escape; you won't find your way out alone, even if you think you've memorized the route. And I wouldn't advise it anyway – you won't escape my 'trotters' regardless.»

The days passed strangely. Bugor placed Leonid in his dugout, and they spent every moment together, even going hunting. Somehow, all the other men disappeared from the «village,» leaving only one who stuck closely to the engineer's side. The Bugrovites returned late at night with a bountiful catch.

Mirachevsky likened the entire situation to the books about Native Americans by James Fenimore Cooper, which he had adored in his childhood, and he felt like the Pathfinder in the Delaware village. During this time, he learned much about the leader of the «forest tribe» and even sympathized with him.

Ignatiy wasn't known for being talkative, but he shared that he came from a merchant family that had prospered in Siberia through the fur trade, building their wealth through hard work. During the Civil War, he lost his family, and when Soviet power was established in Irkutsk, he moved to the countryside with his wife, hoping for a peaceful life on the land. However, when the Bolsheviks arrived in the early twenties, he staunchly opposed the prodrazverstka (grain requisition), and they sought revenge. He lost the person he loved most, his Anastasia. He rallied his supporters and drove the Reds out of the village, after which he had no choice but to retreat into the forests.

Leonid was deeply moved by this story. In turn, he shared his own childhood and youth experiences, recounting the events of the Civil War in the Poltava region. A trusting bond formed between them quickly, and then Ignatiy produced a map. Before his death, a White Guard officer who hadjoined Bugor's detachment gave him this map. Supposedly, it marked the location of a hidden cache of gold from the Yakut mines.

«I am literate, but I cannot read maps. Besides, it's not clear where this cache is located,» Bugor admitted.

«And what will you do with it if you find it?» Leonid inquired.

«I'll head to Manchurl in China. There's no life for me here,» Bugor responded. He added, «You'll get a share, of course.»

But Mirachevsky merely waved his hand; he was already engrossed in studying the worn map and felt nothing but familiar excitement. He spread out his own map on the table and attempted to align the two images. However, aside from the difference in scale, the markings were carelessly done, unusual for an officer.

The next day, from early morning, he was bent over the scheme.

«Does it make any sense?» Ignatiy asked anxiously, observing the frowning engineer.

Leonid shook his head, «Not yet. You can see the state of the paper – it's tattered, not a proper plan. Half of it is indecipherable.»

He spent the entire day grappling with the puzzle, trying to unlock its secrets. Yet, the key eluded him…

The following morning felt unusually tranquil. As Leonid emerged from the dugout, he realized he had overslept (his mind had been preoccupied with the treasure for a long time), and the Bugrovites had gone fishing again. Not far away, the «spy» sat perched on a stump, squinting at the sun. After washing his face and savoring a cup of fragrant herbal tea, he resumed his work, lingering a bit longer at the entrance.

«What a day! It's a shame I can't walk around with this map in public,» he mused.

Late at night, as he heard the excited voices of women outside and the grumbling of his guards, Mirachevsky realized that the detachment hadn't returned yet, which for some reason worried those left in the camp. Quietly, he went to bed, unsure of how far Ignatiy had taken his men.

However, the squad didn't show up the next day. That's when Leonid's gut told him to act.

Yet, he hesitated for some reason. It felt wrong to leave like this, without saying goodbye and without explaining himself to Bugor. There was something between them: if not friendship, then mutual understanding. Besides, last night he had finally realized that the officer's map was worthless – it was impossible to determine the actual location of the supposed treasure from it. The experienced cartographer knew this better than anyone else. «But Ignatiy doesn't know about it yet,» Mirachevsky agonized.

Suddenly, a thought pierced him, causing him to view both his «jailer» and the situation differently: «What if Bugor thinks that I've deciphered the scheme and want to claim the gold for myself? What then? He'll find me anywhere… and maybe not just me… the girls…» Leonid even jumped up, hitting his head on the low ceiling. «No, you can't think of a man like that! Although…» Saveliy's stories came to mind.

However, there were more weighty circumstances. First, his family was waiting for him: Irina, Olga (she was probably already worried). Secondly, staying with the bandits for too long could lead to accusations of complicity in the future – times were such that even the slightest suspicion could lead to an accusation. And that could affect his family.

The final argument proved decisive.

Leonid swiftly gathered himself up, slipped the plan under Ignatiy's pillow, and, seizing the moment when the women were cooking and the man was making a fire, quietly slipped into the thicket. The seasoned engineer was well-oriented and remembered the direction. The main thing was to get to the river (and even more importantly, not encounter a wild animal – of course, he no longer had a gun), and from there, he could find his way to his party's last camp along the riverbed. However, in the dense forest, everything looked quite different from the map, and he had to travel through the taiga, getting scratched in the process.

Now, the route was clear: to the parking spot, and from there, to the Lena. Yet, it soon became clear that walking along the higher bank was impossible due to slippery boulders, sharp stones, and thorny bushes that extended all the way down to the water, making it almost impassable. Crossing to the other side of the shallow yet swift rivulet seemed risky, but there was no choice. Without taking a step in the water, Leonid stepped (there were boulders underwater as well), painfully hitting his knee. Fortunately, he realized that he could still swim, and he had to do it quickly – the icy water was cramping his legs. Upon reaching the shore, he was shaking. He attempted to run to warm up, but his bruised knee let him down. He wanted to walk straight down the fairly gentle bank, in the sunshine, but he didn't dare yet, fearing pursuit.

Mirachevsky had only a slice of bread, which he had stuffed into his rucksack at the last moment. There were still unripe berries and fish in the calmer part of the river (provided he dried the matches well). When he reached the camping spot, he realized that he needed to take a break, rest well, and eat – it was unknown how many days he would have to hike to the «Big River» with a sore leg.

… On the fourth day, he heard faint wood chop sounds. «What? Am I daydreaming?» The sounds disappeared, but after a while, they reappeared, and now the clatter of an axe could be distinctly heard. The men, who were clearing the area, were alerted when they saw a dirty, ragged man wearing glasses:

«White? An officer?» The bald-headed man squinted at him.

«Why, Victor, the whites have long been gone,» laughed the russet-haired boy, «the man must have lost his way.»

They took him to the nearest village. The local authorities there, after clarifying all the circumstances, provided him with assistance to get to the Lena, from where Leonid hired a boat all the way to Kirensk.

* * *

Irina did not immediately recognize her beloved father. Olga, usually reserved, burst into tears, embracing her gaunt husband. Kurekhin and Saveliy quickly arrived as news spread rapidly in small towns. The chairman warmly shook Leonids hand for a long time, and the guide clapped him on the shoulder in a delighted manner, saying:

«Well done, Chief, well done!» and turning to the chairman, «I told you he's resilient. Smart and resilient!»

It turned out that the engineer had been absent for more than three weeks. Saveliy explained everything to everyone, just as they were told, except for Kurekhin. He immediately informed him of what had happened. They now had a better idea of where to search for Bugor's gang (the word «gang» suddenly struck Mirachevsky). The operation was conducted with utmost secrecy, as it was believed that Ignatiy had many supporters in every settlement.

«Where is he now?» Leonid asked.

«Such an important figure was taken to Irkutsk; the investigator came all the way from there.»

Leonid's countenance darkened; he had indeed become friends with his «jailer,» and it was hard to come to terms with the fact that such a bright life would be interrupted to some extent because of him. Ignatiy was a contradictory personality, but in a way attractive – a noble robber, a literary type. And at night, through a dream, a very strange thought suddenly broke through: «Eh, I didn't have a chance to ask Ignatiy whether he was related to Vasily Bugor or not…»

* * *

At the very end of August, the Mirachevsky family suddenly grew: Olga and her husband arrived unannounced, like a summer snow (as they say, such things happen in these parts).

After reading the mute question in her daughter-in-law's eyes, the mother-in-law immediately clarified:

«My son is here, and here is where I will live.»

«Mom, maybe it would be better in Moscow after all?» was all Leonid could manage.

It turned out that it wasn't a whim to suddenly move so far away. Life in Chervona had become unbearable for the proud woman: the local authorities had requisitioned the old house – the family nest of the Shpirkans.

Thus, Irina's life forever included her grandmother and grandfather, and the survey party gained two more reliable workers – Leonid's mother and her husband, Nikolai Kirik, who had served as a gamekeeper in Podolia.

The members of that expedition faced many difficulties, but Olga could never forget one encounter with a bear in the taiga for the rest of her life. She had wandered quite far from the camp while picking mushrooms. The clearing was teeming with mushrooms, and the woman didn't have time to straighten up before she heard the crunch of twigs. When she looked up, a few meters away stood a bear. Frozen with horror, she remembered what Saveliy had told her about these animals. It was absolutely impossible to run away, and dangerous to stay. It was said that one should not shout, but then the bear must have seen her as prey and roared. In response, Olga screamed in the same way – out of horror and surprise. She stood right in front of the fearsome beast and shouted loudly and desperately, without taking a step back! Surprisingly, the bear first backed away, then turned, and retreated into the thicket. She collapsed onto the grass, drained of strength… She didn't remember how she made her way back to the camp, but she clutched onto the basket of mushrooms throughout the ordeal.

* * *

Towards the year's end, Mirachevsky's party found itself relocated to Novosibirsk. The family embarked once more on the winter road, now accompanied by a larger brood. Their numbers had expanded, but it was not the final count, for they anticipated a new addition by summer – Olga was pregnant again.

Chapter 4: «In the Everyday Life of Great Construction Sites…»

Novosibirsk greeted the newcomers with astonishment. The central part resembled one vast construction site. It was still reminiscent of the Novonikolayevsk of the early century, mostly wooden and with only a few paved streets, hardly befitting its newfound status as the capital of the West Siberian region. Nevertheless, the former merchant and trading town was rapidly transforming into a major industrial center. Krasny Avenue (formerly Nikolayevsky Avenue), the main street, had been widened and adorned with a boulevard by the mid-1920s. The once old buildings were being replaced by emerging constructs of the constructivist architectural style.

Symbolically, this avenue originated from the Trans-Siberian Railway, and with the revival of railway construction, the city emerged as a crucial transportation hub, connected to new routes like the Turk-Sib and the line linking Novosibirsk with Kuzbass.

The vast territory of the region encompassed rich mineral deposits but lacked a well-developed road network. Thus, the Sibstroyput Trust, tasked with developing the transportation infrastructure, had an abundance of work ahead. They needed to connect areas where coal, iron ore, and rare metals were mined with the cities housing processing enterprises and the factories in the Urals.

Throughout most of the year, numerous survey parties toiled in the field, exploring potential road routes across Kuzbass and the Altai Mountains. Once the cold weather set in, they returned to Novosibirsk to process data and engage in design work. This was the «desk» work that awaited Leonid, who had been assigned to the service of Sibstroyput. New surveys were planned to commence in the spring.

The construction of the trust's own housing for employees hadjust commenced. The Mirachevsky family did not secure an apartment in any of the new city buildings, but they considered themselves fortunate in a way. Communal houses from the mid-1920s were not the most comfortable living spaces, especially for families. Instead, they were provided a separate room in the department's dormitory, a small two-story, blue-painted wooden house. Olga and her husband received a separate room too. Though they had few neighbors, the ones they did have were amiable and intelligent, adding a friendly and supportive atmosphere to their close living quarters.

* * *

Mirachevsky barely had a chance to report on the findings of the Kiren expedition when he received another urgent assignment. While the deposits of southwestern Siberia were being developed for decades, the riches of the Altai Mountains remained isolated from the country's transportation system. The region saw a surge in mineral extraction, with new mines and power plants being built, but the existing narrow gauge railroads struggled to keep up with the demands of the time.

In the fall of 1930, the Council of Labor and Defense made a decision to «ensure the development of railway transport» for the Ore Altai mining industry. One of the top priorities was the construction of the Rubtsovsk-Ridder road to connect the Turk-Sib station with a town in Eastern Kazakhstan. Research of the area was already underway, and Leonid's party was assigned to assist other expeditions in this region.

Ridder, a cluster of mining villages, left a rather gloomy impression. However, nestled in the foothills of the Ore Altai Mountains, surrounded by mines and factories, it appeared as a modest stage set against the majestic backdrop of the Ivanovsky Ridge amphitheater, stretching away to the east for over a hundred kilometers. The town, named in honor of Philip Ridder, who discovered local deposits of polymetallic ores in the early 19th century, paled in comparison to the splendor of the pine forests, rivers, and hills, behind which snow-covered peaks loomed.

Once again, the party's leader marveled at his fortune – a new place to explore, captivating natural beauty, challenging tasks, and the opportunity to meet intriguing individuals.

Within less than two years after graduating from the institute, it was evident that Mirachevsky was a natural leader. His organizational skills, combined with an innate ability to connect with people, made him an exceptional leader. His genuine concern for his team's well-being and the ability to foster a cohesive unit created a loyal and devoted workforce.

During those turbulent times, the labor market was saturated with people seeking better opportunities. Many fled their homelands, escaping collectivization, evading vigilant authorities, or grappling with the uncertainty of the new order. The «deprived» were reluctant to accept even the lowest-paid positions. However, there were also those who ventured to the construction sites of socialism – some driven by sincere convictions and the call of the Party, some aiming to support their families left behind in famine-stricken villages, and others seeking adventure and the allure of distant lands.

For Mirachevsky, personal qualities and reliability took precedence over mere professionalism. In expeditions, where close living conditions and harsh circumstances prevailed, trustworthiness became the defining factor.

It was on this particular expedition that he found a steadfast companion. Kirill Alferov, a graduate of the Leningrad Institute of Railway Engineers, was assigned as the second engineer to the party at the last moment. This appointment marked the beginning of a profound friendship. The two young men swiftly bonded over their shared views, approach to life, and even their behavior, often leading outsiders to wonder if they were brothers.

«Well,» Mirachevsky contemplated, standing on a slope and surveying the surroundings, «it appears to be a promising start. We have no supply issues either. It's just a shame the girls won't be able to witness such beauty.»

For this expedition, he had to leave his family in Novosibirsk. Olga's position no longer allowed her to accompany her husband, and their daughter, Irina, had to remain behind as well. Thankfully, experienced Olga was there to assist them.

Involuntarily, he let out a sigh, pondering about his family, especially Olga. However, moments later, a smile graced his face as he remembered his mother's courageous encounter with a wild beast: «They'll be just fine with such a grandmother around!»

* * *

Upon arriving in the new Siberian «capital,» Olga was struck by a sudden realization: she deeply missed Moscow, its everyday comforts, and the predictability of life it offered. In the short time she spent there, she had grown to love the capital and felt a sense of belonging. The taiga adventures seemed more suitable for young, unburdened individuals without families and children. Moreover, her relationship with her mother-in-law was not particularly harmonious. The weather outside mirrored her emotional state, swinging between thaw and frost, as the northern winds clashed with the southern ones – and her mood, like the weather, fluctuated with remarkable swiftness.

In early May, Leonid managed to make his way to Novosibirsk, where he had to submit an interim report to Sibstroyput. The party was in need of supplies, and the situation was clearly deteriorating.

The reunion with his family was filled with a mix of emotions. Olga immediately busied herself in the kitchen, as her caring nature always manifested her love. Little Irina clung to her father, not willing to let him go for even a moment, while Olga remained somewhat distant. Being pregnant was not a new experience for her, so Leonid didn't pay much attention to it. However, he couldn't help but notice that his wife appeared immensely tired, even though there were still two months left before the due date.

Playfully, he asked, «Come on, what's going on, Olga? Did you not want me to come?»

«Stupid…» she replied, expressing some irritation.

Wanting to embrace her husband, Olga found her efforts thwarted by Irina, who extended her little arms protectively and stated, «He's mine.»

Leonid assured his daughter, «Of course, I'm yours, baby! Yours and Mommy's. Mommy's ours, right?»

Irina nodded, still keeping her hands around her father.

Olga's words were tinged with frustration as she said, «You see, you let her do everything, but with you, she doesn't listen to anyone else.»

«It's just that she's at such a possessive age,» Leonid explained, kissing his daughter on the head. «You'll see, she'll become your best assistant.»

Before leaving, Mirachevsky promised Irina that she would soon be the eldest and should take care of her mother. To Olga, he advised, «You should take more walks now; the weather's nice. And take care of yourself – a little person needs a healthy, cheerful mother.»

* * *

The new addition to the family wasted no time, making her entrance on May 22, a month ahead of schedule. And once again, it was a girl.

Nina, tiny and delicate, was a constant source of distress for her mother. She cried incessantly, driving Olga to her wits' end with both her screams and her fragility. Worried for her second daughter, Olga was hesitant to let her older sister near Nina, curtailing all of Irina's attempts to entertain the little one.

Amidst the brewing storms, Olga remained composed and confident. She adeptly managed multiple tasks at once – stirring porridge with one hand while cradling the newborn in the other, all while engaging in conversation with Irina. The stubborn daughter-in-law had to reluctantly admit that she couldn't handle it alone.

It was nearly a month later when Leonid finally had the opportunity to see his family and hold the «girl again» in his arms.

* * *

Come July, Mirachevsky received news that his party was being transferred to a different route. Time with his family was scarce; he had to submit the project, prepare for the new expedition, and – surprise, surprise – write an article for the newspaper called Sovetskaya Sibir.

«And who else could I trust with it?» demanded the formidable head of the trust, brushing off Leonids protests about being already overwhelmed. «You're a scientist from the capital, and you have an eloquent way of explaining things. If you can set tasks for your employees, then you can present it all to your readers.»

And so, Leonid took up the task. He wrote about the necessity of building the South Siberian road, to the south of the Trans-Siberian, as a means to relieve the main highway and connect industrial regions. He emphasized that the shortest route would save «the state several million more rubles,» and, of course, he did not forget to highlight the hard work of his employees…

Yet, he remained silent about the fact that the project had been considered by the Tsarist government and initially implemented by Admiral Kolchak, the Supreme Ruler of Russia during the Civil War – a topic that was better left untouched at that time. Additionally, the route had been altered, rendering the structures built under Kolchak's order unused. Subsequent expeditions charted new paths for every section of the future road, from Tayshet to Minusinsk, Kuznetsk to Barnaul, and Kulunda (where construction had been particularly intensive in 1919).

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «Литрес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на Литрес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.