The first thing she notices is the smell of smoke. Then she sees her mother, sitting at the table, smoking a cigarette. An over-flowing ashtray is near her elbow.

“Mama!” Vera cries. The bicycle clangs into the wall.

“Hush,” her mother says sharply, glancing over at the bed where Grandmother lies snoring.

Vera puts the bicycle away and moves toward the table. There are no lights on, but a pale glow illuminates the window anyway, giving every hard surface in the room a softer edge; this is especially true of her mother’s face, which is clamped tight with anger. “And where are your vegetables from the garden?”

“Oh. I hit a bench with my bike and fell into the street. Everything was lost. ” As the lie spills out, she grabs on to it. “And I was hurt. Oh, my side is killing me. That is why I am so late. I had to walk all the way home. ”

Her mother looks at her without smiling. “Seventeen is very young, Vera. You are not so ready for life . . . and love . . . as you believe. And these are dangerous times. ”

“You were seventeen when you fell in love with Papa. ”

“Yes,” her mother says, sighing. It is a sound of defeat, as if she already knows everything that has happened.

“You would do it again, wouldn’t you? Love Papa, I mean. ”

Her mother flinches at that word—love.

“No,” her mother says softly. “I would not love him again, not a poet who cared more for his precious words than his family’s safety. Not if I had known how it would feel to live with a broken heart. ” She puts out her cigarette. “No. That is my answer. ”

“But—”

“I know you don’t understand,” her mother says, turning away. “I hope you never do. Now come to bed, Vera. Allow me to pretend you are still my innocent girl. ”

“I am,” Vera protests.

Her mother looks at her one last time and says, “Not for long, though, I think. For you want to be in love. ”

“You make it sound as if falling in love is like catching some disease. ”

Her mother says nothing, just climbs into the narrow bed with Olga, who makes a snoring sound and flings an arm across her.

Vera wants to ask more questions, explain how she feels, but she sees that her mother isn’t interested. Is this the reason Sasha asked for one more day? Did he know that Mama would resist?

She brushes her teeth and dresses for bed, plaiting her long hair. Climbing in next to her mother, she eases close, finds warmth in her mother’s arms.

“Be careful,” her mother whispers into Vera’s ear. “And do not lie to me again. ”

Fifteen

The next morning, Vera wakes early enough to wash her hair in the kitchen sink and painstakingly brushes it dry. “Where are you going?” Olga says sleepily from the bed. Vera presses a finger to her lips and makes a shushing sound. Her mother angles up on one elbow in the bed. “There is no need to shush your sister, Veronika. I can smell the rosewater you used in your hair. ”

Vera considers lying to her mother, perhaps saying that someone important is expected in the library today, but in the end she simply says nothing.

Her mother throws back the flimsy covers and gets out of the narrow bed. She and Olga peel sideways like synchronized swimmers and stand together in their ragged white nightgowns.

“Bring your young man here on Sunday,” Mama says. “Your grandmother will be out. ”

Vera throws her arms around her and hugs her tightly. Then as they have done each day for more than a year, the three of them eat breakfast and then leave together.

When Mama turns toward the warehouse and walks away, Olga sidles up to Vera. “Tell me. ”

Vera links arms with her sister. “It is Prince Aleksandr. Sasha. He has been waiting for me to grow up and now that I have, he is in love with me. ”

“The prince,” Olga says in awe.

“I am seeing him again tonight. So tell Mama I am fine and I will be home when I can. I don’t want her to worry. ”

Tags: Kristin Hannah Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net