“I wish I could take you with me,” Danina whispered, clinging to her, wanting to stay forever.
“You will take me with you … and a part of you will always be here with me. Here.” She pointed to her heart with a graceful finger. “It is time now, Danina,” she said, pulling away from her, and picking up one of the valises, as Danina took the other, and followed her slowly from the room into the hallway where Nikolai waited. He could see instantly how difficult the moment was for them, and went to relieve them both of the valises.
“Are you ready?” he asked Danina gently, as she nodded, and walked to the front door, as Madame Markova followed slowly, watching her, savoring each final second.
And just as they reached it, the front door opened, and a child walked through it. She was eight or nine, and she was carrying a suitcase, as her mother stood proudly beside her. She was a pretty child with straight blond braids, and she looked expectantly at Danina.
“Are you a dancer?” she asked boldly.
“I was. I'm not anymore.” It cost Danina a great deal to say it, as Nikolai and Madame Markova watched her.
“I'm going to be a ballerina, and I'm going to live here forever,” the child said with a smile.
Danina nodded, remembering the day she had come. But she had been so much more frightened than this child, so much less sure, and also considerably younger. But she had had no mother to accompany her.
“I think you'll be very happy here,” Danina said, smiling at her through her tears, as Madame Mark ova watched her. “You have to work very, very hard. All the time. Every day. You have to love it more than anything else in the whole world, and be willing to give up all the things you love to do, and want, and have and think … this has to be your whole life now.” How did you explain that to a nine-year-old? How did you make them want it more than anything else in life? How did you teach them to sacrifice and give until they nearly died? Or did you even teach it? Did they have to be born to it? Danina didn't have the answer. She simply touched the child's head as she walked past, and looked up at Madame Markova with tears in her eyes. She knew even less how to say good-bye, after the years of sacrifice, the years of giving and loving. How did you give it all back when it was over? But for her, it was the end of the story. The dance was over. For this child, it was just beginning.
“Take good care of her,” Madame Markova said softly to Nikolai, as the child and her mother walked past them. And then with a last touch of Danina's hand, Madame Markova turned and walked solemnly away, so they wouldn't see her cry. Danina stood and watched her for a long moment, and then walked slowly out the door for the last time, one foot after the other, until she stood outside, like everyone else in the world. She was no longer part of the ballet, she no longer belonged there, and never would again. This was the moment she had dreaded all her life, and it had come now. She was no longer part of their world, she was leaving them forever. There was no changing that, no turning back, as the door closed silently behind her.
Chapter 10
They spent their last day in St. Petersburg walking the streets, going to places they had both been fond of. It was a litany of memory and torment, and suddenly Danina could no longer remember why she was going. They both loved it here so much, why would they want to leave? But they could not delude themselves anymore. It was dangerous here. Their time in Russia was over. There was no way they could ever have had a life here. Even less so now, with the Revolution in full progress. But without it, Marie would have stayed, and held on to him. Danina would have had nowhere to go without the ballet. They had to go thousands of miles away, to a new world, to have a life together. And they both knew it was worth it. It was just excruciatingly painful leaving. But in another day, she'd be on the ship, in a month he would come too, and they could begin their life together. In some ways, it seemed like a great adventure. But she was still desperately sad to leave him in Russia.
For the moment, they were staying at a hotel, under his name, and on their way back, they bought a newspaper, and read with dismay of the war news. And all of it was distressing. It was impossible to ignore.
They had dinner in their room that night, clinging to each other for the last moments they could share, wanting to be alone for their final hours. They had so much to say to each other, so much to dream of, and promise. The days and nights they shared went all too quickly. They barely slept those last three days, not wanting to miss an instant with each other. Her bags were all packed, her few treasures and souvenirs ready to go with her. And he was sending two bags of his with her too, as though to prove to her that he was coming later. She was even bringing the gowns the Czarina had given her, although she knew they were part of the past now, as it all was.
Danina wondered at times how they would ever explain to their children, if they had any, what their lives had been. It would all seem like fairy tales to them, as it did to her now. Perhaps all one could do, in the end, was forget it, put the souvenirs away, the programs from the ballet, the photographs, the gowns, the toe shoes, and dust them off now and then to look at them. Or perhaps even that would be too painful. She knew that when they left St. Petersburg she would have to close the door on the past forever.
They went to bed early the last night, and lay in each other's arms all night, barely sleeping. But the sun rose all too quickly, and they left their bed for the last time with a look of sorrow. Danina was already anticipating the loneliness of his absence.
The porter carried her bags downstairs for her, and the two trunks she was taking for him as well, and she felt like a child leaving home forever, as the door closed softly behind her.
“I promise you, Danina, I'll come soon, no matter what the situation here. Nothing will stop me.” He read her mind and reassured her in the car on the way to the ship. It made her feel sick with worry to leave him, especially knowing he'd be traveling to Siberia with the Czar and Czarina and their children, and then back to St. Petersburg again.
He helped her board the ship, and settled her into the cabin. She was to share it with another woman, but she hadn't arrived yet, and Danina chose the bunk she wanted. But she barely left Nikolai's side and was suddenly dreading the crossing, and said so. Without him, she would be desperately lonely, and constantly afraid for him.
“I'll miss you too,” he said, smiling lovingly at her. “Every moment. Take good care of yourself, my darling. I'll be there in no time.” She walked back up to the deck with him when the boat horn sounded to warn visitors to go ashore, and he stood holding her for a long moment. It no longer mattered to either of them who saw them. In their own eyes, they were man and wife. “I love you. Remember that. I'll come as soon as I can. Give my love to our cousin. He's a bit dull, but very kind. You'll like him.”
“I'm going to miss you dreadfully,” Danina said, with tears in her eyes, unable to hold them back.
“I know,” he said softly, “so will I.” He kissed her long and hard then as the boat horn sounded for the last time, and they began to remove the gangplanks.
“Let me stay with you,” she said breathlessly in his arms, trying suddenly to convince him. “I don't want to leave you. Perhaps they'd let me come to Siberia with you.” She would have done anything to stay with him.
“They'd never let you, Danina, you know that.” He didn't want to tell her it was dangerous, but that was not a secret to them either. He wanted her safe in Vermont now, no matter how much he wanted to be with her.
“Just remember how much I love you,” he reminded her. “Remember that until I join you. I love you more than anything in life, Danina Petroskova….”It was the last time he would ever call her that. They had already agreed that in Vermont she would use his name, Obrajensky, so no one would ever know they weren't married.