"Madam," said Danylo. "I would like to invite you into our house for dinner."
The woman lowered her placard and stared at him with incredulity. "You expect me to accept your offer? You, a war criminal? And you, who just let two punk neo-Nazis into your house?"
Danylo sighed deeply. Each of her words cut him to the quick. "I am offering you my hospitality on a cold night," he said gently.
The woman spat on the ground in front of him and walked away.
CHAPTER 19
WHEN KAT CAME downstairs on Ukrainian Christmas morning, the first thing she did was to peek through the front curtains. The protester was gone, thank goodness.
Her mother, still in her housecoat, was already up and busy preparing the goose. It would roast while they were at church for Sluzhba Bozha.Kat could never understand why they didn't just have leftover meatless cabbage rolls, perogies, borscht and nalysniky from the evening before for their midday meal. There were tons of leftovers. But her mother was a stickler for tradition, so in spite of all the leftovers, fresh meat-filled cabbage rolls and roast goose was served on Rizdvo— Christmas day.
Kat poured herself a glass of water, not wanting to have food before Divine Liturgy, and then she helped her mother. Danylo and Genya were still getting ready by the time the goose and cabbage rolls were in the oven.
While her mother got dressed for church, Kat opened the front door and retrieved both the Globe & Mail and the Toronto Star from the mailbox. She didn't even glance at the headlines as she carried the papers into the kitchen and deposited them on the table. But then a word on the front page of the Star caught her attention. The word was "Nazi". Kat unfolded the front page and her heart stopped. The headline was: Local man accused of Nazi crimes.
Below the headline was a large colour photo of her grandfather at the front step of their house. The top of Kat's own head was clearly visible behind him. Kat felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She quickly sat down on a kitchen chair and gulped for air. This can't be happening, but then again, why not? The hearing was at the end of the week. She tried to scan the article, but the words swam before her eyes. How and when had this photo been taken? Her grandfather was wearing his suit and Ukrainian blouse, and the reindeer pin was clearly visible on his lapel. It looked like it had been taken last night. How did they get such a close shot without them knowing, Kat wondered? Perhaps someone was watching them now? The thought made her shudder.
She threw the paper down on the table and flipped through the Globe.On A6 she stopped. A small news item caught her eye: Nazi war criminal hearing set for January 11th.
Kat willed herself to be calm and then read every word in the article. The bile rose in her throat. As far as the press saw it, her grandfather wasn't "accused"; he was guilty.
While she was still pondering the article, her mother walked out of her bedroom, dressed for church and looking happier than Kat had seen her for awhile. But when Orysia saw the expression on her daughter's face, her smile crumpled into concern. "What has happened?" she asked.
"Dido made front page of the Star; page 6 in the Globe."
She held out the papers, but Orysia shook her head.
"I don't want to see it," said Orysia. "I can tell by your face that I don't want to see it."
Just then, Genya came down the stairs, and Danylo came out of his room at almost the exact same moment.
"What is the problem?" asked Genya, looking from her sister to her mother.
Kat picked up the front section of the Star and held it up. "This is what's the matter," replied Kat.
"Great," said Genya. "Just what we need. We're going to be living our life in a fishbowl." As she said this, she gave her grandfather a hostile glance. "And Merry Christmas to you too."
Danylo stood there, stunned. He didn't know what he was more upset about: the articles in the newspapers, or Genya's reaction. He reached out and grabbed the newspaper from Kat's hand and held it at arm's length, trying to get it into focus. "It calls me a Nazi," he said with bewilderment. "I fought the Nazis."
"Ignore it," said Orysia. "Let us put this behind us and go to church. It's Christmas Day." And with that, Orysia grabbed her car keys and marched out the front door.
Kat was following close on her mother's heels, but no sooner was Orysia outside than she came back in, almost bumping into Kat. There were tears spilling down her cheeks. "My God. I can't take this." She sat limply down on the sofa. "Go and see what they've done."
Someone had taken what looked like blood and had splattered the white wood of the house with it. There was a huge black swastika spray bombed beneath the red spatters.
"I'm calling the police," said Genya, striding into the kitchen and grabbing the phone.
Danylo walked up to Orysia and put her head on his shoulder, just as he used to do when she was a child and needed comforting. Instinctively, he patted her back, and she hugged him fiercely.
Genya stepped back into the living room, the phone still in her hand. "The police are coming right over to photograph the damage."
Orysia raised her head from Danylo's shoulder and looked at Genya with dismay. "But we'll miss church."
"Actually, Mama, they asked us to wait until they get here. We'll be late, but they will send a couple of plain clothes officers into the cathedral to keep an eye on things while we're there."
"They said that?" asked her mother in awe.
"This is a hate crime," replied Genya. "They take it seriously."
Kat was amazed at her sister's cold command of the situation. Did nothing ruffle her?
It wasn't long before two officers pulled into the driveway in a patrol car. One was a black woman with hair buzzed short, and the other was an older man with a paunch. He carried a camera and an evidence kit.
The woman got out a pad of paper and asked questions, while the man took photos of the graffiti from a number of different angles. Once he had finished taking photos, he took a small plastic spatula out of the evidence kit and scraped some of the red paint or blood off the house. He placed both the spatula and the sample into a plastic bag from the kit, and then he sealed and labelled it.
"This is nasty business," said the woman officer, still scribbling in her notepad. "But I guess it's not surprising, given the circumstances."
Kat bristled, "My grandfather is innocent until proven guilty."
"I know that," said the woman, arching one brow and looking Kat in the eye. "But you are a magnet right now."
Kat nodded.
"Is this the only hate incident you've experienced?" asked the officer.
Kat's eyebrows creased in confusion for a moment, and then she said, "Does stuff sent in the mail count as a hate incident?"
"Absolutely," said the woman. "Has your grandfather received hate mail?"
Danylo, who was listening to this exchange, answered for Kat. "No," he said. "I have received nothing suspicious in the mail."
"Actually, Dido, you have," said Kat. And then she looked at the officer. "Hold on a minute and I'll get it."
She loped up the stairs to her bedroom, and retrieved the envelope and clippings that she had hidden under her mattress. When she brought it down and showed it to the police officer, Danylo's cheeks reddened with anger.
"When did that arrive?" he asked.
"A while ago," admitted Kat. "I didn't want to upset you."
The officer had an evidence bag ready. "Drop it in," she said. "It's too bad that you didn't report this immediately," she said to Kat. "We would have had a much better chance of getting finger prints off it if you hadn't handled it so much."