Kat hung her head. "I'm sorry," she said.
"If you get something else, call us immediately."
"Okay," said Kat.
The woman reached into her pocket and drew out a card. "Keep this handy," she said. "The reporters and photographers shouldn't be allowed on your private property. Ditto for protesters." The officer pointed to the sidewalk, "Anything past there is public, though, so we can't stop people from gawking as long as that's all they're doing."
They both got into the patrol car once the photos were taken. "We'll swing by this way a bit more regularly until things simmer down," said the woman. "The plain clothes should be at your church by now."
"Let's go," said Orysia, looking at her watch. "We've missed half the service already."
Danylo followed her out of the house, but paused when he got outside. He stared at the horrible graffiti on his daughter's house. "How can we leave with those marks still on our house?" said Danylo. "It shames me to have my daughter's house defaced like this."
"It is not you who should feel ashamed," said Orysia.
Bathurst Street was so jammed with cars in front of St. Volodymyr Cathedral that Orysia could barely get her car through, let alone find a parking spot. She dropped off Danylo and Kat at the steps, and then she and Genya drove around the block to find a parking spot. Miraculously, they found one.
Kat and Danylo stood in the chilly air while they waited for the other two. They could hear the singing of the people inside. "Are you sure you don't want to step in out of the cold?" asked Kat.
"No," said Danylo. "I don't know how I can even face all the people inside. They probably have seen the papers this morning."
"Dido," said Kat. "Those are your friends in there. They know who you are."
Danylo was silent.
The aroma of wool coats and liturgical incense greeted Kat's nose as she opened the doors of the cathedral and stepped inside. It was no larger than a regular church, but the sumptuous interior set it apart. Light streamed in through the stained glass windows and reflected off the massive crystal chandelier and lit up the gold leaf paintings on the walls. The cathedral was so packed that people were standing behind the pews at the back, and even out into the entryway. A couple of people turned to see who was coming in so late, and then there was a ripple of low whispers. In a wave, people moved, making room for Danylo and his family. Silent hugs and hands squeezed, and then Danylo and his family were ushered to a space in the pews.
Usually after the liturgy on Christmas day, people would hurry home. Christmas day was spent with family. But one of Danylo's old country friends grasped him firmly by the elbow and led him downstairs to the church hall. Puzzled, Orysia, Genya and Kat followed.
A cluster of people formed around Danylo, a buffer almost, thought Kat, from the real world. Some of Kat's friends from St. Paul's were there, and a couple of girls she'd lost touch with since graduating from St. Sofia's elementary school. There were also elderly people who Kat recognized as her grandparents' friends, and also their sons and daughters, who were her parents' friends.
When her grandmother was alive, she had been involved in the women's auxiliary, making perogies and cabbage rolls as bazaar fund-raisers with the other women. Kat watched as Lidia Krawchuk, who had been a dear friend of Baba's and was the current women's auxiliary president, stepped forward and grasped her mother's hand.
"In some ways I am glad that Nadiya is dead so that she doesn't have to suffer through this," said Mrs. Krawchuk. "That they could do this to a man who lost his family in World War II, and who fought bravely for Ukraine is a crime in itself."
Kat looked around and saw that others were nodding in agreement.
"We will do what we can to help," said the woman.
Orysia's eyes welled up with tears of gratitude. She wrapped her arms around the woman's shoulders and kissed her on the cheek.
Then Father Petrenko came down the steps. Kat noticed that he had replaced his sumptuous Christmas vestments of gold and white with a simple black cossock. In one arm he held a collection basket. "Danylo," the priest said, extending his hand. "I am thankful that you are here today. May your faith bring you comfort."
Danylo bowed his head.
"When I read the papers this morning, I was angered. What a shameful thing to print on the day of Christ's birth," continued the priest. "My father fought beside you in Ukraine," he continued. "God knows the truth."
Then Father Petrenko held up the basket. "We took a collection for you," he said. "This isn't much, but I hope it helps."
Kat looked over at her grandfather and saw that he had a brave smile on his face, but tears of gratitude were welling in his eyes. Orysia's demeanour was similar. What surprised Kat was her sister's expression. Genya, who was the epitome of cool control, had one of Danylo's hands clasped firmly in hers. Her mask of calm was betrayed by a trickle of tears down one cheek.
CHAPTER 20
IT WAS WELL past noon when they got home, and the goose was roasted, but no one felt much like eating.
Kat and Danylo took some rags and a big pail of sudsy water to try to clean the front of the house. Whatever the red was, it wasn't permanent. It came off of the house without leaving a stain. The same could not be said for the huge black swastika. Danylo tried scrubbing it first with the soapy water and a bristled brush, his hands raw in the winter cold. When that didn't work, he tried paint solvent, but that just smeared it. He ended up painting over it with some leftover white paint that had been stored in the basement.
While they were still cleaning up, Kat noticed that the lone protester had come back. The woman seemed surprised to see Kat and her grandfather outside of their house. She looked at them both coldly and then continued to pace up and down the sidewalk.
Kat felt a mix of conflicting emotions as she watched the woman. Her first thought was one of anger. Had this woman purposely chosen to start her campaign on a Ukrainian religious holiday, wondered Kat indignantly. The papers had done the same. It was like salt in a wound.
Kat wanted to explain to her that this whole thing was a mistake. Didn't the woman realize that her grandfather was a suspect, not a criminal? Kat stepped towards the woman, but Danylo clasped her by the shoulder, holding her still. "Leave her be," he said.
When they got inside, Genya and Orysia had set the table, so Danylo and Kat quickly washed up and sat down at the table.
The mood was sombre. Orysia picked at her food, and Genya kept on glancing up at her grandfather. Finally, she put her fork down and said, "I think it's time for you to tell us what this is all about."
Danylo regarded his older granddaughter with sadness, but he remained silent.
"Why are they targeting you?" she persisted. "There has to be a reason."
Danylo sighed and then met her eyes. "There were bad police," he said. "But some of us were there for another reason."
With that, he walked into his bedroom and closed the door tight.
CHAPTER 21
KAT DIDN'T GO to school the next day. She told her mother she wasn't feeling well. Orysia suspected that her younger daughter didn't have the heart to face the world, so she didn't push it.
That night, long after the lights were out, and her sister was fast asleep in the other bed, Kat was still wide awake. Kat thought of the letter and clippings she had given to the police. In her mind's eye, she could see clearly the photo of a uniformed man shooting a child. It was a chilling image. The mere thought of such cruelty made tears well up in her throat. What would she do if she found out that her grandfather had actually done such a thing? It just couldn't be. Her mind couldn't get around such a thought.