An urgent longing fluttered in my belly. I made a soft sound, bringing my hands around to clasp his back and press our bodies together. Oskar jumped slightly in surprise. Then I felt his breath quicken. His arm tightened around my waist and his kisses grew deeper, more urgent.
Through the warm haze of pleasure, I observed that this was not like the few other times he had kissed me in the field behind the farmhouse. Back then, the merest brush of our lips had sustained us. Our kisses had been innocent, chaste. There had not been this charge, this invisible heat as our bodies strained together, desire kindling between us.
When at last we broke apart, Oskar groaned and kissed my forehead.
We were both breathing hard. ‘You are killing me,’ he said. I caught the flicker of his smile, but his words sent a chill over my skin. How could we forget ourselves so entirely when the world was now at war?
I pretended to smooth down my skirt, hoping for a moment to master myself. As I did so, I caught sight of the gun he always wore tucked into the belt at his waist. Although I tried not to stare at it, I could not help but think about the men he had used it on. It was a submachine gun, he had told me in one of our brief exchanges; a gleaming bringer of death given to him by one of the Germans. The others called it ameeriklane: the American.
I shivered, wishing he had left it behind at the lean-to but knowing it was a part of him. Even now, when we were safely sheltered in a bower of trees, Amerikana was with us, a reminder of the danger that was still present.
Hilja’s warning rang out sharply in my head.
You don’t know what you will do. What they will make you do.
I glanced over my shoulder, almost certain I would catch her standing there watching us. She followed Oskar everywhere like a faithful hound. But we were still alone, surrounded by the arms of the trees, the camp a grey blur behind the leaves. Insects whirred in the bushes nearby.
‘Kati.’ I turned back to Oskar. His cheeks were pink, his blue eyes very bright. ‘You know what I will ask you.’ He slid his arms around me again. His kisses fluttered against my neck, as soft as moth’s wings. I wound my fingers through his hair. ‘You must promise to marry me,’ he said, his words flushing hot on my skin. ‘No matter what happens.’
No matter what happens.
A spasm of pain pulsed through me. I drew back. It was agony, but I could not banish the memory that had reared up suddenly at his words. I saw again Hilja’s face in the guttering light of the candle, her scarred skin. Her warning, branded in my mind.
With an effort, I stepped away from him. ‘I can’t promise that. Not now. When you return, we will speak of it.’
Oskar blinked. A look of confusion obscured his features. ‘I don’t understand. Is there someone else?’
‘No. Of course not. I just feel that it’s not safe,’ I began, and then stopped. Oskar’s shoulders had stiffened. I tried again. ‘It’s… it’s dangerous. For both of us, but more so for you. A promise like that… it carries risk. There is no certainty that the Germans will succeed—’
Oskar made a small scoffing sound and opened his mouth to argue.
‘Just listen.’ I drew in a deep fortifying breath. ‘Please. You can’t afford to be distracted. You can’t be thinking about marrying me while you are heading off into a fight. Can you really afford to put your life at risk? The lives of your friends?’
Oskar’s mouth pinched. ‘That’s not your choice to make, Kati.’ I could see he was clenching and unclenching his hands. ‘You can’t tell me who to love. Who not to love. If you don’t love me back, then that’s your decision. But do not try to tell me my own heart.’
‘Oskar…’ I shut my eyes. I willed myself to be strong, to foster arguments which could convince him that we should be patient, that we should wait. But I could not fight the powerful tide of his words. I felt tears gathering behind my eyelids.
Oskar clasped my hands. He turned them over and kissed them in turn, his lips softly caressing my palms.
‘You have been my good-luck charm,’ he said. His voice was rough, raw with emotion. ‘It wasn’t the gloves. It was the memory of you. Your stories and your history lessons. Your dreams and your knitting. It was knowing you were still there, safe in your parents’ house while I was shivering in the forest, trying to forget what I saw the day my mother and Aime were killed. Trying to forget my own cowardice at failing to save them. It was knowing you were alive that kept me going. You think that I’ll be daydreaming while I am dodging Russian bullets? No. I’ll be thinking of us. Together. Our future. If I could be sure… ’ his voice wavered. ‘If you could promise me that you will be mine. That you will be waiting for me. Then I promise you that I will come back.’
I opened my eyes. The light was green and hazy, the air wood-scented and full of balsam. Oskar was waiting for my answer.
I made myself smile. It was not so hard, if I imagined the cottage Oskar had once promised he would build with the heart-shaped windows; if I thought back to those days which tasted of strawberries and smelled of sweet hay and sunshine. I pushed away the image of him lying broken in a field, screaming for me as the blood drained from his body from half a dozen bullet wounds. It was not I who had to face death. All I had to endure was the pain of loss if Oskar’s promise could not be fulfilled. Surely, I could give him this, a vow which might sustain him through the next few days of horror and fear? My sacrifice was small. It was all I could offer, and I should offer it gladly, not think of myself when a greater threat loomed.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘I promise. Yes.’
I heard him release a breath. ‘All right.’ In his relief, he kissed me clumsily, his mouth meeting the edge of my lips before he drew away and picked up his cap from where he had dropped it upon the pine needles. I tidied my hair with my fingers, ignoring a small voice which whispered that it was a bad omen for our last kiss to have been so weak. Oskar stood straighter with his cap on. It shadowed his eyes, but I could see he was smiling. Good. He reached out and brushed my cheek with his thumb. ‘Hüvastijätt, then, Kati.’
Farewell. The sound of his footsteps crunching away tore at the last of my resolve. Sinking to my knees, I allowed myself to cry. Finally. For my parents, for Aunt Juudit. For Etti and her husband and their child, born in the wilderness. For the fear I held in my heart for Oskar and my brother. For all the things I had lost and the things I still had left to lose.
When I finally stumbled back into the camp, it was to find Lydia’s sour face waiting for me. She marched towards me, her hand shielding her eyes.
‘Where have you been?’ she said, her eyes flashing. ‘You were such a long time. Etti was worried. I’ve left Leelo with her while I came to look for you.’ It was more emotion than I had seen her display in the week we had known each other. I almost wanted to crow with triumph; at last, her exterior was cracking. But I was too drained to fight.
‘The Germans are marching on Russia,’ I said wearily.
Lydia stared. ‘Truly?’
‘Yes. The Russians are retreating, Oskar said. It’s nearly over. The Germans have promised to return freedom to Estonia.’
‘And you believe them?’ Lydia said.
‘Of course.’ The cynical tone in her voice irritated me like nails scratching on glass. ‘Why would they lie?’
Lydia folded her arms. ‘They gave Stalin their word and look what happened.’
‘Stalin is a monster,’ I snapped. ‘As is anyone associated with him. An alliance with the Germans guarantees us our independence. Can you really be so stupid? The Estonian home guard will be restored to full power. A new government will be formed.’