If they kept fighting, they’d hurt her. But she was the whole reason they were fighting in the first place. So they let her separate them, warily, glaring at each other as they caught their breath.
“Who the hell is he?” both demanded simultaneously.
“Bobby, this is Petr,” Karen explained in English. “He helped me escape from Leningrad.” Then she switched to Russian: “Petr, this is Bobby, my ex-boyfriend.”
Bobby sneered. He straightened up, chest out, and snarled, “Stay away from her. She’s my fiancée.” He turned to Karen. “Tell him.”
Karen was confused. She’d told herself that she would never see Bobby again, that he’d likely forgotten about her. That’s how she’d justified loving Petr. Now she realized the justification was a lie, and she didn’t know what to do; she didn’t know what to say.
“Tell him,” Bobby insisted.
Karen obeyed, reluctantly. “He’s not just an ex-boyfriend, he’s my ex-fiancé,” she admitted in Russian.
“Your ex?” Petr said. “Does he know that?”
Petr was demanding confirmation, but Karen couldn’t give it to him.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered meekly, to both and yet to neither of them.
They moved to the kitchen, where Karen found ice to numb their wounds and reduce the swelling of their bruises. They leaned against a counter as Karen admitted to Bobby that she’d been unfaithful.
“But, please,” she told him, “you have to forgive me. You have to help me escape Russia.” She needed to hitch a ride with the American delegation. She pleaded with him. “If you don’t, you’ll be leaving me to die.”
Bobby knew that. But he could only shake his head. His heart ached for her. He wanted to forgive her. He hadn’t suddenly stopped loving her because he’d caught her kissing another boy.
“I can’t let you die,” he muttered.
Finding her had been the sole focus of his life for the past six months. To abandon her now would be to admit that all his ambitions had been foolish.
“I can take you in my own plane, sneak you into the cockpit,” he told her, analyzing the plan in his mind. “You could sit in my lap. Then, when we reach Krasnoyarsk, I can introduce you to General Marshall. He’d be forced to take you then.”
“Would that work?”
“It’ll work. There’s nothing at Krasnoyarsk. They couldn’t possibly leave you behind.”
“No, I mean hiding in your cockpit, sitting on your lap.”
“I’ve done it before,” Bobby admitted with a nod.
Petr was watching, slumped and helpless, unable to understand.
“What about Petr?” Karen asked Bobby.
“What about him?”
“Can you sneak him out, too?”
Bobby glared at Petr. “Not a chance.”
“You have to.”
“He’s Russian. The Soviets will never let him leave.”
“That’s why you have to hide him.”
“General Marshall will never risk it.”
“If you don’t, he’ll die.”
“That’s probably true,” Bobby admitted.
And then he told Karen that the Russians couldn’t win this war, that even America’s top generals were expecting Russia’s defeat. He didn’t have to tell her the rest—about how the Nazis treated so-called undesirables. He didn’t have to tell her that the Germans would either place the Russians in work camps or let them starve. She’d experienced it all firsthand.
“And if Russia does lose,” Karen asked, “what happens to the United States?”
“We have a plan for that.”
“What sort of plan?”
“That’s classified.”
“Russia’s huge,” Karen said. “If it loses, so will we.”
“That’s not true. We can beat the Germans.”
“No one has yet.”
Bobby didn’t reply right away; it was a tacit admission that Karen was right.
“Either way,” she continued, “Petr has to come. You’d be killing him, otherwise. And I owe him my life.”
Bobby glanced at Petr. “Nobody’s gonna want him riding in their lap.” Bobby sure didn’t.
“Couldn’t you sneak him on the general’s transport plane?”
“Maybe,” Bobby admitted. “Maybe he could stow away with the luggage. You’d better dress warm, though.” Bobby was addressing Petr directly now. “Because it’s gonna be damned cold.”
Petr didn’t respond. He just stared back at Bobby, his face an emotionless mask.
Karen answered for him. “He doesn’t speak English. But don’t worry; Russians are used to the cold.”
Bobby turned back to Karen and gazed at her.
She was so beautiful. He wanted to grab her, to hug her and kiss her, like he had in Central Park and at her father’s parties, like this boy Petr had been doing moments before.
Petr was the whole problem. He had spoiled their reunion. Bobby said, “Why do you want him to come along, anyway? He’s not American.”
“He saved my life.”
“But he belongs here.”
“If he stays, he’ll die.”
Petr still didn’t say a word. He felt numb and emotionless. Moments ago, his life had been certain. He’d found a girl that he loved. They were going to spend their lives together. And he had decided: he’d come with her to America—not because he hated Russia, or that he was afraid of the Germans. He’d come to America to be with her because he loved her. She’d proven that she loved him.
But this new boy, this ex-boyfriend, threw all his certainty into confusion. No, Bobby was more than an ex-boyfriend, he was an ex-fiancé. That was even more serious. Petr had no idea what to think, what to feel. He just stared at the two of them.
Bobby reached out and took both of Karen’s hands. “I’ll do it under one condition.”
“Anything,” Karen replied, desperate.
“Tell me that what I saw was a mistake. Tell me you’re bringing him to America to help him—only to save him, not to be with him. Tell me you still love me.”
Karen stared into Bobby’s eyes. She did still love him. There was no denying that. But she also loved Petr.
“I still love you,” she admitted. The truth of that statement made her next lie easier. She added, “I’m not doing it to be with him. I’m doing it to save him.”
Bobby nodded. He let go of her hands. “Meet me at the airfield an hour before dawn. We’ll need it to be dark if we want to sneak you on board.”
“Thank you, Bobby. Thank you for never giving up.”
Bobby wished that he, too, could thank Karen for never giving up, but she had. She’d given up on him.
He hoped that someday he could forgive her for that. So he only said, “Thanks for staying alive.”
Later that night, Bobby kissed Lenka. He’d always been attracted to her, in part because he knew she was attracted to him. She wasn’t beautiful, not like Karen. But she was pretty, with a round face that matched her round figure.
Lenka flirted with Bobby; she flirted with everyone. Lenka loved to flirt. Until now Bobby had resisted her advances because he wanted to remain faithful to Karen. But why should he? Karen hadn’t remained faithful to him. His spiteful thoughts made him angry. And a few glasses of moonshine vodka only fueled that anger. So later in the evening, in a speakeasy, when Lenka played her usual games and started to flirt with Bobby, he kissed her.
It caught Lenka off guard. She had played this game so many times with Bobby that she felt safe. No matter what she said, no matter how she teased him, he would just maintain a chaste distance with a respectful demeanor.
But this time he practically jumped on her. Lenka didn’t know what had caused Bobby’s sudden change in attitude, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She grabbed the handsome American aviator and kissed him back with gusto.