All the Winters After (27 page)

“You will be glad you did not burn them when I read you this,” Nadia said.

But Snag reached across and grabbed the notebook from Nadia's hands, cranked open the woodstove, and tossed the whole thing into the fire.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kache yelled. He lunged for the fire poker and pulled the journal out. He grabbed a boot, hit the burning edges until the flames died, and then held the smoldering cover by the corner.

“She didn't want us to read them!” Snag tried to snatch it from him, but he lifted it far above his head.

“It's a little too late for that, isn't it? Do you really think she cares now?”

Lettie turned to Nadia. “Go ahead and read what you were going to read, dear.”

Without saying a word, Kache handed it over to Nadia. The pages felt warm on her fingertips. She began Elizabeth's account of their last night together as a family, reading aloud the part about Alaska not forgiving mistakes and stopped to ask what it meant.

Snag said, “It's because the weather and conditions are so extreme. If you make the smallest mistake—like not dress warm enough, or fly a plane when you're angry—you might end up dead.”

“Or,” Lettie added, “you could do everything right and fly a plane when the weather looks fine but a storm comes up out of nowhere. These things happen, and too many times.”

Nadia nodded and continued reading out loud. She was at the part she really wanted them to hear.

We drank too much last night, and we'll be paying for it for years, if not forever. I cannot believe that Glenn went after Kache like he did—out of control. It was always words, never physical until now. The saying of it is bad enough, and all of it needs to stop. I am ashamed I haven't put an end to it by now, and I swear it will not happen again in this household.

As for dear, kind Snag, I must talk with her. She thinks that the kiss was some kind of horrible revelation to Glenn and me—as if her feelings were something we weren't aware of. I think Glenn was just shocked and angry that she acted on it. But she was drunk. We all drank too much. I must tell her that if it were anywhere in me to love a woman fully—physically as well as emotionally—she would be that woman. That she will someday make a woman astonishingly happy. And that somehow, call me psychic if you must, I know this to be true.

We are all flying to Gunnysack for the hunting trip as planned. Ha! Lord help us, if we don't all kill one another first.

But for now, I will gather these men together, and we will fly away from here for a few days. We will look down on this house, this land—free from it—and the perspective will do us good.

When Nadia got to the last line, which ended with
do us good
, she added, “I don't think all this blaming yourselves over and over is doing them or you good. Twenty years is too long. Living in the past, like we are all of us Old Believers.”

Snag's arms were folded on the table and held her buried head. The candles had burned down to nothing but lighted wicks floating in their holders, the wineglasses empty except for puddled stains, the leftover food turning hard and cold.

Snag finally stood. She let out a long sigh, looked at Kache through her swollen eyes, and said, “I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness. Not yet.” Her voice squeaked, but she continued. “I know you need some time.”

Kache looked up at his aunt.

Snag said, “I can take it.”

“Honestly? I don't know what to say.”

“Just know how sorry I am about the whole awful mess.”

“Awful mess?” He shook his head. “That's a euphemism if I ever heard one.”

He excused himself, silently pulled on his boots, and went outside. Nadia rose and cupped her hands around her eyes, the window cool on her fingers. His silhouette stood black against the snow, as if someone had cut a Kache-size hole out of the meadow.

She felt a pat on her leg and looked down at Lettie in her chair, who whispered, “This is how our family is, you see. Awfully messy. You still want in?”

Nadia said yes, she did.

SIXTY

After Thanksgiving, Gilly told Snag she needed to have a talk, which sent Snag into another cleaning frenzy. By the time Gilly arrived, the house sparkled, but the mood between them felt dark and heavy.

“Please don't tell me you're moving on,” Snag spilled before Gilly opened her mouth.

Gilly took Snag's hand in hers and looked deep into her eyes. “You know how much I love you. But I can't stand by and keep watching you beat yourself up. There's so much more we could be doing with ourselves, with our love. Either you forgive yourself, Eleanor, in a put-it-out-to-pasture type of way, or I think—no, I know—we should go our separate ways. Which would break my heart.”

“But Kache is mad at me.”

Gilly let out an exasperated sigh, and Snag shut up. Gilly's voice was soft but sure. “So let him be mad. He just found out, and he'll work through it. But you've known for two decades. You need to sing a different song.”

Gilly left without kissing her, without even a hug, determined, it seemed, to mean business. Snag knew Gilly was right. Hell, Snag was sick and tired of herself too, and now sufficiently scared that she might lose the best person that had ever happened to her.

So late that night, after watching too many numbers on her alarm clock slide by, Snag devised a plan of penance. If she were Catholic, she'd go to confession and say a boatload of prayers afterward. But she wasn't Catholic, and so she thought that because she had hurt someone—a lot of someones, most of them dead—she should now set out to do something difficult in order to help another someone. She didn't for a second think it was enough to make up for her transgression. But it was a symbol she might stamp in her mind, a single gold star she could turn to.

It took her about a week to prepare, to talk over the details with Nadia and pick up her letter.

Snag reached the end of the snow-plowed road, climbed down the snow-packed trail to the beach, where the low tide she'd been promised by the tide book awaited her, the sand, rocks, and long ropes of kelp glistening with hoarfrost. She trudged along the beach until she spotted the next trailhead. She would work her way to the end of this second trail and soon step foot in Nadia's village. In her pocket was Nadia's letter to her grandmother.

Eleanor Snag Winkel. Embarking on a mission.
And grateful she had been getting in better shape. She almost felt like running.

No one but Nadia knew that Snag had set off for the village. Both Kache and Gilly would have insisted on joining her, and that would get complicated. Well, Kache might not, considering he hadn't talked to her since Thanksgiving. And Gilly was about to cut her loose, so she might not have been quick to come along either. A verbal protest from both of them then, at least. Snag was, after all, a sixty-five-year-old woman traipsing through some pretty rugged country in the snow, on her way to confront a band of outsiders who would likely not be thrilled to see her. But the trail was firmly packed, and she had finally purchased several good, comfortable pairs of boots—the ones she wore now made to tackle snow—so all good so far. She fantasized that there might be a shot or two of decent vodka served up for her, but she wasn't counting on it. Hot coffee, maybe. Wait. She'd heard coffee and hard liquor were off-limits for Old Believers. Water then. She could use some water. Sweat trickled under her layers of clothes, and her mouth was dry. But as far as penance went, this journey didn't land all that high on the difficulty scale.

Here is how it played out in Snag's mind: For so many years, she had seen the time she kissed Bets as the most destructive kiss in history since the kiss of Judas. So maybe the time she kissed Agafia might end up being a positive, something Snag could use for good. She liked the symmetry of that thinking.

And yes, it was true that Snag was officially done—
done!
—beating herself up about kissing Bets. Nadia had helped Snag by reading Bets's journal to her that night. The poor young woman had been living alone for ten years, squandering the best years of her life. Snag related on some level. Time now for all of them to step forward. She saw that Nadia and Kache cared a lot about each other. She also believed that Nadia needed to fulfill her dreams, to experience the world outside the homestead. Even Snag herself had gone away to college for her business degree.

The woods opened into the village with its colorful homes, and a couple of boys who looked about thirteen greeted Snag. When she asked for Agafia, she told them she was an old friend, and they took her directly to her front door, painted bright green. Agafia shooed away the boys with some Russian scolding—at least it sounded like scolding—and asked Snag, with a guarded tone, “Who are you, and what will you want with me?”

“You are Agafia?”

The woman wore a head scarf and had wrinkles and kind eyes. She didn't answer but waited.

“You… I think…” How could she know for sure? It had been over fifty years, and she'd spent only a few hours with that young girl one day when she was thirteen.

“Yes?”

“I don't think you're the Agafia I know.”

“You may be looking for Agafia Ruskoff. In Ural, other village. You come much too far out of your way.” Agafia began to close the door, but Snag wedged her foot in the threshold.

“Wait, I…” Snag held out the envelope, and Agafia took and read it, and then she placed her hand on her heart.

“You come to talk about my granddaughter?” she asked. She touched her aqua blue scarf where it was knotted behind her neck. She invited Snag in, offered water, and insisted she sit at her kitchen table. Snag took the glass and thanked her.

“I don't suppose you have vodka,” Snag said, mostly as an attempted joke.

One of Agafia's eyebrows went up. “Yes, I have. But this information, do not share with anyone, inside village or out. Except to maybe Nadia. Nadia is okay.”

“Of course.”

“This excellent way to start our mysterious conversation.” Agafia went to open the freezer and returned with two teacups and a frosty clear bottle, which she poured from until the cups were full. Then she hid the bottle again in the back of the freezer.

“Oh, my word,” Snag said and lifted the full teacup to toast the woman sitting across from her. To sip like tea or take as a shot? She decided to sip.

“Let me tell you before you begin. No use to going to her parents. They are people of strongest conviction and are mourning again for forty days, as if she dies all over again! I woman of deep faith. These, my people. Good people. Big hearts, hardworking people. But I do not agree with everything they believe. Heritage of my blood, not my brain, eh? Still, I am old, my husband dead, my children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, they all to live here.” She sat back, folded her arms across her chest. “So you see, I here to stay. But my heart, it breaks for Nadi.”

“Will you just try to talk to her parents? Her father is your son, correct? She says he listens to you.”

Agafia shook her head. “No. This causes big problem.”

“Agafia, do I seem familiar to you at all?”

Startled, Agafia jerked her chin upward. “Do I know you?”

She leaned in, peered into Snag's eyes, kept peering, until Snag said, “It has been a very, very long time. Fifty-two years. There was one day. On the beach.”

Agafia went back to the refrigerator to retrieve the vodka. As she opened it, one eyebrow raised. “You speak of when Nadia left us?”

“Sorry,” Snag said. “It must have been the other Agafia.”

“You make habit out of being social with Old Believers?”

While Agafia seemed to be appraising Snag, she topped her own cup off. (Snag had placed her hand over hers; she did have to make her way back before dark.) Snag told her of Nadia's desire to go to art school and how she needed the transcripts and birth certificate.

“Yes, I read this in letter. Ah, much easier than you think. Me, I keep copies of children's and grandchildren's documents in fire-safe box. After youngest son's house burns down, we do this. So I will send them with you today, no problems. Except then we have no record of Nadia, as if she never exists here. This, not good.”

“Maybe you'll visit her where she lives now.”

“Perhaps, but not likely. Not so easy for me to get around these days. Not like when I am young.”

Snag wanted to ask her if she went on extremely long walks when she was young. She opened her mouth but stopped herself with another sip of vodka.

Agafia tilted her head. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“But you are able to walk all this way here to help my Nadia? What is your name?”

“Eleanor.”

“Eleanor. This is nice, beautiful name for you.”

Snag felt the heat rush from her face down her chest. Blushing at age sixty-five. The vodka was getting to her. She wanted to stay and talk with Agafia all day and into the night, but the light was already fading, and she loved Gilly. She stood.

“I'm sorry, but I have to go. If I don't, I'll be stuck in the woods when it gets dark, and I'm liable to end up fending off a pack of wolves. Not to mention the tide. Can you give me the papers?”

“But these are the only records.”

“What if I promise to mail them to you?”

“Ach. Mail is no good. What if they are lost?”

“I'll take good care of them,” Snag said and knew she would. “I'll make copies and send them to you,” she said and knew she would do this as well. “Give me a pencil and paper and we'll both write our post office boxes so you can reach me if you don't receive them.”

With this, Agafia nodded. “Okay. Wait.” She returned with a manila envelope with
Nadia Oleska Tolov, May 31, 1977
printed in English and again in Russian. Her scarf was gone, and her gray hair fell down her back. Snag thought she might indeed be the girl who once asked her for a kiss and she might just as well not be. The only thing that mattered was that she was Nadia's grandmother and she was handing over the papers Nadia needed.

“Now go, before darkness comes.” She took Snag's arm and led her to the door. “Please you tell Nadia her baba loves her.” Her voice became high and tight. “Loves her so very, very much.” She handed her the envelope with Nadia's name on it. “This, all I have of her. Hide it from others under jacket. Do not lose. Do you to need directions to other Agafia's house?”

Snag said no, it wasn't necessary. She had everything she needed.

• • •

Snag turned up the radio and hummed along. Mission most definitely accomplished. She couldn't wait to get home and tell Gilly. “Woman,” Snag said aloud, practicing, “I'm finally, truly free. And I'm all yours. Plan on sticking around for a long, long time, Ms. Gilly Sawyer.”

At the gas station on the outskirts of town, all lit up and welcoming, Snag filled the truck. She had to pee, so she left the gas pumping and went to the women's room. When she came out, several cars and a motorcycle had pulled in. A man stood with his hand on the same nozzle Snag had used, ready to remove it from her truck.

“Excuse me? Can I help you?” she called, irritated.
Why not use another pump?

The man lifted his head and said with an accent, “Oh, your gas. It is done pumping. I was going to remove for you.” He stepped back to pull the nozzle out.

As she moved closer, she recognized him. O Handsome One. She had definitely named him correctly. “Hey, I know you,” she said and smiled. “Remember me? At the Spit Tune with my friend? Actually, you didn't see me then. But on the trail? We thought you were a bear, and you thought we might shoot?”

He tilted his head, tapped his chin. “Ah, yes! Yes, I do remember now. Please forgive me. The cold is dulling my brain, I am afraid. But you recognize me. You have good memory.”

“I guess it was your eyes,” she said while she thought,
Obviously.
Those lupine eyes with black, curly eyelashes. But his jawline, that was striking too. “That's a weird coincidence. I was just speaking to another Russian.”

“Is that so?”

“Old Believer. Out at the village. Altai.”

“I am not Old Believer. Only Russian. There are big differences.”

“Of course. You can shave when you want.”

He chuckled. “For starters, yes. I am not one for living with big group. So what is this business you have with the people of Altai?”

“Oh, long story.”

He smiled his movie star smile. He said, “I have got quite a lot of time.”

“I wish
I
did, but I have to get going. But nice talking to you.”

“Likewise. Perhaps our paths continue to cross.”

“You take care now.”
Man
, Snag thought as she climbed into the truck, watching him fill up his motorcycle.
A motorcycle on a night like this?
He must be made of rugged stock. And there he was, flirting with
her
—she thought it might be flirting—even when Gilly wasn't around. Maybe she hadn't needed to feel jealous about him. Maybe, possibly, it was Snag he was interested in. Ha! Lose a little weight, and they start coming out of the woodwork, all walks of life, all genders. She had to admit, if every man in the world looked like that, she might have been tempted to play for the other team a time or two.

As she pulled away, she realized that she'd left the manila envelope on the passenger seat while she went to the ladies' room. There it was, with Nadia's name and birth date printed in English and Russian. She'd promised Agafia she wouldn't let it out of her sight, and she'd already done exactly that. She felt inside for the papers. Still there. Of course they were. Who else would want them? Nevertheless, she pulled a U-turn. She was tired and couldn't wait to get to Gilly's to share her news, but Snag would go back. She would take them to Nadia right away. With Snag's luck, if she took the papers home, the cat would shred them before morning. She noticed the single lamp of the motorcycle in the distance behind her until she turned off to head toward the homestead, and she wondered where in tarnation O Handsome One lived.