“Are you happy? Because I could steal you away. My father knows people who can make it right, regardless of whatever happened.”
“I’ve come to love my husband very much. I wouldn’t leave him, not for the imperial jewels themselves.”
A frown cut into his face. “Nadia, are you sure?”
“Certain.”
“I made a promise to Nikolai.”
“Nikolai wouldn’t want you to steal me away from Filip. He would want me to be happy, and I am. And he would want you to be happy too. Go to Shanghai. Help your father build his business. And find someone else to love and marry.”
His posture wasn’t so erect now. “My regiment doesn’t leave until tomorrow. If you change your mind, ask anyone for Major Petrov. They’ll find me or bring me word.”
“I won’t change my mind, Oleg. But I’m glad to see you again, and I wish you well. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
In her past life, she could have been content married to Oleg Petrov. But now she had Filip, and nothing on earth could entice her away from him.
***
Filip pushed his way into the boxcar after another patrol. He inhaled his first breath of nonfrozen air and waited for the feeling to return in his fingers and toes. All the Bolshevik groups they’d driven off the line last summer hadn’t disappeared completely, and some were regrouping. Criminals of all political persuasions were growing bold because no one was powerful enough to impose the rule of law. Thus, despite the weather, he led his men on patrols every day. They couldn’t bring order to all of Siberia, but he had a duty to keep the rail line safe while the legion needed it.
Nadia picked up the blanket she’d started hanging near the fire and brought it to him. He pulled her into him and buried his frozen face in her neck.
“Filip!” She pulled away with a shiver and a laugh. “You’re freezing.”
He started removing layers—his thick fur hat, the Dokha overcoat, the greatcoat underneath it, and the heavy felt boots that went up to his thighs. It was a wonder he could move under so much material. Without the gear, he was down to about half the previous bulk. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and held the warm fabric to his face. The temperature was nice enough, but Nadia’s neck had a better texture.
He stood in front of the fire until his fingers weren’t cold. Nadia faced the stove, cooking something. He stepped closer. “Am I warm enough to kiss you now?” He put his arms around her waist and kissed the spot right below her left ear.
“I wouldn’t call you warm, but I suppose you’re no longer freezing.” She turned around and kissed him until something popped in the pan.
She turned back to the stove. “I better not burn whatever it is the butcher sold me.”
Filip took a closer look at the pan. Was the butcher taking advantage of Nadia’s relative inexperience with shopping?
“It’s chicken. Not very much of it, I’m afraid. But I got it for a fair price.”
“I wasn’t trying to second-guess you.” Had he hurt her feelings? She was learning fast. He needed to trust her abilities. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Maybe she wasn’t angry.
She pulled potatoes from the stove. “I’ve butter for these. Do you think we can have a milk cow in Prague?”
“I don’t think there’s room for one at my grandparents’ house. But we’re right along the milkman’s route.”
“I suppose that will do.”
What would she think of the little townhome? The bottom level was the shop, and the top level was the home. Only three bedrooms and a small kitchen. He had always been content there, but he hadn’t been raised in a manor.
They held hands as Nadia blessed the food. Filip’s family had grown up saying grace before meals, but he paid more attention when his wife spoke the words, sometimes in Czech, sometimes in Russian. She often talked about all she’d learned from him, but the reverse was true as well. He learned from her, especially when it came to matters of faith. It was a living thing, needing constant care. He’d long neglected his, when he’d been young and when he’d gone away to war. He had gone to mass on Sunday the way he’d gone to the Sokol club most other days of the week or to the bakery on Tuesdays.
But Nadia treated faith differently. And in exchange for all the prayers, all the gratitude she directed to God, she had been able to keep her faith, even after her world had been ripped apart and her family murdered. Faith took effort, but it also gave, in comfort, in perspective, in hope. He wanted that for their future family. And his faith, though frail, was beginning to grow.
Nadia was quiet while they ate, so he put a hand on her knee. “Is anything wrong?”
She didn’t answer immediately. “Filip, I, um, I realize there’s something I never told you.”
Her face seemed so solemn. The mood change made his stomach tighten with worry. “Oh?”
“My real name. I mean, my old real name. When I left, the groom told me not to use it anymore, so I lied. My name is Nadia Sedláková now, and that’s true enough. But before, it was Nadia Ilyinichna Linskaya. I just thought I should tell you. I’m sorry I didn’t sooner.”