"May I please see Matthew Brown?" Alexei asked the hospital receptionist.

"Right this way." She led Alexei and Will to a large ward which contained row after row of cots, and on each cot lay an injured soldier. Some of the men were sleeping or unconscious, while others moaned in agony. The coppery smell of blood combined with that of antiseptic made Alexei nauseous, and the sight of gore-covered stumps of missing limbs and open, gaping wounds made him cringe. He had to swallow a lump in his throat as his eyes scanned the desolate scene for his brother-in-law's face.

"There he is," he whispered to Will. Matt lay on his back, white as a sheet. His abdomen was horribly swollen, and his face was a mask of pain. Alexei saw a glimmer of recognition in his heavily-lidded eyes as he and Will approached him.

"Hey there, soldier," Will greeted his brother.

Matt tried to speak but could only mumble something unintelligible.

"What was that?" Will leaned closer to his brother's mouth.

With great effort, the injured man repeated his words. "Tell Mom...I love her..."

"Tell her yourself," said Will. "We're headed back home just as soon as you're on your feet and out of this place."

"I won't be...going...home..."

"Of course you will! They'll have you fixed right up in no time!"

Alexei could see that Will was plainly wrong but didn't have the heart to tell him.

"Will...please..." Matt coughed, and Alexei heard a gurgling noise. "Tell...her..."

"Of course I will." Alexei saw that there were tears in Will's eyes. "Of course I will."

Matt's eyes rolled up in his head, and he lay completely still. Will burst into sobs. Alexei closed Matt's eyes and then crossed himself.

On the way home, Will couldn't stop sobbing, while Alexei just felt numb inside. How would he ever tell his wife? Rachel would be devastated, he knew. She'd seen very little of her younger brothers since moving to Paris some ten years ago but had remained close to them through letters and the occasional telephone call. The loss of Matt would be a bitter one.

Rachel saw Will's tears and knew what had happened right away. She began to wail as she hugged her brother's neck. Alexei watched awkwardly, wishing that he could think of a way to comfort his wife.

"Mama! Mama!" Alena and Michael came running.

"Sh!" Alexei put his finger to his lips, then took one child's hand in each of his and began to walk with them toward the park. "Something really sad happened today," he explained as they walked along. "You remember how your Uncle Matt got hurt fighting the Germans and had to go to the hospital?"

"Uh huh," said Michael.

"Well, today he went to heaven to be with God."

Alena's eyes narrowed. "You mean he died?"

Alexei sighed. "Yes, malenkaya, he did."

"So I'll never see him again, ever?"

"No, you won't."

Alena began to cry. "But I wanted to show him my picture of Joy!"

Alexei lifted his small daughter and held her close. "Tell you what," he said. "Why don't you send your picture to your Grandmama and Grandpapa in America? I'm sure they'd love to see it."

Alena smiled through her tears. "OK, Papa!"


"At last I can show you the beauty of my native country at night," Paul said to Zoya as they strolled along the Champ de Mars. Stately trees lined the avenue, and the fully illuminated Eiffel Tower shone brilliantly in the dusk sky.

"I lived here once before, you know," said Zoya. "Grandmother and I came here after the Revolution, and I worked at the Ballet Russe to support us. It was hard, but at least we still had each other."

"Poor little one." Paul put his arm around her and gave her a hug. "I can't begin to imagine what that must have been like, after having lived your entire life in such wealth and privilege."

"I never really felt sorry for myself," Zoya replied. "I was much too busy with just figuring out how to survive."

"And survive you did. You're the bravest, most determined woman I've ever known, Zoya. My hat's off to you."

She blushed. "As soon as things are back to normal, I want to open my boutique in Paris. I've been living off the money I got from selling the store in New York, but there's still plenty left, plus my inheritance from Simon's estate."

"I'm sure it'll be a tremendous success, just like your store in New York was."

"Thanks for believing in me."

Zoya had no idea what additional trauma would impact her life in less than two years' time.


Rachel took the loss of her brother very hard. Despite the attempts of Alexei and the children to comfort her, nothing they did seemed to work, and there were many nights when she awakened in the middle of the night, sobbing from yet another sad dream about Matt.

One Saturday afternoon, Alexei was surprised but happy to receive a visit from Zoya. Although closest to Maria, she'd been a cherished playmate of all five siblings. "Maria told me about Rachel's brother," she said. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," said Alexei. "Won't you come in?"

Zoya stepped inside. "If Rachel's available, I'd like to speak with her."

"I think she's in the bedroom." Alexei left and returned a moment later with his wife.

"Hi, Rachel," said Zoya. "I came to see how you're doing, and to tell you you're not alone. I've been through the same thing you're going through."

Rachel was astonished. "You have?"

Zoya nodded. "I had an older brother named Nicolai. To me he was the smartest, nicest, most handsome boy in the world. I idolized him. He meant the world to me."

Rachel glanced at her husband. "Alexei never told me."

"I never could bring myself to talk about it," Alexei confessed.

"He was with the Preobrazhensky Regiment," Zoya explained. "He was severely wounded in the February Revolution and sent home to die. I shall never forget it. Papa had laid him on the sofa, and blood was still pouring out of him and soaking into the carpet. I tore up my grandmother's petticoat to make bandages for him, but it did no good. He died in our father's arms."

"I've never seen someone die before." Rachel shuddered. by the time she'd seen Matt, he'd already been bathed and dressed and was lying in his casket. Zoya's suffering must have been even worse than her own.

"Trust me, you never want to."

"I'm so sorry." Rachel couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Our parents both died a little while after that, which left just me and Grandmama. It was unspeakably difficult, but we survived, and you will, too."

"Thanks for sharing that with me." Rachel embraced the other woman. "For the very first time, I feel like someone truly understands."

That night, she slept peacefully for the first time since Matt's death.


A week before the American Thanksgiving holiday, Becky Brown's son was born and was named Matthew for his father. On May 8, 1945, Nazi Germany surrendered to the European powers, and on August 15 of that year, Philippe Petain was convicted of treason and sentenced to death, although the sentence was never carried out.