Chapter 14

Yiddish glossary:

Oysgedart - skinny, emaciated.

*********************

Rivka went to see Danilov.

She sat on a chair in the cramped office of the young political officer, Danilov's earnest brown eyes dark with concern as Rivka told him that Nikolai hadn't answered her last letter. Her voice broke finally as she voiced her fears, her hand unconsciously resting on her abdomen as she talked, the worry tumbling from her in a flurry of words.

Igor Semyonovich Danilov left his seat and came around to sit on his desk beside Rivka, taking her hand in his.

"Don't you worry, Mrs Velonina. If you haven't heard from the Major, he should be all right. I can assure you, if something had happened to him we would have told you straight away. You are listed as his next of kin, after all, and we're not in the habit of losing Majors of his quality out of hand." He smiled gently, patting her hand. "All the same, I'll look into it, I promise. What I do know is that he was sent well forward towards the Don river to the south - we have a bridgehead there that needs protecting, and Koulikov is just the man to do it. He would be well out of contact by usual sources, I'm afraid, so that could be the reason your letter was returned."

Rivka looked at this lonely, tired young man with hopeful eyes.

"So, you're saying that he could be all right? He's alive?"

Danilov hesitated before he answered.

"I … I can't guarantee it, you understand, but there's a good chance. I don't have any other way to say this, but … if he was dead I'm pretty sure we would have known by now."

Rivka let out a gusty sigh of tentative relief.

"So you'll let me know what you find out? Please?"

Danilov nodded, smiling.

"I promise I'll let you know. Now, I think you should go home and try not to worry. He's a tough man, your Major."

Rivka nodded and stood up, preparing to leave, but Danilov didn't let go of her hand, looking into her eyes with a hopeful expression.

"Mrs Velonina - "

"Rivka, please. I prefer Rivka."

Danilov smiled his thanks.

"Rivka … you work at the hospital, is that right?"

"Yes, as a volunteer."

"You saw Tania … Tatyana Chernova … when she was brought in. Vassili carried her, is that right?"

Rivka suddenly understood his interest. Danilov loved Tania Chernova. He had loved her from the very first moment he saw her, but she had only had eyes for Vassili, even though she liked the young political officer. Danilov had worshipped her from afar, hoping at one point that she might have considered him a suitor, but it was not to be. Yet here he was, not grudging Vassili her love, but still hoping …

"Yes, I saw her." Rivka tried to be as gentle with him as he had been with her. "I was there when she was brought in."

Danilov ducked his head, trying not to show how heartbroken he was.

"How … how is she? I mean, do you know if she's recovering well? I couldn't go and see her, you understand … I didn't want … I couldn't …" His voice tailed off hopelessly.

Rivka patted his hand in return. She understood why he hadn't gone to see her. He didn't want to impose on her relationship with Vassili.

"I know, lad. Well, as far as I know she's recovering, but they shipped her over the river, and I lost touch. You do know …" she took a deep breath. "You know she can't have children now. Her wounds were so bad …"

Danilov nodded.

"Yes … yes, I, er … I heard. Terrible. Just terrible."

They stood quietly for a few moments, then Rivka smiled at him.

"I must go now. If you hear anything about Nikolai, please, I beg you …"

Danilov managed to smile in return.

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll let you know straight away."

Disengaging her hand from his Rivka left the untidy little office, and as she exited the building she turned to see the young man still standing where she had left him, sad and very, very lonely.

****************

For the next seven days, Rivka was caught up in a never-ending spiral of worry due to not knowing what had happened to Nikolai, and relief when Danilov discovered that at least no soldier by the name of Major Nikolai Koulikov had been notified as being either wounded or killed in action. He wasn't on the 'missing in action' lists either, so they both decided that 'no news was good news'.

She settled down to a cycle of work and sleep, for that was all she could bring herself to do. Luckily she did not suffer badly with nausea due to her pregnancy, but Oleg was deeply concerned that she was doing too much. He banned her from the wards, telling her he didn't want her amongst men swarming with lice or dying of contagion, and he made her spend most of her time preparing bedding and sorting supplies. The frustration almost drove her mad.

She thought back to New Year's Eve. She had come home that night knowing for certain she was pregnant, although she had suspected it for weeks, but Oleg had finally confirmed it that very day. She had thought she would tell Nikolai the next morning but events had intervened, and now she was in an agony of indecision and guilt. The memory of Nikolai's words in his letter about his desire for a child plagued her. What if he never knew? What if he died out there in that hell-hole without knowing he was to be a father?

She lay awake through the nights, lonely and frightened, often weeping until she drifted into an uneasy sleep. To make matters worse, Anna had been given a new billet and now Rivka was completely alone. Her home was empty … her life was empty without Nikolai. All she had was the child to come, and the hope that Nikolai would live to hold his son or daughter in his arms. With that thought foremost in her mind, she settled down and tried to get some sleep.

*********************

Rivka awoke in the night with a start. Something had disturbed her uneasy dreams, driven as they were by her worry for the man she loved.

The noise came again. A soft, insistent tapping. Someone was at the door. Fear began to seize her, fear for her safety and that of the unborn child within … Nikolai's child.

The tapping came again, a little louder this time.

Rivka sat up in bed, draping a blanket around her shoulders, and waited in terrified silence. For long moments all Rivka could hear was the drip of moisture from the dishes draining on the sideboard. Then the voice came.

"Rivka … Rivka, it's me. It's Nikolai."

For one wild, fearful moment, Rivka couldn't - wouldn't - believe her ears.

But in a second she was out of bed and rushing to unbolt the door, heedless of her bare feet on the cold floor. Her fingers fumbled the heavy bolts and she tearfully cursed the day Nikolai had fitted them, insisting she use them until he came safely home to her. Finally the last bolt yielded to her anger and she flung open the ancient oak door, searching for him in the darkness.

"Nikolai! Oh, dear God … Niko …"

And then his big frame filled the shadows, the outline of broad shoulders and his ever-jaunty forage cap making tears of joy prick her eyes. She stretched out her arms to gather him to her, eager to feel the solidity and relief of him as his body moulded to hers.

"Don't touch me Rivka … please …" His voice was harsh with emotion.

His words stopped her in her tracks. For a split second she felt as though he had physically hit her his voice was so powerful, but common sense reasserted itself almost immediately as she heard the love in his voice, couched in sad desperation.

Nikolai saw her hesitation and continued.

"I'll … I'll be back in a couple of days, Rivka, I promise … I … I have something to do … to take care of. I can't come in until it's done."

Rivka was wrung with disappointment and puzzlement. What on earth could he possibly need to do? She heard a dry, soft cough and Nikolai struggled to control it, his shadowed form leaning against the wall.

Now Rivka knew something was terribly wrong.

"Are you all right, Nikolai? Please, whatever it is it can wait, can't it? Come in, love … I'll get you something to eat and then you can rest - "

"No!" His voice was firm, but there was no anger, only desperation. "No, Rivka … I can't. I have to go … I'll be back in a day or two." His voice softened. "God knows, Rivka, there's nothing I want more than to lie with you … feel you hold me as I sleep … but I can't. Just two days, Rivka … that's all …"

He turned to go, his eyes glittering feverishly in the dark. But Rivka's voice stopped him.

"Don't you dare move, Nikolai Koulikov! Do you hear me?" Rivka was not only worried now, but highly suspicious, and her concerns were heightened as she saw him shrink away from her outstretched hand. "I'll be back in a moment … stay right where you are. Do you understand me?" She would brook no argument, and she saw him hesitate. He would wait now, she realised.

Running back inside she lit a paraffin lamp and returned to him, raising the light to look into his face.

The shock almost made her drop the lamp.

His face was grey with grime and exhaustion, his blue eyes dulled with fatigue. The hollows of his face were bruised with tiredness, but what shocked her to the bone was his thinness.

Nikolai Koulikov was a bear of a man, and Rivka had often watched him as he slept sprawled in her big bed, all arms and legs and broad, broad chest. She loved the smooth muscles of his arms and the powerful shoulders, and adored his big, capable, long-fingered hands. But he had never carried extra weight even then, his diet not allowing him to fill out to any great degree. But now … now Rivka was appalled to see how his greatcoat and uniform hung off him.

Her jaw became set in determination. He needed rest, and he needed food. Even a couple of weeks of her good soup and home-baked bread would make a world of difference to him.

But she saw him shift uncomfortably, his body flinching from some irritation, and she noticed the way he favoured his right arm. His left hand unconsciously scratched at his right side, and Rivka suddenly realised what the problem was.

"Lice." Her voice was soft and understanding.

Nikolai winced at the word. Rivka remembered his horror of the parasites in his letters and understood how shameful it was for him to have to admit he was probably swarming with them. She sought quickly to reassure him.

"It's all right, Niko … I can deal with this. I have something that will get you all cleaned up, and then you'll feel better, I promise. Then you can eat and get some sleep."

Nikolai was astounded at her response, and searched her face for revulsion … but found nothing but her concern and love for him.

"Rivka, I - "

"Stay here, Nikolai." She smiled up at him, the serenity in her face now soothing his troubled heart. "You're home now. Let me take care of you, love …"

Nikolai hesitated for a moment, wondering what he had done to deserve such devotion. He allowed himself to be lost in the dark, welcoming pools of her eyes, and finally nodded his assent.

Rivka exhaled loudly with relief and reached up to touch his gaunt face. This time he didn't pull away, his face turning to her touch, and he allowed himself the small luxury of closing his eyes for a few moments as the reality of his situation sank in. He was home, and Rivka was there to take care of him.

"Now, I want you to get out of those clothes." Her voice was firm now the decision was made. "I'll bring out a tub for you to put them in and I'll deal with them later." She smiled at him, her relief at having him home and safe almost overwhelming her … but now wasn't the time for intimacies. She had work to do. "We'll kill those little beggars easily enough, and then you are going to have a bath, Nikolai Koulikov. After that you'll try and eat something?" She saw him nod. "Good. And then, my Niko, I'm putting you to bed. Is there anyone you have to notify?"

He searched her face, drinking in the love he saw in her eyes.

"Nah. I'm on leave, and then I'm to report to headquarters. They want me for the sniping school …"

Rivka almost wept at the news.

Thank God! He'll be safe! Safe at last! No more worrying if he's hurt, or ill … or dead! Your Papa's safe, my little one … he's come home to us …

But those thoughts were the only luxury she would allow herself until she had taken care of her man.

"Good! I'll get an old blanket you can stand on while we kill the little monsters and I'll have hot water ready soon. All right?" She saw a small smile of acknowledgement on his gaunt face as she continued. "I'll rinse off the delouser and then you can have a hot drink while the bath-water heats."

She watched him expectantly.

"You … you'll do this for me?" His voice was hushed. Nikolai was astounded at her attitude.

Once more she reached out, cupping his tired face in her hands, unafraid.

"Nikolai, you big oaf … always, my love. Always."

They stood for long moments, relishing the tenuous contact, revelling in their togetherness. But Rivka reluctantly broke away and became a flurry of activity. Slipping on her shoes and makeshift dressing gown, she stoked up the stove and set water to heat, a fleeting smile gracing her lips as she remembered the first time she had given a bath to a big, earthy, humorous Russian sniper who had filled her life with love and laughter.

That chore done she returned to Nikolai, now slowly stripping away his verminous garments as he stood in her little entranceway, determined he would not come into her home until he was clear of the parasites. Rivka hauled down from one of the shelves a large, brown bottle of an oily liquid and removed the stopper, the smell of hyssop filling the gloomy anteroom.

Nikolai's greatcoat and jacket were already dumped in the washtub she had left for that purpose, and the big soldier was trying to remove his shirt … but Rivka noticed his hands were shaking as he fumbled with the buttons.

Putting the bottle on a small side-table, she caught hold of his hands and pulled them away from the shirt buttons.

"Let me, Niko."

She unbuttoned the shirt and eased it from big-boned shoulders, and she couldn't contain the crawling disgust as she peeled the stiff, filthy undershirt from his trembling frame, Nikolai all the while watching her with haunted blue eyes full of wonder at her care of him. The garment was infested with the tiny, voracious grey parasites, and turning back to Nikolai after dropping the louse-ridden undershirt in the tub, she could not hold back the gasp of dismay at the big sniper's condition.

God, he was so thin!! She was sure she could count every rib, the light from the lamp accentuating every hollow, the long sweep of his collarbones shocking her with their prominence. His chest and arms were still powerful, but the muscles had stretched into whipcord leanness, his wrists bonily juvenile in the shadowed light. A grubby bandage was wrapped around his right bicep, covering the bullet crease he had suffered over three weeks previously.

"Dear God, Nikolai … what have they done to you?"

This time it was Nikolai's turn to reassure her, his tired features softening at her concern.

"Now, now Rivka. Don't fuss, woman … I just need a bath, some of your good soup and to feel you next to me in bed, and I'll be just fine …"

He gave her just a ghost of his usual lop-sided grin which was meant to calm her, but only made Rivka fret anew at his condition. She noticed the red irritation and small welts caused by Nikolai's unconscious scratching and the lice hadn't left any sore or cut untouched; the small creatures she knew could drive a man insane.

"Ach, Nikolai! What am I to do with you … you're so … so … oysgedart! Come, love … let's get you undressed …"

She stood him on the old blanket she spread on the floor to catch the dying parasites and helped him strip off the last of his clothing. Soon he stood, trembling but placid, as she doused him thoroughly with the mixture, her face grim as she worked it into his grimy hair, and he helped as much as he could, the poisoned lice dropping from his wasted frame onto the blanket that Rivka would burn later. She grieved silently over the hollow belly and flanks, her capable hands soothing the mixture over his welt-ridden skin.

Finishing, she wrapped him in more blankets and led him finally into her home, the big man reluctant but unable to resist her, and she sat him beside the glowing brazier, placing a mug of hot tea in his hands. But before she left him to busy herself heating water she couldn't withhold her touch any longer, and wrapped her arms around him, telling him in an instant how much she loved him.

Leaning back into her for a moment, Nikolai turned his face into her shoulder and closed his eyes in profound relief. He was home, and soon he would lie in Rivka's strong embrace, safe and warm and free from torment. There he would sleep peacefully, knowing his Rivka would watch over him and keep him from harm.

"Drink your tea, love … it'll warm you while you wait …" Rivka's voice soothed him, but he almost groaned in anguish as she left him to carry on with her work. But she returned minutes later with a bowl of hot water, gauze and clean bandages. Baring his right arm she set to work removing the now-sodden, filthy bandage around his bicep.

"Oh, Nikolai …" Her voice broke as she bared what should have been nothing but a nearly-healed crease in the skin, but in reality proved to be an ugly, suppurating gouge, red with infection. The bandage was laden with dead lice.

"It didn't seem to want to heal up. Then the bloody lice wouldn't leave it alone …" Nikolai studied the wound, his face expressionless. He waited for Rivka's explosion of temper … but it never came. She silently soaked pads of gauze in the water - apparently containing some sort of antiseptic, Nikolai thought, by the smell - and gently began to wash out the wound. She mopped up pus and cleaned out dirt, then dried and rebandaged the wound, Nikolai quietly sipping his tea and sitting passive and acquiescent under her care.

"Right. All done." Rivka patted his arm protectively. "Now then, when you've finished your tea, I want you to stand in the bathtub while I rinse off the delouser. You should be clear by now."

Rivka sat beside him as he finished his tea, her hand on his shoulder absently rubbing the blanketed skin in reassurance. When the last drop was drained, she helped him to his feet and stood the big sniper in the empty bathtub. Stripping the blankets from him she carefully poured hot water over his naked frame, carefully avoiding the fresh bandage on his arm, the light from the brazier casting shadows from the hollows of back and long thigh.

When it was done, Rivka emptied the bath and this time filled it with the remaining hot water, Nikolai meanwhile sitting in his blankets, the relief of being finally free of the maddening creatures making him happily drowsy.

At last Rivka was finished, and she helped Nikolai lower his weakened frame into pure liquid pleasure, and he lay back against the towel she had draped onto the back of the tub for his comfort. He let the water lap against his torso, his aching body taking ease from the heat. For a while he lay quietly as Rivka gently soaped chest and shoulders, then washed his arms and hands. But when she took her flannel and began to wash his face, Nikolai had difficulty holding back the tears. She was so gentle, so loving, her hands caressed his face with such care he nearly wept with the pleasure of it. When she was finished washing his hair and the soft curls were shining in the dim light, she leaned over him and kissed his brow.

"I have clean underclothes put by for you, so tell me when you're ready and I'll help you out of there. Are you hungry?"

Nikolai smiled, his face suddenly very vulnerable.

"Always, my lady. I haven't had much to eat lately - "

His words were interrupted by another bout of soft coughing, dry and rasping.

Frowning, Rivka stroked his wet shoulder until the paroxysm subsided. She hoped fervently it was nothing more than a slight cold. She would maybe get Oleg Chernyenko to have a look at him, but that would wait until Nikolai had something to eat and a good night's sleep.

"What would you like? I have some soup, bread, some potatoes or bacon - "

"Soup!" Nikolai's eyes sparked with interest for the first time. "You can't imagine how often I would dream about your soup …"

She smiled. One thing she knew about Nikolai - he certainly did love her soup.

"Soup it is, then. And maybe a little bread? Don't take too much though … if you haven't been eating regularly it'll make you sick - and you know how you feel about that!"

Rivka saw the grin that spread on Nikolai's features, and wondered if the hot bath coupled with the intense relief of being free of the parasites had made him feel a little more like his old self. He had begun to relax in the hot water to such a degree that Rivka knew if she left him in the tub for much longer he would fall asleep.

Putting the soup on to heat, she retrieved his clean underclothes from the old wooden chest at the foot of her bed and collected two fresh towels.

"Nikolai …" Her voice and soft touch woke the exhausted man from his reverie. "Out you get …"

Fifteen minutes later he was in a clean, warm undershirt and longjohns, and Rivka helped him into bed, the big man now swaying with tiredness. Nikolai lay back into soft pillows, groaning softly with the pleasure of clean sheets and warm blankets.

Rivka sat with him as he ate a few mouthfuls of thick, rich soup and the look of sheer delight on his gaunt features was ample reward. When he had finished Rivka took the bowl from him and was on the point of returning it to the dresser when Nikolai caught her wrist in long fingers.

"Rivka …" His eyes were luminescent sapphire. "Come to bed …"

She smiled at the joy in his voice.

Within moments she slipped into bed beside him, his long arms winding around her, his big body pressed close to hers. She felt the bones under his skin and fretted again at his thinness, but she held him tight nevertheless, his frame sprawling against her, his head resting in the hollow of her neck. He sighed quietly in contentment as Rivka held him close, and the world became nothing more than their touch on one another, Rivka stroking the soft, newly washed curls on his brow, Nikolai's hand beginning to unbutton the top of her nightgown , needing the touch of her skin on his.

Sighing, Rivka watched him bare her breasts and she smiled at the tickle of his moustache as he dropped feather-soft kisses on the full nipples. She felt his manhood stir and lift, but Nikolai was already drifting into sleep as he nuzzled dreamily, content to be safe in her arms.

Nikolai let his hand drift downwards to lie on the soft swell of her belly under the old nightgown, unaware yet of the child that lay within, and Rivka heard him murmur quietly.

"I'm home …"

She kissed the top of his head as a tear trickled down her cheek, overwhelmed by the joy of having him here with her.

"Yes, my Niko. Home at last …"

His body relaxed and his breathing deepened and became more regular. He was asleep. Rivka shifted slightly to be more comfortable and his arm tightened, a wordless sound coming from him. She shushed him into silence and held him tighter, and within minutes she joined him in slumber.

********************

She was woken by his soft kisses on her breasts. It was still night, but Nikolai had been disturbed at the insistence of his body, now aroused by the warmth and presence of Rivka pressed tight against him.

His erection was straining against his longjohns, hard against Rivka's hip, and over two months without her body next to his was driving him awake, his need hot and hard. He wanted her. He wanted her badly, he wanted to bury himself in the soft, welcoming strength of her body and be soothed by her passion.

Rivka felt him suckle at her breasts, this time with urgency, and she felt him ease his longjohns down over his hips, freeing his erection. This would be quick, she knew. He had been away from her for too long, and rolling onto her side she eased off her nightgown and slipped her legs around his waist, positioning herself so that his exhausted body could join with hers without too much strain.

She felt a big hand cup her buttock and angle her hips towards him, then she heard his sigh as she felt him nudge at her entrance, his engorged penis pushing into her. His sigh became a soft moan as she welcomed him into her body, Rivka's arms gathering him to her as she began to move gently, loving him, as she set the rhythm of their lovemaking.

Her own moans soon joined his, her thighs cradling his striving flanks, the thick hardness of him deep within her. He was already close to orgasm, his eyes closed and face desperate in his need, and his hands held her hips to his, driving deeper and harder as his groans rumbled in his broad chest.

Rivka's pregnancy made her sensitive and she reached orgasm quickly, her cries thrilling him and her body clutching at his in her ecstasy.

Nikolai called out wordlessly as she pulsed around him and one more driving thrust took him to completion, his semen spurting into her in jets, the life-giving fluid spilling into her body until he had emptied himself, his body shuddering weakly with the pleasure of it. Even when he had given her the last drop of his seed he still thrust gently, unwilling to relinquish the need for her until he softened and slid from her depths.

They lay quietly, Rivka holding in her arms this big man she loved with every inch of her being. Nikolai eased his longjohns back on, wincing at the tenderness of his flesh but delighting in the sated feel of his body. He needed her. He needed her, heart and soul, and kissing her soft lips he smiled at the love in her eyes and the joy he saw in her face.

He thought back to the hours he had sat in the old truck as it battled through the bitter, wasted wind and thawing snow towards Stalingrad … and Rivka. He remembered thinking of how worried he had been about how he would be received, especially since he had opened his heart to Rivka in his last letter, telling her how much he loved her. Did she love him in return? How would she react? Did he dare hope?

But now he was in no doubt. The light kisses she dropped on his brow, the softness of her touch as she caressed him and reassured herself that he was safe told Nikolai more than words ever could, that she loved him deeply. He draped himself over her, his tired frame resting languidly in the place he most wished to be in the world … beside his Rivka.

Holding him close, Rivka heard once more the soft cough and felt his cheek as it nestled against her shoulder. He was warm … too warm, she thought. In an unconscious movement she rubbed his back as she would a sick child.

"Tired …" Nikolai snuggled into her. "I ache."

Rivka kissed his cheek, too prominent in the half-light.

"Where, Niko? Tell me, love, where do you ache?"

Her concern was obvious in her voice but Nikolai was too weary to notice.

"Oh, joints … head … everywhere …"

Rivka gathered the blankets around him, intent on keeping him warm. With luck, it would just be nothing more than a chill brought on by deprivation and stress, coupled with a journey taken in the dead of winter on the back of an open truck. She had heard vague rumours of typhus … but no. She wouldn't even think about that. Anyway, it was the Germans who were dropping like flies from the disease, not Russian troops. She decided it would wait a few hours until daylight and then she would speak to Oleg Chernyenko; besides, she couldn't bear the thought of Nikolai being disturbed any more than he had to be. It was just tiredness, she was sure. Nothing more.

"Rivka?"

"Mm-hmm?" She wished he would rest and go back to sleep.

"How have you been keeping? I'm sorry I couldn't write … we were too far forward on the line … I couldn't get a letter out …"

Rivka's mouth dimpled with humour. The big fool wouldn't rest until he knew she was all right, that she hadn't suffered while he had been away.

"I've been well enough, Niko. Worried and frightened for you, but that's all over with now."

Nikolai sighed happily. He had spent long nights worrying, fretting that she was well and taking care of herself. He stroked her body tenderly, his hand drifting once more to her breast, and the horror and pain of the past few months faded to nothingness.

But as he stroked the soft swell of her breast, he was struck by its fullness. It seemed different … softer, rounder than before. He gently rubbed the nipple and heard her short intake of breath - the flesh was tender.

"I'm sorry … I didn't mean …" He was instantly apologetic.

She just smiled in understanding, but he was puzzled as she caught his hand and led it down to the slight rise of her belly. Rivka knew she was just beginning to show, her pregnancy subtly making itself known. She spread his big hand over the gentle swell of her abdomen and held it there, letting him slowly realise what she was trying to tell him … and suddenly his eyes widened with the wonder of it. He lifted his head and gazed at her.

"Rivka???"

Leaning over, she kissed him gently, lovingly, still concerned at the feverish heat in him, but for now that didn't matter. She saw the understanding in the blue-on-blue eyes, and delighted in his need to believe the truth of it.

"Our baby will come in the summer, my Niko."

Major Nikolai Koulikov could not believe his ears.

A baby. His baby. He had given his Rivka a child.

His blue gaze widened as he tried to absorb the knowledge. He was overwhelmed with a sudden burst of emotion so strong his mind reeled with it, and he felt shock … fear … and then an unmistakable, undeniable joy that washed through him like the rush of a clear mountain river.

"A child? Dear God, Rivka … a baby??"

He was stunned. He, Nikolai Koulikov, was going to be a father.

A tumble of thoughts jostled in his mind, confused, sparking through his mind like electricity. How would he support her? She would need extra food … extra milk powder. How could he get hold of more rations? Where would he manage to get supplies for his child? His child. His stomach lurched in terror. How would Rivka cope if he was posted elsewhere? What would she do if he was killed? Good God in Heaven, what had he done???

Fear took him, swamping him, his love for Rivka making him dizzy with concern for her and the child. And he so wanted this child … he wanted a child so badly it hurt deep, deep inside. But how could it feel so right to bring a new life into the world in the middle of such a terrible war? He looked once more at Rivka's face … and was astounded by the contentment in her eyes, her lean face serene and unafraid.

Rivka stroked his face, heartbroken at the illness in him but reassuring him that all was well with her and the child she carried. She kissed him lovingly.

"I think … I think it will be a son." Her voice was calm.

A son.

Nikolai couldn't imagine having a son. What could he offer the boy? Nothing. He couldn't even give the child a name. Even if he survived this war and he and Rivka were together, the boy would still carry Gavri Velonin's name, not his.

It was as if Rivka read his mind.

"He will bear your name, Nikolai, I promise. He shall bear the name Koulikov and carry it with pride, I'll make sure of that."

Nikolai could not hold back any longer and he swallowed hard, tears threatening as he turned his attention back to the tiny life that lay safe and secure beneath its father's hand.

But Rivka continued dreamily, her mind content with the thought of a child in Nikolai's strong arms.

"Niko … what was your mother's name?"

His reply was husky with emotion.

"Elena. My mother's name was Elena Katerina Koulikova."

Rivka touched the hand that lay protectively on her belly.

"Then if our son turns out to be a daughter, my Niko, we shall name her Elena, for her brave, beautiful grandmother who made such a magnificent man for me to love."

Nikolai could only bury his head into the hollow of her neck, too overcome by the thought of it. He held her to him, still stroking her belly, unable now to control the joy that swept through him. For the first time in his life, he realised, he had a family.

Rivka rested her head on his, understanding the feelings that were sweeping through him. She ruffled the soft curls.

"Well, my Papa Koulikov … I think it's time you got some sleep, don't you? You're going to need all your strength to keep up with your child when it's born …"

His only reply was a contented sigh.

Rivka relaxed, rested her hand on top of Nikolai's where it lay on her abdomen, and quietly went to sleep.

But sleep eluded Nikolai Koulikov. He lay still, the only sound being Rivka's even breathing as she lay safe beside him. He winced and turned onto his back, Rivka mumbling in her slumber and turning to wrap herself around him, black hair lying loose over his chest. He had been lying on his wounded arm and he managed to free it, his hand reaching up to stroke Rivka's hair as she curled against his side.

More comfortable, he settled his head against the pillows and thought about the events of the day. A momentous day, in more ways than one, that was for sure. He had been so worried about Rivka's reaction to his return, and had been astounded at her love for him. She returned his love completely, with no judgement, no reservations. She took him for what he was, indeed, he thought, she loved him for what he was. Just a simple, ordinary man.

But as to having a child … he still couldn't completely take it in. Right from the beginning of the physical side of their relationship the chance of pregnancy had not concerned her, and, he had to admit, it hadn't worried him either. It had been a concern in his previous relationships, he knew, and he had made sure to the best of his ability that it couldn't happen. But with Rivka? It didn't seem to matter … and now she was pregnant it seemed the most natural, most perfect thing in the world. He grinned wearily.

He was going to be a father!

How they were going to deal with it he had no idea. All he knew was that he wanted their baby to be born healthy and strong, and for Rivka to be safe and well in the process. He supposed that Rivka knew what she was doing … her years in the village with old Doctor Rabinov had surely prepared her to some degree as to what happened during pregnancy and birth. Well, she certainly didn't seem worried about the whole thing at all. They would talk in the morning about it all, and he could ask her how he could make things easier for her then.

He shifted again, trying to get more comfortable. Damn, but he ached. Every muscle in his body throbbed dully, and his joints were sore. And as for the headache … well, it seemed to be getting worse, not better. Perhaps Rivka was right - he was exhausted, despite his elation, and he needed rest badly. Maybe … maybe in the morning he would feel better. Yes, that was it. Sleep, that's what he needed …

His eyelids drooped, then closed, as he finally succumbed to the demands of his worn body, and he kissed the top of Rivka's head as he began to drift …

Goodnight, my lady Rivka … I love you. I love you so much, my sweet … and as for you, my little one, your Papa will always be there if you need him … I promise … sleep well, my loves..

Within seconds he was asleep.

*****************

"Rivka …"

Rivka Velonina heard Nikolai's voice percolating through her dreams and the soft baritone brought her groggily awake. She still lay curled into his side, and the first thing she thought of was heat. Why was she so warm?

"Rivka … stay with me …"

"Nikolai?" She blinked awake. "I'm not going anywhere, love …"

Her arm was draped over his chest, and she became aware of ragged breathing, and then a persistent, dry cough startled her.

"The baby, Rivka … don't go … don't go into the dark, my lady … please …" His plea seemed desperately urgent.

What on earth was he talking about? Dark? What dark? It was morning, for God's sake! Confused, Rivka levered herself up onto her elbow … and discovered to her horror why she was so warm.

Nikolai was drenched with sweat, his undershirt and longjohns damp with perspiration. For a moment Rivka thought it was the result of some dreadful nightmare, and then reality kicked in - she realised Nikolai Koulikov was dangerously ill. She touched his skin, and was appalled to feel the burn of high fever, his hair lying in sweat-soaked curls on his brow.

"Niko!"

Rivka, for once in her life, was completely at a loss as to what to do. This was no chill, she knew that now. Nikolai was running a high temperature and he seemed delirious, as his words dissolved into fevered muttering. His body was racked with chills, and Rivka instinctively pulled the blankets higher around him, tucking them in around his trembling frame.

"Rivka … please, don't leave me … please …" Nikolai only seemed to be vaguely aware of her presence.

Rivka swiftly quelled the panic that began somewhere deep in her stomach and tried to think, knowing she couldn't afford to break down right now. Nikolai was ill, and he needed her. She knew he needed her more now than he had ever done so before, so she sat for a moment on her knees beside him, trying to sort out the jumble of thoughts running through her head.

He needed help. Rivka knew instantly she couldn't do this on her own, and she decided to best thing she could do was to fetch Oleg Chernyenko. He would know what to do, he would know how to cure her Nikolai.

The decision made, she slipped out of bed and threw on her clothes, fumbling buttons in her haste. Dressed, she returned to Nikolai's side and made sure he was safely wrapped in warm bedclothes. With luck, she would not be gone more than twenty minutes, but she was loathe to leave him … what if … no, she wouldn't even begin to think like that. Oleg would come, and he would tell her what to do to keep Nikolai alive. He had to. Because Rivka couldn't even allow herself to think of what would happen if he died.

"I'll be back soon, my love … I won't be long, I promise." She kissed his heated skin and was touched to see him turn his face, searching in his fever dreams for the woman he loved.

"Rivka …"

She choked back a sob at the love in his voice and touched his face once more in farewell. And then she was running out of the cellar she called home, slamming the trapdoor behind her and heading down the wrecked street towards the field hospital by the Volga, where she hoped desperately that Oleg Chernyenko could save Nikolai's life.

To Chapter 15

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