Anna Fedorovna sighed heavily, placing another pot down.
— What a misfortune! When will this ever end? This endless rain. Maybe up there, the roof of God’s house is leaking?
And if during the previous storm she only placed a couple of basins, now she had to set out four plus a kettle.
— I just hope the roof doesn’t collapse, or it’ll crush me and no one will find me!
The old woman crossed herself out of habit as another thunderclap boomed outside.
— Oh, Lord! What’s going on? We haven’t had a storm like this in about twenty years!
Anna Fedorovna had long gotten used to talking to herself and to the cat, although the cat never joined the conversation. It sat frightened on the stove, its eyes gleaming.
— What, scared? Don’t be. We surely won’t perish from a thunderstorm.
No sooner had she finished speaking than the door swung open and a male figure appeared in the doorway. The granny gave a start and stepped back.
— Don’t be afraid, mother. I come in peace.
— Well, if in peace, then come in.
The stranger took a few steps and literally collapsed onto a stool.
— I could use a drink.
She scooped and handed him a wooden ladle with some apple kvass from an oak barrel. The man greedily drained it and set down the ladle.
— Don’t be afraid of me. It so happened that I had to flee to prove my innocence. But I’m not able to run any further yet. I was wounded. Might I rest a little in your cellar or attic?
Anna Fedorovna approached, examined the fugitive carefully.
— Well, if you’re telling the truth, then you may. But if you lie—God will punish you.
She headed deeper into the house.
— Here, behind this door is an empty room. Make yourself comfortable, — and the old woman left.
Nikolai sank onto the bed. His head was buzzing, his vision blurred. He pushed his hand away from his robe—his side was all a brownish shade.
— Damn it!
Struggling to strip off the rough garment, he simply collapsed onto the blanket. He felt as if he wasn’t falling asleep but drifting somewhere, trying to stop but unable.
As soon as Nikolai lost consciousness, the hostess entered with a basin. She glanced at him, shook her head, cleaned the wound, confirming it was through-and-through, then applied some kind of salve.
— Well, sleep now. You really need it.
Nikolai woke up to the sun shining in his face, with no sign of yesterday’s bad weather. He didn’t immediately remember where he was or how he got there. When his memory returned, he tried to get up. Pain pierced his side, and immediately, as if by magic, the door opened and the old woman came in.
— Awake! Good. Don’t get up suddenly, slowly. You mustn’t—your wound is still fresh.
— Granny, how long have I been asleep? Eight hours?
She laughed.
— More than a day! Want to eat?
Nikolai was not just hungry—he would have devoured anything in sight right now.
— Absolutely!
— Well, let’s go slowly then.
He followed her. To his surprise, the pain was much less than he expected.
The granny set the table, placed a large bowl of hearty cabbage soup and a pot of sour cream in front of Nikolai, and cut a loaf of bread. He looked regretfully at the small pot from which the soup was ladled. The hostess smiled.
— You won’t finish it all. But if you do, I have some potatoes slow-cooking in the oven.
He hurriedly scooped with his spoon. She said:
— My name’s Anna Fedorovna, and yours?
— Nikolai.
— Interesting.
About halfway through the bowl, he felt full to bursting but kept bringing spoonfuls to his mouth out of habit. The granny sat down opposite him.
— So, Nikolai, now tell your story.
He pushed the bowl aside, and Anna Fedorovna immediately put a mug before him.
— Drink. Not sweet, but vital for you now.
He sniffed the broth, grimaced, but took a sip, never suspecting the old woman might harm him.
— There’s not much to tell. I had everything: a roof, a family, enough. But one moment, my wife decided she didn’t need me but could use my money. One night, she and her lover accidentally—I hope accidentally—hit a man and fled. Then she testified she saw me come back by car at night and try to cover the tracks. Her lover is a journalist with friends everywhere. Within a day, I was convicted and spent three months inside. I couldn’t stay longer. I need to find one person who will surely help me—not me, but the truth. But I don’t yet know how to get to him.
— Well, if all is as you say, things will get better.
— Oh, Anna Fedorovna, I wish I had your confidence! I wasn’t simple either: I thought that having capital meant nothing else mattered, that everyone would respect and value me. But when trouble came, everyone turned away. And not for a reason, just like that.
The hostess got up, cleared the dishes, and took out a worn deck of cards. He watched in surprise as she laid them out, mumbling to herself. Finally, she gathered the cards into a stack.
— You need to leave in three days. If you leave when I say, you’ll reach your friend.
Nikolai never believed in fortune-telling or psychics. But she kept spreading the cards.
Then, again and again, and only after that she spoke:
— You were born far from here, an only child. Your parents are alive, living far away, watching the road with tears. They wait for their son. And the son is not in a hurry—not just because he was imprisoned, but even before that, he didn’t rush.
Nikolai looked at her, realizing he was incredibly ashamed—it was exactly so. He sent money to his parents but hadn’t visited them for about three years.
— Your wife is a beauty, but a terrible liar. She always had many men: before you and during you. And she also got rid of the child. You could have had a son, but she didn’t want to give birth.
He sat struck as if by lightning. He had suspected something, but Sveta told him it was just a minor woman’s ailment, so she would stay in the guest room for a couple of weeks. And she suspiciously often went to the clinic, sometimes staying there for days. He should have found out then, but he distanced himself.
— Your friend worries and looks for you. He’s already had a family. He will help you, support you, and won’t even remember the offense you caused him and his family.
Nikolai almost fell off the chair.
Well, suppose the granny is a good psychologist. But how does she know that for Sveta’s sake, he left his friend’s sister, Larisa, with whom he dated? And she left somewhere? They had a big quarrel, even fought, but later reconciled.
Nikolai always thought that it was Larisa, the friend’s sister, who insisted on the reconciliation. The granny folded the cards, and he exhaled.
— Incredible!
She laughed loudly.
— What did you expect? I used to be considered the best fortune teller in the region. But now… now I don’t read cards anymore, don’t want to. It’s very hard to see other people’s fates, and people rarely come for readings when things are good. But when it’s the last straw, when all is bad—then yes. You understand what you see when a person comes to you? Mostly, the end.
Thunder rumbled outside.
— What is it! Thunderstorms all week! When will this disaster end?
The cat jumped habitually onto the stove and settled, while Nikolai watched in surprise as the hostess placed basins. It was clear she knew exactly where the water would leak. And so it happened: under the cheerful tinkling of drops, under the thunderclaps, they spent the evening.
— Almost no one is left in the village. Earlier, when city folks came to me, I could ask to send workers. But now there’s no one to ask. Every time I wonder which will happen first—I’ll go or the ceiling will collapse.
Three days later, Nikolai had recovered in the village. No new faces appeared; only once did a local auto shop drive by. Early in the morning, the hostess woke him before dawn:
— Time to go, Kolya. They will come looking for you here.
He rose easily, hugged Anna Fedorovna:
— We’ll definitely see each other again. Thank you!
— Go on, or I’ll be crying all day from these goodbyes. We’ll meet again, I’m sure.
She explained how to go through the garden to the station, take a bus or better an electric train, and watched the pre-dawn darkness where he went.
— What a misfortune! What kind of summer is this?
They had to empty the containers Anna Fedorovna used to carry water from the well. She watched new stains appear on the ceiling. Yes, the roof would collapse soon.
The downpour stopped as suddenly as it started. This summer the weather was really tropical: hot in the morning, then rain, then warm again.
Anna Fedorovna gathered the basins, poured out the water, carried the buckets to the yard. She stepped onto the porch and froze: a large vehicle was approaching the house. Anna Fedorovna had never seen such—a kind of truck, but with a structure on top resembling a basket. Another large car followed it.
— Could it be war?
Anna crossed herself. Both vehicles stopped. Now she saw that the bed of the first truck held boards, large packages, something red resembling slate but definitely not it. Nikolai got out of the second car.
Anna dropped the bucket and hurried to her guest.
— Hello, Anna Fedorovna! I told you we’d see each other soon.
— Well, not so soon—three months have passed.
— It wasn’t up to me, they arrested me again while my friend sorted things out. Only for a month though, with courts and all. And I’m not alone.
He returned to the car, opened the door, and a young woman came out, shyly smiling:
— Hello.
They decided to have dinner outdoors. Larisa, Anna Fedorovna, and Nikolai prepared three huge pots of food for everyone. While Larisa set the table, Anna Fedorovna laid out the cards. Kolya sat beside her:
— What do they say?
— They say, Kolya, that you did the right thing, returning to the past and correcting the mistake. It was your cruelty that made everything go wrong. But… — He looked at the old woman fearfully. — Are you going to marry?
— Even now, but I’m afraid she’ll reject me.
— She won’t, a baby can’t be born without a father.
Kolya stared at the smiling Larisa. After dinner, when Anna Fedorovna was already asleep, the workers had also gone to bed, Larisa and Nikolai settled for the night in the car.
— Lar, how do you feel about tying your fate to a former convict?
She looked at him surprised, but Nikolai studied the sky as she had just done.
— Is that your original way of proposing?
— Well, yes.
— Well, I don’t know… The prospect isn’t great: I’ll be raising a bunch of kids, and my husband will be in prisons. — She sighed mockingly and turned to the stars.
Nikolai jumped up so suddenly he nearly banged his forehead, and Larisa laughed:
— Yes, of course, yes! I’ve been waiting to hear those words for so long. Though I thought it would be proper—with a ring and flowers.
— God willing, Fedorovna won’t kill me. — Nikolai ran outside, looked around, pulled a lily from granny’s front garden, and hurried back to the car:
— Here are the flowers! The ring will be in the city. And also, Lar, we’ll visit my parents.
— Of course, we will.
Anna Fedorovna, watching all this from the summer house, sighed and smiled:
— That’s good, now everything is right.