Anna Fedorovna sighed heavily, placing another pot under the stubborn trickle of water seeping through the dilapidated roof.
— What a disaster! — she whispered, looking up at the ceiling as if trying to see the very sky through the cracks. — When will this ever end? The rain’s gone mad — it just keeps pouring nonstop! Could it be that the roof in heaven itself, right above the Lord, has sprung a leak?
Before, during past downpours, a couple of basins were enough, but now she had to arm herself with an entire arsenal: four buckets, a small pot, and even an old enamel basin — everything was in use.
— Just as long as the roof doesn’t collapse, — she sighed, surveying the crooked beams. — Or it’ll crush me, and no one will even find me under these ruins!
With a habitual gesture, as if warding off bad thoughts, the old woman made the sign of the cross over herself. Suddenly, outside, a deafening clap of thunder rolled, causing the windowpanes to tremble.
— Oh, Lord have mercy! — she exclaimed, clutching the cross hanging on her chest. — What a calamity is this? I haven’t seen such a storm in twenty years, at least!
Anna Fedorovna had long been used to having long conversations with herself—or rather, with the cat, who, however, never responded. The gray, mustached sentinel sat on the stove, his green eyes shining in the dim light like two glowing coals.
— What, scared, furry one? — she said soothingly. — Don’t be afraid, the thunder won’t do us in. I’ve been through worse…
But no sooner had the words left her lips than the door creaked open and a tall male figure drenched by the rain appeared in the doorway. The old woman gasped and stepped back, her heart pounding wildly.
— Don’t be afraid, mother, — came a hoarse voice. — I come in peace.
She looked closer: before her stood a gaunt man, his face pale, his eyes heavy with deep fatigue.
— Well, since you come in peace — come in, warm yourself, — she mumbled, stepping aside.
The stranger took a few steps and then, as if struck down, collapsed onto a stool, breathing heavily.
— I need… a drink… — he rasped.
Quickly, she scooped some apple kvass from an oak barrel with a wooden ladle and handed it to him. The man greedily drained it to the bottom, set the ladle down, and closed his eyes as if gathering strength.
— Don’t be afraid of me, — he finally said. — It happened that I had to run to prove my innocence. But I can’t go further — I was wounded. Could I stay here for a while? Even in the cellar or attic…
Anna Fedorovna slowly approached him, peering closely at his face.
— Well, if you’re telling the truth — stay. But if you lie — God will punish you, — she said sternly, waving her hand toward the far room. — There’s a free spot there. Make yourself comfortable.
The stranger, who introduced himself as Nikolai, struggled to the bed and sank onto it, feeling his consciousness begin to drift. He pulled off his half-wet robe — his entire side was soaked in dark blood.
— Damn it… — he whispered through clenched teeth.
Struggling to remove his coarse clothes, he collapsed onto the pillow, feeling as if he wasn’t falling asleep but plunging somewhere into an abyss, trying to hold on but failing.
As soon as his eyelids closed, the hostess entered with a basin of warm water. Looking him over, she shook her head, carefully cleaned the wound, ensuring it was a through-and-through injury, then smeared it with a thick, herb-scented salve.
— Sleep, dear, — she softly said. — You need it now more than anything.
Nikolai awoke to a bright sunbeam shining directly into his face. Nothing reminded him of yesterday’s storm — outside, birds chirped, and the air was clear and fresh. For a moment, he even forgot where he was and how he got there. But memory quickly returned, and he tried to sit up. A sharp pain pierced his side, and at that moment, as if by magic, the door opened and Anna Fedorovna appeared in the doorway.
— Awake! Thank God! — she rejoiced. — Don’t rush to get up, lie down some more. The wound is fresh; it needs to heal.
— Grandma, how long have I been asleep? Eight hours? — he asked hoarsely.
She laughed, a warm, almost motherly note in her laughter.
— More than a day, dear! Well, do you want to eat?
Suddenly, Nikolai realized he was so hungry he would eat anything.
— More than that!
— Then let’s go slowly.
He carefully got up and, to his surprise, found the pain was not as bad as he had expected.
The old woman set the table, placing a large bowl of steaming cabbage soup, a pot of sour cream, and cutting a slice of fresh bread. Nikolai looked regretfully at the modest portion, but the hostess only smiled.
— Don’t rush, dear. If you manage, I have some potatoes simmering in the oven.
He began eating with a greediness he hadn’t noticed in himself for a long time. Anna Fedorovna sat opposite him, watching.
— My name’s Anna Fedorovna, what’s yours?
— Nikolai.
— Interesting… — she said thoughtfully.
Halfway through the bowl, he felt full but continued eating out of habit. Meanwhile, the grandmother placed a mug of dark broth in front of him.
— Drink this. It’s bitter, but good for you now.
He sniffed, grimaced, but took a sip — he didn’t even think the old woman might wish him harm.
— Well, Nikolai, now tell me your story, — she said softly.
He pushed the bowl aside, sighed, and began:
— There’s not much to tell. I had everything: a house, family, money. But one day, my wife decided she didn’t need me, but my wealth — she did. At night, she and her lover… accidentally, I hope, hit a man and fled. Then she testified that I was driving. Her lover is a journalist, has connections everywhere. I was convicted within a day and served three months. I couldn’t stay any longer — I had to find one person to help me. I managed to escape but don’t know how to reach him yet.
— If all is as you say — truth will prevail, — the old woman said confidently.
— Oh, Anna Fedorovna, if only I had your faith! — he bitterly smiled. — I thought if you have money, everyone respects you. But when trouble came — everyone turned away. Not even for a reason, just like that…
The hostess stood, cleared the dishes, and suddenly pulled out a worn deck of cards. Nikolai watched in surprise as she laid them out, whispering something. Finally, she gathered the cards and looked at him.
— You need to leave in three days. If you leave at the hour I tell you — you will reach your man.
He never believed in fortune-telling, but something in her voice made him quiet.
She dealt the cards again, and again, then said:
— You were born far from here, the only child in your family. Your parents are alive, sitting there, watching the road and crying. They wait for their son. But he’s not hurrying… Not because he’s in prison, but he never was.
Nikolai felt a hot wave of shame wash over him. It was exactly so — he’d been sending money to his parents for years but hadn’t visited them in three years.
— Your wife is beautiful, but a liar, — the old woman continued. — She always had many men: before you and with you. And also… she didn’t want your child. You could have had a son, but not fate.
He bowed his head. It seemed this simple woman knew more about him than he did himself.
He sat stunned, thoughts tangled, his head ringing. And he had suspected! Svetka said she had “minor female ailments,” so she moved to the guest room for a couple of weeks. And she went to the clinic suspiciously often, even stayed there for a few days. Everything was before his eyes, but he distanced himself, preferring not to dig deeper.
— And your friend is worried, looking for you, — the grandmother continued, shuffling cards. — People have already come looking for you. But he will help you, rescue you, and won’t even remember the offense you caused him.
Nikolai almost fell off the chair.
Well, okay, suppose the old woman is a good psychologist. But how does she know about Larisa? About how he left his friend’s sister for Svetka? How she left then, broken? He and his friend fought fiercely, nearly breaking each other’s bones, but later… they reconciled.
He always thought Larisa persuaded her brother to forgive him.
The grandmother folded the cards. He exhaled:
— Incredible…
She laughed — loud, young, as if she were not an old woman but a girl.
— What did you expect? I used to be known all over the region — the best fortune-teller! But now… — she waved her hand — I don’t do it anymore. Don’t want to. It’s hard to see other people’s fates, Kolya. People rarely come when everything’s fine. Only when they’re desperate, when they hit rock bottom. So what do you think you see then? Most often — the end.
Thunder rumbled outside as if confirming her words.
— What the heck! — Anna Fedorovna exclaimed, throwing up her hands. — A week of storms, like cursed! When will this mess end?
The cat, as if on command, slipped onto the stove and curled up. Nikolai watched with amazement as the hostess skillfully placed basins exactly where the drips were. So it went: amid cheerful drops and thunderclaps, they continued their evening.
— Almost no one left in the village, — sighed the old woman. — Before, when city folks came to me for fortune-telling, I could ask — men would come, fix the roof. But now, no one to ask. I wonder: what will come first — will I die, or will the ceiling fall on me?
Three days passed. Nikolai grew stronger; the wound healed. No new faces appeared in the village — only once a local traveling store passed through. At dawn on the fourth day, Anna Fedorovna woke him early:
— It’s time, Kolya. They’re coming already.
He rose easily — his body obeyed as if he’d never been wounded. He hugged the old woman tightly:
— We will meet again. Thank you…
— Go already, — she muttered, turning away, — or I’ll start crying. We’ll see each other, I’m sure.
She explained the way through the garden to the station, how best to leave — by bus or train. She stood long at the door, peering into the pre-dawn gloom where he disappeared.
— What a misfortune… — she muttered. — What a summer it’s been…
She had to empty the buckets — the ones she used to carry water from the well. She watched new wet spots spreading across the ceiling. Yes, the roof wouldn’t hold much longer.
The rain stopped as suddenly as it had started. That summer, the weather seemed out of control: hot in the morning, flood by afternoon, and stifling again by evening.
Anna Fedorovna gathered the basins, emptied the water, went outside—and froze.
Approaching the house was… no, not just a car — a whole big machine! A truck with some kind of basket on top. And behind it, a large black sedan.
— Could it really be war? — she whispered, crossing herself frantically.
The vehicles stopped. Now visible: in the truck bed were boards, packages, something red like slate, but not slate. From the sedan stepped out…
— Nikolai!
The bucket crashed to the ground. She hobbled toward him, unable to believe her eyes.
— Hello, Anna Fedorovna! — he smiled widely. — I told you — we’ll see each other soon!
— Soon, you say… — she snorted. — Three months — that’s your “soon”?
— It wasn’t up to me. They took me again while my friend was sorting everything out. Only for a month though — until the trials and investigation. I didn’t come alone!
He opened the car door. A young woman stepped out, shyly smiling:
— Hello.
They dined outside. Larisa, Anna Fedorovna, and Nikolai cooked enough for the whole crew — three huge pots. While Larisa set the table, the old woman laid out cards. Kolya sat beside her:
— Well, what now?
— They say you did the right thing, returning to your past and fixing the mistake. — She squinted. — It was your cruelty that caused everything to go wrong back then. But… — Nikolai tensed — Are you going to get married?
— Even now! I’m just afraid she’ll say no.
— She won’t. — Anna Fedorovna smiled slyly. — The baby can’t be born without a father, you know.
Kolya stared at Larisa in shock. She blushed but smiled.
Late at night, when the old woman was already asleep and the workers had gone to bed, Larisa and Nikolai settled in the car.
— Lar… — he suddenly spoke, looking at the ceiling. — How do you feel about tying your life to an ex-con?
She turned surprised, but he kept studying the starry sky.
— Is that… a proposal? — she whispered.
— Yep.
— Hmm… — Larisa pretended to frown. — Not the best prospect: a husband in and out of jail, and me with a bunch of kids. — She sighed and turned to the window.
Nikolai jerked and hit his head on the roof. Larisa laughed:
— Yeah, dummy, of course yes! I’ve waited so many years for those words. Although… — she made sad eyes — I thought there’d be a ring, flowers…
— Oh my! — He jumped out of the car, looked around, grabbed the first lily he could find from the grandmother’s garden, and ran back in. — Flowers! We’ll buy the ring tomorrow. And also… — he said seriously — we’ll visit my parents.
— Of course, we will.
Anna Fedorovna, watching them from the summer kitchen, smiled and crossed herself:
— That’s good. Now everything’s in its place.