Maria sat down, feeling unsteady on her feet. “But how do you know?” she asked, still ignorant of such women’s matters. Then, after a moment’s thought, she muttered, “Yes, of course. That’s exactly the kind of thing you would know.”

She placed a hand on her belly, trying to decide how she felt about the news, and was filled to the brim with a wave of protectiveness for the tiny creature growing inside her. She looked up and saw that Peter had tears in his eyes.

* * *

He returned from Perm the following day with disappointing news: Aunt Ella’s house was empty and barricaded. Some neighbors told him she had not been seen since the early weeks of July.

“They know that the Tsar—your father—has been executed but seem to think the rest of the family have been sent elsewhere for safekeeping. If only that were true.” Peter looked grim.

Maria felt crushed. She had pinned her hopes on her aunt being there. “Is there no word of Tatiana?” she asked, anxiety bubbling inside.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but it seems we have been fleeing in the wrong direction. The White Army of Admiral Kolchak has taken Ekaterinburg from the Bolsheviks and established a new government in Omsk. But here, in Perm, the soviets still rule and we are not safe. All we can do is hunker down for winter and hope the Whites advance across the Urals before too long.”

“Where will we live? What will we do?” Sometimes it was hard to contain her panic.

“I will find work without too much trouble. The Red Army has been conscripting farmhands, so many farms are short-staffed. They have also been requisitioning all the grain except what is needed by the farmers’ immediate family, but I can find food for us.”

Maria nodded. She didn’t doubt it.

“I have a question for you,” he continued. “I met a man on the road who says he can provide us with false identity papers. There is a brisk trade at the moment among bourgeoisie trying to pose as ordinary workers. The man I met will take jewelry as payment without asking any questions. Would you allow me to give him one of your diamonds?”

“False papers?” This was a whole new world for Maria. “What names will we take?”

“I suggest we keep our first names but change our patronymics, matronymics, and places of birth. I couldn’t learn to call you Ludmilla or Valeriya without tripping myself up sometimes.” He smiled.

“You said that in times of civil war we should trust no one.”

“Yes, but this man has nothing to gain by betraying us. He would lose his business and his profits. I think he can be trusted.”