Maria struggled to think of something sharp. “The blade of an ice skate,” she said, and saw Svetlana frown and touch the scar as if not entirely convinced, but she did not question further.

In the late morning, Maria suddenly felt a huge pressure, as if her internal organs were being expelled from her body and ripping her apart. She could not even try to muffle her screams as Svetlana pulled the baby’s head from between her legs. She looked down and saw blood and began to sob hysterically. “I’m dying. Please save me! I don’t want to die.”

“Silly girl,” Svetlana soothed. She pulled the baby clear and held it in the air, where it gave a gasp and then a thin, reedy wail. It was covered in white waxy mucus with streaks of bright blood, its tiny face screwed tight. “It’s a boy,” she said. “Did I not tell you? I’m never wrong.”

She snipped the cord, washed the child in water she had boiled earlier, and swaddled him in a soft white blanket before handing him to his mother. Maria gazed down at this creature who had grown inside her, and all of a sudden the memory came back to her of the first time she saw Alexei. She was five years old and had been led, with her sisters, into her mother’s bedchamber, where he lay in a crib by the bed. She remembered her awe at the daintiness of his clenched fists, and the feeble squawking noises he made. This child was making the same noises now—“Mm-wah, mm-wah”—with doggedness, as if demanding something from her.

“Why don’t you let him feed?” Svetlana asked, and Maria was momentarily stunned. Her family had used wet nurses to feed their babies, but it dawned on her that they could not afford such a luxury here. She was poor now, and must do as countrywomen did.

Svetlana loosened the neck of Maria’s gown and showed her how to position the baby so he could suckle at her nipple. She felt a tickling sensation as she watched his tiny jaws working, and was overwhelmed with such joy it felt as if she was floating.

“Can Peter come in now?” she asked, not wanting him to miss this.

“Wait till I’ve cleaned you up,” Svetlana replied. “Then I will call him. I think the child has his chin, don’t you?”

Maria looked down, but to her the baby resembled her little brother, Alexei, with his round features and his sparse wisps of hair. Pray God the resemblance was only superficial and he did not carry the dreaded bleeding disorder. She shuddered, trying to remember how long after Alexei’s birth he was diagnosed.

* * *

Peter was awestruck at the sight of his son. He took the bundle from Maria, and as soon as he cradled him, the boy stopped squawking and peered up, boss-eyed and curious.