The Undaunted (Book 2 of The Undesirables)

Chapter 44: The Cellist

Could it have been for her? Might Jack not have been the only one driven by love? Karen hoped not. She didn't love Bobby that way, not anymore. But it was what Petr suspected.

"Why else would he be here?" he whispered to her, as he held her in his arms late that night.

"I don't know," Karen admitted.

"It's the only reason that makes sense," Petr insisted.

Karen agreed, but she didn't want to feed Petr's paranoia and jealousy, so she kept quiet.

"You need to find out," Petr told her.

"Why?" Karen wondered. If that turned out to be the truth she would prefer to remain ignorant.

"Because if he still loves you, maybe there is a way you can convince him to take you back with him."

Karen froze. She'd been thinking, perhaps even hoping, the same thing to herself. But she hadn't been able to admit it to herself. She couldn't allow herself to be so selfish. It wasn't the kind of person she wanted to be. "I couldn't leave you here, alone."

"I'm hardly alone," Petr countered. "I have an entire army beside me."

"What if you're killed?" Karen asked.

"What if you're killed?" Petr countered.

"At least we would die together," Karen whispered. It was a terrible and morbid thought. But it was how she felt. She didn't want to live without him.

"Maybe neither one of us will die," Petr said. "we might actually win this war. What then?"

"Then," Karen said, "we can live happily ever after." She kissed Petr tenderly on the lips.

Petr returned her kiss. He didn't speak again that night. But they both knew Karen's statement was naïve. There was no happily ever after for them, no matter who won this war. Either they would both suffer under German occupation, or they would both suffer under Stalin's dictatorship.

"I love you," she told him between kisses. It was important that he know that, but she wasn't sure why. Perhaps because her recent trauma had caused such distance between them. "Whatever happens, never forget that I love you," she said again, as their kisses intensified.

And then she rolled on top of him to show him how much she loved him. She unbuttoned his trousers and held him as she kissed him. She lifted her blouse and pulled his head up so she would kiss her nipples.

Then she straddled him, pulled aside her underwear, and lowered herself onto him, gasping at the sensation. She leaned forward, allowing her cascading hair to form a curtain of privacy as they stared into each other's glittering eyes. She rocked back and forth on top of him. They both held their breath, making love silently, encouraging each other to climax with their facial expressions instead of with moans of pleasure.

And when they were through Karen prayed to a God that she didn't believe in – prayed that this time, finally, she would become pregnant. Because, she knew, if she was carrying Petr's child, perhaps then could she find a purpose to her life without him.

* * *

The next day Karen was able to corner Bobby alone. Petr had drawn sentry duty and the orphans were playing in the basement. The other soldiers not on duty were gathered in the radio room, listening to music with Ilan Hait and arguing over new-found trivia about American popular music. "It is the negroes," Sarayev was saying, "that invented Jazz."

"Then why are all the band leaders white?" replied a skeptical Boris.

"Because of America's imperial capitalist system," said Sarayev. "They exploit everything from the underclass, even their culture."

Hait nodded sagely. "The white band leaders own the means of production, comrade." Karen could see him from her hiding place down the hall, but the other soldiers were out of her view.

"Don't the musicians own their own instruments?"

"Perhaps, but they don't own the record companies, or the recording studios."

"Count Basie is a negro," countered Boris.

"The exception that proves the rule," insisted Sarayev.

"Then what about Billy Holliday and Louis Armstrong?" asked Sergeant Pavlov.

Karen didn't wait for the answer. As soon as she heard the Sergeant's voice, as soon as she knew that even he was here, gathered around the radio, she also knew that now was her chance.

She skulked downstairs and found Bobby sitting alone, his back against a piece of broken concrete, staring out a shell hole.

"You have to be careful," Karen warned him in a soft voice as she sat beside him, "of snipers."

Bobby squinted. "The other side of the park is a long way off," he said.

"They are very good shots," Karen assured him.

Her warning prompted Bobby to shift his position backward, away from the shell hole.

They could both still see through it into the park. The snow had turned dirty and brown. Ash and chemicals must still be falling from the sky, because there had been no traffic in the park to dirty the ground since the German supply drop.

Karen's eyes were drawn to the paths that were still carved into the dirty snow. She could see her own path: a long furrow dug as she had wormed herself forward on her stomach. It ended in a brown patch of dried blood. She closed her eyes and looked away.

"Are you okay?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah," Karen lied.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Karen worked to push the dark memories out of her mind. "Why did you defect," she asked bluntly, hoping the conversation would distract her. "I mean, what was the real reason?"

Bobby looked around, making sure they were alone. "I don't know what they expect me to do," he admitted, "what they expect me to tell you." He paused, obviously turning over potential scenarios in his head.

Karen looked at him, surprised. This certainly wasn't what she expected. "Who's 'they'?" she asked.

Bobby frowned and continued, as if he hadn't heard her. "Maybe they expect me to try and seduce you, to try and make you fall in love with me again, but that would never work." He was talking out loud, arguing with himself.

"For what reason?" Karen asked.

Bobby turned toward her and looked her in the eye. "So I'm just going to tell you the truth. I'm not here for you. I'm not here for them." Again, he paused.

"Then what are you here for?" Karen prompted.

"I'm here for me," he said, not taking his eyes off of her. "And you're the only one who can save me."