The Summer Garden. Paullina Simons
his throat, and looked away. Sam, who never noticed her, looked away! “Marriage obviously agrees with you,” he said. “I got married again myself.” His first wife had died in a plane crash at the start of the war, bringing supplies to the troops. Tatiana wanted to say that the second marriage didn’t seem to agree with him quite so well but of course didn’t. Her arms were crossed on her chest.
Sam said, “So finally you saw reason.”
“Not me,” she retorted.
“Well, since he’s the one who’s going have to pay for your shenanigans, I’m glad one of you had some sense.”
“I’m not paying for her shenanigans,” said Alexander.
Tatiana waved them both off. “Sam, don’t pretend you don’t understand why in today’s climate I might not be completely forthcoming with bringing you my husband.”
“Yes,” said Sam. “But why were you not forthcoming with bringing me your husband back in 1946?”
“Because we were done with all of you!” Tatiana exclaimed. “And he’s already talked this to death in Berlin. That’s not in his file for all to see?” Alexander put his hand out to quieten her. Anthony was nearby.
“It is in his file,” Sam said evenly. “But I told you, the military tribunal in Berlin had their own protocol and we have ours. After he got here he had to talk to us. Which part of that didn’t you understand?”
“Oh, I understood. But why can’t you leave him alone?” She stepped in front of Alexander. “A hundred million people—don’t you have something better to do? Who is he bothering? You know he is not in an espionage ring, collecting information for the Soviets. You know he’s not hiding. And you know perfectly well that the last thing he of all people needs is to have your little State Department get their hooks in him.”
Alexander put his hands on Tatiana’s shoulders to stop her from heaving. Sam stood powerlessly in front of her. “Had you called me two years ago,” Sam said, “this would’ve been behind you. Now everybody in three government departments is stuck on the fact that he’s been hiding!”
“Traveling, not hiding. Do they know the difference?”
“No! Because they haven’t debriefed him. And Defense really needed to debrief him. It’s only because of your obstinacy that it’s snowballed to this level.”
“Don’t blame it on me, you with your incessant phone calls to Vikki! What did you think I was going to think?”
Alexander fixed his hold on Tatiana’s shoulders. “Shh,” he said.
“No shh. And you know what, Sam?” Tatiana snapped, still under Alexander’s hands. “Why don’t you spend less time looking for my husband and a little more time looking at your State Department? I don’t know if you’ve been reading the papers the last few years, but all I’m saying is, you might want to first clean your own house before searching all over the country to clean mine.”
“Why don’t you come and talk to John Rankin of the House of Un-American Activities Committee,” Sam said impatiently. “Because he’s waiting for you. Perhaps you can illuminate him about what you know about our State Department. He loves to talk to people like you.”
Alexander’s hold constricted around her. “All right, you two,” he said. He turned Tatiana to him. “That’s enough,” he said quietly, staring her down. “We have to go.”
“I’m coming with you!” Tatiana exclaimed. “I don’t care what I promised. I’ll take Ant with me—”
“Sam, excuse us for a minute,” Alexander said, pulling Tatiana with him behind their camper. She was panting in desperation. He brought her flush against him and took her face in his hands. “Tatia, stop,” he said. “You told me you were going to stay calm. You promised. Come on. The boy is right here.”
She was shaking.
“You’re going to wait here,” he said, his steadying hand spreading around her gauzy back, holding her close, comforting her. “As you promised me, God help me. Just sit and wait. No matter what happens, we will come back. This is what Sam said. One way or another, I’m going to come back, but you have to wait. Don’t go off. The boy is with you now, and you have to be good. Now swear to me again you’ll be good.”
“I’ll be good,” she whispered. She only hoped her face wasn’t showing him what she was feeling. But then Anthony jumped between them and was in her arms, and she was forced to pretend to calm down.
Before they left, Sam ruffled Anthony’s hair. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll do my best to take care of your dad.”
“Okay,” said Anthony, his arm around his mother’s neck. “And I’ll take care of my mom.”
Tatiana backed away. Alexander nodded. She nodded. They stood for a moment. She saluted him. He saluted her. Anthony’s hands were around his mother. “Mommy, how come you salute Dad first?”
“He’s higher in rank, bud,” she whispered.
Her face must have been so contorted that Alexander’s words failed him. He just said, “Dear God, have a little faith, will you?” But he said it to her turned and squared back. The boy was in her arms.
“When did she become this overwrought?” Sam asked as they drove to the State Department in his sedan. He shook his head. “She used to be so much calmer.”
“Really?”
Sam obviously wanted to talk about her. “Absolutely. You know when she first came to me, she was a stoic. A young petite widowed mother, spoke in a low voice, polite, never talked back, barely knew how to speak English. As time went on and she kept calling, she remained polite and quiet. She would come to DC sometimes, we would have lunch, sit quietly. I mean, she was so placid. I guess the only thing until the end that should have given me a clue was that she called every single month, without fail. But toward the end, when I got word about you in Colditz, she transformed into … into—I don’t even know. A completely different woman.”
“No, no,” said Alexander. “Same woman. The quiet and polite is a ruse. When it’s going her way, she is quiet and polite. Just don’t cross her.”
“It’s true, I’ve seen that! The consul in Berlin has seen that. Did you know the man asked to be reassigned after she dealt with him?”
“The U.S. Consul to Berlin?” said Alexander. “Try the Soviet Communist Party-trained Commandant to the Special Camp at Sachsenhausen. I don’t even want to guess what happened to him after she was done with his little special camp.”
Soon they were driving along the Potomac, heading south. Alexander turned to the window, fanning out his hand over the glass.
On the fourth floor of the State Department on C Street, a block north of Constitution Avenue and the Mall, Sam introduced Alexander to a brand-new, just-out-of-law-school lawyer named Matt Levine, who had the smallest office known to man, smaller than the prison cells Alexander spent so much time in, a six by six cubicle with an imposing wooden desk and three chairs. The three men huddled together so close and uncomfortable that Alexander had to ask Levine to open the small window for an illusion of space.
Even in a suit, Matt Levine looked barely old enough to shave, but there was a certain shortstop look about him that Alexander liked. Also it didn’t hurt that the first thing he said to Alexander was, “Don’t worry. We’ll lick this thing,” even though he spent three subsequent hours reviewing Alexander’s file and telling him that they were completely fucked.
“They’ll ask about your uniform.” Levine appraised him admiringly.
“Let them ask.”
“They’ll ask about your parents. There are some unbelievably damning things about them.”
“Let