"To…tovarichka?"
"Father Gavril!" she cried, springing to her feet, the mending she had once again been doing tumbling to the floor. His eyes were open and he was looking at her, truly looking at her, for the first time in what felt like ages, although it had only been a full week since she had arrived back at the chapel. The voice was no more than a croak, and he was still dreadfully weak, but he was truly awake and himself.
"Is it really you?"
"Yes," she said, kneeling beside him. "It is really me."
He began struggling against the bedclothes and quickly she helped him, but it was only to free his arm so he could wonderingly touch her face as she bent over him.
"That God should so bless me twice, to give you to me a second time," he whispered.
At his touch, she had frozen, all the emotions she had sealed away roaring to the forefront in a tempest to match the blizzard shrieking outside the chapel walls.
Swallowing hard, she took his hand in both of hers, and carefully but firmly lowered it back to the bed. Releasing him, she sat back in the chair and took up her mending once more.
"How…"
"I learned you were ill in the village, Father Gavril."
"Which village?"
"Rechka."
"You were there the whole time?"
"Yes, Father Gavril. The starosta was kind enough to take me in until I could get provision to journey to the nearest village."
"I see," he said, turning his face from her and staring at the ceiling. "So once I am well you plan on leaving again."
"There is a chance of that, Father Gavril."
"I see," he repeated. "You are still intent on your original course."
"It is a distinct possibility, Father Gavril."
His teeth gritted as he said, "How soon after I am well will you be going?"
"That depends, Father Gavril."
"On?" he asked, the hand lying on the blankets curling into a fist.
"On whether or not there is a miracle in the village, Father Gavril," she replied unconcernedly.
Now his eyes snapped back to her. "A what?"
"A miracle. Far be it for me to speak for God, but I do believe one would be necessary for those village girls to learn how to take proper care of you. How did you end up in this state, Father Gavril?"
"I…you…"
"Now you should rest," she said, still not looking at him. "You have much work to do, so you must get your strength back as quickly as possible."
"What day is it?"
"The sixth of December."
"The feast!"
"Has passed. No one could come. The weather would not permit it. I performed the Hours as best I could, however."
"But…the nativity…"
"As I said, I am doing it myself as best I can. The forms are being observed."
"It is my place…to have this burden thrust upon you, in addition to caring for me."
"Then it is in both our best self interest for you to get well, is it not?"
"You are very cool for a nurse," he complained.
"I am not a nurse. I am your assistant, Father Gavril."
"Are you? My assistant."
Red crept up her cheeks. "Yes. That is, if you will have me, Father Gavril."
"And what of your…issues?"
"I will give them to God, so they are no longer my issues."
Finally he smiled, a real smile. She thought her heart had stopped.
"Praise be to God in all His glory," he said softly. "I have missed you very much, tovarichka. I never thought I would see you again."
"Hmph," she snorted, and thought she did it rather well. The starosta seemed fond of the form of expression. "That the loss of one assistant would discommode you to such an extent. It is unnerving."
"Yes," he sighed. "You see what a useless creature I truly am. That means you have to stay with me forever. So that I can be properly cared for. No one can do it correctly but you, my tovarichka."
The red no longer crept, it raced, and became a brilliant scarlet. She buried her face in the mending.
"I suppose you are right, Father Gavril," she said, voice muffled by the torn shirt pressed against her face.