"I have returned," she announced, walking into the vestibule after stamping her feet outside to shake off the snow that had crusted to her boots. "Father?"
"In my study," he called out, and she went that way, pulling off the many outer garments she wore as she went.
"Are you well?"
"You were only gone a few hours," he said with a smile, looking up at her over his papers. "What could have happened?"
"Forgive me, I seem to have become a busybody," she sighed. "Allow me to hang my things and I will bring your tea. I hurried so that I would be in time."
"I hope it did not discommode your companion."
"Oh no, not at all."
"You left before I awoke, so I did not see who it was."
"Did you not?"
"Tovarichka…"
"Father, have you not learned by now that I need no human companionship? I am never alone."
"Are you trying to say your companion this day was God?"
"Of course. Who else?"
"And you let me think…out, you vixen. Get you to your kitchen and prepare my tea."
"Yes, Father Gavril."
"Tovarichka."
"Yes?"
"I am glad you are home."
He could not miss the sudden surprise, that blush of shock that he had not seen in so very long as it crept red up her slender throat to her fair cheeks, accompanied by a delighted smile.
"Th-thank you, Father," she stammered, then hurried out of the room.
Brow furrowing, he tried to figure out what he had said that had cause such a reaction.
Home.
He had called this her home.
Conflicting emotions tore at him.
The smile had been so sweet, so dazzling it left an after image on the inside of his eyelids, and all at once he had realized how dear he held those abrupt embarrassed flushes of hers.
But he had been a fool, to so carelessly call this her home. As an orphan, she had never had one before, of course such a word would have enormous meaning for her. It would make what he had planned that much more painful for her.
The inevitable selfishness that seemed to be an inherent part of his nature welled up inside him, and despite the ache he knew would be compounded, he was glad he said it.
And he loathed himself for that gladness.
"Ah! Snegurochka, and the Popiy! Come to visit me so soon! I am very glad indeed. Please come in."
"Thank you, starosta," Varya said as they entered his house. It had only been a week since they had last visited, but that week had been enough for Gavril to make the journey under his own power with energy to spare at the end. "Apparently the Father still has business to discuss with you."
"The roads are becoming clear, and I would like to begin services again," Gavril explained as they sat around the table and the inevitable kettle was put on to boil. "But I am unsure about the state of the village, and I would like to become more informed."
"Such talk is likely to be boring for you, Snegurochka. I believe Petrenko mentioned he has made some new kitchen tools. Perhaps you would like to see them," the starosta offered.
"Actually, I believe I shall," she said after pondering a brief moment. "There are a few items I would like. Very well. I will return later."
They said their goodbyes and she cheerfully departed.
"Did you bring them?"
"Yes, and it took some doing to gather them unnoticed," Gavril said, taking a scarf-wrapped parcel out from beneath his cassock. "I realize that earthly wealth means nothing to her, but so few belongings…"
"We were not kind to her," the starosta said sadly, looking at the pathetic little bundle. "It is my singular wish that we do something to make up for it."
"And at the blacksmiths?"
"I have spoken with Petrenko, and while he was surprised, he was delighted at the idea. He is very fond of her, and would be most pleased to make her a part of his family. He told me he would speak to his eldest son about it, but was very encouraging. I do not expect the lad to resist at all."
"Varya Petrenko…" Gavril mused.
"It has rather a nice sound to it, does it not?"
Actually, Gavril thought it sounded atrocious, but he deemed it politic not to say so.
"And you are certain of this man," he asked. "He is a good man, and he will treat her well?"
"He will do his best, as we all do. He is not perfect, but he will never treat her badly. The poor boy has already been besotted with her for some time. It was very wearing for his mother, who has been attempting to find him a suitable match. He snubs the village girls."
"When compared to tovarichka, who wouldn't?" Gavril said absently.
The starosta looked at him in surprise, but only said, "Are you absolutely sure about this, Popiy?"
"No. I am not. I have had nothing but second thoughts. But this is what is best for her. I would not be such a selfish bastard that I would take all from her and leave her only ashes in return."
"Your replacement should be here within a week. Is it all right for you to miss your services?"
"I have missed so many due to illness, I believe God understands."
"As you say. I was surprised that Kyiv agreed so readily."
"They are ever ready to take advantage of any opening," Gavril said, and the scorn was thick in his voice. "They teach it to their clergy well."
"Father Gavril," the starosta said, causing Gavril to jerk his eyes up. "If you are not ready for this…"
"It doesn't matter if I'm ready for it. It must be done, and it must be done quickly. Spring approaches, and the travel between the village and the chapel will be easy going. I would," he smiled bitterly. "I would trap her here for as long as possible. It will make it easier for her to accept the fate we have decided for her."