Elizabeth wiped her wet hands and, groaning from the pain in her back, went to answer the door. The bell rang timidly for the third time in a row. She had been washing the window and hadn’t immediately gone to the hallway. Outside stood a very young girl, quite lovely but pale with tired eyes.
– Elizabeth, I heard you might have a room to rent?
– Oh, those neighbors, always sending someone my way! I don’t rent rooms, and I never have.
– But, they said you live in a three-bedroom place.
– So what? Why should I rent? I’m used to living alone.
– Sorry, I just thought, since you’re a church-goer…
The girl turned away, hiding the tears welling in her eyes, and slowly made her way down the steps. Her shoulders shook.
– Wait, young lady! I didn’t actually say no! These young ones are so sensitive these days, a little upset, and they’re in tears. Come in, let’s talk. What’s your name? Can we use first names?
– Marina.
– Like the sea. Was your father a sailor?
– I don’t have a father. I’m from an orphanage. No mother, either. Kind people found me in the hallway and took me to the police. I wasn’t even a month old.
– Well, don’t be upset. Let’s have some tea and talk. Are you hungry?
– No, I had a pasty.
– A pasty, that’s all! Oh, the young don’t take care of themselves, and by thirty, they’ll have stomach ulcers. Here, sit down; the split pea soup is still hot. We’ll warm some tea. I have plenty of jam. My husband passed away five years ago, and I still prepare for two out of habit. We’ll eat, and then you can help me finish washing the window.
– Elizabeth, can I do something else? My head’s spinning, and I’m afraid of falling from the window sill—I’m pregnant.
– Even better! Just what I needed, a pregnant girl. I’m a woman of strict principles. How did it happen?
– Why assume the worst? I’m married. Jim, from my orphanage, but he’s been drafted. He recently came home on leave. And when my landlady found out I was expecting, she kicked me out. Gave me a week to find a place. We lived nearby. But as you see—the circumstances.
– Indeed… Circumstances… What should I do with you? Perhaps I can move my bed into Sam’s room? Fine, take my room, then. And I won’t charge you, don’t even bring it up—I’ll get upset. Go get your things.
– I haven’t far to go. All my and Jim’s belongings are in a bag by the entrance. The week’s up, and I’ve been to several homes today with them.
So there were two. Marina was learning to be a dress designer. Elizabeth had been on disability for many years after a major train accident, so she stayed home, knitting lace doilies, collars, and baby booties to sell at the nearby market. Her goods were imaginative: lace doilies and tablecloths that were like sea foam, delicate and almost ethereal, and thus sold well. Money was never short at home. Some came from selling garden fruits and vegetables. They worked in the garden together on Saturdays. On Sundays, Elizabeth visited the church while Marina stayed home, rereading letters from Jim and writing back. She seldom went to church, saying she wasn’t used to it yet, and complained of a tired back and dizzy spells.
One Saturday, they worked at the allotment. The harvest had been gathered, and they were preparing the soil for winter. Marina tired quickly, and Aunt Liz sent her inside to rest, listen to some old records she and her husband had once bought. So this Saturday, after working with the rake, the mom-to-be lay down. Elizabeth threw dried stalks and branches into a fire and stared pensively at the flames. Suddenly, she heard Marina’s shout: “Mum! Mummy! Come quickly!” Her heart pounding, her aching legs and back forgotten, Elizabeth rushed to the cottage. Marina was shouting, clutching her stomach. Elizabeth quickly convinced a neighbor to drive them to the hospital at the speed his old “Morris” could muster. In pain, Marina moaned continuously, “Mummy, it hurts! But it’s too early, too early! I’m due mid-January. Please pray for me, you know how!” Elizabeth wept, fervently praying through her tears.
Marina was whisked away on a stretcher from the admissions room, while the neighbor drove a tearful Elizabeth home. All night, she prayed to the Virgin Mary for the child’s safety. In the morning, she called the hospital.
– Your daughter is fine. She was asking for you and Jim at first and crying, but then she calmed down and fell asleep. The doctor says the risk of miscarriage is over, but she’ll need to stay with us for a couple of weeks. Her hemoglobin is low. Make sure she eats well and gets plenty of rest.
When Marina was discharged, they talked late into the night. Marina couldn’t stop talking about her Jim.
– He’s not like me, found. He’s a true orphan. We’ve been together in the same orphanage since childhood. Friends at first, then fell in love. He cares for me. It’s more than love, I think. You see how often he writes. Would you like to see his photo? Here he is, second from the right, smiling…
– Handsome… – Elizabeth didn’t want to dishearten Marina. She needed new glasses long ago. Among the many soldiers, the photo was too small. She barely saw a second, third, or fifth. Just outlines… – Marina, I’ve wanted to ask, why did you call me mum in the garden that day?
– It just slipped out in fear. Habits from the orphanage. There, all adults from the director to the janitor were mums and dads. I barely broke it. But sometimes, when I’m nervous, everyone becomes mum to me. Please forgive me.
– I see… – Elizabeth sighed, disappointed.
– Aunt Liz, tell me about you. Why aren’t there any photos of your husband or children around? No children?
– No, no children. We had a son, but he died very young, even before he was a year old. After the accident, I couldn’t have any more children. My husband was like my child. I spoiled him and adored him. Like Jim is to you, he was the only one for me. I removed all the photos after he passed. Though I have faith and know he’s with the Lord, it was too hard being without him. Photos made me cry. So, I hid them away, didn’t want to tempt myself needlessly. He needs my prayers now, not my tears. And you, Marina, should ask Jim to get a bigger photo. We could put it in a frame. I have some frames somewhere.
On Christmas Eve, Elizabeth and Marina prepared for the holiday, decorating the rooms, talking about Baby Jesus, and waiting for the first star. Marina kept shifting restlessly and rubbing her back.
– You seem unwell, dear. You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. What’s troubling you?
– Aunt Liz, call an ambulance. I think I’m in labor.
– Oh gosh, love! But you weren’t due until next week?
– Must’ve got it wrong. Call them, I can’t bear it any longer.
Within half an hour, the ambulance had reached the hospital. And on January 7th, Christmas Day, Marina gave birth to a baby girl. That day, Elizabeth cheered the young father with a telegram.
January was busy. The little one brought joy and worries, too. Marina, with Jim’s agreement, named the baby Lizzy. Elizabeth was moved to tears. But now little Liz gave them a run for their money. Sleepless nights, colic, and other mysterious fussiness kept them busy. These were happy troubles, though. Elizabeth even found relief from her ailments.
…The day was unseasonably warm for winter. Elizabeth took advantage of the nice weather and rushed to the shops. On the way back, she found Marina with the pram near the entrance—young mum decided on a stroll with the baby.
– We’ll walk a bit longer, all right, Aunt Liz?
– Enjoy your walk, I’ll get started on lunch.
Entering the room, Elizabeth glanced at the table and saw her husband’s photo in a frame. She smiled to herself: “She found them, after all. Picked a photo from his youth. Young ones aren’t interested in old men.”
The borscht bubbled deliciously on the stove when Marina brought Lizzy inside. A neighbor’s boy followed with the pram. The two women gently unwrapped the baby, who continued her sweet slumber with button-like nose twitching. On tiptoe, they left for the large room.
– Marina, – Elizabeth smiled, – how’d you know where my husband’s photos were?
– I don’t understand; what do you mean?
– This? – Elizabeth pointed at the photo.
– This? You asked Jim for a larger photo. He went to a studio. And I found the frame on the bookshelf.
Elizabeth took the photo in trembling hands. It dawned on her then—it wasn’t her husband. A young sergeant grinned playfully at the camera. She sank onto the sofa, pale and distant, eyes unfocused. As she turned towards Marina, the young woman stood, sobbing, with ammonia-soaked cotton wool.
– Mum, please look at me! Please, look at me, Mum! – Marina cried out.
– Marina, open the cupboard. There are photos on the top shelf. Bring them here.
Marina handed over several albums and framed pictures. On the top one, Jim?!
– God, who is this? This is Jim? No, it can’t be. These are old pictures. Who is this, Mum?
– That’s my husband, Alex. Marina, where was Jim born?
– I don’t know. He was sent to our orphanage from London. He was taken there after some train crash. They told him, when he got older, that his parents died.
– How could this happen! My sweet boy, my little one, they showed me a body, and I identified it. The shirt was just like yours. But there was no little face. My son, Misha! You’re alive! Your wife and daughter live with me, and I have no idea. Dear Lord, you brought Marina to me. Darling, pass me the photo.
Utterly confused, Marina struggled to grasp the situation. She handed the framed photo over. Elizabeth kissed it, her tears soaking it: “Misha, my sunshine, my child!”
– Jim, – Marina timidly corrected.
– Let him be Jim, but it’s my son, Marina, – my son! Look at his father’s picture—spitting image!
The young mother still wasn’t sure.
– Marina, a birthmark? Is there a star-shaped birthmark above his right elbow? I identified that baby at the accident as mine mainly because of the age and the shirt like Misha’s. They crushed his arm, so I saw no birthmark. Why won’t you answer?! Does he have one?
– He has a birthmark. Star-shaped. Mum, my dear, there’s a birthmark!
The two women clung to each other, crying, oblivious that in the next room, little Lizzy squealed, eager for a feed.
