Granny Anya drank some sour milk, said her prayers, and got ready for bed. Her knees ached worse than usual today. The alcohol rub didn’t help, and she’d run out of ointment.
Ah, look what she’d come to. Her eyes barely saw, her back was twisted with pain, her knees throbbed. And when would God finally take her to Himself…
Her husband Vanya was there, her son Styopa, her parents… and she was left here alone, wasting away—sad and terribly lonely. No joy in life. An old dog in the kennel and Vasya the cat—that was her whole family…
Suddenly she heard the door creak. Again she’d forgotten to lock up for the night. Heavy footsteps sounded.
“Hand over the money, old woman!” someone shouted loudly. A man stepped into the room; his face was hard to make out.
“My boy, don’t shout like that. I’m not deaf. Not yet. Money, you say? There should be something left from my pension in the wallet—look there in the wardrobe, on the top shelf.”
The man stood like a post. Silent.
“Well, what are you standing for? Take the money if you came for it. Must be you’re really desperate, you wretch. Looks like you need it more than I do. I don’t need much—there’s bread, there’s groats, I’ll get by somehow… Are you hungry? Will you have some supper? I’ve got pink tomatoes—tasty ones, the neighbor treated me. I’d slice some salted pork, but I don’t have any. I don’t eat it—my blood pressure jumps.”
The man took the wallet, opened it, then put it back without taking anything.
“Granny… I won’t take your money. But I wouldn’t say no to something to eat…”
“What’s your name, at least? Let’s have a chat, since you’ve come in. Hardly anyone ever drops by—only my neighbor Klava and the postman. I’m bored and sad. Things really that bad for you, son?”
“Bad, gran… I just got out of prison. Nowhere to live, no parents. My ex-wife lives happily in the city—she doesn’t need me, and neither does my daughter. My name’s Viktor…”
Granny Anya got up from the bed and went to the fridge. She took out tomatoes, a piece of cheese, sliced bread, and poured sour milk.
“Here, Vitya—help yourself. Everything’s fresh. You say your child doesn’t need you? Well, you must’ve done some foolish things before—she’s hurt, that’s why. What did you do time for?”
“For a fight. I was drunk and I really messed up… My wife left me right away, remarried. Never even came once to visit… She sold our house—it was in her name. I’m homeless now. That’s what I’ve come to—going to rob old ladies…”
Viktor covered his face with his hands and began to cry.
“Cry, dear— it’ll be easier. When my son Styopa died, I cried for so long. Then he started coming to me in dreams, saying, ‘Mother, you’ve soaked me with your tears—stop, it’s damp here.’ And I stopped. What’s the use of crying now? My only hope is that I’ll see my loved ones soon, but God hasn’t arranged to take me yet. So I live as I can. I wait for my hour.
“I don’t need anything— the fence is crooked, the trees have grown wild, the garden’s all weeds, and I don’t even care. Who would I do it for? My name’s Anna, by the way. Granny Anya.”
Viktor wiped his face with his sleeve, sat at the table, and started eating the tomatoes greedily, salting them and biting into them, washing them down with sour milk.
“And if you want, stay the night here. There’s a spare cot. I feel you’re not a bad man—just a wounded soul. You need to settle in one place, find work. Work heals, you know. Life will get a meaning—you have to be useful to people. And don’t do evil, dear—you’ll have to answer for everything later…”
“Thank you, Granny Anya. My grandmother, by the way, was also named Anya. She was kind—baked delicious fish pies. And Easter cakes for Pascha.”
“I used to bake too. Now only memories are left. Life was hard, but we were happy. My old man was a good person, kind… and Styopa was the same. He limped—since childhood—but he never hurt anyone in his life. And he died saving a little girl. A truck was rushing at her—he saw it, threw her to the side, and he himself…”
“Wait—was he, by any chance, at the Vostochny state farm about thirty-five years ago? It’s not far from here.”
“He was, of course. His aunt lived there—he went there for the holidays.”
“Then he saved me, it turns out. I couldn’t swim well—I went into the river and couldn’t get back. I started choking, and some boy jumped in from the bank and pulled me out onto the shore. I remember his name was Stepan, and he limped on one leg.”
“That’s what I’m saying—Styopushka had a kind soul… It’s a pity he left so early—no family, no children… He lived a short life, but a worthy one.”
“You had a wonderful son! What a small world. My feet brought me to you—yes, with bad intentions, but clearly not for nothing. You know what? I’m in your debt. My debt is to help you. In memory of Stepan. I’ll fix the fence and cut back the trees. Don’t be afraid of me. I won’t do you any harm.”
“Stay with me, Vitya. God’s will in everything… Just promise you’ll never harm anyone again. You’ll live honestly and decently.”
“I promise, Granny Anya…”
Viktor came up to her and took her dry, wrinkled hand. She stroked his cheek.
“Unshaven… Just like my old man. He didn’t like shaving either. Tomorrow go buy yourself a razor, and a shirt and trousers. I’ll give you money. And look for work. We need men’s hands in the settlement.”
And so they began to live together. Viktor got a job as a general laborer, bought groceries, cooked. He cleaned himself up and looked quite decent—tall, broad-shouldered, with strong, sinewy hands. He fixed the fence, put the garden and vegetable patch in order.
“Granny Anya, let’s plant potatoes so we’ll have our own, and tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbage—everything will be ours! And I also want to add on a toilet and a bath—once I save up some money.”
“Thank you, dear. You should find yourself a woman too… Take a look at the saleswoman in the grocery store. A good woman—Vera. Lonely and respectable.”
“I know her. She’s nice. I like her, and I think she likes me too…”
“That’s wonderful, Vitya. Life’s getting better, look at that. You’ve blossomed, and I’m not lonely anymore. The neighbors whisper, saying I took in an ex-con. Let them talk. None of their business… Thank you, son, for everything…”
A few months later Viktor married Vera and brought her to live with Granny Anya—she insisted.
“The house will be full of life at least. I was wasting away here alone, and now it’s like I have a son and a daughter…”
They did repairs, and Granny Anya couldn’t be happier. They treated her with respect and honor.
“I live like a queen… They bought me new headscarves, little robes, medicine… I don’t have to cook or clean, every day is cheerful with you, and I even started watching TV series. You know, I’ve even stopped wanting to die. And soon Verочка will give birth—then it’ll be balm for my soul. I’ll rock the baby…”
Vera gave birth to a boy. Viktor decided to name him Stepan, in honor of Granny Anya’s son; his wife didn’t mind.
“Oh, my dears, you’ve moved me to tears. Styopa is the spitting image of his daddy—such a sturdy little fellow. God grant health to him and to you, my dear ones… Viktor, I made out my will in your name—there’s no one else…”
And truly, they became like family to her. She received so much warmth and care in the time she lived with them.
Granny Anya died quietly at night, in her sleep. Neighbors and acquaintances came to the funeral.
“Viktor, Vera, thank you for brightening her loneliness. Granny Anya’s eyes started shining with joy—before that they were dull—and she smiled lately. You could see she was happy,” the neighbor Klavdia thanked the couple through tears.
Viktor was grateful to Granny Anya all his life. She saved him in a hard moment, set him on the right path. And he believed his feet had not brought him to her house for nothing. Stepan—no other way—had decided to help from the other side: his mother, and Viktor too…
