– Oh, Anna Alekseevna… A concert at the community center, exactly! You asked to be reminded, – Lenochka sang, glancing at the clock. – You’re right on time!
The secretary knew perfectly well that if Anna Alekseevna had gone to the cemetery, she would completely forget everything else. She called in advance, gave warnings, kept track of everything – just like a caring mother, or even more, since Lena had never had one of her own. Yes, that was just how she was.
They had met at a concert much like today’s, two years ago. Lena, an orphan, was helping the performers. The nimble young girl managed to do everything: lend a supportive word when needed, fix a hairstyle, say warm things to a child. Everyone adored her – the caregivers, the teachers, the children.
And Anna Alekseevna was busy finding ways for orphans’ talents to find a future. There were plenty of talented kids there; it was just that no one really took an interest in them or helped develop them.
After the death of her husband and son, she began with charity work but soon realized that it was inefficient. She decided to act differently. Now she organized concerts, people bought tickets, and the funds raised went to help orphans.
Anna Alekseevna stood up and wiped the monument with her handkerchief.
“Well then, my dears, I must be off. The kids are waiting and hopeful. Don’t be bored—I’ll be back soon.”
A solitary tear rolled down her cheek. Five years… A whole five years without Vasya… Young, full of hope, happy—it seemed everything was so simple. And indeed, it had worked out!
Within three years they had opened their own farm, and by the fourth year everyone was talking about them. They lived in perfect harmony, never quarreling. But then… the doctors said everything was normal, “don’t rush.” They believed in each other, supported one another, smiled. And then—pregnancy, twins. Vasya fidgeted over his wife like a brooding rooster, not letting her take a single step. And then one day, Vasily approached.
“Any, we need to talk.” – Her heart trembled.
“Was it the doctor?”
“He called…”
“What about the babies?”
Vasily sighed.
“Any, one boy is developing normally, but the other… is too active, much bigger. He’s not getting enough room, you understand… One fetus is larger than the other. They’ll be boys when they’re born. The doctor asked you to prepare yourself… most likely, there will be just one child.”
For several days she cried. Vasya looked gloomy, but what could he do? It was probably even harder for him. The labor started prematurely, and she was rushed to the hospital by ambulance. After that—a true nightmare. Any felt that something was wrong, but she didn’t even have the strength to ask. Then—darkness…
She woke up, shattered, as if from a terrible dream, and one question spun in her head: “Well, how is it?”
“Any, we have a son! It’s a miracle!” she heard.
One son… Her eyes closed, and tears streamed down like a waterfall. Her heart clenched, but when they brought little Kirusha… everything was forgotten. The spitting image of Vasily! Since birth—one and the same face. The boy grew into a lovely child, wise beyond his years.
One time Vasya was leaving for work, having forgotten something. Little Kirusha—although only four years old—was following him stubbornly. Vasya smiled: “Alright, let’s go, but quick.”
Any was making her favorite casserole—a dish that men simply adored. It was a blink of an eye before Vasya should be at work; there was no need to rush out even on a busy road. The casserole was ready, yet they were nowhere to be seen. Any stepped outside. They might have gotten distracted by a snail or a butterfly… and stared at them. She knew them so well. In the yard—no one. Outside the gate—also nothing.
At the intersection… a crowd, flashing lights, cars. Any took one step, then another, and ran. A blue car… just like Vasya’s. It wouldn’t let her pass, yet she pushed on, screaming, scratching, biting… Two uniformed men held her tightly. Darkness…
“Anna Alekseevna! Anna Alekseevna!” – the children shouted, running toward her.
She stopped and smiled.
“How beautiful you are today! Ready? Didn’t forget your lines?”
The children clustered around her, boasting all at once.
“Well done, clever ones! I’m so proud of you! Let’s show what you can do!”
The young caregiver hurried over to them.
“What’s all this! You can’t take your eyes off for even a second! Anna Alekseevna, you really should rest, take off your coat…”
“Nelya Sergeyevna, don’t scold—everything’s fine! The sponsors are already here!”
Nelya Sergeyevna pressed her palms to her cheeks.
“Oh, you can’t imagine how many people have come! And they all look so important!”
“That’s great, simply wonderful. Andrey Ivanovich, is he here?”
“Yes, already in the hall; he’s been inquiring about you.”
Any smiled. Andrey was a new man in her life, yet he had already become an assistant and a friend. He promoted the charity concert, helped sell tickets. Any hoped that the funds raised would be enough—serious people had come. And the orphanage badly needed a music studio.
She entered the hall, and there wasn’t a single free seat; only one remained in the first row, right next to Andrey. At that moment, the audience began to applaud—children from other regions were coming onto the stage. The concert began on a positive note: little Vanya performed a playful little song. He was already an experienced performer, and the audience greeted him like an old friend. Then the host appeared.
“Now you will hear the amazing voice of a boy from another city. He has had a difficult life, perhaps that’s why his sad songs come out so beautifully.”
Andrey quietly addressed Any.
“Anna Alekseevna, may I invite you to a restaurant after the concert?”
Any looked at him sternly.
“Andrey, there you go again with your own ideas!”
“Of course, mine! Why would such a beautiful woman live as if in a monastery?”
Any hissed at him and turned toward the stage.
And then, as if struck by lightning… so strongly that her vision darkened. On stage, holding the microphone, stood her Kirill! Of course, over five years he had grown, but she would have recognized him among a thousand. “Son!” her cry burst forth, startling the boy, though Any did not notice.
She woke up backstage, feeling shattered, as if after a terrible dream. Nearby were a doctor, the pale Andrey, and someone else she recognized.
“Any, what happened?”
She abruptly sat down, her head spinning. The doctor tried to steady her by the hand, but Anna Alekseevna pushed him away.
“Where is he?”
“Any, who?”
“My son!”
Andrey and the others exchanged glances. Any clutched her head. Do they think I’ve lost my mind?
“Your purse!”
Someone handed it to her; she took out her wallet and pulled out a photograph. It was an exact portrait of the boy on stage, just a little older.
A few minutes later, Anna Alekseevna headed toward the makeup room where the children were gathering before their performances. The boy had already finished singing and was supposed to be there. And his caregiver too. She saw him—his eyes were just like Kirusha’s, only frightened. “Are you Kirill?” she whispered.
But no, it wasn’t him. Anyone else might not have noticed the difference—a freckle in a slightly different place, a different-shaped nose… and Kirusha had a barely visible scar from a fall off the swings. She scanned for the caregiver’s gaze—she knew all the locals, but one woman was unfamiliar to her.
“Excuse me, may I come out for a talk? Perhaps, in a café?”
“Of course, girls, I’ll be just a minute; please keep an eye on Kostya.” The caregivers nodded, and they went out.
“I assume you want to know about Kostya?”
“Correct.”
“I’ve only been working here for three years. Kostya was brought in from a children’s hospital, where he spent almost a year and underwent three surgeries… a terrible story. When he was born, the doctors said he only had a few hours to live. They transferred him to intensive care, even though there was little hope. His heart barely worked. But then there was one doctor, a compassionate soul. Together with his colleagues, they decided to fight for his life. At that time, a famous professor, a specialist in children’s hearts, was in the hospital. Why he offered to operate on Kostya for free—no one knows. The operation cost a fortune,” the caregiver recounted. “The professor took the boy abroad, where he was operated on. When Kostya was almost a year old, he was returned. As for his parents… most likely, they abandoned him when they learned of his illness. Or perhaps something else happened…”
“I’d like to know more,” Any said thoughtfully.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing, just thinking aloud. Please, write down the address of the orphanage.”
She was also interested in something else, and she asked the caregiver to bring it.
“Please, don’t tell anyone anything yet. When I figure everything out myself, I’ll explain it all. Tomorrow I’ll come to see your talents.”
Andrey listened and asked:
“So you’ll be going there after all?”
Any looked at him in surprise.
“How did you know?”
“It’d be strange if you did otherwise.”
She smiled.
“I’m holding on with the last of my strength. I’ll try to find out everything as quickly as possible.”
Every day, she saw Kostya. The boy had stopped being afraid and had begun to smile. But Any’s heart skipped a beat every time she looked at him. She couldn’t be wrong, simply couldn’t. Yet the questions multiplied, and there were no answers. Vasya was not there to ask if he had seen a second boy, as they buried him. Ten days later, Andrey arrived. Any was on the verge of collapse. Whispers filled the entire orphanage.
“You know, Any, I’ve never heard of anything like this,” said Andrey. “Kostya—your son? The doctor who handled the delivery claimed that the baby was born dead. And when it turned out he was alive, no one acknowledged the mistake; they left it as it was. Didn’t you sign the discharge papers? Now the prosecutor’s office is looking into it, so don’t worry and don’t get involved.”
“Kostik, he really is your mother!” Suddenly a little boy, who must have been eavesdropping, burst out from behind a door. He ran down the corridor, shouting through the whole orphanage. The children spilled out of the rooms, and at the end of the corridor stood Kostya, looking at Any. She froze, unable to move, her whole body aching. At last she took a step, then ran. They met in the middle of the corridor. Any collapsed to her knees, embraced her son, and burst into tears.
She took Kostya immediately, and despite the director’s weak objections, she replied:
“Are you serious? They took my son away—I didn’t even know about him! And now, by some of your laws, you can’t give him back to me? This is absurd!”
Andrey was driving, glancing in the rearview mirror—at her, at the sleeping Kostya.
“Where to? To the cemetery?”
It seemed that Andrey was not surprised at all. He understood her. They stopped by a beautiful monument, and Any quietly said:
“Here lie your father and brother. You were twins… They died five years ago.”
Any stepped out beyond the fence, while Andrey lingered. She looked at him in surprise.
“I didn’t know you before,” he said, gazing at the monument, “but I’m sure you were a good person. Without Any, I wouldn’t have managed. Allow me… allow me to make her happy. Maybe not in the same way as you, but I’ll try.”
Any smiled slightly. Now she felt at peace. Andrey was her man. Of course, she would never be as happy as before. But she would become a joyful mother and a beloved wife.
