Hello,” Katya answered in a trembling voice. She couldn’t stand nighttime calls from unknown numbers — she always sensed something bad in them. Such calls had come only twice in her life: the first time when her mother died, the second when her husband, Nikita, passed away.
“Ekaterina?”
A wave of ice swept through her body. Fragmented thoughts flashed through her mind: “Say it’s a mistake! Wrap the phone in the blanket! This isn’t for you!”
“Yes, I’m listening,” she said, barely holding herself together, though inside she was shaking and her back was covered in cold sweat.
“Ekaterina, sorry, I don’t know your patronymic. We have a patient — Klavdiya Mikhaylovna Vasilyeva — and she asked us to inform you.”
Everything inside Katya broke. It was her mother-in-law — the last person who remained close after all the losses.
“What’s wrong with her? What happened? Where is she? I’m coming right now!”
“Don’t worry so much,” came the voice on the line. “She’s in cardiology. Had a heart attack, now in intensive care. But her condition is stable, it’s been managed. They won’t let you see her yet. Come, but better in a couple of days. Everything will be fine, just don’t get upset.”
The call ended, but Katya couldn’t calm down for a long time. How was this possible? Klavdiya Mikhaylovna was a woman with iron health. She was the one who supported her daughter-in-law after her son’s death, when Katya’s world collapsed beneath her feet. Logically, she should have been the one to fall, not the one to lift others up.
What could have happened? Such a strong, still not old woman — a heart attack? Katya wiped her tears and resolutely got out of bed. She no longer felt like sleeping.
The hospital would explain everything. Maybe Klavdiya Mikhaylovna needed something — tea, water, a shirt change. Katya quickly got ready, though she knew perfectly well that her mother-in-law spent the whole summer at the dacha. There was a cozy house, blooming garden, neat vegetable beds. Katya loved coming there — she could just pick something right off the ground, and it seemed nothing tasted better in the world.
The nurse met Katya with an unfriendly look.
“I didn’t expect you to come. I told you — the patient is in intensive care, no visitors allowed.”
“Can I talk to the doctor? He works there.”
“Doctors talk during the day.”
Katya stubbornly sat down on a chair.
“I won’t leave until I talk. And she probably needs something.”
The nurse shook her head.
“She doesn’t need anything now. Only when she was brought in, she whispered something about tomatoes — like she hadn’t had time to water them, now they’ll all wilt. Sit here, I’ll tell the doctor to come.”
The doctor did come but didn’t add anything new. The nurse relayed everything exactly: no help is needed for at least two or three days. Then you can call the station and get updates. Katya looked at him through tears.
“Don’t worry,” the doctor said gently. “She’s a strong woman. I think she’ll cope. Something just shocked her badly. Sometimes the heart just fails suddenly like that.”
Leaving the hospital, Katya recalled the nurse’s words about the tomatoes. So she had to go to the dacha — check how things were, water the garden, tidy up. She’d take a day off — and go.
She should have thought about it earlier. Why didn’t she? Was it really so hard to come and help? Klavdiya Mikhaylovna was not a stranger to her. They always had warm, almost familial relations. After Nikita’s death, it was her mother-in-law who became her support and close person.
Katya had trusting, warm ties with both Nikita and his mother. They often laughed together, joked, teased each other. Once, when Klavdiya Mikhaylovna had pneumonia, her son dropped everything and stayed in the hospital until the doctors said the danger was over.
The same was with her: if Nikita missed a call even once, she began to worry. But despite the love, she never pressured or imposed — she was caring but cautious.
By morning the city woke up, the usual bustle began. Katya finally packed her bag, took a deep breath, and picked up the phone. Now she had to tell her boss she was taking a couple of days off, then she could go. It was about thirty minutes by car to the dacha settlement.
She had a car — a gift from Nikita, bought several months before his death. Since that event, she had not driven once. The fear still lived somewhere inside.
The dacha greeted her with silence and tranquility. Katya smiled gently at the old house: “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” As always, Klavdiya Mikhaylovna kept exemplary order.
Ekaterina walked around the yard: not a single unnecessary blade of grass, flowerbeds in perfect condition, flowers everywhere. Now she would water the flowerpots — they needed moistening twice a day, and the rest of the beds in the evening, when the sun began to set. That’s exactly how her mother-in-law had taught her when Katya visited.
“Katya, is that you?” called a neighbor from afar. The woman turned — a neighbor who lived next to her mother-in-law’s dacha was approaching.
“Yes, hello,” Katya replied.
“Hello, dear. What’s going on with Klava? I was just in town that day shopping, came back — and she was already taken away.”
“Her heart failed. She’s now in intensive care, but the doctors say her condition is serious but stable. They said maybe something really shocked her.”
“What kind of stress? It’s always so peaceful here.”
“Who called the ambulance?”
“I don’t know, I thought you knew. Everyone’s been going to town these days — pensions are being paid.”
Katya sighed. It seemed impossible to find out the exact reason for what happened now.
She unpacked her things — she planned to stay for a whole week — and went out to water the flowers. When Klavdiya Mikhaylovna recovered, she had to see everything in perfect order.
The house once looked completely different — this was where her mother-in-law was born and raised. Later, she moved to live outside the city, and the house remained with her parents. It was empty for some time until Nikita decided to renovate it. Together with his parents, they completely redid the place, and now it was a small but cozy and modern country house.
Katya took a bucket, remembering that flowers prefer warm water, and decided to refill it after watering by going down to the well.
As soon as she reached for the chain to hook the bucket, a man’s voice sounded nearby:
“Allow me to help?”
Katya startled and almost dropped the bucket. She sharply turned — and the world blurred before her eyes. Standing before her was… Nikita.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Snap out of it! What kind of people faint at once? Maybe call an ambulance?”
Katya opened her eyes. The stranger bent over her, frowning with concern.
“Do I know you? And why do you look so much like Nikita?”
“Like Nikita?” he hesitated slightly. “That’s interesting. Let me help you up.”
Katya stood up, automatically brushing off her pants.
“Who are you anyway? I’ve never seen you before. Is it because of you that Klavdiya Mikhaylovna got sick?”
“Because of me?” the man was surprised. “I didn’t even know that woman. I just wanted to ask a few questions. Now I realize I got to the right place.”
Katya pointed to the house:
“Come in, or the neighbors will notice — they might faint too.”
“Do I really look that much alike?” he followed inside. “Most likely, the one I’m looking for. But why does everyone react so strangely?”
“You… you look very much like my husband. The son of Klavdiya Mikhaylovna. He died two years ago.”
The man froze as if he had been struck.
“Dead? It can’t be! And I thought I’d finally meet…”
Katya silently went into the house, brewed tea, and put the cups on the table. They both sat down.
“If you don’t explain everything properly now, honestly, I’ll go crazy.”
The stranger sighed:
“I only recently learned the whole story. Started digging through old papers. I can tell you what I know. I thought I could figure it out here, but now I doubt it. You definitely can’t ask your mother-in-law anything now.”
“We’ll ask later.”
“I’m twenty-seven, and my mother seriously got sick. Before she died, she confessed that I’m not her biological son. She said twenty-seven years ago she was brought to the maternity hospital with two other women. One was very young, expecting twins. The second was from a village. And my mother. All three had difficult pregnancies and gave birth prematurely. It ended with that woman and my mother giving birth to children, but not very healthy ones. Then the girl who gave birth to twins came to their ward. She was crying, begging them to take her children — she said she couldn’t handle it. The father refused them; there were no relatives. How they arranged everything — unknown. But my mother and that woman went home with the children. The girl had a death certificate for her sons. That’s how it all happened. My mother only remembered the name of the village where that woman lived. There are three such villages in your region. Yours is the third. And here I am.”
Katya went pale:
“So, Klavdiya Mikhaylovna knew about this?”
“She didn’t tell me. I didn’t want to disturb her. Decided to ask the locals first.”
“Now it’s clear… But what to do? She had a heart attack, and how to ask her about this — I have no idea.”
“We’ll wait. If she remembers me — we’ll decide what to do. If not — I’ll leave. I just wanted to find my brother.”
“And your real mother? Don’t you want to find her?”
The man shook his head:
“No. I don’t want to.”
“Too bad. Maybe she had her reasons. She took care to make sure you ended up in a good family.”
Meanwhile, the phone rang again. Katya took the receiver, her heart pounding: “Please, let nothing new have happened!”
“Hello, Katya.”
“Klavdiya Mikhaylovna! How are you feeling?”
“Katya, I shouldn’t talk much, but I persuaded the nurse to give me the phone. Listen carefully — you need to go to the dacha urgently. Nikita’s brother is there. You mustn’t let him leave. No matter what. I’ll explain everything when you can come.”
“Klavdiya Mikhaylovna, we’ve already met. He will wait for you.”
Her mother-in-law immediately calmed down.
“Good. That’s right. I must tell him about his mother… Forgive me, Katya, for keeping silent before. I couldn’t decide.”
“Did Nikita know?”
“No. He always considered us family. And that was true for him.”
Two weeks later, Klavdiya Mikhaylovna was discharged. Misha — Nikita’s brother — met her with Katya. The mother-in-law hugged him tightly, as if he were her own son.
“Let’s go to the cemetery.”
They approached Katya’s husband’s grave.
“I asked for him to be buried here… nearby,” said Klavdiya Mikhaylovna, stepping aside. “And here lies your mother, Misha.”
Misha entered the fenced area.
“I helped as much as I could. Nina fought for seven years… seven years — and that’s it. She was a kind woman, but life was hard for her. Trouble after trouble. Don’t judge her harshly. She just couldn’t do otherwise. All three of you could have died. She came to see me several times when Nikita was still little. She said she even saw you… But your mother asked her not to show up anymore. That’s how she lived her life with this pain. Her guilt just ate her inside.”
They sat long at the cemetery. Klavdiya Mikhaylovna spoke, and Katya and Misha listened without interrupting. In the evening, all together they went to the dacha. The mother-in-law looked at the guests and smiled:
“Mish, you… don’t disappear.”
“How could I!” he replied. “For two days now I’ve been thinking: maybe I should move here completely?”
And a year later, Klavdiya Mikhaylovna called Katya to her home.
“Katya, do you think I don’t see anything? Don’t understand?”
Ekaterina burst into tears:
“Forgive me… Forgive me… I didn’t expect things to turn out this way…”
“What are you apologizing for? Stop it right now!” her mother-in-law said softly but firmly. “I wanted to tell you something else: it’s time for you to stop hiding. Get your paperwork done.”
Katya looked at her in surprise:
“You… you don’t mind?”
“Not at all, dear! I’m all for it! I really want you to stay close to me. Although maybe that’s just my selfish old age wish.”
A year later, she and Misha had a daughter — Verochka.
