Vera drove slowly along the highway. Her old foreign-made car hummed steadily, leaving the city noise and traffic jams behind. Little by little, the road carried her toward the forest.
After a few more miles, she pulled over. Leaning against the steering wheel, she closed her eyes. She felt sick again — the ache in her body grew stronger, and a crushing wave of weakness washed over her once more. All she wanted was to lie down… and never wake up again. But she clung to the promise she had made to herself: while she still had the strength, she had to go to the village and see her father one last time.
She had been given two peaceful years after the illness retreated — and now it was back. Why? For what reason? The questions circled in her mind, but no answers came. The symptoms were the same, the sensations painfully familiar. Only one thing was different — the constant, almost unbearable hunger.
Vera had no intention of telling her father that the illness had returned. She only wanted to be near him for a little while, without worrying him, without frightening him.
This year’s August heat had scorched the grass, turning green fields into yellow patches. But here, beneath the trees, even in the evening, the air still held a trace of coolness. Vera cracked the window open and took a deep breath of the heavy pine-scented air. It eased her, if only a little.
Half an hour later, she arrived at a small wooden house with a dark roof. She had not been here in more than three years. When she was sick, her father had come to visit her himself. And then…
How quickly we forget the hard times and start living only for ourselves, she thought, exhaling as she stepped out of the car.
“Well, I was wondering who had come,” came a familiar voice. Viktor Ivanovich stood at the gate, clearly delighted.
“Hi, Dad. I suddenly had such a craving for strawberries… In the city they only sell imported ones now,” Vera improvised quickly.
“I’m almost out of them too, but we’ll find something,” he said, hugging her tightly and holding on for a long moment.
She had almost no strength left — after dinner, she went straight to bed.
She woke early. When she checked her phone, it was five in the morning. She turned to the other side, but sleep would not come back.
“Did I wake you?” her father’s voice drifted in from the kitchen.
“No, Dad. Why are you up?”
“The cat was tearing around the house, chasing moths.”
Vera slipped on a robe and went out to him.
“Want some tea?”
She nodded silently.
What she really wanted was coffee, but her father never drank it and never kept any, even for guests. Vera tucked her legs up on the chair, wrapped herself in a blanket, and watched him pour the tea.
And suddenly it felt as though she had fallen straight into the past. Everything was so familiar: the smells, the sounds. As if she were a little girl again, sitting at this very same table. If not for the gray in her father’s beard, she might have thought nothing had changed at all. At any moment, her mother would walk in carrying milk…
The image became so vivid that Vera instinctively turned her head. Her father understood without her saying a word.
“Sometimes I think she’s about to come in too… especially in the mornings. During the day there’s work and chores, in the evenings there’s television, but mornings… mornings are hard.”
“At least she didn’t have to see me fighting this illness,” Vera blurted out. She immediately caught herself. “Sorry.”
“How are you now?” he asked right away.
And Vera regretted bringing it up at all.
“I’m fine, Dad. It’s nothing.”
He nodded.
“There. You moved off to the city, and that’s when you got sick. If you’d stayed with us, drinking tea here, none of this would’ve happened.”
“If I’d never left, you wouldn’t have any grandkids.”
“Oh, the grandkids…” he sighed. “When was the last time I saw them here? I’m always the one driving to visit, just to watch them grow.”
“They’re studying, Dad. Right now it’s important for them to get a profession.”
“That’s true… At least they’re not those… what do they call them… bluhers?”
“Bloggers, Dad.”
He waved it off.
“What difference does it make? All right, I’m going to lie down a bit more. It’ll be hot today.”
Vera finished her tea and went back to her room. She didn’t wake again until around half past ten. When she stepped outside, her father was sitting beneath the apple tree in the garden, fixing something.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. At home I never can, but here… it’s good.”
“Are you leaving tomorrow, or staying a little longer?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow. I just wanted to rest a bit… Come on, what can I help with?”
“Nothing needs doing. Rest. I’ll boil some young potatoes for lunch. Want some?”
“Of course.”
He started to get up, but she stopped him.
“Stay where you are. I’ll take care of things myself. I’ll pick the strawberries and dig up the potatoes.”
She took a large bowl and went out into the garden.
There were only a few berries left, but here and there, among the leaves, red fruit still hid in the shadows. Vera moved between the bushes, picking strawberries and pulling weeds. Then she glanced into the greenhouse and made her way to the potato rows.
The sun was already high. She should have tied a scarf over her head, but she had forgotten. She picked up a pitchfork and started digging. The soil was dry and hot.
Near the top, there were only tiny potatoes, almost nothing. Deeper down, the crop was better — the potatoes were larger, firm and full.
Vera straightened up — and suddenly everything swayed. Darkness flooded her vision, and her head began to spin…
When she came to, she was already back inside, lying on the kitchen sofa. Her father was sitting beside her with his back turned, and across from them sat their neighbor, old Maria, a retired medic.
The moment Vera opened her eyes, Maria sent her father off for cold water.
“Now listen, Vera. You’re a grown woman, you have children of your own… but let me tell you something.”
“Auntie Maria… I don’t have long left.”
“I see. Two months, maybe? Maybe more?”
“I don’t know…”
“Well, then you should go see a doctor and get registered for care. And be more careful about not frightening your father.”
“What’s the point… I can’t go through it all again. Those treatments… two years have passed, and I still feel awful when I think about them. Just please don’t tell Dad — his blood pressure is bad.”
Maria frowned.
“I don’t understand you at all. What treatments are you talking about? If you ask me, you’re expecting a baby.”
“Me?” Vera tried to push herself up.
“Well, not me,” the old woman said with a dry smile.
“I’m forty-five…”
“So what? Women don’t give birth at forty-five? Of course they do. Even after treatment. I’ve seen dozens like you. We women sometimes refuse to believe in our own счастье, and then it comes when we least expect it. Looks like this is your reward for everything you’ve endured.”
Vera sat there, blinking rapidly, unable to believe what she had just heard.
At that moment, her father returned with a bucket of water. He handed her a glass and sat down beside her.
“Drink slowly. And don’t go out in the sun without covering your head. And go see a doctor for sure,” Maria added as she headed for the door.
Her father walked her out, then came back and sat beside his daughter.
“Vera… how can this be?”
“I don’t understand it myself… No one at home knows. I thought the illness had returned… I came here to say goodbye… and it turned out to be this instead.”
Viktor Ivanovich’s lips trembled. He quickly brushed away a tear and pulled her into his arms.
“Now we really won’t be seeing much of you again… diapers, baby shirts…”
“You come visit us. We’ll be waiting for you. The main thing is that the baby is healthy… You know, I think it’s going to be a girl. With the boys I was running around like a madwoman, but this time…”
“Well, that’s good. A granddaughter it is.”
At first, her husband didn’t believe her — he thought she was joking. But there was no joking once Vera showed him the ultrasound.
The little girl was born early. Everyone worried whether her mother’s illness might affect her, but thankfully, everything turned out well.
Life had chosen its own path…
