Anna Fyodorovna struggled to catch her breath as she placed yet another pot under the stubborn stream of rainwater — the roof had long needed repairs.
“What a curse this is…” she muttered, looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to see the heavens through the cracks.
“The rain just won’t stop… Has the Lord’s attic started leaking too?”
She used to manage with a couple of basins, but now she’d brought out every container she had — four buckets, a cooking pot, and an old bowl.
“Just as long as the ceiling doesn’t cave in…” she grumbled, glancing up at the sagging beams.
“Wouldn’t want it to collapse on me and no one find me…”
Crossing herself out of habit to ward off bad thoughts, she flinched as a thunderclap shook the windows in their frames.
“Holy Mother of God!” she whispered, clutching the cross around her neck.
“In all my years, I can’t remember a storm like this…”
Anna Fyodorovna had long gotten used to speaking aloud — most often to her cat, who now lay unbothered atop the stove, his green eyes glowing in the dark.
“Scared, little fluff?” she asked gently.
“Don’t worry. We’ve weathered worse storms.”
She didn’t get to finish the sentence — the door creaked open. A tall man appeared in the doorway, soaked from head to toe.
The old woman stepped back, her heart pounding.
“Don’t be afraid, granny,” he rasped. “I’m not your enemy.”
Before her stood an exhausted stranger with a gaunt, weary face.
“Well, if you come in peace — come in and dry off,” she said, stepping aside.
He entered, barely able to stay on his feet, and collapsed onto a stool, breathing heavily.
“Water… please…”
She scooped some kvass into a ladle and handed it to him.
He drank as if he hadn’t had a drop in days, then closed his eyes.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not a criminal by nature. I had to run — I want to prove my innocence. I’ve been wounded, can’t go any further. May I stay here? Even in the pantry, or the attic…”
Anna Fyodorovna slowly stepped closer, peering into his face.
“If you’re telling the truth — stay. If you’re lying — the Lord sees all. Go on then, there’s a free bed over there.”
He said his name was Nikolai. He hobbled over to the bed and collapsed onto it, half-conscious. Blood poured from a wound in his side.
“Damn…”
He peeled off his clothes and dropped onto the pillow, slipping into unconsciousness.
A minute later, the old woman entered the room with a basin of warm water. She washed the wound, applied a fragrant herbal ointment, and quietly said:
“Sleep. That’s the most important thing right now.”
He awoke to bright sunshine — birds chirping outside.
Remembering where he was, he tried to sit up — a sharp pain shot through his side.
Just then, the hostess appeared.
“Oh, you’re awake! Thank God! Lie back down. That wound is still fresh.”
“I… how long was I asleep? Eight hours?”
“More than a full day, dear! Come, if you’re hungry.”
A fierce hunger hit him. At the table, a bowl of fragrant cabbage soup, sour cream, and a chunk of bread awaited.
He ate greedily while the old woman watched.
“I’m Anna Fyodorovna. What’s your name?”
“Nikolai.”
“Interesting…”
When he’d nearly finished, she handed him a mug of bitter, healing herbal brew.
“Drink. It’ll help.”
He obeyed without hesitation.
“Now, tell me what happened,” she said.
He began:
“I had it all — a job, a house, a family. But my wife… she ran someone over with her lover. They pinned it on me. He had connections — a journalist. I was sentenced that same day. I ran to find the only person who could help me. But I don’t even know how to reach him…”
“If it’s all true,” she said confidently, “the truth will come out.”
“If only I had your faith…”
He told her how he’d ended up alone.
She pulled out an old deck of cards and laid them out. Then she said:
“Leave in three days — I’ll tell you when. You’ll get where you need to go.”
He listened, though he’d never believed in such things before.
She continued:
“You come from far away. Your parents are alive, waiting for their son. You haven’t been home in a long time. Your wife — beautiful, but a traitor. And… she didn’t want your child.”
Shame swept over Nikolai.
It was all true.
“And your friend — he’s looking for you. They already came to him. But he’ll help. He’ll forget the past.”
Nikolai almost collapsed. How did she know about Larisa? About how he betrayed his friend by abandoning his sister?
The old woman gathered the cards.
“I used to read fortunes for the whole district. But I grew tired — it’s hard to see others’ fates.”
Thunder boomed again outside. The cat darted onto the stove.
Anna Fyodorovna swiftly arranged the basins — she knew exactly where it would leak.
As the raindrops pattered and thunder rumbled, their conversation continued.
“There’s hardly anyone left in the village. Used to be someone would help fix a roof. Now, there’s no one left to ask…”
Three days passed. Nikolai had recovered.
At dawn on the fourth day, the old woman woke him:
“It’s time, Kolya. They’re on their way.”
He hugged her tightly.
“Thank you… We’ll see each other again.”
“Go now. Or I’ll start crying.”
She showed him the path to the station.
And stood for a long time, watching where he’d gone.
“What a year…” she sighed.
She had to empty the buckets again. The roof couldn’t take another storm…
But the thunder suddenly stopped.
This year’s summer had gone wild.
Anna Fyodorovna stepped out into the yard — and froze.
A large truck loaded with goods was approaching the house, followed by a black car.
Out stepped—
“Nikolai?!”
She couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Good afternoon, Anna Fyodorovna! Told you we’d meet again!”
“Three months — you call that ‘soon’?”
“Not everything was in my control. I was taken in again — but released quickly. And I didn’t come alone.”
A young woman stepped out of the car.
They ate in the yard — three pots of cabbage soup, potatoes, bread.
Larisa set the table; the old woman laid out her cards.
“So, what do they say?” asked Nikolai.
“All correct. You righted your wrongs. Only… thinking of marrying now?”
“Even today. I’m just afraid she’ll say no.”
“She won’t. Your son needs a father.”
Kolya froze. Larisa, blushing, nodded.
Later, in the car:
“Lar… how do you feel about tying your life to an ex-con?”
“Is that… a proposal?”
“Yeah.”
“Well,” she turned to him, “it’s a strange prospect, I’ll be honest… But yes, Kolya. Of course, yes.”
He jumped out, picked a lily from the flowerbed, and returned.
“Flowers! The ring — tomorrow. And… we’ll visit my parents.”
“Of course we will.”
From the kitchen, Anna Fyodorovna watched and crossed herself:
“Well then, thank God. Everything’s fallen into place.”
