excerpt
“I think we should mulch those gourds—or squash—or whatever they are,” Paul told Vera.
“Spoken like a true farmer, but unfortunately you know nothing about squash,” Vera replied. “They need to have air around them while they grow, no dampness, no bugs.”
He smiled at her earnestness. “I’ll learn. I never thought I would enjoy gardening so much.” Paul—who now went by the name of Pavel—and Vera were busy settling in at her father’s farm. She was obliged to continue work at the factory in Toglyatti for now, but she had made application to live on Fyodor Shukshin’s farm on the grounds that her aging father was finding it difficult to cope by himself with the farm work.
“After we finish here, let’s go into the pine forest for a while.” He smiled at her. “Maybe there’s a mushroom or two to pick.” She smiled slyly at him as she remembered their last mushroom hunting adventure. After they had returned to the farm from Ulyanovsk on that memorable day, he had taken her hand in his and asked her formally to marry him. She accepted quickly—perhaps too quickly, but he was so right for her, and she was filled with confidence in their love and their ability to overcome any problems from his living in the Soviet Union.
The farm life was idyllic. Vera greatly preferred the work to labouring in the factory but she hadn’t wanted to live at home with her father. It was good to get away from parents. Ever since her mother had died, her dad had been by turns melancholy and argumentative. His money- making schemes, which he seemed to think up at the rate of about one a week, had snapped him out of his gloom and he was always appreciative…
Libros Libertad 