Two Suns

«Of course!» Olga exhaled with relief, «You'll be able to prepare for the exams in peace.»

«It's settled. I'll take you there this weekend.»

Everything worked out wonderfully: the next weekend coincided with Easter, granting workers three days of rest. Just like two years ago, they found themselves at Bryansk station, but this time they were only a short distance away from a small station near Kaluga. The Golovachev household immediately felt like home. The surroundings were filled with beauty, and beyond the pine forest lay a gem of the area – the former Tikhonova Pustyn monastery, which lent its name to the station. Although approaching it was not recommended due to the presence of a military unit, the distant view of the still-preserved church domes was a sight to behold.

Strolls in the picturesque countryside had a calming effect on Olga, and she especially enjoyed the small pond, where she lingered by the shore, inhaling the refreshing pine-scented air, reminiscent of her tranquil childhood days at Solonytsya pond.

On his departure, Leonid promised to return in a couple of weeks, on May Day. However, to his wife's joy, he surprised her by arriving on the evening of April 29th. Olga appeared well, rejuvenated, and most importantly, completely serene, even with the approaching important day.

«Natalya, Maria, you are truly magicians!» he exclaimed, laying out the treats he had brought. «Now, I am absolutely certain: we will have a healthy son!»

«We shall see,» Olga and Maria exchanged conspiratorial glances. According to various women's omens, it seemed a girl was expected, and Natalya was convinced of it.

During the night, the contractions began. On May 1, a perfectly healthy baby was born. However, Leonids expectation of a son was not met. It was a daughter – the Mirachevsky's first-born child. Yet, the young father's joy knew no bounds, and he jokingly remarked, «Look how much she enjoyed the November demonstration! She decided to participate in May Day too!»

Olga and Irina, the name chosen by the parents for their daughter, continued to reside in Tikhaya Pustyn for another three months while the head of the family underwent his exams and embarked on a surveying internship. Nevertheless, whenever he had some free time, he unfailingly appeared at the Golovachev residence.

«My Konstantin has a soft spot for his girls,» exclaimed Maria's mother-in-law, «but when it comes to Irina, he simply can't stay away. Oh, how fortunate you are, Olga!»

Indeed, one could hardly imagine a more devoted and caring father.

With almost a full year remaining before graduation, the future looked promising for the young family.

Part II

The Great Turning Point

Chapter 1: Toward Destiny

Mark was not the only one turning the page of his life. The country itself was on the cusp of a new era, where words like «industrialization,» «plan,» and «five-year plan» had become part of everyday parlance. These words now defined the life of the Soviet people, and the nation was abuzz with unprecedented enthusiasm for building, developing, producing, and mining…

However, not everyone rejoiced at the successes of socialist construction, as reported in the newspapers. Detractors and enemies lurked in the shadows, threatened by the onward march of «Our locomotive, fly forward! At the commune is a station…» – the cheerful lyrics of songs broadcasted from every loudspeaker. The state dealt mercilessly with these real enemies, determined to safeguard its vision.

In essence, the Great Turning Point had arrived, reshaping families and destinies, while also paving the way for monumental achievements, albeit at the cost of colossal losses. Yet, at that time, thoughts of these sacrifices were overshadowed by the younger generation's boundless enthusiasm. The youth, untainted by the «cursed tsarist past,» wholeheartedly embraced the opportunity to construct their radiant future. The grand scale of communist ideals and transformative plans mesmerized them with courage and possibilities…

Now, the future of Mark Maretsky rested squarely on his shoulders and the favor of the admissions committee of the military school. In Leningrad, he paid a visit to Grigory Bersov, his mother's brother, who lived on Shpalernaya Street, now renamed Bolshevik Voinov Street, which brought some unintentional reassurance. «A good sign!» Mark thought. «The path to a military career is within reach!»

Shpalernaya Street turned out to be splendid, devoid of any overt military presence. Instead, it boasted impressive houses and even palaces, like the Tauride Palace where the Duma met, along with a prison colloquially known as Shpalerka. Nonetheless, Grigory warmly welcomed his nephew and explained that barracks from Tsarist times still stood, housing the Manege of the Cavalry Regiment and the officers' barracks of the Life Guards Horse Artillery. «First, I should explore the city,» Mark decided the next day as he walked toward the Neva River from Shpalernaya Street (the «revolutionary» names had yet to take hold, and streetcar conductors announced stops in both old and new ways). His destination was the Petrograd side.

Upon reaching the Equality Bridge (aka Troitskiy), Mark paused. This was where the legendary pilot, V. Chkalov, was rumored to have executed his first daring aerial feat, passing between the supports directly over the water. As he envisioned the spectacle, Mark's thoughts drifted back to his first year in Moscow…

* * *

Balancing work at the factory during the day and attending school in the evening, Mark found himself inundated with an abundance of impressions and worries. Childhood fantasies were now a distant memory, as the bustling capital demanded action from those who dared to dream. In various corners of the city, Mark encountered posters from the Dobrolyot society, urging workers to contribute to the construction of an air fleet, along with vibrant agitations from Osoaviakhim. And then, a spectacle that would forever stir his soul – the air parade commemorating the tenth anniversary of the revolution, where the remarkable Valery Chkalov showcased his awe-inspiring skills at Khodynka Field, Central Aerodrome. Though Mark couldn't attend the event in person, he marveled at the aerial acrobatics from a spot amidst the crowd of enthusiastic onlookers.

From that day forth, Mark's dreams began to rekindle, and he applied himself diligently to his studies, meticulously tackling additional assignments. The only aspect he lacked was physical training, but soon, an Osoaviakhim club opened at the factory, and joining was a breeze. Furthermore, he discovered that he could submit an application for admission to the military school directly through the local Osoaviakhim organization, which also facilitated a preliminary medical examination.

* * *

Mark had little concern about his health, as he inherited his father's robust constitution. However, an elderly surgeon during his medical examination, upon observing Mark's posture, hesitated before delivering a verdict and posed an unexpected question:

«Young man, did you sustain any childhood injuries?»

Mark found himself flustered – who hadn't experienced childhood mishaps?

The surgeon continued, «You have a minor spinal deformity. You may get another X-ray, but I doubt it will reveal anything different from what I can see now. I regret to inform you that the flight deck is off-limits for you.»

The revelation was perplexing. «A deformity? How? From where?» Mark was at a loss.

«I am healthy, fit, and strong – 'gesund und stark' (unhealthy), an old phrase from his memory resurfaced.

„Do not worry, your overall health is excellent; the deformity is minor. If aviation means so much to you, consider applying to a technical school. There, you might still find opportunities aligned with your passion.“

Life wasn't over, but the news left Mark wandering down the street with a gloomy air. „If only Sacha were here now,“ he thought, longing for his friend's support. „Hey, falcon! Don't fold your wings prematurely!“ – he could almost hear Sacha's voice. He shook his head vigorously to dispel the haunting illusion.

How could this happen? He felt perfectly healthy. Then, his father's words came to mind:

„I've told you a hundred times, and I showed you how to lift properly! Remember how your back hurt when we were fixing the workshops in Maryina Roshcha District?“

Once again, his father was right. Mark had never paid much attention to the occasional backache.

„Perhaps, you could study somewhere in Moscow?“ Anna, his sister, suggested with sympathy and hope.

„What a sister I have! And you call that support…“ Mark chuckled at her innocence.

The initial shock subsided, and he began to reason calmly: „I love machines, right? Absolutely. Working with tools? Definitely! Am I well-versed in physics? I outshine everyone in my class. Did I attend Polytechnic for nothing?“

At the grand Moscow museum of knowledge, the exhibits captivated and enticed him, but the most alluring was the radio engineering exhibition. Whenever possible, Mark eagerly attended the lectures on the subject.

As for his spine, there might be a chance for treatment. I shouldn't let the first setback shatter my dreams. No, the Maretskys were not ones to give up so easily.

„Well, Anna, fixing an airplane is quite different from fixing your sewing machine, isn't it?“

„That's the spirit, good for you,“ Yakov praised, „there's no reason to give up when destiny beckons.“

With a newfound determination, Mark set his sights on the Leningrad Military-Technical School of the Red Army Air Force, in the former capital – the very birthplace of the revolution.

* * *

Filled with nervous anticipation, he was nevertheless certain that he would pass the exams; there was no doubt about it.

The Military-Technical School was housed in the historical edifices of the Second Cadet Corps, located on Krasny Kursant (Bolshaya Spasskaya) Street. Across from it stood the Infantry courses, occupying the premises once home to the topographic school. Farther away, the former barracks of the Nobility Regiment now served as the Military Theoretical School of the Red Air Force.

During those times, the nation demanded skilled military personnel. The rapid rearmament of the army during the initial five-year plan necessitated the mastery of new equipment. Standing once more on Troitskiy Bridge, Mark felt as though this was his calling.

„Am I trying to convince myself?“ he pondered, forcing a sad grin. However, he answered with confidence, „What need is there to convince oneself? It's already decided. Everything is right!“

The exams were aced, and he proudly became a „red cadet.“ The former Cadet Corps barracks in Leningrad became his home for the next few years.

* * *

Leningrad presented itself to Mark in various ways: its orderly layout and grandiose buildings exuded a haughty and serious grandeur, an allure that captivated the young man. The people of Leningrad also appeared friendly, albeit reserved (though he would later learn that the city was home to diverse personalities). Nonetheless, there was an underlying sense of coldness in the air, perhaps driven by the brisk Baltic wind. That was the impression Mark had of the city.

On the other hand, Moscow, with its bustling streets and joyful commotion, resonated much more with Maretsky's southern temperament. Still, during his leaves of absence, he immersed himself in museums and streets, absorbing the rich cultural atmosphere of the great city.

As the warmth of the season arrived, he could venture out to the beach, preferably outside the city, where the Gulf of Finland offered serene sandy shores.

At the urging of his friend Valeriy a fellow Leningradian, Mark was drawn to Sestroretsk, a once bourgeois and now proletarian resort. Valeriy convinced him that no other beach near Leningrad could rival the beauty of this place. Valeriy proved to be right, as they arrived at the station, greeted by a splendid station building with a covered gallery leading to the recreation area itself. Walking a little further, they felt as if they had stepped into a fairy tale. For Mark, who grew up near the sea, this was a sight of unparalleled beauty – a pine forest gently met the long coastal strip of sand, creating a magical scene!

„Oh wow…“ he couldn't help but marvel, „Sorry, Arabat Arrow, but you're not holding the advantage right now.“

„I told you! You have never seen a sea or sand like this.“ Valera teased.

After exploring the park and its various attractions, the cadets settled on the beach. There, an unexpected encounter awaited Mark – a young man accompanied by an elegant dark-haired beauty. Valeriy was quick to notice them, but Mark's gaze was fixated on the horizon.

„Look at her, she's like a goddess! Aphrodite!“ Valeriy exclaimed.

„Yes, yes, I remember. Your grandfather was a historian, so myths were your fairy tales. That's why you see goddesses everywhere!“ Mark replied, glancing around and noticing many pretty girls nearby.

„Not like that! Stop staring! Don't even think about it!“ Valeriy was suddenly afraid of the competition.

But it was too late. Both of them were mesmerized by the enchanting girl. Two pairs of eyes were now fixated on her. However, the „goddess“ paid no heed to their gazes and seemed indifferent to their admiration.

Undeterred, the young men decided to swim and dive, impressing other vacationers who applauded their antics. Yet, they made no impression on the unapproachable maiden. Mark decided to take a direct approach.

Valeriy chuckled, „It's a fortress that can only be stormed.“

„What fortress can resist my charms?“ Mark retorted playfully.

„This one. She's got an attitude,“ Valeriy warned.

„You're mistaken, comrade cadet! She doesn't? If a girl doesn't react to the intrusive advances of strangers, that's a big plus!“ Mark declared with determination as he headed straight towards the couple (with no clear plan in mind-improvisation was always his forte).

„Young man, are you from around here?“ he inquired, turning to the beauty's companion, who appeared to be a teenager of about fourteen years old.

No, we're from Leningrad. You want something?» He replied.

«It's just I made a bet with my friend, who owns this wonderful palace now: kids or old men?»

Seeing confusing, Mark explained, «I mean, is for pioneers or pensioners-veterans of the Revolution and Civil War?»

The young boy chuckled. The girl glanced at Mark. Up close, she appeared even more beautiful: her immense hazel eyes held a mocking gaze, yet her countenance retained an air of seriousness.

The conversation had begun, though Mark couldn't consider his impromptu particularly successful. However, it served its purpose.

«So, what's here now?» Mark asked, silently congratulating the girl, «She doesn't fall for stupid jokes.»

«It's a sanitarium, just like before. There was a resort here before the revolution,» the talkative boy replied. «Aren't you from Leningrad?»

«I'm from Moscow. We study here. And my friend is a fellow countryman of yours,» Mark gestured towards Valeriy. «We're from the military-technical school. This is Valeriy, and I'm Mark.»

«I'm Vladimir, and this is my sister Bertha,» the boy introduced them with a sly smile. «Mom only lets me go to the beach under her watchful eye.»

Mark's heart leaped with joy at the mention of the fact that she was his sister, but it was evident that the boy was too young to be her boyfriend. And what a name – Bertha! A unique name that struck Mark like lightning.

Curiosity drove Valeriy to ask, «And how does your husband look at these errands for mom?»

«It's none of your business,» the girl responded confidently.

«What husband! She doesn't have a husband,» the boy chimed in, earning two appreciative and one critical glance.

Time flew by, with the conversation mainly revolving around aviation technology among the young men. Bertha remained somewhat distant from the discussion. When the time came to part ways, she declined the offer to be walked home, signaling her lack of interest in continuing the acquaintance. They bid farewell politely.

«I see,» thought Mark, «she probably has more suitors than the trees in this forest. What are a couple of green cadets to her?»

«Well, what did I say?» Valeriy gloated. «This fortress is impenetrable!»

«You wait and see. In a year's time, you'll be at our wedding,» Mark responded determinedly.

«Who's getting married?» Valeriy inquired.

«You still don't get it? I will be marrying Bertha,» Mark answered with unusual seriousness.

«Of course, you are! How about proposing right now?» Valeriy teased. «I bet it wouldn't work out. She wouldn't even look at us. You only know her name. How are you going to find her?»

«You'll see. We just have to hurry,» Mark declared, resolute in his pursuit of the girl.

With determination, Mark followed the siblings. He still wanted to walk them home, but he needed to adjust the plan so as not to be too obvious.

Fortunately, by evening, the platform was teeming with vacationers, creating a crowd in which it was easy to get lost. The boys tried to stick close to the station building, but their attempts were almost foiled a couple of times when Vladimir, not particularly adept at this, inexplicably pulled Bertha towards the timetable. Mark attempted to blend into the background, but Valeriy's exaggerated gestures drew attention. Their predicament was saved by two little girls who began crying loudly and whimpering. Bertha got distracted, and the novice detectives managed to slip away in the crowd. They were the last to board the next carriage, keeping a discreet eye on Vladimir and Bertha until they reached the Finland station.

The task became more challenging as the brother and sister made their way to the streetcar stop, where the pursuers could be easily spotted.

«You have to sit in the third or, better, the fourth car,» insisted Valeriy. «That way, they won't notice us.»

Mark dismissed the suggestion, saying, «Oh, come on. We won't even see where they're getting off.»

They settled into the second car with difficulty, squeezing past other passengers and hearing unflattering remarks directed at them. Seated by the window near the door, they spent the entire journey.

Finally, Bertha and Vladimir got off at the crossroads of Liteyny Avenue (Volodarsky Avenue, of course – thanks, conductor!) with Nevsky Avenue (Avenue of the 25th of October). Seeing a crowd at the bus stop on the opposite side, they opted to walk instead. The couple passed Vosstaniya Square and turned onto Suvorovsky Avenue. After crossing one intersection, they entered a narrow street lined with mediocre stone buildings, sparsely populated. The boys had to watch from around the corner. At one point, Bertha glanced back, as if sensing their presence, and the boys had to quickly hide. Once they dared to reemerge, the street was empty – they had missed them! But just as they were about to mark the right entrance, one of the front doors slowly closed, almost rewarding them for their efforts. Left with no other option, they beat a hasty retreat, unsure if the beautiful girl might decide to look out of the window.

Satisfied with both the outcome and the adventure, the cadets made it back to their barracks on time. Mark exulted, «What a coincidence! 3rd Sovetskaya, 3rd Meshchanskaya! Another good sign.» Yes, in Leningrad, he seemed to have quite a stroke of luck with street names. As for his luck with the enchanting Bertha – that remained an unanswered question…

Chapter 2: «I Came, I Saw, I Convinced!»

Oh, how sluggishly the days passed until the next leave! Mark, who had been diligently studying, now found himself frequently distracted, sometimes not even hearing the teacher. Thanks to Valeriy who occasionally nudged him in the side, the lovesick cadet was saved from complete bewilderment! Only the practical workshops at the airfield, where Maretsky could happily spend hours, went according to plan – his restless nature craved action and more action!

The image of the elusive Berta lingered in his mind. Mark was tormented by doubts, his mood mirroring the capricious Leningrad weather: from hope for reciprocity to the certainty that such a captivating girl must surely have a suitor.

«That mockingly condescending gaze…» he pondered, lying in his bunk after lights out. «But it's not disdainful… And there's a hint of fiery temperament; if she disapproved, she would have let us know we were unwelcome… But she didn't, did she?»

«She didn't, right, Valeriy?» Mark inquired.

«Oh, come on. When you arrive, your Aphrodite will be taken aback, and she'll thaw like the Snow Maiden.»

«Uh, no. She's not Aphrodite. She's Artemis!»

Valeriy, incidentally, informed him that the neighborhood where Berta lived was called PeskI (an ancient name) or Rozhdestvenskaya Sloboda, and all streets called Sovetskaya were once known as Rozhdestvenskaya Streets, as the Church of the Nativity of Jesus stood on the sixth of them.

«Though it seems to have been demolished recently as well.»

«Well, that's understandable; times have changed,» Mark thought about construction artels, perhaps out of old habit.

«Yes,» Valeriy agreed, «but the new names are still a mess.»

«And not all of them are named thoughtfully,» he added.

Two friends exchanged understanding glances, but Mark didn't feel particularly bothered by all these changes. The most crucial thing was that the street remained Third.

The morning of the eagerly awaited day dawned overcast, despite the fine weather the night before; clouds had gathered, hinting at impending rain. Yet in his dreams, he had pictured a romantic stroll…

Finally free, Cadet Maretsky arrived at House No. 26 dressed impeccably, carrying two enormous bouquets (thanks to his mother, he had grown accustomed to orderliness and neatness, but today his uniform looked especially dashing on him). With a grand gesture, he lightly kicked the entrance threshold as a token of gratitude, then stepped into the coolness of the building.

After calling the first apartment and obtaining the necessary information from a venerable old lady, Mark courteously bowed to the bewildered elderly lady, who had likely long grown unaccustomed to such gestures of attention.

A tantalizing aroma of homemade baked goods wafted from the cherished door on the third floor. Inhaling the sweet scent and pressing the doorbell, the cadet wistfully recalled his mother's pies (she was a master at baking), fidgeted on his feet, adjusted his bouquet, straightened his uniform… – but no one answered the door, despite the sounds emanating from the apartment. Trying again, Mark decided he would wait for victory, especially since the leave had just begun, the rain had yet to arrive, and there was no rush…

A wave of vanilla and cinnamon scent from behind the door, which was sharply opened, nearly knocked him off his feet. An older, yet still strikingly beautiful woman stood on the doorstep, donning a flour-stained apron with a kitchen towel draped over her shoulder.

«Full house, and no one to answer the door,» she exclaimed, not with anger, but with indignation, into the shadows of the corridor, and then looked at Mark in surprise. Unperturbed, he recognized her as his future mother-in-law, sharing the same stature and bushy eyebrows.

«Good afternoon. This is for you,» he offered with a courteous greeting, handing over the bouquet and delivering a slight, respectful bow.

«You must be mistaken, young man?» she responded with astonishment, yet still appreciating his politeness.

«I'm quite certain I'm not,» Mark smiled, openly inviting. «You're Berta's mother, aren't you?»

«Ah, of course,» the woman's eyes sparkled with a familiar slyness, as if to say, «Another contender, let's see…» – «Bertha, you have a visitor. A very gallant young man! Thank you. Please come in.»

The cramped hallway was illuminated as a gray-haired man emerged from a room with a little girl on his shoulders, both laughing. Vladimir followed them.

It was time to introduce himself.

«Mark Maretsky, a cadet of the military-technical school,» he stated with a sense of pride and confidence.