Zoya

On September 27, after being brutally attacked, Warsaw surrendered, with enormous loss of life. Simon was heartbroken by the news, and he and Zoya talked long into the night, as she remembered the revolution. It was terrible, and Simon mourned the Jews being massacred all over Germany and Eastern Europe. He was doing everything he could for those who could get out. He had established a relief fund, and was trying to get papers for relatives he had never heard of. People in Europe would use phone books to call people in New York with similar names, and beg them for assistance, which he never refused. But those he could help were a precious few. The rest were being led to their death, locked up in detention camps, or slaughtered on the streets of Warsaw.

When Matthew was three months old, Zoya went back to work, on the day that Russia invaded Finland. Simon followed the news from Europe avidly, particularly Edward R. Murrow's broadcasts from London.

It was December first by then, and Zoya was excited to find Countess Zoya swarming. And they all went to see The Wizard of when Sasha got out of school. Nicholas was home from Princeton and loving it, although he talked a great deal about the war with Simon, while he was home on vacation.

He liked it even more the second year, and before going back to Princeton again he went back to California for summer vacation. Zoya hadn't been able to go to Europe this year, with the war on, they had to use designers from the States. She was particularly fond of Norman Norell and Tony Traina. It was September 1941 and Simon was certain the country would go to war, but Roosevelt was still insisting they wouldn't. And the war certainly hadn't hurt the store, it was the best year Zoya had had. Four years after she had opened her doors, she was using all five floors of the building Simon had wisely bought. He had bought four more textile mills in the South, and his own business was doing extremely well. She had a whole department of his coats and she always teased him and called him her favorite supplier.

Little Matthew was two years old by then, and the apple of everyone's eye, even Sasha's. She was a blossoming sixteen, and by everyone's standards, a raving beauty. She was tall and thin as Zoya's mother had been, but instead of Natalya's regal bearing, there was a sensual quality that drew men like bees to honey. Zoya was just grateful that she was still in school, and hadn't done anything outrageous in almost a year. As a reward, Simon had promised to take them all skiing in Sun Valley that winter, and Nicholas was anxious to join them.

They were sitting in the library discussing their plans on December 7, when Simon turned the radio on. He liked to listen to the news when he was at home, and he had Matthew on his knee as his face froze. He pushed him into Sasha's arms, and ran into the next room to find Zoya. His face was white as he found her in their bedroom.

“The Japanese have bombed Pearl Harbor, in Hawaii!”

“Oh my God …” He pulled her into the other room with him to listen to the news, as the announcer explained in staccato tones what had happened. They all stood rooted to where they stood, as Matthew tugged at Zoya's skirt and tried to get her attention, but she only picked him up and held him close. All she could think of was that Nicholas was twenty years old. She didn't want him to die as her brother had with the Preobrajensky. “Simon … what will happen now?” But she instinctively knew as they listened. Simon's predictions had finally come true. They were going to war. President Roosevelt announced it, with a voice filled with deep regret, but not as great as Zoya's. Simon enlisted in the army the following morning. He was forty-five years old, and Zoya begged him not to go, but he looked at her sadly when he came home.

“I have to, Zoya. I couldn't live with myself if I just sat here on my ass and did nothing to defend my country.” And it wasn't just for his country, it was for the Jews in Europe that he did it. All over the world, the cause of freedom was being destroyed, he couldn't sit back quietly and let it happen.

“Please …” Zoya begged, “Please, Simon …” She was overcome with grief, “I couldn't live without you.” She had lived through that before, losing the people she loved, and she knew she couldn't survive it again … not Simon, so gentle and so dear, and so loving. “I love you too much. Don't go. Please …” She was gripped with fear but he couldn't be dissuaded. “Zoya, I have to.” They lay side by side in their bed that night, and he touched her gently with the big hands that held his son so lovingly, the same hands that touched her now and held her close to him as she cried, terrified of losing the man she loved so dearly. “Nothing's going to happen.”

“You don't know that. We need you too much for you to go. Think of Matthew.” She would have said anything to make him stay, but even that didn't persuade him.