— “Oh, Grigory, how lucky I am to have you! I can’t imagine how we managed without your help before,” said the elderly woman, watching as the young man skillfully handled his tools.
Grigory gathered the tools into his bag and smirked:
— “Oh, come now, Elena Sergeyevna. It’s nothing—a mere matter of moving the loop to another spot. Five minutes of work.”
He checked the gate: it now opened and closed as if it were new.
— “Easy for you to say, Grishenka. For us it would take an entire day, and we’d end up ruining more than fixing. We women are clumsy, and even more so as we grow older,” Elena Sergeyevna shook her head.
— “What do you mean by age?” Grigory laughed. “We’ll have you married off yet!”
The elderly woman burst into laughter:
— “Oh, you joker!”
Grigory had arrived in the village a year ago. He had purchased an abandoned house and immediately set about restoring it. The neighbors, mostly retirees, watched with interest as the old structures were given new life by the young man.
And there were many such houses in the village—the youth had moved away, the elderly were leaving, and the abandoned buildings were gradually collapsing. It was painful for those who had spent their whole lives here to watch.
No one questioned why a healthy young man had moved to such a backwater. If he decided to live here—then that was that.
— “Alright, Elena Sergeyevna, I must be off. I’ll drop by this evening to check your blood pressure,” Grigory said as he headed for the exit.
— “Oh, don’t worry about me! Mind your own business. I’ll be just fine,” the neighbor waved him off.
— “Of course. And who nearly fell into the potato furrow from dizziness yesterday?” Grigory teased.
— “Was that me?” Elena Sergeyevna laughed. “How do you manage to notice everything? I merely got a bit overheated in the sun. Now what, measure my pressure every hour?”
Grigory was already in the yard when he heard the neighbor’s shout:
— “Oh, who is speeding through the village like that?”
The young man turned around. Indeed, a car was barreling down the road, raising clouds of dust. Geese and chickens scattered in every direction. Something was clearly wrong.
The car screeched to a halt at Elena Sergeyevna’s gate. A man leaped from behind the wheel and opened the trunk.
— “Sergey, my God, what happened?” Elena Sergeyevna cried, flailing her arms.
Grigory realized this was the neighbor’s son-in-law—she had mentioned that name before.
Sergey set down some suitcases in front of his mother-in-law and said coldly:
— “Here, I’m returning it. The second miscarriage. Who would want such a defective thing? No one.”
He opened the passenger door, and from inside, a young woman literally fell into her mother’s arms. Clapping the door shut, Sergey got back behind the wheel and drove off, tires squealing.
The woman leaned against her mother, pressing her stomach with one hand.
— “Liza, little Liza, does it hurt?” asked Elena Sergeyevna, worry in her voice.
— “No, Mom. It’s just that the ride was rough… I was only discharged from the hospital yesterday… I need to lie down.”
— “My God, daughter, how can this be?” Elena Sergeyevna cried. “How can you travel in such a condition? Idiot!” she shouted at the departing car before leading her daughter into the house.
Grigory wanted to help with the suitcases, but paused. “What if they don’t want anyone to know?” he thought.
Elena Sergeyevna only reappeared in the evening. Grigory was in his yard, pondering whether to drop by the neighbor’s house. He had promised to, but now he felt awkward.
— “Grisha, Grishenka!” the neighbor called out.
— “Yes, Elena Sergeyevna?”
— “Grishenka, could you go fetch a paramedic? My daughter has arrived, and she’s in very bad shape.”
— “Of course, don’t worry.”
He started his car and headed to the neighboring village. No one here knew that ten years ago Grigory had worked as a doctor. His life had taken a drastic turn when his wife began an affair with the hospital’s chief physician.
That affair led to a conspiracy against him. They quickly concocted a case accusing him of negligence that had led to a patient’s death. Grigory had never faced anything like that and was completely bewildered.
Fortunately, the investigator noticed inconsistencies in the case. Doctors usually support one another, but here a colleague suddenly began actively accusing Grigory. Justice prevailed—the chief physician was dismissed. And his wife’s love for the boss faded. She even suggested returning to the way things had been before.
Grigory had grown up in the village and decided to buy a house away from the city. He vowed never to tell anyone about his past. He would find another occupation, perhaps farming.
From the sale of his apartment he had received a good sum, so finances were not an issue. Now he was contemplating his future plans, though calculations were especially difficult for him—numbers had always been his weakness.
The village paramedic listened to his explanation and shook his head:
— “First: it’s none of my business. Second: today there’s a celebration at my house. Guests are already at the table, and you expect me to go somewhere?”
Grigory raised his voice:
— “Listen, are you a medical professional or not? A woman who’s had a miscarriage, a long journey, and severe stress—do you understand what might happen?”
— “I understand.”
— “Do you realize that bleeding might start? Then no one would have time to react. She could die! And who would be held responsible?”
— “Right, Petrovich. He was right there, didn’t help, and was even under the influence,” muttered the paramedic.
Grigory wanted to shake the older man, but realized it was futile. He turned to leave when he noticed that the paramedic, still cursing, was making his way to the car with the small suitcase.
— “My mother always said: ‘Where do you stick your nose? Why can’t you choose a profession where you can sleep peacefully?’ But I’m so stubborn—I want to save everyone…”
Grigory managed to suppress a smile, but apparently not well enough, because Petrovich barked:
— “Why are you smiling? You’re even happy! Are we going or what?”
Grigory pressed the accelerator. He didn’t enter the house, deciding instead to wait outside. Petrovich ushered Elena Sergeyevna out onto the street, and she sat down beside him.
— “When Liza married Sergey, I was so happy. A city man, well-off… And when my daughter once mentioned she wanted a divorce, I dissuaded her. I simply didn’t want her to return to the village. She said that Sergey didn’t appreciate her, that he was unfaithful. And I insisted: be patient, all women must endure. How wrong I was…”
Half an hour later, Petrovich reappeared with a troubled look.
— “Here’s the list of necessary medications. Everything must be purchased and administered on schedule. Ideally, she should be hospitalized, but she is absolutely against it. Without these medicines, the chances are slim—she’ll end up in the hospital regardless. There’s a complete regimen here, plus the severe stress. So buy them, Elena, and find someone who will give the injections on schedule.”
— “Oh dear, where on earth am I to find such a specialist?”
— “That’s your decision: injections every four hours or hospitalization.”
Grigory took the list and scanned it quickly.
— “Everything’s in order. Elena Sergeyevna, don’t worry. I’ll stop by the pharmacy and take care of the injections.”
— “Grishenka, do you even know how to give injections?”
— “I do, Elena Sergeyevna, don’t worry.”
The first time he entered, Liza didn’t even look at him—she simply turned her face to the wall. The second and third times, the same. On the fourth time, with Elena Sergeyevna absent, Liza had to speak with him.
— “How do you feel?” Grigory asked.
— “Fine.”
She wanted to turn away again, but suddenly asked:
— “Are you a doctor?”
He smiled.
— “I used to be.”
After that, they exchanged no further words.
Three days later, Grigory sat down beside the couch.
— “Liza, this isn’t right. You’re destroying yourself.”
— “And what ‘you’ are you?” Liza snorted.
— “You need to gather your strength, go for walks, breathe fresh air, eat properly.”
— “Why?”
Grigory was at a loss.
— “Why? So that you can live.”
Liza turned her head. Grigory literally drowned in her sad eyes.
— “Why live? I’m thirty-seven. I was brought here like a discarded object, thrown away when no longer needed. Fifteen years together, and now it’s as if they never existed. As a woman, I’ve failed. What’s the point of it all? Someone else needs the oxygen more.”
Grigory was somewhat stunned. Liza turned out to be far from foolish. Here, banal phrases wouldn’t help. He decided then: he would get her back on her feet and teach her to enjoy life.
From that point on, after every injection he sat beside her and talked to her. Her responses were few, seemingly offered only out of politeness. And then Grigory shared his story with her.
— “Are you not lying? Did that really happen to you?” Liza’s voice broke his reverie.
— “And what do you think? I made up a tale for your amusement?”
Liza blushed.
— “Sorry.”
— “Do you want me to show you my plans?”
— “Plans?”
— “Yes, I plan to start a farming enterprise. Although I struggle with calculations, I’ll manage.”
— “Of course, I want to help with the calculations. I worked as an economist for many years.”
Grigory raised his eyebrows in surprise.
— “An economist? I thought you were a musician or a teacher.”
From then on, every evening at Elena Sergeyevna’s round table, heated discussions unfolded. The hostess sometimes grew frightened when they began arguing, but she was delighted to see her daughter’s engagement. Grigory devised a business plan, and Liza helped him. Although the word “business” filled Elena Sergeyevna with anxiety, she silently served tea and snacks. Often, they barely even noticed her presence.
One evening, Grigory exclaimed:
— “Liza, we did it! Look, everything’s ready!”
The woman skimmed through the documents.
— “How did you manage so quickly? And why do I feel like hitting you for your stubbornness?”
Grigory laughed and playfully kissed her on the nose.
— “We’ll have to live with it. Tomorrow I’m heading to the city to order materials!”
Grigory dashed out, while Liza remained seated, as if petrified. Elena Sergeyevna watched her daughter anxiously and then suddenly asked:
— “Did you fall in love?”
Liza looked at her mother strangely:
— “Mom, what are you talking about? Love? Enough with these games.”
She said that and hurried into the room. Her mother then voiced what she had feared most. Yes, she had fallen in love with Grigory. With that reckless, intelligent, and incredibly kind man. How could one not fall in love when he was gradually bringing her back to life?
Three days later, Grigory returned. Elena Sergeyevna had gone to the store, and Liza was alone. She heard the creak of a door and froze. It was Grigory, as gloomy as a cloud.
— “What happened?” Liza asked, frightened.
He sat down across from her.
— “Is Elena Sergeyevna not here?”
Liza clenched her hands so Grigory wouldn’t notice her trembling.
— “Liza, I don’t know what to do, how to go on living?” he said in despair.
— “Grish, speak normally—what happened?”
— “You see, I came here to forget everything, to start fresh and never love again. That went on for a whole year. And then you appeared. These three days without you nearly drove me mad. Now, what should I do? How do I go on?”
Liza sighed:
— “I don’t know, Grish, because I, too, have to figure out how to live with it.”
He looked at her carefully, at her trembling hands, and once again met her gaze:
— “Liza…”
When Elena Sergeyevna returned from the store, she saw her daughter and Grigory standing in the middle of the room, tightly embracing. Quietly, she stepped back and closed the door:
— “God willing, perhaps…”
The launch of the enterprise became a major event. Even regional television came. Everyone marveled at why Grigory had brought livestock from across the country. And he only smiled and joked—he worried most not about the animals, but about Liza. She had given birth just three days ago, yet she ran around like a young girl, glowing with happiness.
Sergey peered into the bar. Lately, he had become a regular there. Life had taken a downturn—things with women weren’t working out, and even his job was faltering.
“Women only care about money,” he thought gloomily. “If I earned as much as they needed, there’d have to be seventy hours in a day.”
Just as he broke up with his last girlfriend, money started flowing like a river. He stopped working overtime and fell out of favor with his superiors. One misfortune followed another.
— “As usual?” the bartender asked.
Sergey nodded. Even the bartenders knew him—he had truly hit rock bottom.
Early in the evening, instead of music, the bar broadcast the news.
— “You can’t imagine the scale of the event,” said a reporter. “On the day the farming enterprise opened, Grigory’s wife, Svetlova, gave birth to a son.”
Sergey straightened up. Familiar scenes flashed on the screen. Yes, it was Liza’s village! They showed the new building, Grigory and Liza together. In the hospital, she was happy, holding her baby.
“This can’t be,” raced through Sergey’s mind.
He gripped his glass so tightly that it shattered.
— “You cut yourself! Blood!” the bartender exclaimed.
Sergey tossed aside the shards and ran out of the bar. He felt an overwhelming urge to howl in pain. The doctor had said that the next pregnancy would be the last. Sergey didn’t love her. But if they had had a child, everything might have turned out differently. He would have become the ideal husband, working diligently. And Liza… Liza had deceived him. She had led him around by the finger.