Page 130 of Pioneer Summer

“Put me through to Volo—ahem, to Vladimir Davydov.”

“Vladimir Lvovich is out of the office today. Leave your phone number and he’ll call you back.”

“Later won’t work, I need him now, it’s urgent! Give me his cell phone number!”

“Your name, please?”

“Konev. Yury Konev,” he answered lamely.

“Your patronymic, please.”

“Ilych.”

Several seconds of silence followed. The secretary was probably looking for his name in some list of the company’s clients or partners. But Yura was beginning to lose patience.

“Yury Ilych, unfortunately I can’t give you the director’s personal number. Please leave your number.”

Yura ground his teeth. He understood that the secretary wasn’t supposed to start passing out her boss’s personal number to random people, but right now she was the only thin thread of hope Yura had. She was also the only barrier blocking his way. So he said politely, but as forcefully as he could: “Call him now, please. Tell him Konev’s calling. Give him my number and have him call me immediately. I really can’t wait, it’s extremely important and urgent, and it is for him, too! Tell him it’s about Camp Barn Swallow—I mean, about the Barn Swallow’s Nest.” He gave her his number and warned her that if he didn’t get a call in the next ten minutes he’d call back.

Yura waited, staring mindlessly at the picture. He walked around the willow and looked up at the sky, completely covered in gray clouds. The rain, which had seemed about to let up, started drizzling again. Almost no rain made it through the willow’s leafy branches, but the rising wind rustled the long, yellow-green tresses.

Yura clutched his cell phone. He kept checking the time. Ten minutes had gone by without a call. But he couldn’t bring himself to dial the front desk again: he was afraid Volodya would call while he was on the phone, so he’d miss it. If Volodya even called him back at all.

What if he’s busy? What if he’s outside the network? Maybe he’s on a business trip or way out in the sticks somewhere and there’s no coverage? Or maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to me? Because so many years have gone by ... He did write that he wants to forget all that ...

Yura paced back and forth across the little clearing under the willow. Outside the shelter of its branches, it started raining harder. He needed to put everything back into the time capsule and go back to his car. But he was too agitated. The unbelievable thought that he might finally hear Volodya’s voice after twenty years kept running through his head.

His blood roared in his ears. Thunder rumbled off to the east. The cell phone’s sudden, harsh ring made him flinch. He pressed his phone to his ear.

“Yura?”

Yura froze. For several seconds he forgot how to breathe.

“Yes ... Yes! Volodya, it’s me!”

“Yurka ...” Yura could hear the smile in Volodya’s voice.

“I’m so glad to hear your voice! I read your letters ... Volodya, I’m so sorry, I screwed everything up! We promised not to lose ourselves, not to lose each other, but we did. I looked for you too late.”

Volodya didn’t say anything. All of a sudden his tone of voice changed. The speaker distorted it, and Yurka thought he now sounded indifferent.

“Are you at Camp Barn Swallow?”

“Yes, under our willow. Everything around it is ruined, the river dried up, but the willow’s still here, even bigger and more beautiful ... as though ...”

“As though it were waiting for us,” Volodya finished for him.

Yura was pressing the phone to his cheek with both hands, as if he wanted to squeeze through it to get to Volodya. “What are you like now?” Yura asked softly.

Volodya paused for a couple of seconds, then answered. “Well ... you’re clearly not asking about my business or my health. What am I like now? I grew up some ...”

“Are you far away?”

Volodya snorted. “I’m closer than you can possibly think. Do you want to see me?”

Yura swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Yes.”

“Aren’t you afraid of being disappointed?”

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