He Can Move the Mountains Read online

  Will we ever be a family of four, Lord? How long?

  She ran the palm of her hand over her flat stomach, trying to imagine for a moment what it might feel like to have life swelling inside her. But she pulled her hand away. It wasn’t going to happen. Not this month, certainly. Disappointment flooded through her soul again. She had to find something to make herself busy; something else to occupy her thoughts. The way she was learning to do month after frustrating month. They’d been married for four years already, but plenty of people had to wait this long, even longer, before they got pregnant, right? It didn’t mean anything. It was just the way things were.

  But doubt was growing in her mind. Is God really good to us? Does he really answer prayer? The exuberance of the first year or two after she’d become a Christian was fading, if she was honest, and now she was beginning to wonder again what it really meant to be a follower of Jesus. It certainly wasn’t all flowers and sunshine, that’s for sure. Michael always had wise words to say about these kinds of things. What was that verse he’d mentioned? In this world you’ll have trouble. But take heart for I have overcome the world. Something like that. Being a Christian didn’t shield you from pain and disappointment. But, why would God withhold this good thing from them? Why wasn’t God answering their prayers?

  Bela busied herself in the kitchen. She peeled and chopped the potatoes and put them in the frying pan, covering them with the lid. She added the chicken legs she’d just bought to another frying pan, and while they were cooking, she chopped up some fresh cucumbers and tomatoes, mixing them with smetana and dill to make a salad.

  Right on cue, the key turned in the lock and Michael’s face appeared around the kitchen door.

  “Hi,” he said, before wrestling his shoes off his feet.

  “Hi Michael,” Angelina’s voice called out from the living room.

  “Hey, sweet pea!” he called back. Bela heard him walk down the hallway toward the bedroom, and he returned a few minutes later dressed in more comfortable, cooler clothes.

  “Phew, I still can’t get used to this heat!” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead and reaching for one of the glasses that Bela had just put out onto the table. He filled it with water from the filter. Bela had got used to his habit of drinking filtered water, even though she and her family had been quite happy to drink the water straight from the tap. Maybe he was right about the metals and the parasites, but it all tasted the same to her. Michael grabbed some ice cubes from the freezer and added them to the glass before sitting down. Even though it was past six o’clock, it was still stifling hot in the apartment, and he had placed himself with his back to the small, shuddery fan which was doing its best to shift cooler air towards the occupants of the room.

  Bela was used to hot summers, but she had to admit that even she was still getting used to summers in town apartments. Out in the village it had seemed a little cooler in their larger rooms, and of course they’d had immediate access to a garden with shady apple trees. She’d moved into this apartment soon after adopting Angelina, and then Michael had joined them a year later, after they’d got married. There were advantages to living nearer to the centre of town, but she did miss the village and its slower, cooler pace of life.

  She opened the kitchen window as far as it would go and sat down on the stool next to him. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of her neck. This was the hottest July she could remember. Michael took a big gulp of water, placed the glass back on the table and exhaled loudly.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked. It was unusual to see him looking anxious, but she could guess what was on his mind. His concerns had been brewing for the past few weeks.

  “I’m worried, Bela. I don’t know what to do.”

  “You mean about your funding? I still don’t understand how they can just stop your money like that.”

  “Education cuts. Everyone is suffering.”

  “But your three-year contract got renewed, didn’t it?”

  “Yes, but the actual amount of the research grant was never set in stone. They’re not stopping the money, just reducing it. A lot.”

  “But you have other money?”

  Michael sighed. “There’s my trust fund, yes, but I was hoping not to dip into that too much. I have our future to think of. Angelina’s future too. I need to find a sustainable way of earning a living. You can’t live off a trust fund for ever.”

  Bela picked up a nearby magazine and started fanning herself with it while she checked the status of the potatoes and chicken. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to help. She didn’t understand the ins and outs of British academia.

  “How much more do you think we need? I could try to get another job?” She sat back down at the table next to him.

  Michael took her hand and kissed it. “You already work for Cody and I don’t want you to do too much. I’ll find a way. I just need to start applying for some jobs sooner than I was expecting, I guess.”

  Bela’s heart fell. “What kind of jobs can you get here in the Caucasus, Michael?”

  Michael looked at her, his eyes filled with sad understanding.

  “I know I promised you we could stay here, in your homeland, Bela. But...”

  “But you have temporary residency here. That’s good for another year or two and then you can apply for permanent residency.”

  “I know, I know. It’s not about the residency. I need to do something. I need to have a job. I need to provide for our family.”

  There was a pause, both of them, no doubt, thinking the same thing but not daring to mention it. Their growing family? Future children? Or just their little family of three?

  Bela stood up to refill her own water glass. When she spoke, there was a bitterness to her voice which she couldn’t cover up.

  “So, you’re going to apply for jobs in England?”

  “I don’t know, Bela. I don’t know.”

  He stood up and took her hand, gently turning her towards him. Her resistance melted and she looked up into his face, accepting his kiss of reconciliation. A reminder that they were in this together as a couple. For better or for worse, wasn’t that what she’d promised?

  “We just need to keep praying that God will give us guidance, Bela. He’s in control. He knows what He’s doing.”

  “He does?” Bela surprised herself as she articulated her growing doubts. But Michael looked deep into her eyes, his own not flinching, as if to will her to believe like he did.

  “Yes, I’m sure of it.”

  Chapter 2

  Milana

  Milana watched from the side of the large, mirrored room as her son, Alikhan, leaned against the wall and pulled his right ankle up behind him, stretching and loosening his quad muscles after the dance lesson. He was in the best shape he’d ever been in, but he couldn’t afford any injuries at this point, not with the regional championships coming up. His dance ensemble, Talinka, was one of the most prestigious, and she knew that he would do anything to be able to represent them in the regionals. At just fifteen years old he wasn’t quite in the same league as some of the older dancers, like Medik and Safarbi, but he had talent, and a strong sense of self-belief.

  The teacher said some final words to all the students and then dismissed them. Milana detected a collective sigh of relief. It was a great honour to be in the ensemble, but having to practise five days a week for two hours at a time was taking its toll on some of the younger boys and girls. Alikhan was struggling to keep his grades up and stay on top of his homework, and he wasn’t the only one. At least school was out for the summer now.

  Alikhan spotted her across the room and jogged over. Just as he reached her, a familiar voice came from behind.

  “Your spins are really coming along.”

  Milana glanced around to see a tall girl with raven black hair and dark eyes that sparkled.

  Alikhan grinned at her. “I saw you’d been chosen for the front row in the third dance, well done,” he replied.


  “Hello, Alyona, how are you?” said Milana warmly.

  “Hello. Good, thank you.” The girl smiled at her but then turned her attention back to Alikhan.

  Alikhan and Alyona had been friends pretty much since they were born. Milana had met Alyona’s mother, Madina, when they were both out pushing their prams one day, and their friendship had flourished. They’d both felt quite lonely in the village, but for different reasons. Milana was missing the exciting life of Shekala, where she’d grown up. Madina, on the other hand, was dealing with a husband who didn’t love her and who had started having affairs while she was pregnant with their baby. Alyona was a year older than Alikhan, but neither of them had siblings, so it had been natural for them to seek each other out as playmates. Milana and Madina had both encouraged it, glad to be able to spend more time together themselves. Sadly, Madina and Alyona had left the village seven years ago, after Madina’s marriage finally broke down. The children had gone to different schools and not seen each other for a long time. Until, that is, when Alikhan had turned up for his first dance class at Talinka earlier this year only to find that Alyona was also a dancer here. They’d picked up their friendship again as naturally as if they’d only been away from each other for a week or two. Milana was also more than happy to renew her friendship with Madina.

  “Mama mentioned something about us all going out for a shawarma, are you interested?” Alyona nodded in the direction of the door, where Madina was chatting to another mother.

  “Sure, sounds great. I’ll just grab my stuff,” said Alikhan quickly. “Um, if that’s okay with you, Mama?”

  “Of course, sounds great,” Milana answered with a smile. Going to The Orange Café after dance practice was becoming a bit of a Friday night habit for the four of them. The Orange Café, as they affectionately called it because of its bright orange décor, made the best shawarmas in town, and Milana’s mouth was already salivating at the thought of the flour tortilla wraps with their filling of beef strips, mayonnaise and lettuce. She and Madina would have a good natter over coffee afterwards, while Alikhan and Alyona enjoyed their milkshakes.

  It was an easy, ten-minute walk from the Dom Pionerov, where the dance rehearsals took place, to the Orange Café. The two teenagers soon strode ahead, leaving Milana and Madina able to talk without being overheard.

  “How’s Alikhan feeling about the regionals coming up?” asked Madina.

  “Oh, you know, a bit nervous, but I think he’ll be ready. How about Alyona?”

  “She’s so excited. You know Alyona. Everything in life is so much fun.”

  Milana smiled at Madina’s words, her eyes resting on their two children just ahead. “I can’t believe how much they’ve both grown up. It seems only yesterday we were pushing our prams together,” she said.

  “Do you remember we used to joke about them getting married,” said Madina.

  They both laughed. “Yes. We pictured ourselves old and grey, doting grandmothers together.”

  “I guess it’s still on the cards?” Madina’s eyes twinkled playfully as she said this. Milana looked first at her and then back at the two figures in front of them. They certainly did seem to be getting along well. “Perhaps,” she replied, “But it’s a bit early yet, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Madina. “Lots of Alyona’s school friends seem to be pairing off already.”

  “But, I’m not ready for that yet!” protested Milana. “Can’t we just keep them young forever?”

  There was a moment of silence, and Milana sensed a shift in Madina’s thinking. “Are you alright? Alikhan’s a good catch, any girl would be lucky to have him,” she said, hoping to get a smile out of her friend.

  “No, no, it’s not that,” said Madina, still thoughtful.

  “What is it then?”

  “It’s Musa.”

  “Your ex?” Oh dear, this couldn’t be good. It had taken Madina so long to disentangle herself from that good-for-nothing, cheating husband of hers and finally get back on her feet again.

  “Yes. He called me the other day. It was a bit of a shock, actually.”

  “What did he want?”

  Madina took in a deep breath. “He said he was sorry he had been an absent father and that he wanted to see more of Alyona.”

  “Oh.” From what Milana could remember, her friend’s ex hadn’t shown any interest in his daughter since the day she was born and he’d found out that she was a girl and not the son that he was expecting. “What did you say?”

  “I said I’d think about it. And talk it over with Alyona, of course.”

  Milana looked at the carefree, smiling girl waiting for them by the entrance to the café. “How do you think she’ll take it?”

  Madina sighed. “I honestly don’t know. She blames her father for the divorce, of course. I tried not to turn her against him, but, well, the facts speak for themselves really. That, and the small matter that he hasn’t made any attempt to contact her in the whole of the last seven years.”

  Milana gave her friend’s hand a quick squeeze. “Let me know what you decide. And call me if you need a chat, okay?”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  They reached the café entrance and all four of them went in to find their usual table.

  Later that evening, after Alikhan had gone to bed, Milana sat in the family living room watching television with her husband, Murat, and her in-laws. She couldn’t help thinking about Madina’s situation. What would she do in her place? She looked across at Murat, sitting comfortably next to his mother on the sofa. He was a good man, her Murat. She’d never had any reason to doubt his faithfulness to her. There had never been any hint of other women or roving eyes. Her in-laws were good people too. They had always treated her kindly, unlike Madina’s mother-in-law who had treated her more like a housemaid.

  Yet, as she mulled over her friend’s dilemma, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern deep within her chest. All the people in this room shared a secret that Alikhan was blissfully unaware of. They each knew something that he didn’t, and that was that he too had an absent father. In fact, one he’d never laid eyes on, not even as a baby. What would happen if Alikhan’s real father suddenly showed up on the scene asking to see him? No, that couldn’t happen. She’d been more than clear when they broke up that there would be no contact whatsoever. It was best for the baby, she’d said. He’d seemed convinced, and that was an end to it. They’d all moved on. Alikhan was happy. Murat was a wonderful father. No, nothing would happen to rock Alikhan’s world the way Alyona’s was about to be rocked, she would make sure of that.

  Chapter 3

  Azamat

  Azamat turned off the lights and closed the door to the shop behind him, turning the key in the lock. He gave a final look through the shop window just to check that everything was in order, and then jogged down the steps and onto the pavement below. Sometimes he still had to remind himself that this wasn’t all a dream. Who’d have thought that he, lazy, drop-out, good-for-nothing Azamat, would actually own his own business and be doing fairly well at it too? Okay, so he still had a large loan to pay back, but the American, Cody Eriksson, was generous and fair. Azamat had first met him just over seven years ago lifting weights at the gym here in Shekala. The American had moved down to the Caucasus to start a tourism business, and he had one of those magnetic personalities that instantly drew you to him. He had a big heart and a warm smile, but you knew also that he was sharp, and you wouldn’t get away with trying to take advantage of the fact that he was a Westerner.

  Ignoring his old Lada parked just a few feet away, Azamat crossed over the road at the end of the block and kept on walking, his stride confident and purposeful. He was enjoying the slightly cooler, fresher air on this July evening and felt like stretching his legs. It had been another long day of sweltering in a shop with just a couple of fans for air conditioning. He would walk right to the end of Oktyabraskaya Street and back.

  Many people were milling around on the
streets, making their way home from work or from the market. Others, mostly students, were on their way out for the evening. The university wasn’t too far away, and small clusters of young people hung around on corners and near the entrance to bars. Azamat paid them no attention. His mind was elsewhere, thinking back to the events that had got him where he was today. He’d grown up tinkering with cars in the village, no real thought of a career. After his army duty, at nineteen, he’d got caught up with a terrorist organisation, and had only just been able to pull himself away in time. He shuddered to think what would have happened if he hadn’t seen sense and come back home. He’d probably be dead by now.

  Cody, and his British room-mate Michael, had taken him under their wing. Michael had employed him as a language helper, and just that one act, the offer of a steady job and some income, albeit just a couple of hours a week, had been the start of Azamat’s life turning around.

  It had been Cody’s idea to open the bike shop. He’d wanted it as part of his tourism service, encouraging cyclists to come and enjoy the breath-taking views of the Caucasus mountain range.

  Most tourists would come and hire a bike for a day, and ride around the large town park, stopping for a meal in the cafés by the man-made lake at the top. Other, more serious cyclists would bring their own bikes, but they needed somewhere to go for repairs and to get advice about the best long-distance routes. Business had definitely been slower over the winter, and he had used the out-of-season time to learn more about different bike models and how to order the spare parts that might be needed. But now, the season was in full flow, and each day was busy and interesting. There was the bike race to look forward to as well; he couldn’t wait to talk more about that with Cody.

  As he approached the corner of Oktyabraskaya Street, Azamat hesitated and looked down towards the large grey apartment blocks next to the row of shops. Perhaps he had time to stop by his sister’s house? He wasn’t due to meet his father for another couple of hours, but maybe he could just hang around here in town for a bit longer. There was no need to go all the way back to his home village of Awush just for a few hours. Besides, he hadn’t seen Bela for a month or so. It would be good to see Michael too. Azamat grinned. Bela and Michael getting together was in some part thanks to him. He’d been the one to introduce them at that party after all.