— The orphanage was an ordinary, state-run institution, — the old man began. — Funding was minimal, there weren’t enough medicines, and not enough doctors either. The children got sick often, and there was nothing to treat them with. And then your mother started… how should I put it?… her own underground charity.
He paused, gathering his thoughts.
— She found sponsors, made arrangements with doctors from private clinics, organized free consultations for the children. I remember there was a boy, Kolya, seven years old, who needed complex heart surgery. There was no money, of course. Lena went to a dozen clinics, found a cardiac surgeon who agreed to do the surgery for free. She persuaded him, explained the situation. Kolya survived.
Anna listened, and something inside her turned over. She had never known this about her mother. Elena had been a quiet, reserved woman. She worked, came home tired, and rarely talked about her job.
— There were many cases like that, — Sergey Nikolaevich continued. — Lena raised money, found benefactors, secured benefits. All in secret, because the orphanage administration didn’t approve. The director thought she was overstepping her authority, meddling in things that weren’t her business.
— And what happened?
— One day she helped place a girl with a severe form of asthma in a private clinic. She made arrangements with the doctors, organized everything. But the director found out. He caused a scandal, accused Lena of undermining the authority of state medicine, of going over his head. She was forced to resign.
Anna covered her face with her hands. Tears burned her eyes.
— She never told me…
— She probably didn’t want to upset you. — Sergey Nikolaevich placed his wrinkled hand on top of hers. — Lena was a modest person. She didn’t like to talk about her heroic deeds. And they were heroic deeds, believe me. She saved dozens of children’s lives.
Anna remembered her mother. How she would come home late, sit in the kitchen with a cup of tea, and look out the window. Sometimes she would cry quietly, thinking her daughter couldn’t see. Anna had always thought her mother was just tired from a hard job. But it turned out she was carrying such a burden.
— Thank you for telling me, — Anna whispered.
— No, thank you, — the old man stood up. — You know, when I heard about your clinic, I immediately thought: I have to help. And now I see that you are continuing your mother’s work. Helping people who have no one else to turn to. Lena would be proud of you.
After he left, Anna sat motionless for a long time. Then she took out her phone and called Dmitry.
— Can we meet? I need to talk.
They met at the same café. Anna told him about her conversation with Sergey Nikolaevich, about her mother, about her secret charity work. Dmitry listened without interrupting.
— You see, — Anna wiped her tears with a napkin. — All my life I thought my mother was just a nurse. An ordinary, unremarkable one. But she was saving children. Risking her career, her health for them.
— And you’re doing the same, — Dmitry said quietly.
— I’m just a volunteer…
— You’re helping people. Selflessly. That’s rare these days.
Anna looked up at him.
— I want to do more. I want there to be many clinics like this. So that everyone who needs help can get it.
Dmitry smiled.
— Then I have a proposition. I’m ready to provide a grant to create a full-fledged medical center. A free one, for children from low-income families. But I need someone to take on the organization. Coordination, finding doctors, working with patients. It’s a huge responsibility.
— Can you handle it?
— I’ve seen how you work. You have the main thing: the desire to help and the ability to organize people. And the name…
Anna was already fired up with the idea.
— “The Elena Petrova Medical Center,” — Dmitry took out a notebook and wrote it down. — How do you like it?
Anna couldn’t hold back her tears. A center in honor of her mother. A continuation of her work. It was right. It was just.
— Yes. Definitely yes.
The following weeks flew by in a whirlwind of preparations. Dmitry allocated the money, found a location—an old clinic building on the outskirts that had been empty for several years. Construction, renovations, and equipment procurement began. Anna handled the organization, made lists of necessities, searched for volunteer doctors, and communicated with suppliers. The work was overwhelming; she would come home after midnight and get up at six in the morning. But a fire burned within her.
Katya looked at her with admiration.
— Auntie Anya, are you important now?
— No, sunshine. Just busy.
But obstacles began almost immediately. First, an anonymous complaint came to the sanitary inspection: allegedly, the premises were unsanitary. An inspection came, nitpicking every little thing. Anna barely managed to fend them off, having to urgently correct the remarks. Then the fire inspection. Then articles in the local newspaper: “Dubious Charity,” “Who is Behind the Free Clinics?”, hints of money laundering, of fraud.
— It’s the owners of commercial clinics, — Dmitry explained at another meeting. — They see us as competitors. Free medicine takes patients away from them. But we help those who don’t have money for their services. They don’t care. Business is business.
Anna didn’t give up. She responded to every inspection with documents, to every article with an open letter of explanation. Dmitry supported her, brought in lawyers, helped push through permits.
One evening, as Anna was closing up the future center after another long day, a woman approached the door. A familiar silhouette, a familiar walk. Irina Volkova. Anna froze with the keys in her hand.
The nurse looked unwell: a gaunt face, a dull gaze, a cheap jacket instead of her usual expensive coat.
— Hello, Petrova, — Irina’s voice trembled.
— Hello.
They stood in silence. Irina shifted from foot to foot.
— Can we talk?
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