“Oh. Yona, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It was her time. She lived to be one hundred two.”
“One hundred two?” His brow creased in confusion. “Surely not. People don’t live that long. And certainly not in the wilderness.”
Yona held his gaze. “She did.” She turned before he could ask more. How would she explain Jerusza? It was impossible.
“Well.” He cleared his throat, at a temporary loss for words. “Would you like to go see my people now, Yona?”
“No. Let’s catch some more fish first. Then we can feed them when we arrive.”
He nodded and busied himself with helping her to unspool and stake the gill net she had crafted the day before. As they waded into the water together, they were silent at first, concentrating on the placement of the mesh. But as they moved to the shore and Yona looked up, she found him studying the curves of her body. It made her stumble and blush. He looked away instantly and cleared his throat.
“You said you once lived outside the woods,” he said.
“Yes.”
“How long ago did you move into the forest?”
“I was only a little girl.” She could feel him watching her again as she looked west, where the sun set each night, where somewhere there was a family that belonged to her. “I hardly remember it.”
“But where did you—” he began.
“And you?” she interrupted before he could ask more questions she didn’t know how to answer. “Where are you from? You said you were a bookkeeper?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes. I was raised in Mir, and my parents were very firm that my brothers and I would have good Jewish educations. In school, we learned Latin, Polish, physics, chemistry, history, religion of course, even psychology. But nothing prepared us for what was to come. When the Russians arrived, it was terrible. They took everything; we were suddenly very poor. And though there were some refugees from the west who told us about ghettos in Germany, we hardly believed it. We actually thought things would be better if the Germans drove the Soviets out. At least then, we thought, we could make some money. Who could have known that instead of money, they would bring death? Within just a few weeks of arriving, they had allied with the local police, and together they brought several prominent Jews from our town seven miles outside the forest and stoned them to death after forcing them to dig their own graves. It was a warning to all of us.”
The sunshine suddenly felt very cold. “Oh, Aleksander.”
“Can you imagine such a thing?” He seemed to be talking only to himself. “It was not so long ago that I had a good business, a life in front of me, family I loved. And now… now, all of it is gone. I fear that those who chose to remain in the ghetto will die, but what guarantee is there that we will survive?”
“There is no guarantee for any of us,” Yona said when she could finally find her voice. “But you will survive.” She swallowed, the taste of the impossible promise bitter in her mouth. “You will hide here in the forest, and you will learn how to find food and shelter, and you will live.”
“How can I believe such a thing?” he whispered.
She met his gaze. It was warm, and it seemed to penetrate her. No one had ever looked at her that way before, with a blend of gratitude, fear, and something else she couldn’t put a finger on. “Believe in me,” she said. “Believe that perhaps God has led me here to help you.”
He looked at her for a long time. “I think maybe I do believe that, Yona.”
And then, because her cheeks felt as if they were on fire, and because it felt as if his eyes were burning a hole right through her, she stood abruptly and turned away, heading for the stream. She had intended to check the net, but instead, the cool water greeted her, and she found herself wading upstream until the water was waist-deep. She took a deep breath and submerged herself. Only after she was beneath the surface did the heat flooding through her body finally disappear.
* * *
An hour later, her hair and clothes almost dry thanks to the relentless sun, Yona gathered another basketful of fish, and after packing up the net and handing it to Aleksander, she hoisted her rucksack on her back and made herself smile, though her heart was thudding in fear. This was it, the moment her life would change. What would his people think of her? How would they react? Would they want to cast her out, as Chana’s mother had, because she wasn’t one of them? She was lying when she took a deep breath and told Aleksander, “I’m ready.”
He searched her eyes, nodded, and gave her a small smile in return. “Shall we go?”
They walked for the first thirty minutes in comfortable silence. Aleksander seemed to understand that Yona would need the solitude for a short time, at least, before her world opened up.
“Who is with you?” she asked abruptly as they paused to trudge through the shallow water of a stream. Dozens of tiny fish darted away from their footfalls, a silver starburst of fear beneath the surface. “In your camp, I mean.”
“You’re trying to prepare yourself.”
“I suppose I am.”
“Don’t be afraid, Yona. They will all be as grateful as I am.” He gave her a small smile. “Well, you’ve met Leib. His mother is with us, too. Miriam. She’s a kind woman, but her eyes are empty now; the rest of her family—Leib’s father, her two younger children—were killed. She—she seems in a trance sometimes, like she is somewhere else.”
“I’m so sorry,” Yona said, and Aleksander extended a hand to help her out of the stream. She didn’t need it, but she took it anyhow, liking the way his fingers laced with hers, the strength of them, but also his gentleness. She didn’t want to let go, but she did, for what use was holding hands on solid ground?
“Oscher and Bina are husband and wife,” he went on as they began walking through the trees again. “It’s a miracle they survived together, both with their relative health, though Oscher has a limp that slows him down. They are grandparents, but their children and grandchildren are all gone. Murdered.” His tone was flat, empty. “Every one. Six children. Thirteen grandchildren.”
He paused for a second, and in the space between his words, Yona tried to comprehend two whole generations snuffed out, an entire future halted before it had begun, a familial legacy that would never be.
“Moshe is the tailor I mentioned, an old man, older than my father was. Sulia is twenty-five or so. Her older brother was friends with mine a lifetime ago, so I’ve known her since she was small. Ruth is around the same age, and she has three young children with her: Pessia, Leah, and a little boy, Daniel, just a baby. Her husband died last year, shot while Ruth and the children were out of the home, visiting her mother. There’s Luba, who is in her sixties, and Leon, who is seventy. They both recently lost their spouses to the Nazis, and they talk little, but they help with the cooking, the construction of our shelters. Leon, he was a shoemaker once, and so he helps to mend our boots. And then there is Rosalia. She has been helping Leib and me stand guard at night. I don’t know much about her, but she is resilient, tough.” He paused and glanced sideways at Yona. “You will like her, too, I think.”
Yona felt uneasy. It was jarring to hear the names of the people she had vowed to take responsibility for. These were human beings who were being hunted, people who had already lost incomprehensible things. And the majority were older people and children, the two hardest groups to keep alive in the forest. “How old are the children?”
“Pessia is four, I think, and Leah is a year younger. Daniel is perhaps a year old, maybe less.”
Yona nodded, taking this in. “And Oscher’s limp? It is serious?”
Aleksander sighed. “When we were leaving the ghetto, I had Leib lead the rest into the forest. I stayed behind with Oscher and followed at a slower pace. He couldn’t keep up. But he tries, Yona. And he’s one of us.”
Again she nodded. It was another problem. If the group had to move their camp in a hurry, he would hold them back. But Jerusza had been the same at the end, and Yona had simply become more cautious,
more observant of her surroundings, more attuned to danger. She would teach Aleksander to do the same with Oscher.
“Is there anything else? Anyone who might be a problem if you need to move quickly?”
Aleksander thought about this for a moment. “Ruth’s children are slow, but they’re small. Leib and Rosalia carried the girls when we fled the ghetto and Ruth carried the baby. They made good time.”
“All right.”
They were both quiet for a while before Aleksander spoke again. “You don’t have to come with me, Yona, if you don’t want. I know this must be a lot for you.”
“It is.” Yona glanced skyward, where a flock of crows had just lifted off. “But perhaps God gives us the answers before we know what the questions will be. Perhaps I was meant to help you, if I can.”
He accepted this in silence, and when he finally answered, his voice was choked. “Thank you, Yona,” he said, and when his eyes met hers, they were damp with gratitude and pain.
It took them another twenty minutes before they reached the camp, and Yona could smell it before they arrived, which made the hairs on her arms stand on end in alarm. The scents of roasted fish, burning embers, and sweat hung in the air. They were all signs that humans were living here, had been living here for long enough that their guard was down. It would make them vulnerable if the Germans ever came to this part of the woods. “You’ll need to move your camp, Aleksander,” she murmured. “Tonight.”
“What?” Aleksander looked startled. “But it is already midday. There isn’t time to—”
“You are in danger here.” She was walking more quickly now, worried about the people ahead, in danger because they didn’t know how not to be careless. They were focused only on surviving, not erasing all traces of themselves. They didn’t realize, though, that the two things were the same.
For the first time since they’d met, Aleksander’s voice took on an edge. “Yona, I can’t. They won’t—”
“Aleksander.” Again she cut him off. “Please, trust me. We need to move now.”
He stopped and stared at her. After a second, she stopped, too, and met his gaze. “We?” he repeated.
She blinked a few times, startled by the question. “I will stay with you long enough to help you stay safe. And then I will go. But please, you must believe me now.”
He was silent for a few seconds, but she could see the storm in his eyes. “All right.”
They broke through a wall of trees, and suddenly the small encampment was in front of them, a haphazard scene of huts built inexpertly from leaning branches and leaves, a firepit in the middle ringed with mud, a large pot sitting beside it. Two old men lounged with their backs against trees, talking with their eyes half-closed, faces tilted to the sun, while a few women washed clothes in a small stream at the edge of the clearing. Yona’s skin tingled. Though convenient, it was terrible planning to hide beside a stream; trackers would follow the waterways first. Two little girls were chasing each other around the outskirts of the settlement, giggling, and a woman nursing a small boy watched them with sad eyes. Leib emerged from one of the poorly constructed lean-tos, followed by three women and an older man, and called out a greeting. All eyes went to Aleksander, and then immediately to Yona.
“Everyone, listen,” Aleksander said, striding into the clearing, his authority over the little group immediately evident. Even the baby stopped nursing and turned his head to look. The young mother—Ruth, Yona recalled—hastily covered herself and stood up, lifting the baby to her shoulder. “This is Yona. She is here to help us.”
“Amkha?” one of the young women with Leib asked, her expression unreadable. It was the same word Aleksander had said to Yona the first day she saw him trying to fish.
“Yes, she is one of us, Sulia,” Aleksander answered firmly.
The woman’s eyes flicked back to Yona. Her hair was the color of burned acorns, hanging to the middle of her back, and her waist was narrow beneath an ample bosom. After a long pause, she smiled. “Yona, is it?”
Yona nodded. She had been prepared for the strangeness of being around a group of people, but she hadn’t expected the look of judgment in so many eyes. They were all assessing her, trying to read her, trying to see if she belonged, even the two little girls, who had stopped playing and were whispering to each other as they stared.
It was Sulia’s gaze that seemed to penetrate the most deeply, though, so Yona was relieved when the other woman finally stepped away from Leib and walked across the clearing. She extended her hand. “Welcome,” she said to Yona.
Yona had seen handshakes before from afar, but she had never engaged in one herself. As she reached out and let Sulia’s hand encircle hers, she was surprised to feel how hard the other woman’s fingers squeezed, folding Yona’s fingers into an uneasy U. Yona tried to squeeze back with equal force, and Sulia blinked rapidly a few times before pulling away.
“So, Yona, you are from the area near Mir, too?” Sulia asked.
“No.”
Sulia seemed to be waiting for Yona to say more, but she didn’t.
“Yona, meet Ruth.” Aleksander nodded to the young mother, who nodded back and gave Yona a smile that was small but full of light. “That’s Daniel, and over there are Pessia and Leah, her other two children. Against the trees there, you see Leon and Oscher.”
The old men both raised a hand in greeting as Aleksander continued. “You know Leib, and the women with him are Miriam, his mother; Bina, who is Oscher’s wife; and Luba.” A woman in her forties with dark hair framed by graying streaks—who must have been Miriam—nodded at Yona. The other two women—one with long, straight white hair, the other with twisted hair the color of silverfish—smiled and waved.
“And that’s Moshe with them,” Aleksander concluded. The man beside the older women nodded at Yona, his arms full of clothing. He appeared to be in his sixties and was nearly bald, with a pair of thick spectacles perched on the tip of his nose. He was the tailor, Yona recalled. She nodded back.
“Rosalia is still out on patrol?” Aleksander asked Leib, who nodded. “Can you go find her and bring her back?”
Leib’s eyes flicked to Yona. “Why?”
Aleksander hesitated, his eyes roaming the small encampment. Everyone remained still, watching. It felt to Yona as if they were all holding one long, collective breath. “Because we need to move,” Aleksander said at last, and there was a chorus of exhales, punctuated by a few soft gasps. “At once. We aren’t safe here.”
Leib tensed. “You’ve seen Germans? Where? How close?”
“No. Nothing like that. Still, we need to be on our way as soon as we can.”
Frowning, Leib glanced at Yona, then nodded and slipped off into the woods without another word.
“What are you saying, Aleksander?” one of the old men asked, the one Aleksander had introduced as Oscher, using the tree he’d been leaning on for support as he stood. The white-haired woman, Oscher’s wife, Bina, moved to his side, taking his hand and squeezing, as he added, “We need to move? From this spot that is comfortable and safe? Why?”
Aleksander hesitated and glanced at Yona. “Because we are too obvious here.”
“But you said the Germans aren’t coming,” murmured Ruth, her eyes round with fear as she rocked Daniel. The little boy’s eyelids were drooping, almost closed, his mouth slightly open, and Yona felt a pang of sudden fury at the thought that there were people out there hunting this defenseless child.
“Perhaps not today.” Aleksander’s voice was heavy with grief and exhaustion, and before Yona could stop herself, she reached out and touched his arm. The gesture of comfort seemed to surprise him; he blinked at her a few times before nodding and giving her a small smile. “But they will come.” His tone was resolute now. “They will come, and we cannot be here waiting for them.”
“You are being too cautious. We are fine here,” Sulia said. She glanced at Yona and added, “Aleksander is too worried sometimes, too careful.”
The wo
rds felt proprietary somehow, but that hardly mattered, because they were so incorrect. “There is no such thing as being too careful in the forest,” Yona said. “There is always danger.”
“Ah.” Sulia crossed her arms and glanced around at a few of the others in the group, her gaze resting on Aleksander for a few seconds before settling on Yona. “So this is your doing, yes? You have told Aleksander that we need to move our camp? And he believes you because you helped him catch a few fish?”
“Sulia,” one of the other women murmured in warning, but no one else spoke.
Yona could feel her cheeks heating again. Her palms were sweaty. She wanted to run, but if she did that, she’d be abandoning these people to the same sort of future Chana’s family had met. So she drew a deep breath. “Right now, you have been here too long. If your enemies come close enough by chance, they will find you.”
“Our enemies?” Sulia repeated. “Do you hear that, Aleksander? We must consider what she’s saying. She is telling us what to do, but she does not believe she is one of us.”
“Of course she is, Sulia.” It was Ruth who spoke. She had stopped rocking the baby and was rounding up the girls. “She is trying to help, which makes her a friend. We are all just trying to survive. Why not take the guidance of someone who can help us?”
“But who is she, anyhow?” one of the old men asked. “None of us know her from the ghetto, from our villages.”
“Who cares?” another man shot back. “She knows the forest.”
“Well, so do we!” the first man replied.
“Oh yes, Leon, you are going to lead us through the woods now, are you?” the second man retorted. “Feed us all? What’s for dinner tonight, then?”
“Enough!” Aleksander cut off the bickering by raising his hand. “Yona, what should we do?”
“You must—” Yona hesitated, suddenly uncertain—not of the need to move, but of her right to dole out instructions to people she’d just met. But Aleksander nodded encouragingly, and she drew a deep breath before continuing. “We must destroy the shelters, pack up your belongings.” She glanced at Ruth. “Do your girls know how to gather berries?”
The Forest of Vanishing Stars Page 8
