The Sisters of the Winter Wood

by Rena Rossner

  “What? No.” I shake my head. “You’re making this up.” How could he have been watching me all this time and I never noticed?

  “I’m not,” he says, and his eyes are clear with the truth of his words.

  “I’m sorry …” I say. “I didn’t mean to be so rough. I felt this rush of feelings and my heart was racing—my blood felt like it was boiling, and I felt …” I swallow. “ … like I wanted to devour you whole …”

  He laughs and his whole face lights up.

  My face turns red. I wrap my arms around myself. “Why are you laughing?”

  “Liba …” He puts his hand on my cheek and my body starts to rage and burn again, but I don’t pull away. “It’s what I felt when I was kissing you too. Like I couldn’t get enough. I want to get to know everything about you—inside and out. Can you give me the chance?”

  “You don’t understand. I don’t normally break the rules like my sister does. I don’t dance with boys at weddings, I’m not fun and full of life and beautiful like she is,” I say in a rush.

  “You are to me,” he says as he strokes the side of my face with his thumb. “And I don’t like dancing at weddings either—I was just hoping you’d look my way.”

  “Oh good, so we can not dance at weddings together,” I laugh.

  His eyes turn serious. “I’d like that a lot.”

  My eyes meet his and we stare at each other in silence.

  “It’s normal to feel this way about someone?” I whisper.

  “Completely.” He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “And I’m so happy right now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it means you feel the same way I do.” He leans forward and I think he’s going to kiss me again, but he doesn’t. He presses his lips to my forehead and puts his arms around me.

  It’s the first time I’ve felt warm and safe since Tati left.

  “Come,” he says, and he reaches for my hand. “Let’s go find your sister.”

  We walk until we reach the cottage. He kisses me again at the door, a chaste kiss this time, but still it lights my face on fire.

  He waits at the door as I unlock it and go inside. Instantly, I see Laya. She’s asleep in Mami and Tati’s bed.

  I breathe out a huge sigh of relief. “She’s here,” I say. “Thank God.” I turn to him. “Thank you.”

  He grins. “The pleasure was mine.” He waggles his eyebrows and I blush again. I don’t think I’ve ever blushed so many times in one night. I didn’t know my body was capable.

  “So … I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” he says.

  “Maybe. Be careful going home.”

  He takes my hand and kisses it. “I will,” he says. “Goodnight, Liba of the Moon.”

  I close the door and collapse, my back against the wall. Too many emotions swirl inside me.

  But Laya’s home and safe. And that’s what matters most of all.

  42

  Laya

  My lips hurt

  and my stomach aches.

  I can’t sleep.

  I hear Liba come in.

  I pretend to be asleep

  until she climbs into bed

  beside me.

  As she sleeps,

  my eyes caress the fruit

  he gave me.

  The basket is beside me,

  but I don’t think

  I could eat a thing.

  I’ve had too much wine.

  Too much fruit.

  And no answers.

  But I just want

  to kiss him again

  and again

  and again.

  43

  Liba

  I startle awake and realize it’s late morning. I sit up in bed, but when I see Laya sleeping beside me I’m relieved. My stomach rumbles, I’m feeling lightheaded. I watch Laya’s chest rise and fall. Poor little bird, she must be so tired.

  I don’t dare wake her. It’s shabbes. She can sleep in. I get up and make tea from water we left on the blech overnight. I’m about to slice myself some babka when I remember the meat in the icebox. I open the package of meat and moan as I chew. I feel better almost immediately. And I know in my heart it has more to do with meat than tea.

  Laya is still deep in slumber. Mami always says, When you sleep you grow. I’ll let her sleep. As long as I know where she is, my heart is calm.

  I go outside to check on the cow and gather the eggs. The hens peck at me, but not Laya, never Laya; she has a way with birds … I think about the night before. Despite what Dovid said, when I tasted his blood it felt like something else. It terrifies me. Perhaps he thought it was normal, but what if the next time I kiss him I do something more? What if hair grows on my arms? What if my nails grow into claws? I don’t know if I can risk it. I wish Tati was here. But even if he was, would I dare to ask him such questions? No. I would never tell him that I kissed a boy, and certainly not one he would never approve of. I must not kiss Dovid again. It’s the only way to keep everyone safe.

  Still Laya sleeps.

  “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” I sing.

  Laya’s eyes twitch but she doesn’t respond.

  “Gut morgen! The day awaits! It’s shabbes—let’s go to shul. Sleepy shlofkepele, wake up, wake up!”

  Laya smiles and stretches her arms up over her head.

  “Mmmore …” she mumbles. “ … Mm … mm … more … yes … mmmm …”

  “You’re dreaming, silly girl,” I say. I caress her cheek, and with her eyes still closed, she sits up in bed. In an instant she’s upon me. She presses her lips against mine.

  “Laya! Stop!” I struggle against her. “What are you doing?!”

  She opens her eyes, looks at me and in an instant, she breaks the kiss.

  I laugh uncomfortably and ruffle her hair. “Must have been some dream.”

  She rubs her eyes and touches her lips, which look red and swollen.

  Did she kiss Fedir last night? She must have. I should be angry and worried—this is my little sister whom I’m supposed to be protecting, but who am I to judge when I made the same choice last night? Neither one of us is following in Tati and Mami’s path right now, and with them not here, I don’t know if it’s my role to police who she spends her time with. The swans haven’t come—that’s what I promised Mami I would protect her from. Maybe that’s enough.

  “Shul will be over soon!” I say cheerily.

  “Oh,” Laya says. “Shul. Right.” She looks around as if she can’t remember where she is.

  “Dovid invited me to the kahal meeting tonight. Pinny will be there … I thought maybe you’d come with me?” I ask as she gets up and gets dressed in her shabbes clothes.

  “Okay,” she says listlessly as she sits down to sip tea. When the tea touches her lips, she winces. I swallow hard. Something is wrong. I kissed Dovid fiercely last night, but my lips don’t look like hers do. But if I ask about her night she may ask about mine, and I’m not ready for anyone to know what happened between me and Dovid, so I say nothing.

  We set out arm in arm for the village. But instead of chattering endlessly, Laya is silent. She gazes at the forest absently, searching all around her.

  “Do you see it, Liba?” she whispers at one point.

  “What?”

  “All the fruit. The orchards. They’re filled with light.”

  “What are you talking about? There are no fruit trees here,” I say.

  Laya rubs her eyes and looks around again. “Oh, you’re right,” she says.

  We keep walking.

  I don’t know what to make of it or what to say.

  I start to pay closer attention. There is a mist in the trees that the light shines through, and the branches of the trees rise around us like a crown, their arms reaching for the sky. It’s a fine winter day and the snow is melting. But I don’t see any fruit. There is a buzzing under everything, what I’ve been hearing all along, but it’s quieter today, like the rushing of a distant stream. I scent the air, searchi
ng for something amiss, and that’s when I smell it—something earthy, an animal scent. Musky and wild. I whip my head around, from side to side, behind me and in front again, but I don’t see anything. I only feel it. I sense a pair of dark eyes, waiting and watching.

  I shiver and rub my arms under my coat.

  “Let’s go to shul,” I say, and pick up our pace through the woods. I want to go straight to the Great Synagogue in the center of town. It’s not where Tati davens, but it’s where the Meisels pray. I need to find Dovid. But as we reach town I feel Laya drifting in the direction of the goyishe marketplace—the one open on shabbes. Her eyes look only in one direction. I’m rushing off to find Dovid, so who am I to judge?

  My heart breaks. I don’t want to say the words I’m about to say—my chest feels heavy—but what can I do? I’m not Laya’s mother or father … she must make her own choices. Anyway we’re safe now, in town and not in the woods, not in our house where I listen endlessly for the sound of wings in the wind and bears on the prowl.

  “Go there, Laya,” I sigh. “I know it’s shabbes but … go. I know you want to. Just be careful. And don’t eat anything, okay? We’ll meet up back here and walk home together.”

  Laya’s eyes perk up. She smiles for the first time all morning. “Okay,” she says, as if in a dream.

  Which puzzles me even more. She should fight me, or smile and run in his direction. Something is wrong with my sister—I know it like I know the truth of what I am deep in my gut. I watch her walk away, listing left and right as she goes, stopping to twirl herself in a lazy circle and stumbling on.

  I want to keep watching her … but I also want to talk to Dovid. I must thank his mother for last night, and give her the babka, and I want to tell him about Laya and what I felt this morning again in the woods. I sigh. I should also make it clear to him that he and I can never be. It’s for the best. But somehow I know that if I try, the words won’t come. Because deep inside, I don’t really want to say anything at all.

  44

  Laya

  My feet fly as if they have wings.

  Yet I wonder

  why I move

  so slowly.

  I don’t care

  if it’s shabbes—

  I only want

  to see Fedir again.

  Did you sleep well?

  he says when he sees me.

  Mmmhmmm, I nod.

  It is the only sound

  I can make.

  My lips are sore.

  I feel my cheeks flush.

  I clear my throat,

  Did you? I ask.

  Like a baby, he says,

  I smile, picturing

  him curled up.

  Picturing me

  curled up beside him.

  Come by tonight? he asks.

  I can’t … I say.

  Liba wants me

  to go with her

  to the kahal meeting.

  But I don’t tell him that.

  But you must, he says,

  You’re all I think about.

  Me too, I say.

  I think of nothing else.

  So come! he says.

  My sister says

  it’s dangerous

  to be out in the woods.

  People are missing.

  We heard, he says.

  I wrinkle my brows

  Do you know anything?

  His eyes go wide.

  You haven’t heard

  about the murder? he says.

  What murder?

  He tsks. You’re too pretty

  to worry about such things.

  I don’t understand.

  I want to ask more

  but he grabs my wrist

  and tugs me back

  behind the stand.

  He presses me

  against the stall and puts

  his arms around me.

  You taste like berries

  and sunshine,

  he whispers into my hair.

  He nuzzles his head

  into my neck

  and I squeal.

  He kisses my ear,

  my neck, my collarbone,

  up and up,

  a trail

  towards my lips.

  You taste like apricots …

  and wine,

  he says.

  I whisper back

  against his neck,

  You taste like fire.

  I lick his neck. And salt.

  Why do I feel this way?

  Is it the wine? I ask.

  He laughs. I hope

  it’s more than that.

  You sure tasted like wine

  last night, he says.

  His lips meet mine

  and I groan.

  I’m sure people

  can see us,

  but I don’t care.

  I feel intoxicated,

  I can’t stop.

  I want to ask more questions—

  the word murder spins

  around in my head—

  but I can’t

  make out the shape

  of what I want to say.

  I open my mouth

  to ask, but he answers

  with his tongue,

  and I can’t get enough

  of the sensation of

  his lips on mine.

  His tongue,

  searching for mine.

  His hands in my hair,

  on my arms,

  and lower, still lower.

  45

  Liba

  I walk as fast as I can to the shul. I don’t want to leave Laya for long. What if Mami and Tati come home and hear that their daughter was in the marketplace on shabbes morning talking to those shkotzim—or worse?

  I wait outside the men’s section of the shul. Soon they start to stream out. I see Dovid—I want to go to him, but I don’t want to make a scene. I wait, hoping he’ll see me first.

  He looks up and his eyes find mine. His face lights up with a smile so wide that it breaks my heart. I feel my chest clench and I look down.

  “Gut shabbes!” he says. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Gut shabbes,” I whisper.

  His father walks by. “Gut shabbes!” he says.

  “Father, we’ll just be a minute?” Dovid asks.

  He grunts, “Not too long.”

  Dovid turns back to me. I can’t stop looking at him, remembering everything. The way his lips felt, his arms holding me tight, his eyes searching mine, clear and true. My body on fire at his touch.

  I shake my head. Focus, Liba: remember what you came for. But I see him blush and somehow I know that he’s thinking the same things about me.

  “Let’s walk,” he says.

  I follow him until we duck into a quiet little courtyard, and then into an alleyway between two buildings. He looks around, making sure that we’re alone, then takes both of my hands in his. His hands are so warm and soft. I know I should end things now. There is no future for him and me. Just heartbreak. But I can’t bring myself to say the words.

  I open my mouth to say something, anything, but he says, “Listen, did you hear? They found Jennike’s body.”

  “What?” My heart stops, and I feel like I can’t breathe.

  “In the Feldmans’ orchard, down by the river. They’re certain it’s a bear. I’m going out with the search party tonight. I’ll bring you to the kahal meeting and take you home afterwards. I’ll come back later, when I can.”

  “Jennike was killed by a bear? Here? In Dubossary?”

  “I know—it’s crazy. Nothing ever happens here. Don’t worry—I’ll make sure that we search around your cabin too. I’m going to make sure that we find what it is out there before it gets anywhere near you.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Could there be another bear in these woods? A real bear—or a bear like me?

  Dovid tugs his hand through his hair. His kuppel falls off. He bends down to pick it up, kiss
es it, and puts it back on his head. “Listen, I’m worried about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I know that all of this is very recent, I mean, since last night—” He blushes. “—but really, it’s been longer, right?”

  I force a laugh. “Yes.”

  “Please be careful,” he says. “I mean, I’ve known you all my life but last night I felt like I’d met you for the first time. I can’t stop thinking about you. I know we barely know each other—but we sort of do. I mean …”

  “I know what you mean.” His stumbling words echo the things that my heart says.

  Everything about being with him feels so right. He makes me laugh. I love how he’s so strong and sure of himself all the time, except now when he’s flustered, and I feel like it’s a moment that’s mine—one that only I get to see, and I like that. I don’t have many secrets—only one very big one—but being here with Dovid makes me feel like I have another secret, and it’s one I don’t want to share with anyone else in the world. Mine. My heart says. Mine.

  Dovid makes me reckless. I never could have imagined touching a boy before marriage. Not until Mami and Tati left and dropped something into my lap that changed everything. Nothing feels the same anymore, and I like the person that I am when I’m with Dovid—the way he looks at me, the way he challenges me to be brave and a little foolish. I feel like I deserve a chance to try to be a little more free—certainly before Tati comes back and my life changes yet again, maybe forever.

  I see Dovid watching my eyes and it feels like he’s reading in them everything I’m not saying.

  And before either one of us can say anything else, he leans forward and presses his lips against mine.

  This time I don’t bite—well, maybe only a little.

  46

  Laya

  I wander back

  to the cottage alone.

  Was I supposed to

  meet my sister?

  I don’t remember

  anymore.

  All I can feel

  are his lips lips lips.

  I’m so thirsty.

  I pick thistles

  and dandelions

  and weave them

  into a crown.

  I laugh. It looks

  a little like

  the crown that

  Miron made for me