Touched by Fire (6 page)

“We will have to wait and see, Miriam. What do I think? You are only fourteen years old, with your whole life ahead of you, and now, a sea voyage across the Atlantic Ocean. We will take things one step at a time. First we must settle in our new country, become good citizens, and help Papa all we can. We need to make a proper home and earn enough to send for Bubbe and Zayde. You will be my right hand, and if that means cooking and cleaning and helping me with a bit of sewing the way you do now, that is what we will do.” Mama throws up her hands as if I have asked for the moon.

“Yes, I understand. Mama, please listen. I want to tell you something else.…”

“So speak, I am listening,” she says, but she is rereading Papa’s letter and only half paying attention.

“Mama, Yuri does not want to go to America. He has said so over and over again.”

“Miriam, Miriam, you worry too much. You think I don’t know how Yuri feels? I know, but when he makes new friends in America, he will come around. Yuri will be another pair of hands helping to earn money for the family. He will be proud to help his papa. He can do so many things – a bright boy like him. He will like to be useful, and we might be able to send him to an American school. He is not twelve yet. A boy needs to learn everything he can.”

“Mama, Yuri wants to stay in Berlin awhile longer, to go on helping Zayde. Shoe making is a good trade, isn’t it?” I say.

Mama looks horrified. “So what are you trying to tell me? That Yuri not come with us, when I have his ticket here? What do you think we have been working for? Are you crazy? Yuri comes with us!” Mama folds her letter, stowing it safely away with the tickets in her box. Our conversation is at an end.

She hands me the pile of neatly pressed and folded garments. “Miriam, take these blouses I finished embroidering last night to Frau Goldschmidt,” she says. “Ask her to pay us up to date, please. You may tell her we sail for America in a few weeks.” I hate asking for money, even
more than finishing buttonholes, but at least I can go out for a while.

Mama says, “There, you think I keep you home too much. Look how responsible I think you are to trust you with an important errand.”

A week later, Devora starts to cough and wheeze. Bubbe rubs her chest with goose grease, puts a cloth over her head, and makes her breathe in the steam from a basin of scalding water. Not one of Bubbe’s favorite remedies seems to help. My little sister refuses to eat. I soften white bread in warm milk, add a few raisins, and tempt her with thin slices of apple sprinkled with sugar, but she turns her head away after a few bites.

Mama sends for the doctor again. Each time the money she has put away for our journey becomes a little less. The doctor looks at the baby, takes her temperature, listens to her chest. Mama tells him we sail in two weeks. Doctor Braun straightens up. I bring him a basin of warm water and a clean towel. When he finishes washing and drying his hands, he turns to Mama.

“Frau Markowitz,” he says, “it is out of the question that this child can stand up to such a journey so soon. She needs building up – good food, rest, and quiet. There will be no fresh milk on board. Atlantic weather is rough, and overcrowded conditions can breed all kinds of illnesses.
She may succumb to any of them in her present state. You face a journey of many days. I advise you, most strongly, to postpone your travel, and, if this is not possible, to leave the little girl with loving relatives. After all, the child has her grandparents to care for her.” He smiles at Bubbe.

“But the tickets have been purchased.” Mama is agitated. “My husband has been working for two years to send for us.” She speaks fast in her anxiety, her voice shaky. Then she is silent, waiting for the doctor to reassure us.

He considers, speaks, but it is not what we want to hear. “As your doctor, I can only advise you. You must do as you wish. Dear lady, supposing your little girl survives by some miracle, she still has to pass a strict medical inspection at Ellis Island. Children there have been hospitalized or sent back. Devora is a delicate little girl, but she will outgrow this condition if you allow her to. You will see, in a year or two, she will be much stronger. Here is a prescription for a tonic to increase her appetite. Good day.” I hand him his hat and open the door for him.

What are we going to do?

That night Mama, Zayde, and Bubbe talk for a long time. The next day, Mama says they have decided to accept the doctor’s advice. Devora will stay with my grandparents until we send for them. By then, my sister will be a year older and stronger, more able to endure the voyage. Yuri and I try to
take it in. Mama is brave to heed the doctor. I can hardly bear to think of leaving my baby sister behind.

Yuri says, “I am really sorry, Mama, but I have an idea. If I stay behind and go on helping Zayde as I always have, I will find time to play with Devora. I’ll make her laugh. When Papa sends the tickets, we can all come at the same time.

“I am doing well in school, Mama, and Bubbe and Zayde and I will practice our English. I can help out more at the stables and earn money. I don’t need to go to America right now. I can wait.” He smiles innocently.

Mama says, “No, Yuri, Papa and I want you to come now. Enough. No more of your ideas.”

“Why won’t you ever listen to me, Mama?” Yuri shouts. “I want to stay here, I like it, I am happy. I am sick of hearing about the Golden Land. Please, let me stay in Berlin.”

Mama shakes her head. “Be still, Yuri, you have said quite enough.”

He looks at Zayde.

“A boy must obey his parents, Yuri,” Zayde says.

Yuri rushes out.

“He will come around, you’ll see,” Bubbe says. “Yuri does not like change. He doesn’t mean it, Sara.”

M
ama and I have almost finished packing. We do not own very many valuables, but we divide them between us. I have wrapped one of our Sabbath candlesticks in a skirt inside an extra blanket, and Mama has the other one, concealed in the same way in one of her bundles.

Bubbe says, “Who knows what kind of people you will be traveling with on the ship? Better to be cautious.”

Mama kisses her cheek. “You are right, as always,
Mamele
. I don’t know how we will manage without you, even for a short time.”

It is well into the afternoon before Mama and I have sewn our money inside our waistbands and skirt hems. There is not a great deal left because of the doctor’s many visits, but Mama says it will be enough until we find work.

“We need to leave for Hamburg, so that we arrive in
plenty of time to board the ship. There may be delays, and who knows for how long? Suppose we have to find lodgings overnight? I can imagine lengthy waits, with hundreds and hundreds of people leaving at the same time.”

Mama thinks of everything. She says I worry, but from whom did I learn about worrying? I hear an anxious note in her voice as she asks where Yuri is. She brings in the samovar and pours our tea.

“It’s getting dark. Where can that boy have got to? I told him to be home long before this. I don’t want a last-minute rush in the morning. We leave from Lehrter Station at 8:00 a.m., so we must be there well before the train leaves. Zayde says it is not a long journey to Hamburg – a little over four hours – and then the waiting begins to board the ship. We need to be prepared and ready early. This is no way to start out.”

I think how selfish Yuri is being, worrying Mama in this way. It is hard enough for her having to leave Devora behind. Bubbe comes in, and Mama asks her if she has seen Yuri. Zayde warms his hands round the glass of tea that Bubbe pours for him.

“I gave Yuri a piece of bread and butter because he said he had a long errand to run for you,” Bubbe tells Zayde. Her face is creased with anxiety.

“I have not seen the boy since breakfast! What are you talking about, an errand? I delivered a pair of boots myself
to Herr Becker, charged him only half price, and in return, he promised to lend me his cart to take you to the station tomorrow. Yuri must have misunderstood,” Zayde says.

Mama picks up Devora, who is pulling at her skirt. She seems to demand more attention these last few days, as if sensing the coming separation.
Can a two-year-old understand that she’ll be without her mama, sister, and brother?
I can hardly believe it myself.

“I expect he’s playing with Mikhail. After all, it is their last afternoon. I’ll run upstairs and fetch him,” I say. Anything, rather than watch the look on Mama’s face as she holds my sister. My heart begins to pound, as I don’t believe for one minute that he is there. The boys have most likely concocted some plan to hide Yuri, goodness knows where. I knock on the Josewitzes’ door.

Mikhail’s father opens it and asks me inside. “Have you come to say good-bye, Miriam? Well, I wish you all the best. We are going to miss young Yuri around the place.”

“Thank you, sir, but we can’t find him anywhere. No one has seen him all day!”

Herr Josewitz calls his son, “Mikhail, come here.”

Mikhail walks into the room at once, almost as if he has been eavesdropping. He smiles guilelessly at his father. “Do you need me for anything, Papa?”

“Yes.” The way his father grabs hold of Mikhail, I think he suspects him of hatching some devious plot with Yuri.
Herr Josewitz says, “Yuri is missing. You must tell his mother where he is immediately. If you are covering up for your friend, think again!”

We all go downstairs together.

Mama speaks gently to Mikhail, but his face remains white. “We are all so worried, Mikhail. You know that we are leaving for America tomorrow. Have you seen Yuri today, or have you any idea where he might be?” she asks him.

Mikhail meets her gaze, and, for a minute, he looks as innocent as Devora.
Is he going to tell the truth?
He and Yuri would rather die than tell tales about each other. For some reason, I think about Malka. I still miss her, so I can understand how the boys would try anything to keep Yuri in Berlin! Mikhail shifts uneasily from one foot to the other.

“I did see Yuri this morning,” Mikhail says. “He said he had an errand to run. Then we said good-bye. That is all I can tell you, Aunt Sara.”

“I understand that friends must stick together,” Mikhail’s father says, “but this is serious. If we have to bring in the police, you might both be in more trouble than you can even imagine. I want the truth – do you know where Yuri is or suspect where he might be?”

Mikhail says, “I’m speaking the truth, Father, I don’t know where he is. We decided, I mean … Yuri said it’s better if I don’t know his plans. He said that he is going
away, a long way away, so that he doesn’t have to go to America. We said good-bye and shook hands. That’s all. Maybe he’s on his way home to Kiev.”

“Are you trying to be smart, boy?” Mikhail’s father roars.

“No, sir, I’m not.” I notice he bites his bottom lip.

Mama says, “Can’t you think of somewhere, some hiding place perhaps? It is dark, and we expect more snow. Your father is right, Mikhail. We will have to call in the police.”

Kolya comes in. He has taken off his snowy boots, but there are still snowflakes on his jacket. He blows on his fingers. “It’s freezing out there. I heard you mention the police. You’re not turning me in, are you? If you do, I shall run away to America with you and become a stowaway on the ship,” he teases.

Mama buries her face in Devora’s hair. She weeps without a sound, but I see her shoulders shake.

“It’s not a joke, Kolya. Yuri has run away,” Zayde says.

This journey to America is becoming like a bad dream. I almost wish Papa had not sent the tickets!

“Mikhail, where is your favorite place – somewhere you boys enjoy playing?” Kolya asks. Mikhail shrugs and mumbles something about many places. He looks down at the floor, determined not to answer.

I know he knows. Mikhail’s father glares at his son.

Suddenly it comes to me – I know where he is! I’m so excited that the words come rushing out. “Mama, I just
remembered something. Yuri said he earned money to buy oranges for Devora by working at the stables. He loves that place. It’s not too cold in there either. I’m sure that’s where he’s hiding.”

Mikhail’s body tenses, but he does not raise his head.
So I’m right!

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize what I’ve done. But going to the police would have been worse. I had to tell, and I know Yuri will never forgive me. I’ve probably broken his heart. It’s all I can do to stop myself from apologizing to Mikhail.

Herr Josewitz shouts, “That’s it, the stables! I should have guessed. The boys are always finding excuses to be there, ever since they came with me to put in the new window. Mikhail, go to bed. There’s no supper for you tonight. I’ll deal with you later.” The men hurry off.

I’m overcome with guilt.
How could I have given Yuri away, my own brother?
I comfort myself with the knowledge that this is not a game we are playing, that the ship won’t wait, trying to excuse what I’ve done.

Mama, Bubbe, and I stow the food for our journey in a big basket. It seems a lot for just three of us.
Surely, we will get fed on the voyage?
There is a braided challah, a rye loaf and one of black bread, as well as a jar of chicken fat, another of pickled herring, some apples, and honey cake, wrapped up tightly in cloths to keep from drying out. Our bundles,
basket, and suitcases are already strapped up. Mama packs Yuri’s things.

“They’ll find him, Mama. Try not to worry too much,” I say.

Mama walks up and down the small kitchen, carrying Devora, who is half asleep. “That boy cannot be trusted for one minute, Miriam,” she says. “We will have to watch him every second until the train leaves.”

I don’t say what I think – that until we actually get him onto the ship, he’ll have to be guarded. I wouldn’t put it past him to jump off the boat and swim back. Yuri has always been stubborn.

“Let’s hope the windows of the train compartment are locked,” I say. When I see the look on her face, I add, “I’m only joking, Mama.” I feel like slapping Yuri, but I feel sorry for him too. He must be so unhappy to put us through all this.