Touched by Fire (7 page)

The runaway is brought back, his cheeks scarlet with cold. I hear Bubbe thanking Mikhail’s father, insisting he take a freshly baked challah for his wife.

“Oh, Yuri, how could you worry us so?” Mama says, on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry, Mama. No one listens to me, I had to.…” A tear rolls down his cheek. He wipes his face with his sleeve, and I hand him my handkerchief. His hands are blue.

“Don’t you want to see your papa again, Yuri? You know how much he misses us all,” Mama says.

“Of course I do, but I want to stay here with Bubbe and Zayde and my friends more. Devora is staying, so why can’t I? I’ve told you and told you how I feel, Mama. Why won’t you understand? It’s not fair. As for you, Miriam, you are a big sneak, and I am never going to speak to you again.” To think I even felt sorry for him a moment ago.

“Enough of that kind of talk, Yuri.” Mama has lost her patience with him. “I was ready to go to the police. Miriam, please put Devora in her crib. She is tired.”

I do so and place my little doll, the one I have had ever since I was my sister’s age, in her arms. I have been saving the doll for this last night. I kept her in my apron pocket all day. She brought back memories of how Malka and I played together, how Malka loved to make little dresses for her doll from bits of cast-off rags. The doll I give to Devora has been a constant reminder of Malka.

Devora clutches the doll. “Mine,” she says, beaming at me sleepily.

Yuri is sent to bed without supper, and we eat in silence. What a sad meal, the last but one before our journey. In the morning, it is all we can do to say good-bye to Bubbe. My sister is still fast asleep, and we decide not to wake her. Mama and I cry all the way to the station. Yuri sulks, unspeaking, looking straight ahead.

When the time comes to part from Zayde, after he has unloaded all our belongings and put them on the platform,
we just look at each other for a long moment. Mama keeps tight hold of Yuri’s wrist, so that he does not get back in the cart or dash away somewhere. She manages a smile.

“Soon,” Mama says, “soon we will all be together again. Take care of yourselves and of my little girl, Father.” He puts his hand on our heads, briefly, and his lips move in a blessing before he turns away.

W
e wave to Zayde long after he is out of sight. The arrival of the train forces us to turn towards it. Now our journey can really begin. I am the first one to clamber up the steps, so that Mama and Yuri can hand the luggage up to me. After putting down the first bundle, I discover that Yuri has gone.
What now?
Other travelers climb onto the train, loaded down with their belongings.

“Mama, where is Yuri?” I scream. At that moment, I notice his brown cap disappearing behind a luggage cart. “Over there, Mama, quick!” I rush down the steps, and we run after him.

A guard appears. “The train will depart shortly, ladies.”

“Yes, sir.” I smile at him, drag Yuri out, and hand him over to Mama.

“March,” she says and stands close behind Yuri as he climbs the steps, deliberately slowly. We struggle with our belongings and find our seats. Yuri is wedged beside the window, I’m next to him, and Mama collapses on the aisle seat as the train lurches forward with a great hiss of steam. The other passengers look as if they have been settled for a while. There is an old woman wearing a kerchief, sleeping with her mouth open, who snores a little. Next to her, a small girl devours a piece of black bread. Her mother tells her not to gobble it so fast.

We are going such a long way, away from Devora, Bubbe, and Zayde.
Will we have to wait two years until we see them again?
That’s how long we were without Papa. As the train wheels go round and round, they seem to echo my thoughts,
far away, far away
. I wonder if the wheels chant in Russian or Yiddish or German or all three, depending on where the passenger comes from. I look at the German-English dictionary that Kolya gave me for my birthday. It is small enough to fit in my pocket. He wrote in it:
To Miriam, an excellent pupil, from your friend, Kolya
. I shall miss him – he has become like an older brother to us.

Yuri can’t be angry with me forever. His eyes are shut, but I think he is only pretending to be asleep. I can tell by the way his eyelids flutter that he is awake.

“Yuri,” I whisper, “please forgive me for giving your hiding
place away. We were so worried about you!” He pretends not to hear me. He has not spoken a word since last night.

The woman opposite us wipes tears from her eyes. Mama pours a beaker of tea from the flask we brought and offers it to her. “Have you come far?” she asks the woman.

“Thank you. Yes, we changed trains in Danzig. Before that, we came from Grodno. So many stops, so many questions they ask, those doctors and inspectors. The disinfecting, the scrubbing and prodding, making us feel like animals. In Hamburg, it will be the same thing, and if they don’t like the answer or think we are unfit, ‘undesirables’ as they call us, then they will turn us back.” I sense Yuri is listening. He shifts slightly in his seat.

The woman continues, “It is the new regulations. The steamship companies don’t want to pay for people who are sent back from New York. The Golden Land is only for the healthy and smart.” She wipes the beaker on her skirt and returns it, thanking Mama. The woman seems happy to have a good listener. “I hear you will have fewer problems, coming from Germany. For us … straight from Russia, I don’t know. What are they afraid of? That we carry some plague?” She sighs deeply, as though bewildered at all that has happened to her.

Mother tells her about Devora, about having to leave her behind.

“I am sorry for you,” the woman says, “but think how lucky you are to have family to take care of her until she is well. You want to know something? I am afraid. I have not seen my husband and son for four years. How much will they have changed? The old one,” she points to her sleeping mother, “how will she like it over there? Can she learn a new language?”

I stop listening because I have noticed Yuri’s face. The sullen look has been replaced by his usual mischievous one. He’s up to something, but what?

Please, Yuri, don’t cause any more problems. Haven’t we waited long enough to see Papa again?
Even if he could read my thoughts, in his present mood, he’d ignore them.

The train slows down and the guard calls out, “Hamburg.” The engine has hardly come to a halt before people scramble out onto the platform. Everyone is in a hurry to get their luggage out safely, to be first in line to wherever we are supposed to go. Small children peer down onto the gleaming rails under the train and are dragged off, protesting, by their mothers.

Mama tells me to count our pieces of luggage. She has not let go of Yuri for a second, holding on to the back of his jacket or a sleeve as we are jostled by the crowd. He looks pale, with big circles under his eyes. She relents, gently brushing the hair from his eyes. Whistles blow. Men speaking in Yiddish accost travelers, offering to exchange money or sell tickets.

One grabs the ends of my shawl. “You need nice clean room, miss?” I shudder away. Mama pushes at him with her basket.

“Go away, or I’ll call the police,” she says. Thankfully, the scrawny man has already turned to accost someone else.

“How often do I have to tell you, Miriam,” Mama says, “if a strange man speaks to you, look away. Never answer anyone, unless he is a policeman or wearing an official uniform. Girls disappear as quickly as this.” She snaps her fingers together. “There are bad people here. Now stay close to me, both of you.”

It would be useless to tell her I did not say a single word to him or that white slavers would not dare to lure me away with Mama watching! I’ve heard stories of girls enticed away, by the offer of a place to stay or a good job, and never heard from again! Mama is forever warning me about strangers.

She starts again, “Especially at railway stations and when disembarking from a ship. Bad people know one is alone, bewildered, ready to believe anything, flattered by a nice smile.”

We follow the crowd leaving the station, led by two uniformed men telling us to be quick. There are hundreds and hundreds of us.
How will they make room for us all on the ship?

“Where are we going now, do you think, Mama?” I ask.

A tall girl wearing a bright red shawl, her hair hanging in a long dark braid down her back, turns around to speak to us. “To the Hamburg emigration building,” she says. She is not walking with anyone.
Is she all by herself?
She does not look much older than me.

I can smell the River Elbe. I point to the ships in the harbor. “Look, Yuri, one of those ships might be the one taking us to America.” He pretends not to hear me. I’m getting tired of his silly game.
Why doesn’t Mama put her foot down?
We are nudged and pushed up several steps into a large gray building. Voices in several languages tell steerage passengers to hurry up and proceed to the passenger halls. Officials surround us, demanding to look at our papers, asking where we are from. Interpreters translate. Then we are divided into roped-off lines – one is for those who have traveled from Russia, ours is for those who have traveled from within Germany, and another is for people from other countries in Europe.

I wave good-bye to the little girl who was on the train with us. It doesn’t seem fair that her family has to go through all the things they have already experienced along the way, again. The girl with the red shawl has moved several places ahead of us.

Some people are arguing with the officers, saying they have papers for America, asking why they are being treated differently than travelers from Germany. One of the
uniformed men explains they must go to the quarantine barracks first, for questioning and disinfecting, before they can proceed. Our line moves forward. My arms are already tired from carrying my luggage. There are several inspectors ahead, who will look through our things. Luckily all our belongings get stamped as
INSPECTED
, a red label fastened to each item, a yellow one to say
DISINFECTED
.

Just when I think we are finished, we find out that we must be examined by the emigration doctor. In single file, we pass in front of a stern-looking man in a white coat. A nurse stands beside him, as well as a uniformed man who writes in a little notebook. The nurse checks our names against our luggage labels and writes them down on a list. She tells us our tickets must be stamped by the US consulate in Hamburg. The man who is writing in a notebook must be from the US consulate. I just hope that Yuri will be on his very best behavior and answers all the doctor’s questions nicely.

I go first and give my name and age before the doctor looks in my ears and mouth. He listens to my chest and asks me to cough, then to read some numbers from a chart on the wall behind him. I read out a sentence written on a grubby card. Then the nurse hands him something that looks like a black buttonhook. He turns back my eyelid. I can’t help wincing, gasping with the shock and pain of it.

My ticket is stamped, and the nurse smiles at me. I’ve passed! While Mama is asked some more questions, I am told to wait by the exit. She joins me in a few minutes, and we wait anxiously for Yuri’s ticket to be stamped too.

The doctor asks Yuri his name. His face is blank, and his lips are clamped shut. When they ask him his age, an interpreter repeats both questions. Nothing is forthcoming. Mama is about to step forward, but I hold her back. The doctor takes Yuri by the chin and forces his mouth open, then he looks in his ears. After he has listened to his chest, he walks behind my brother. Suddenly the doctor claps his hands together sharply. The noise startles me, even though I have been expecting it. Yuri does not move.

“Look at me!” the doctor shouts. There is no response. Mama rushes forward and grabs hold of Yuri.
Does she think she can shake the words out of him?
I can tell he will not let himself be persuaded to speak. We all overheard the woman on the train who said the “unfit” are turned back. Yuri has decided to imitate Kolya’s brother, Lev, who did not speak.

Mama says, “You must stop this nonsense, Yuri. It is not a game. It is your life, all our lives. Answer the doctor, I beg you, my son.”

The doctor is tapping the table impatiently, with a pointer. She turns to him.

“Sir,” Mama says, “Yuri is a normal intelligent boy, just shy and afraid.”

The doctor ignores Mama’s protests.

“He is rejected. Your son is defective. The boy will be sent back tomorrow. Arrangements will be made for his safe return. Next.”

My brain cannot take in his words.
Defective? Impossible!
My brother has an answer for everything. He can recognize any military regiment just by looking at the buttons on the uniform.

Mama slaps Yuri hard, once on each cheek. “Speak, you stubborn boy! Don’t do this,” she says.

An officer pulls Mama away and points us to the door. I cannot see Yuri’s face, but the way he stands and his narrow bony shoulders are still those of a little boy. Perhaps he has earned the right to stay awhile longer. Perhaps I can make amends for giving his hiding place away.

“Mama, please let him be. He can’t help it, he is so unhappy. Bubbe and Zayde will take care of him. He can come with them later.” Still Yuri does not move, but I think I see some of the stiffness go out of the shoulders he has held rigidly for so long. “I beg you, Mama, come now. We have to go. Look, our tickets are stamped – the ship will leave without us.” I pick up the basket of food and my things. Mama looks from Yuri to me, her face ashen. With tears rolling down her cheeks, she walks towards Yuri and takes his hand in hers. An awful thought comes to me. I have to hold myself back from throwing myself into my mother’s arms.

“Miriam, you will have to go without me,” Mama says. “I cannot leave both Devora and Yuri without a mother. Tell Papa I will come later.” She turns to go.

I stare at Mama.
She is not coming!
I cry out, “What about me, Mama? Don’t Papa and I matter? What of the tickets, wasted?”