by Rena Rossner
Dream of the tops of trees,
air on your face,
sun on your back
and clouds.
You are different, Laya,
you are special,
you are hope …
I dream that I soar
high above
this small town.
I fly above our dense,
dark woods.
I have wings and webbed feet
and I circle the village
until I come to a clearing
and see the Hovlin glen
and the lodge.
I try to land,
to go to Fedir
who is waiting
for me,
but I start to
fall
fall
fall.
There are tears on my face
and feathers everywhere.
55
Liba
When we get back to the cottage, cheeks flushed from the nip of cold in the air, and I open the door, my eyes are still on Dovid. It’s only through seeing his eyes widen that I know something is horribly wrong.
I turn my head and see Laya on the floor, pale, unmoving, and covered in feathers.
“Laya! No! Oy no!” I run to her and cradle her head in my lap. “Laya! Laya, wake up this instant! Oyfvakn!”
The swans! Everything my mother feared would happen has come true and I missed all the signs. What happened? How did they get in? And where did they go?
“Shall I go get the doctor?” Only when he speaks do I notice Dovid kneeling beside me.
“Yes. Just help me get her up onto the bed.”
“This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have kept you out there with me for so long.”
“It’s okay—it’s my fault too.”
“Are you sure we should move her?” he asks.
“I don’t want her to lie on the cold floor.”
We lift her as though she weighs nothing.
“I don’t know …” I feel as though all sensation has left my body. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll go get help and bring the wagon back. We can transport her that way in comfort.”
“Okay,” I say. “Okay.” But nothing is okay at all.
As Dovid runs out the door, I sit on the bed with Laya’s head in my lap. I watch her frail form take slow shuddering breaths. I examine the feathers on the floor. Did the swans come just now when I was outside? But I was watching the house, wasn’t I? No, I wasn’t. I was distracted by Dovid. Still, how did I not notice the flap of their wings? At some point Laya opens her eyes, just a small slight fluttering. Had I not been watching so closely I would have missed the movement entirely. Laya’s lips mouth the words, “Fedir … need Fedir …”
“You need that boy like you need a hole in your head,” I tell her. “I’m here, and I’m going to nurse you back to health.” I get up to fetch her a cup of water, but by the time I make it back with the drink, her eyes are closed again. I put the cup to her lips, but she doesn’t open them. I dip my fingers in the water and wet them, but Laya shuts them even tighter.
“Come on, Laya.” I try to get her to sit up to drink, but everything I tip into her mouth just dribbles down her chin and onto her dress. She starts to shiver. I lay her down and cover her with blankets.
Tea, I think. I’ll make tea. That’s what Mother would do. What herbs for chills and dehydration? I putter around the kitchen shoving odds and ends of herbs into a teapot. Maybe it’s lovesickness? Heartsickness? Or something else entirely? Rosehips and peppermint, birch leaves and blueberry, ginger and elderflower … What else, what else? I don’t understand the language of herbs. My fingers want to knead dough—it’s the one thing that I do understand.
You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved, a voice says in my head, but I know it’s not my mother’s voice. It sounds like Mrs. Meisels …
And just as I set the tea up to boil, Dovid comes back with his mother.
“Oy, Liba! You poor dear!” She runs over to the kitchen to hug me.
“No, no! Mrs. Meisels, please. I’m fine. I’m so sorry I worried you last night. You must have been terrified. I was just so worried about my sister …”
“Of course, my dear, of course. I’ve grown quite fond of you, you know. I think that a few people would be heart- broken if anything were to happen to you.” She motions with her eyes to Dovid.
“Please help my sister …” I rasp out. “I don’t know what’s wrong …”
Mrs. Meisels bends over Laya’s fragile form. Feathers still swirl around the room in the breeze; they seem to have a life of their own. I let out a sob and sink into a chair.
In an instant, Dovid is beside me. “Liba? Are you okay?” He looks over at his mother.
He takes his jacket off and wraps me in it. “What’s the matter?” he says.
“The feather. I need to find it,” I say.
“What? There are feathers everywhere,” he says.
“I don’t know where I put it.”
“She’s talking gibberish.” Dovid looks at his mother.
Mrs. Meisels shakes her head. “Crazy times we live in, Dovid, crazy times …”
“What should I do?” he asks her.
“I think Liba suffers more from shock than anything. We’ll take them home with us. I can care for them there and we can call the doctor.”
The kettle howls and Dovid goes over to take it off the fire.
“I made tea,” I say.
Dovid takes a whiff and wrinkles his nose. “You sure you want to drink this?”
“I made it for Laya. She has to drink,” I say, rubbing my forehead with my hands and pressing my fingers to my temple. I’m supposed to hold one of the feathers in my hand if I want the swans to come. Where is it? Where did I put it?
“Okay then, we’ll try some.” He pours two mugs and brings one over to his mother.
“A spoon, ketzele. Bring me a spoon,” she says.
But try as she might, she can’t get Laya to drink any more than I could. Dovid brings me some too. I let the steam coat my face, but my hands shake and I can barely hold the mug. Dovid takes it from me.
“Let’s go—there’s more that I can do for them in my own house,” Mrs. Meisels says.
Dovid picks Laya up off the bed. He wraps her in my mother’s quilt.
I squint at him. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going back to our house, maydele,” Mrs. Meisels answers. “The doctor will come there to see you both. The woods are no place for two young girls alone and it’s about time someone made the right decision.”
“No. We can’t leave. Maybe we should … I need to …” I shake my head. I can’t find a way to explain. Fedir, the Hovlins, the bear, the men in the woods, the swans, the chickens out back, the cow, the goat, the garden, our parents, and a thousand other reasons come to mind. But I’m overwhelmed, and the fight goes out of me. Maybe it would be nice to have someone else worry about these things. Just for a day … or two.
Dovid takes Laya outside and comes back inside to help me. I stand up and pause to peck Mrs. Meisels on the cheek, but as I make my way to the door, Dovid picks me up and carries me outside. I’m surprised that in his hands I feel as though I weigh as much as a feather. As though I’m no burden at all.
I drape my arms around his broad shoulders and press my lips to his scruffy cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper in his ear. I feel his cheeks flush. And I see Mrs. Meisels look over and smile.
As the wagon makes its way back to town I rest my head on Dovid’s shoulder. He holds me to him with one hand, while his other hand grasps the reins. I watch the trees around us, and the sky. This is the right decision. If the swans came in my absence, maybe taking Laya away from the cottage is the best thing to do. If I hide her at the Meisels’, they won’t find her.
We will be in town, just paces away from a doctor, but also from the fruit stand. I can go give Fedir and his brothers a piece of my
mind. Tomorrow morning I have every intention of interrogating every one of those Hovlin boys. This plan seems to make more sense the longer I think about it. In town, I can investigate.
I snuggle closer to Dovid and let the sway of the wagon and the clop of the horses lull me to sleep.
I wake to the smell of cedar wood, smoke, and fur. At first I think I’m dreaming—that I’m warm and comfortable in Dovid’s arms … In Dovid’s arms! I sit up in bed, only to find that I’ve been joined by the Meisels’ dog, Heldzl. Where’s Laya?
I bolt up, eyes wild, my hair a dark tangle of sleep. “Laya!” I burst into the kitchen, only to find the entire Meisels family sitting at the table, eating. “Where’s my sister?” I say, knowing full well that I look unkempt and that I’m dressed in only a nightshift. I shiver, feeling the blast of winter air that comes from the opening front door.
Dr. Polnikovsky walks in, shuffling his feet at the entrance of the house to rid his shoes of debris. “How fares our patient this morning?”
“You mean the sleeping one, or the meshuggene one that’s decided to join our breakfast table in her nightshift?” Dovid grins.
My face reddens. “All you have to do is tell me where she is …” I whisper.
Dovid nods his head in the direction of the front room. “It’s warmest in there—we built the fire up high all night.”
I rush through the kitchen to the living room and see Laya fast asleep on the sofa they made up as a daybed. She looks a bit less pale, but still she barely moves. I want to go to her, to hold her hand, to embrace her, but seeing that she’s okay and still sleeping, I remember my manners and make my way back to the kitchen.
“My apologies. I just … I didn’t know where she was,” I say, pointedly staring at my bare toes.
“You can thank me well enough when you’ve gotten some clothes on, dear. Now run along and make yourself decent,” Mrs. Meisels says.
I blush and walk over to the doctor. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. If you’d be so kind as to wait for me, I’ll be right back. I’d like to hear all about my sister’s condition.”
Dr. Polnikovsky smiles. “Well, I suppose one of Mrs. Meisels’ schnecken and a cup of strong hot coffee might persuade me to linger a bit longer. Just as soon as I’ve checked on the patient, that is. As long as there isn’t a need for a second consultation?”
“Oh no, sir,” I whisper, chastened. “I’m quite sane, I promise.”
At that the entire Meisels family chuckles, causing my cheeks to burn even brighter. I bow slightly in a gesture that is almost a curtsey, turn, and flee the kitchen back to the safety of Dovid’s room.
When I’ve made myself presentable, I go back out to the common room, where I find Dr. Polnikovsky conferring with Mrs. Meisels.
“Liba, so nice of you to join us,” he says as I enter the room.
“How is my sister?” I ask.
“I would keep a close eye on her if I were you,” he says. “Watch that she doesn’t sleepwalk or decide to go a-wandering. The fever that’s come upon her might make her delusional. Do everything you can to get her to consume something, anything, broth or tea, some biscuits, or I fear she will waste away before your very eyes. Keep her warm at all times.”
“Is there nothing else we can do?” Mrs. Meisels asks.
“I’m afraid not, Rukhie. Either the fever breaks and she starts to eat and drink again, or …”
“No. Don’t say it,” I interrupt. “She will get better. I know she will. She has to. I will nurse her back to health.”
Mrs. Meisels embraces me. “You don’t have to do this alone, maydele, I’m here to help you.”
“I know. And I thank you. But … perhaps it was a mistake to move her.”
“I do not think that relocating the patient caused any further illness,” Dr. Polnikovsky says.
I nod.
“We will work all of this out.” Mrs. Meisels rubs my back.
“I don’t deserve your kindness …” I gesture at the room, the doctor who is packing up his bag to take his leave. “How much do I owe you, Dr. Polnikovsky?”
“Now, don’t be silly,” Mrs. Meisels says. “I’ve already taken care of that. I’ve never had a daughter. Always wanted one. I think you’ll do nicely … if you’ll have me. I mean … us …” She gestures at the door, just as Dovid makes his way into the room.
I think of my own mother, and part of me wants to say, But I already have a mother, then I think about how different the two of them are, and how nice it would be to be included in their loud and boisterous family. Mami has always shared a special bond with Laya—something I could never be a part of. And here, I always feel so warm, so accepted. I can picture it—a life with Dovid. Shabbes meals around this table …
As long as they don’t find out what I really am.
Then it’s Mrs. Meisels’ turn to blush. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounds …”
“Ah, yes she did,” Dovid says. “She always means what she says—don’t let her fool you!”
Mrs. Meisels and I burst into a fit of giggles.
“What?” Dovid says. “What’d I say?”
56
Laya
The black-white ghost of sleep
flits in and out
of this strange room.
The shuffle of a sheet and blanket
folding and enfolding
spills like sand over me,
the air is a reprieve.
My breath changes; it rises
and falls like leaves in the wind.
My limbs feel lighter,
my arms more graceful.
There were feathers in the air
wrapped around me.
Now there is the weight
of a blanket on me
and thirst thirst thirst.
In my dreams
the swan-man visits.
He turns me around
and around, and I become
a creature of night and air;
black and white
and black again.
Who is he?
Dawn crests
but it brings with it
only more pain.
57
Liba
I get up early the next morning, and after Mr. Meisels and the boys go to synagogue, I step out of the house and walk to the marketplace. But when I get there, it’s too early; the Hovlins have not yet arrived at the square. I pace up and down the plaza, awaiting their arrival.
I hear them before I see them. Miron plays the flute and the brothers follow with their constant refrain: “Come buy! Come buy!”
Today their song gives me goose bumps, and I rub my arms to shed the way the music chills my bones.
They lazily wind into the square, walking in a form of dance, a stroll. I see Fedir; he doesn’t sing. Something in his face looks sad, as if he has lost something.
I wait until they get to the stand, then I corner him. I jab him fiercely in the chest. “What did you do to her?” I say, eyes cold as steel.
“To who?” he says, feigning a lazy smile. But I see his eyes shift.
“You know exactly who I’m talking about. My sister.”
“What’s wrong with your sister?” His lip curls down, and I know that he is hiding something.
“If you don’t tell me what you did to her right now, I’ll …”
“You’ll what?” Miron says, striding over towards Fedir and putting one of his lanky arms on his shoulder.
“I’ll tell everyone in town that you are the ones responsible for Jennike’s disappearance.” I look at Miron’s eyes to try and see what is hidden there. I cross my arms over my chest.
Miron sneers. “As if anyone would believe a Jew. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re nothing more than a trickster zhydovka like all the other zhyds in this town. Jennike was a lost soul. Just like your sister. We had nothing to do with it. Perhaps you should ask your own kind what they did to her. From what I’ve heard, there are many … cre
ative ways you Jews use blood.”
“You mamzer!” I lunge for him.
Fedir grabs me by my cloak and I feel like he’s about to throw me down onto the floor. “Dirty Jew,” he says, spitting in my face. My eyes well with tears. He brings his mouth up to my ear and whispers, “Find me later. I will help you.” Out loud he says, “You zhyds and your conspiracies. Your sister is worth ten of you in beauty and in wits. She doesn’t stick her nose where it doesn’t belong.” He pushes me away and turns his back to his brothers.
I stumble away, breathing hard. I don’t understand. My eyes meet his again. I’m about to walk away, but I see him mouth, “Find me.” He licks his lips lasciviously and lunges towards me, tongue out, as though he is going to lick me. All the brothers watch and laugh. Miron crosses his arms, puffs out his chest and smirks.
I run all the way back to the Meisels’ house, face burning in shame, but with a tiny bird of hope in my chest. I’ll meet him, even though he’s repugnant. If he knows anything about Laya’s illness or Jennike’s murder, I’ll take the risk.
I burst into the kitchen. Mrs. Meisels takes one look at me and opens her arms. I fall right into them, sobbing onto her broad shoulder.
“What happened, Liba?”
I try to put words together, but I can’t manage to get anything out.
“Shhh … after a good cry, your heart is lighter. Go on, maydele, let it all out.”
“I hate them!” I burst out. “Those Hovlin boys—they are horrible people. Anti-Semites, all of them. They need to leave, to go back where they came from. They’ve infected this town with their poison. I don’t want Laya to go near them ever again!”
“Well, you’d best discuss that with her.”
“If she ever even wakes up again …” I sniffle.
“Why don’t you go see for yourself?”
“What?”
“Laya is up, and feeling better …”
“She is?”
“She is.” Mrs. Meisels smiles.
I wipe the tears off of my face with my sleeve and run into the living room. “Laya!”
“Liba …” Laya replies in a tired voice. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” I shake my head.