A Bend in the Stars

by Rachel Barenbaum

  “Miri?” Yuri shook her shoulder gently. “I’m trying to introduce you to Sarah. The rabbi’s daughter. She’s training to become a nurse. Did you hear she’s already heard of you, regrets she didn’t put it all together earlier and bring me to you before the fire? That all of Podil knows you’ve saved so many?”

  “I’m sorry,” Miri said.

  “It’s fine.” Sarah smiled at her, misunderstanding. But Yuri nodded, and she saw he understood the apology was to him. “I see you have a lot on your mind,” Sarah continued. “We’re happy to have you. Your brother is upstairs, sleeping.”

  Just then, creaking hinges announced Sasha’s entrance through the side door. He came up beside Miri, and Yuri was right, she reached for him before she even realized what she was doing. She tried to pull back, but Yuri had already seen; his jaw tightened. “Miriam, we should go before it’s too late,” Sasha said.

  “Go where?” Sarah asked.

  “We’ll find something.”

  “Nonsense,” Sarah said. “Stay here. My father and I welcome you. All of you.” Sarah pointed to the back stairs. “We don’t have much but you can sleep near the fire. Come.”

  “We can’t. There’s a man after us. We don’t want to put you in danger,” Miri said.

  “There’s a man after everyone who’s done something worthwhile in Russia.”

  “It’s only one night,” Yuri said. “Stay. I have a room next door.”

  XIV

  Together, Miri and Sasha followed Sarah upstairs to the apartment she shared with her father. It occupied the second story of the building. “Your brother’s in there,” Sarah said. She pointed through the kitchen, to a small sitting room where soot from the hearth had stained the walls. In the dim light, Miri tripped on a footstool. “I’ll bring food,” Sarah said.

  Deeper in the apartment, the walls were lined with thick tomes, most in Hebrew. A single piece of art sat over the hearth. It was a faded map. The city of Jerusalem was marked with a Jewish star. The Okhrana would have shot the rabbi for owning any one of the books, let alone the map. But they would have also executed him for running a secret, unsanctioned clinic. Sarah’s father must have paid a heavy price to remain unharmed, to hold on to such a sanctuary.

  Vanya lay on a worn divan next to the hearth. He was covered in so many blankets Miri couldn’t see the outline of his body. Watching him sleep so soundly there, she began to feel that this small space existed outside of Podil, and even Russia. It was soothing and calm where the rest of the city was chaos. She understood, a little, what drew Yuri to this life.

  She pulled back the layers of blankets covering Vanya. His skin looked sallow. She squeezed his hand to make sure the blood flowed back. His thin shirt hung off of his gaunt collarbones. Somehow he looked older, sicker than he had only hours earlier, but even in sleep he clutched his notebook to his chest. He seemed to have healed on the outside, but she’d seen soldiers in Kovno who looked the same. There were no problems to diagnose and yet still they faded. Miri kissed Vanya’s soft curls and he opened his eyes. “You need to come back to me,” she said.

  Sarah brought warm broth with black bread. Miri was hungrier than she realized. When they were done eating, Sarah brought more blankets. All had holes that had been mended more than once, but they were soft, like Baba’s blankets. Sasha lit the single log Sarah offered. It was damp and covered with moss that made the room smell like the forest. A drunk in the alley below the window crooned. A bottle skittered over cobblestones. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning,” Miri said.

  “Stay as long as you need,” Sarah said, and then disappeared down the hall.

  Sasha insisted on taking the floor, on giving Miri the other divan, and Miri was too exhausted to object. She unlaced her boots and sat with a weariness she’d never felt before. She’d had hundreds of patients tell her that pregnancy made them tired beyond description, but until now hadn’t fully understood. Still, once she lay down, she couldn’t close her eyes. “Sasha, I won’t let you do it. We’ll find another way.”

  “Is Yuri going with you to Petrograd?”

  “He says he won’t. He thinks you should come in his place.”

  “What do you think? What do you want?”

  I want you to be safe, she thought. But she couldn’t speak. She closed her eyes and saw a parade of sobbing women who’d come to Baba to break engagements. All of them pleaded the same, claiming they loved someone else. At the time, Miri thought they were scared. Or selfish. Maybe both. Yet Baba did everything she could to stop the marriages. She had explained that the heart doesn’t follow what it should—only what it wants. It’s the most honest organ in every body, Mirele. Any good doctor should know that. But Miri had never agreed. Until now.

  Sasha pressed, “Miriam, I can’t follow you to America, not like this. You and your brother have to leave tomorrow on the Rudov and then…”

  “Come. I want you to come with me.”

  “What?”

  “Please, will you come with me to America?”

  “You’re sure?” His breathing was shallow. Nervous, she knew. And she felt the same. She slipped off the divan and onto the floor, next to him. He hesitated. She didn’t. “I’m sure. I’ve never been more certain in my life,” she said, and he opened his arms wide so she could lean into his chest where he held her tight. She fell asleep before another thought entered her head.

  XV

  You must go. Now,” Sarah said. She was on her knees, shaking Sasha and Miri awake. “There’s a man downstairs. A colonel. Zubov.” Miri jumped, her hand on her belly. It was a new instinct. Sasha was already on his feet. He heaved Vanya out of the couch, threw him over his shoulder before her brother even opened his eyes. “The back stairs,” Sarah said.

  There were voices arguing. Miri thought she heard Yuri in the mix. How did Zubov find them? She didn’t have time to think or even lace up her boots. She ran. The apartment was a blur. Sarah hurried them down a flight of stairs. The whole house seemed to sway under their weight as they hurried. Sasha was three steps ahead, holding Vanya. They burst through a door, into an alley thick with shadows. The sun was just breaking.

  Zubov. He stood in front of them. Grinning. Baring his gray teeth. “I knew you’d try to scuttle away again, Polyakov…” Before he’d finished, Sasha put Vanya down and threw a vicious punch that cracked Zubov’s nose. Zubov reeled backward into the wall. He was scrambling quickly, back to his feet. Blood poured down his face.

  There had to be more men. Zubov couldn’t be alone. But there were only two ways out of the alley and both looked clear. Zubov was up on his feet now. He came for Sasha, and Sasha landed another punch, this one up under his ribs. Zubov flew against the same wall. A spray of dust billowed in a cloud from loose mortar. He looked dazed, but he came right back at Sasha, faster now. He was stronger and more agile than he looked.

  Men outside the alley were yelling for the colonel, trying to find him. And yet for some reason they didn’t come. Was Yuri keeping them away? Still, Miri knew they would find them soon. They were running out of time to escape. Miri looked for a board, any weapon she could use to hit Zubov. “Go!” Sasha yelled at her. In the instant he took to say it, Zubov landed a vicious jab to Sasha’s ribs. Sasha stumbled. Zubov shoved him to the ground.

  “I know exactly who you are. Jewish scum. Polyakov. It wasn’t hard to figure it out. A Jew wearing Grekov’s coat.” Sasha clawed his way to his knees, and Zubov kicked his arms out from under him so he fell again. “I knew something was wrong when you refused to take it off. Then I heard Grekov was dead. Murdered. His star soldier missing. Only he never knew you were a Polyakov. That whole time he had you and didn’t even know it. No one did. But I put it together.”

  “How?” Sasha asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. He punched Zubov. That was when Miri saw it. A thick, solid wooden board. She ran at the colonel with it over her head. Sasha ducked and she brought it down hard on the back of Zubov’s skull.

  Zubov re
eled. Miri kicked. The man howled as his leg bent backward, the joint extending beyond its range. With a quickness that surprised even Miri, Sasha jumped on Zubov and pulled his knife, plunged it into Zubov’s chest. The colonel got both hands around the hilt but it was too late. She could see in Zubov’s eyes that he knew it, too. Sasha must have pierced his heart. Sasha rolled off the colonel. He was out of breath and clearly in pain.

  “We need to get out of here,” Miri said, pulling Sasha to his feet, helping him gather Vanya in his arms.

  “To the train,” Sasha said. He was limping. “We have to get you to the train.”

  “You’re coming. You said you’re coming. We’ll tell Erik you’re Yuri,” Miri said.

  “It won’t work.”

  “It will. We’ll be gone when Avram realizes what’s happened. Three places. He said he’d reserve three places. You, me, and Vanya.”

  “Avram’s smarter than that,” Sasha said. “And you heard him. His man will kill us if I don’t turn myself in.”

  “Then we jump off the train early. We’ve done it before.”

  “It won’t be that easy this time.”

  “Yuri,” Vanya said quietly, interrupting.

  Miri stopped. Her brother was right. They couldn’t leave like this. Yuri, Sarah, and the rabbi would be blamed for Zubov’s death. “They’ll take revenge on the clinic, the synagogue. They’ll kill Yuri for what we’ve done.” But her heart beat so hard her head was spinning and she couldn’t think straight.

  She heard a clatter around the corner and braced for the sight of Zubov’s men. Instead a Jew came sprinting into the alley. He had a wheelbarrow. “Quick. Quick,” the man, a stranger, yelled. “Sarah said you’d need help. Thought you’d be injured.” Without a pause he began heaving Zubov’s dead body into the wheelbarrow. A single arm hung over the side. Miri noticed Zubov had bitten one nail so hard that blood dripped from the cuticle. “Didn’t think he’d be dead. That’s fine, though. Fine,” the stranger babbled.

  Miri stood to stop him. “I can’t let you take the blame for this.”

  “Blame?” He laughed. “No one’s taking any blame. I’m getting rid of him, dumping him. If they find him, they’ll kill everyone on the block just for being alive. Just because we’re Jewish. I’m doing it for Sarah. And for her father.”

  “But they’ll know he’s missing,” Sasha said.

  “This is Zubov, right? He has a reputation. No one in Podil, or Kiev, will care. Missing is fine. Dead, well, they’d have to deal with that.” He shoved the arm in as they spoke, pulled a tarp out from under his arm, and used it to cover the body. “The rabbi and Sarah, they’ll be fine,” he said.

  A police officer nearby blew a whistle. Miri heard boot steps running toward them. “Go,” the man said. Miri, Sasha, and Vanya started running to the other end, away from the police. “Officers! Officers,” the man yelled, holding the wheelbarrow in plain sight, pointing in the other direction. “I saw Zubov run that way after the Jews!”

  Miri, Sasha, and Vanya hurried into the maze of Podil. As they ran, Vanya held something against his chest. His notebook. Still.

  XVI

  Miri and Sasha led Vanya through the muddy alleys of Podil, toward the wide boulevards of Kiev where they’d find the train yard and the man Avram had sent them to meet. They stayed in the shadows, watching carefully for Zubov’s men, dodging in and out of alleys. The more they walked, the stronger Vanya seemed to be. To Miri, every woman they passed appeared to be pregnant or holding a child.

  Miri and Vanya’s footsteps were fast and loud. Sasha, on the other hand, even bruised, moved without making a sound. As they hurried, Miri whispered Sasha’s family story to her brother, explained that Aleksandr was a Polyakov, that he’d used that to secure their train. When they crossed over from the slum into the city, they entered a world so different it was as if they’d crossed Russia itself. Where Podil was faded, Kiev sparkled. The streets were framed by electric lines, streetlamps and apartment buildings shining with new stone. The train station was a monument of marble and gold, framed by a brilliant domed roof. They ducked around to the back, where Miri was surprised to see the grandeur replaced by the same filth found in Podil.

  There was a bustle on the platform at the station. A group of men in three-piece suits and women in travel cloaks appeared. Porters stacked their trunks. A child cried. These were the families hoping to ride the same train, the Rudov. Opposite the platform, down the tracks sat the shed Avram Noskov had described, the place where they’d meet his man.

  Sasha turned to Miri and Vanya and held out his hands. Miri gasped. They were covered in blood. Zubov’s blood. Had she been so scared she hadn’t even noticed? “I need to wash up.”

  “Sasha, you should have told us.”

  “There wasn’t time. I wanted to make sure we made it. And I kept them in my pockets. No one saw.” Sasha shook his head. “There’s a pump over there. Wait for me at the shed.”

  Miri knew there was no point in objecting. She and Vanya crept along the rails in the shadows toward the small structure. While Miri and Vanya huddled in the dark, a group of four soldiers ran past. They didn’t appear to see Sasha. Still, Miri held her breath. Were they Zubov’s men? There was no way to know. Were Yuri, Sarah, and the rabbi safe? The man with the wheelbarrow seemed certain they’d be fine. There was no reason to doubt him. Still, Miri wished she’d gotten to say goodbye to Yuri. The soldiers ran past, all the way to the platform and into the crowd.

  “You love him more than you’ve ever loved Yuri, don’t you, Mirele?” Vanya asked after the soldiers were far away. His voice was hoarse. He put a hand on his chest as if that could help him breathe. “I’ve been over and over it in my head. Why would my brilliant sister throw her future away for a stranger?” And then: “When I hurt my shoulder. You knew what to do. But Yuri hovered over you as if you were a child. Sasha understood you, though.” Vanya coughed. “Yuri, I told you I’ve come to love him. I truly have. But he’s a man who needs an apprentice. Not an equal. Listen to me, Mirele. You’ve found Sasha. Don’t lose him.”

  “Why are you talking this way?”

  “If Zubov’s men come, or if the police come here to arrest Sasha. If Avram suspects our plan, I’ll tell them that I am Aleksandr Polyakov. I will take his place.”

  “Vanya. No.”

  “My work is gone. I’ll never find Clay. I can’t fight Kir.”

  “No. You can finish this. You can solve the math. You are so close, you can’t give up.”

  Sasha was coming back toward them now. The smell of coal mixed with steam from the trains was suffocating. “Please, if the police come, convince them I’m Aleksandr Polyakov. And tell Sasha about the child. He won’t turn himself in if he knows.”

  “But I don’t want the child.”

  “Tell him. Before the chance is gone. It might be the only thing that makes him break the promise to turn himself in. That could keep him safe.”

  “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself.”

  “You must.”

  “Must what?” Sasha asked. His face was slick with sweat and water. His eyes were wide. His shirt cuffs were wet, too, and dripping, tinged pink with the stain of blood. “Tell him,” Vanya said. He was right. Sasha would never go back on his word, not unless he had a reason so strong it would justify his actions. Vanya stepped off to the side as if trying to give them privacy. A train whistle blared. An engine heaved past so loud it hurt her ears. It was the Rudov pulling into the station.

  Miri put a hand on Sasha’s cheek. As much as she didn’t want to say it, the fact was the child would come. And no matter where or when, she wanted Sasha to be there. If she told him, she had no doubt he’d want to be there, too.

  “I’m pregnant,” she said. Sasha didn’t move. She’d never seen the look on his face that she saw now. Was it fear? Surprise? Had she made an awful mistake? Just as she regretted telling him, Sasha buried his face in her curls and kissed her neck, then her stomach. “Magnificent
,” he said. “Magnificent.”

  “You’ll pose as Yuri. Promise me, you’ll pose as Yuri and get on that train with us.”

  XVII

  Friends!” a man called. He was short and slight with a mop of orange hair and eyes that darted from one of them to the other as if he were an animal looking for weakness. Miri stood taller and saw Sasha was careful to keep his hands, his stained wet cuffs, in his pockets. “Avram’s friends? Of course, of course. I’m Erik.” He wore a red and blue conductor’s uniform with a whistle around his neck. For a second, Miri thought he was pulling his pants up but then she saw, in fact, he was reaching for a revolver. Miri gasped. “Noskov gave me instructions,” Erik said. “The man named Petrov, he’s with the police?” And then: “I’ll find out if you’re lying.”

  “Of course,” Sasha said.

  “Good. Then go.” Erik shoved Vanya toward the train. Miri and Sasha followed. The platform was even more crowded now than when they’d arrived. It seemed it was no secret this was the last civilian train. Men elbowed and women bared their nails to press forward. Erik waved Miri, Sasha, and Vanya to the back. He pointed to a ladder welded to the steel and shoved Vanya toward it. Told him to climb. Miri wasn’t sure he’d make it, but he did and they all followed.

  Unlike the train that Miri and Sasha had taken with Zubov, the carpets here weren’t torn, and all the seats were still bolted to the floor. Erik corralled them inside a private compartment meant for four. A light shivered above on a thin cord. The leather seats smelled like opulence, an awful juxtaposition to Podil, to war. “Stay quiet, I have to take tickets,” Erik said before closing the door to their berth. The latch clicked. He turned the lock.