“I don’t know. The river?”
“A group of my friends are there.” He lowered his eyes. “It might not be such a good idea.”
“You’re right… wait a minute! There’s another section of the river that hardly anybody knows about,” Rachel said. “Your friends won’t be anywhere near us. Come on.”
Rachel led Sergei past deserted makeshift shanties into a forest of towering spruce trees.
“We’re almost there,” she said, breathing in the savory aroma of wild mushrooms that lined their path. The ground was flat, wet, and green as they approached the river.
“I can’t believe how narrow the river is here,” Sergei said.
Rachel shaded her eyes and squinted. “You can hop to the other side. I haven’t been here in ages.” She pointed to a spot at the river’s edge. “Look, the ground is pretty dry over there.”
She ran to the spot and sat down. Sergei did the same, sitting close so that their arms touched. Rachel gazed ahead dreamily. “Sometimes I wish I could just live in a place like this, with no other people around to tell me what to do or say.”
She turned and met his eyes. Chills ran up her spine as his face moved closer and his lips met hers. They were warm and his breath smelled of tobacco and mint, which reminded her of Mikhail. Rachel pulled away. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m Jewish, and you’re not. Because if anyone saw you with me, they’d kill me, and maybe even you. I think that’s why Mikhail’s uncle killed him—”
“Because you were friends? You think his uncle killed him because of you?”
She nodded and looked away.
“That’s not true, Rachel. His uncle had just lost his job as a policeman. Mikhail’s grandfather believes he wanted to inherit his business—for the money. The indictment against Mikhail’s uncle was published in the newspaper today. The trial is tomorrow. Here,” he said, pulling a square piece of paper out of his coat pocket, “this pass will allow you to attend the trial. I would go, but I have to look for a job.”
Rachel stared at Sergei as she tried to make sense of his words. “You mean…it wasn’t my fault?” She took the pass and studied it carefully.
“That’s exactly what I mean.” He moved closer, so that their noses were almost touching. “Would it be all right if I kissed you again?”
Rachel held her breath and considered this. She felt a twinge of guilt for betraying Mikhail, but he was gone, and she’d never had deep feelings for him, not like these feelings she had for Sergei. Besides, she would be leaving soon. What harm could a kiss do?
She nodded, unable to tear her gaze from his. Sergei brushed a stray hair from her eyes and cupped her face in his hands. Their lips met, and he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her.
She trembled and pressed against him so tightly she could feel his heart beating. “I guess Rena was right. I do need to start trusting people again,” she said when they drew apart.
“Who’s Rena?” He sounded out of breath.
“A very smart lady at the hospital.” Rachel kissed him on the lips and smiled as he ran his fingers down her cheek. She felt his strong arms around her and wished she could hold onto this moment forever. Sergei had been so good to her, and to Menahem, which she knew would have impressed her father. It was going to be hard leaving him, but even if she stayed, they had no future. A Jew and a gentile could never be together.
A magpie began chattering noisily overhead, breaking the silence. They started back toward the hospital, hands by their sides so that their deepening relationship would remain a secret.
“Rachel… a letter came for you today.” Rena held up an envelope as Rachel walked past her office.
“Who would write to me?” Rachel entered Rena’s office reluctantly. She wanted to be alone to think about every moment she’d just spent with Sergei, to close her eyes and remember the way his hand felt on her face.
“Why don’t you open it and see.” Rena handed her the envelope and smiled.
Rachel unfolded the letter.
Dear Rachel,
Sholom aleichem! I hope this letter finds you well. We arrived in Petersburg a few days ago. It was a long, uneventful journey, and we are grateful to have a place to stay. My aunt has been splendid, stuffing us with bread and fish and stew until we feel as if we might burst. My father looks much better now and is searching for a position.
You would love this city. There is so much to see, I feel a bit overwhelmed. You must keep your wits about you, for people are always in a hurry and travel quickly by carriage. I discovered these carriages take precedence on the streets when a horse almost took a bite of my overcoat!
My favorite place is the bookseller, where the books are stacked from the floor to the ceiling! I’ve never seen so many books in one place before! I have to be careful, because I don’t have money to pay for one. So I browse as if I am going to buy, and then leave when the shopkeeper is helping someone else. Someday I’ll be able to buy as many books as I like.
I want to attend the University of Petersburg, but Jews are not welcome, so all I can do is hope for a miracle. It’s just as Tevye says, “a cow can sooner jump over a roof than a Jew get into a Russian university!”
Please record my address and write to me when you can.
Rachel folded the letter in half. Life would be so much easier if she cared for Sacha the way she cared for Sergei. She pictured herself kissing Sacha and chuckled. There was no way she could ever think of him as anything other than a good friend, and pretending would be wrong. Now that Sacha knew how she felt, he could meet someone who returned his feelings.
She sighed and made her way down the hall toward to the stairs. It disappointed Rachel that Sacha wasn’t able to attend the university. She hoped it would be different in America, that Jews would not be banned from education and jobs, and that the long journey ahead would be worth the trouble and expense.
“Good afternoon Rachel.” Mrs. Berlatsky was walking toward her.
“Good afternoon,” said Rachel. “How is Chaia?”
A shadow crossed Mrs. Berlatsky’s face. “The same. Her bones are mending well but her mind is somewhere else. We must remain here until she is better.”
Tears welled up in Rachel’s eyes. “I miss her. There is so much I need to tell her…” Mrs. Berlatsky patted her on the arm. “I’m sure your visits are helping her. One of these days she will be strong enough to come out of the world she’s locked in now.”
Chaia is still a prisoner in her own body, which makes me feel guilty for surviving the massacre without injury. What she saw must have been a great shock for her eyes and her heart, but I know Chaia. She is strong and will wake up one day. I just hope that I am still here when she does, and not on my way to America.
Rachel stopped writing and frowned. This was her first entry in the journal she’d received from Sergei, and she was nervous about pouring her thoughts out again, taking the risk that they might be found and read. She looked down at what she had written. This was a chance she had to take.
The unfairness of life disturbs me. It makes no sense, how some are lucky and others, people like Chaia who are so good, have such bad luck.
Rachel pushed her way through the dense crowd at the courtroom doors and showed her pass to the guard. She entered the building where the trial would be held, and found herself in a large square hall between two lines of guards. Seeing all the people—Jews and gentiles—in one large room, made her want to turn around and run back to the safety of the hospital. But she had to do this for Mikhail and for her father. She had to see justice done before she could start a new life without the anger that rumbled inside of her.