“I wish the Berlatskys were coming with us,” she said to her mother and sister as they hurried out of the courtyard. “I’m worried about them.”
“You know they can’t travel until Chaia is better,” said her mother. “There is no other choice.” She pushed Rachel forward. “Make haste, Rachel, Nucia…we must get to the station.”
As soon as she was on the street, Rachel was immediately swept up and carried along with the crowd scurrying to the train station. The air echoed with children crying and women and men shouting out for them to hurry.
“How are all of us going to fit on the train?” she called out to Nucia. “There must be hundreds of people heading to the station.”
“I don’t know,” said her sister.
Up ahead, Rachel saw the station, a white building with a tall clock tower. As the crowd moved faster, she worried that she would trip and fall and be trampled. She could hear many people weeping and shouting as she and the others were pulled and pushed along.
“Help me!” a woman’s voice called out.
“Don’t let the train leave without me and my children,” cried another.
It was as if a dam had burst. Words rushed through the air, crashing into one another so that they became mixed up and indecipherable. Rachel’s head ached as the noise grew. She felt like she was hiding in the outhouse again, that the riots were repeating themselves all around her. That there was no escape.
“Rachel! Rachel!”
She stopped immediately when she heard Sergei’s voice. Rachel peered through the agitated crowd, but couldn’t see him. She shook her head and continued moving forward, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of Sergei.
“Over here, Rachel!”
She turned back in the direction of Sergei’s voice, toward the entrance of the station. The arched doorway, framed him with Menahem atop his shoulders. A few stragglers ran past him to catch the train, bumping against Sergei as they rushed by.
“Sergei!” She tried to push against the crowd to get to him, but it was like running uphill on ice.
Nucia screeched at her, “What are you doing? Turn around before you get hurt.”
Rachel felt her sister’s hand dig into her shoulder, trying to pull her along. “I have to see Sergei… he’s here, with Menahem!”
Her mother’s voice rose above the crowd. “There’s no time! Don’t you see? We have to get on the train. It’s the last one out tonight, Rachel.”
She broke away from her sister’s grasp, stuck her elbows out wide, and forced her way through the desperate throng of people, ignoring their dirty looks.
“Sergei… what are you doing here?” she asked when they were close enough to hear one another.
He was breathing hard and moved directly in front of her before responding. “I heard about the riots… I took Menahem….” He set the boy down gently.
Rachel grabbed Sergei’s hand and held it tightly. “You’ve probably saved his life.”
As they gazed at each other, the surrounding noise and chaos seemed to fade away. “Come with us,” said Rachel. “You said you wanted to travel, to get away from Kishinev. Come with us to America.”
Sergei’s eyes moved around the station, taking in the madness as people fought their way to the train. “I can’t leave my mother and sister, not now, with my father….” He bent down so that his face was at the same level as Menahem’s. The boy looked at him with frightened eyes and quivering lips. “You must go with Rachel,” said Sergei. “You will be safe with her family.”
“No, Sergei, no,” cried Menahem. “I want to stay with you.” He threw his small arms around Sergei’s neck and sobbed on his shoulder.
Rachel, holding back tears, watched Sergei comfort Menahem. This shouldn’t be happening, she thought. Menahem shouldn’t have to leave Sergei just to be safe. We shouldn’t be forced to move from our home, from our country.
Sergei pried Menahem away from him, and set him on the ground. “I wish you could stay with me, but you need to be with a family that can take care of you.” He wiped the tears from Menahem’s cheek. “And it isn’t safe in Russia for Jews anymore.”
“I don’t want to be Jewish, I want to be like you,” said Menahem.
Rachel watched the color drain from Sergei’s face.
“You listen to me, Menahem,” Sergei said in a firm voice.
Menahem gazed at him with watery eyes.
“Don’t ever change who you are, not for anybody,” Sergei continued.
Menahem nodded solemnly.
“Do you think your grandmother would want you to give up everything she taught you, everything your parents knew and believed in?”
Menahem wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and shook his head. His bottom lip quivered but he had stopped crying.
Sergei gently pushed Menahem toward Rachel, who opened her arms for the boy.
Rachel felt Menahem’s shoulder blades as she held him tight.
“We have to go, or the train will leave without us,” she said, forcing herself to sound in control.
“Write me,” said Sergei, handing Rachel a slip of paper with his address. “Let me know when you are out of Russia.”
Rachel let go of Menahem, took the paper and stared at it, unable to look at Sergei for fear she would start crying and set Menahem off again.
Sergei reached out and lifted her chin so that their eyes met. “We will see each other again.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Yes, and I always keep my promises.”
Rachel heard the sincerity in his tone and wanted to melt into his strong arms, to be with him forever, but this was impossible.
“We will see you in Shanghai, or America, and we will be able to be together,” she said. “Things will be different, better there.”
Sergei nodded, and backed away from them.
Rachel took Menahem’s hand. “It will be all right,” she assured him as they turned and headed toward the crowd lining the tracks.
“There it is!” Rachel cried when she saw the huge iron train coming toward them. As soon as it stopped, people stuffed themselves into the darkened openings. Arms hung out of the windows, and faces pressed against the glass.
“Rachel… hurry!” cried Nucia.
Rachel saw her sister’s face above an open window in the train.
Tightening her grip on Menahem’s hand, she ran to the open compartment door nearest to Nucia’s window. She lifted Menahem up and then hoisted herself onto the train, relief surging through her as her feet left the ground.
People crammed the train, jostling one another as they fought for room to stand. The train car smelled musty and dirty. Catching the startled eyes of her mother and sister, Rachel smiled wanly, knowing she would have to explain why Menahem was with her. But she also knew that her mother and Nucia would never turn a child away, that they would welcome him and care for him as if he had always been part of their family.
“Am I going to another orphanage?” asked Menahem in a small voice as they huddled together in the aisle.
Rachel put her arm around Menahem’s shoulder and held him to her. “I’ve always wanted a little brother. How would you like to stay with me and my mother and sister?”
He looked up at her, his eyes probing her face, as if he wasn’t sure she’d meant what she said. Then, slowly, his lips widened into a smile that warmed Rachel’s heart.