Beyond the Shadow of Night(37)

“We used to have a farmhouse,” Rina added from the sidelines.

“Asher told me,” Izabella said, smiling sweetly. “But this is still a nice place. You have light, a table, it’s clean. It’s so much better than . . .” Her sentence trailed off to a sigh.

“Better than what?” Asher asked.

Rina hissed his name from across the table.

“What?” he hissed back.

“Don’t be rude to our guest.”

Asher wanted to tell his sister that Izabella wasn’t their guest, she was his. But he noticed Izabella and Rina exchange a glance. Rina gave her head the slightest of shakes to show despair at her brother, making Izabella smile.

“You’re right, Asher,” Izabella said. “This is better than where I live.”

“So, where do you live?” Keren asked.

“The other side of the sector,” she replied.

“Whereabouts?” Papa asked. “I might know it.”

“I don’t think so.” Izabella took a spoonful of soup and picked up a chunk of bread. “You have better food than me too. This soup is delicious, Mrs. Kogan. You have potato, carrots, and even a little onion in here. And the bread—oh, I can’t remember the last time I held fresh bread in my hands. Where did you get this from?”

“That’s a good question,” Papa said. He turned to his wife. “Golda, where did you get this from?”

“The oven,” she replied.

“No, I mean—”

“Izabella,” Rina interrupted sharply, “tell us about your family. They live in the Netherlands, don’t they?”

Izabella told them what she knew, which wasn’t much because she hadn’t heard from them for such a long time, but she said she missed them terribly and hoped that one day, when the country was free again, they could all live together once more and make up for lost time.

The mention of the country being free again kicked off a heated discussion between Papa, Rina, and Keren, leaving Mama to gather up the empty bowls while Asher and Izabella did little more than listen, occasionally glancing at each other.

Not long after that, Izabella stood up and reached for her violin case.

“Are you going so soon?” Mama said.

“I’m afraid so,” she said. “But I can’t thank you enough for your food and hospitality. I haven’t felt so welcome in a long time.”

“You deserve it,” Rina said before anyone else could speak. “Nobody deserves to starve and nobody should have to beg.”

“Nevertheless,” Izabella insisted, “I’m very grateful. You’re a kind family.”

“Asher,” Rina said, “aren’t you going to walk Izabella home?”

“There’s no need,” Izabella said.

“I’d like to,” Asher said. “Please.”

Izabella paused, as though carefully weighing the offer up, before accepting.

“Only halfway, though,” she said to Asher as they left the apartment block a few minutes later.

“Don’t you want to show me where you live?”

She stopped walking and turned to him. “It’s a horrible place,” she said, holding his hand and squeezing it. “So please, turn back when I ask you to.”

Asher nodded, his mind busy wondering whether she really was holding his hand or he was imagining it. A quiet “Yes” was all he could manage.

“Your sister Rina is a very confident woman, isn’t she?” Izabella said as they started walking again.

Asher paused before replying. “Sometimes having her as a sister is difficult,” he said. “Not that I don’t like her. It’s just that often I prefer the company of Keren. She’s easier to get along with.”

“I can see that, but I like both of them. I like all your family.”

Asher almost said he’d like to meet Izabella’s family one day, but thought better of it, and soon Izabella stopped at a street corner. She told Asher once again how much she’d enjoyed the meal and meeting his family, then reached up on tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

He stood, open-mouthed, and touched a fingertip to the spot where those petite strawberry lips had been, feeling the ghost of her warm kiss. This time there was no wondering; she definitely had kissed him.

“Now go,” she said.

“Are you sure you’ll get home safely?”

“I walk these streets all day, Asher. Just go, and I’ll see you soon. I promise.” She smiled the happiest smile Asher had seen on her since the days of Café Baran, then she ushered him away with one hand. “Go!” she hissed, starting to giggle.

Asher took a step back, then another, then turned and started running, not stopping until he got back home. The first thing he did there was ask Mama whether he could invite Izabella to eat again. She raised an eyebrow but agreed.



Asher saw Izabella during the next week, but didn’t dare make any physical contact, preferring to simply look and listen. Whenever she had a break from playing the violin they would sit and talk. They discussed the old days in free Warsaw—the glory days of Café Baran. Asher told Izabella more about his life before Warsaw, of days on the farm in Dyovsta with his old friend Mykhail, of mornings toiling in the sun and afternoons fishing in the nearby river. In return, she told him of her childhood days in Warsaw, when her two brothers and sister lived with them, before the specter of German invasion became an imminent threat and they’d fled to the Netherlands.