The Forest of Vanishing Stars(40)
“I know it’s not the most important of the Jewish holidays,” she said. “But it means light in the darkness. The hope of a miracle. Deliverance from death. I thought that might mean something to everyone tonight.”
Aleksander nodded slowly, and without removing his coat, he crossed to her, examining the fluid wooden lines, the spaces for eight candles all in a row, the elevated holder in the center for the shamash, the helper candle.
He looked up, his eyes round with awe. “Yona, it’s perfect. I—I don’t know how to thank you.”
Fifteen minutes later, as the sun crept toward the horizon, the whole group gathered in the largest zemlianka, the one Moshe, Leon, Rosalia, Ruth, and the children shared. Yona was glad that they’d made the shelters larger than they needed, large enough to move around in; it made it possible to gather as a group, though there was little room to spare.
“Look what Yona has made,” Aleksander said, holding up the menorah for all of them to see. There were a few gasps among the group, and nervously, Yona pulled the candles from her pocket and placed them into the holders. “Light in the darkness,” Aleksander said, locking eyes with Yona. “The hope of a miracle.”
Several among the group murmured words of astonished gratitude, and then the sounds faded to a hush as Leon, the oldest among them, stepped forward to light the shamash in the stove, then used the shamash to light the first candle. Moshe recited the menorah blessing, honoring God for his commandments and for the miracles for their forefathers, for granting them life and sustaining them. But somehow, even as Yona gazed around at the bowed heads, the somber expressions of the other adults, her loneliness lingered, and so, too, did the sadness. It was hard to imagine a miracle here, when they’d all lost so much, when their very survival seemed more like a fluke than a part of God’s plan.
* * *
Two weeks into a frigid new year, the temperature rose by a few degrees, and what had been a blizzard of driving winds faded to a soft snowfall, the perfect weather to venture out in after nearly a month underground. Though the group still had a comfortable supply of dried chanterelles, smoked meats and fish, and berries, Yona was eager to check some of their animal snares and to show a few of the others how she fished in the winter, when the surfaces of the ponds were frozen solid. The snow was still falling enough to erase their tracks, but the day was temperate, which meant they’d be able to spend a few hours outside without freezing.
Rosalia agreed to patrol the camp’s perimeter while Aleksander offered to take Leib with him to visit the traps spread around the forest. Luba and Sulia volunteered to melt some snow and use tallow soap to wash some of the group’s clothing, while Moshe, Leon, and Oscher asked if they could come on Yona’s ice-fishing expedition.
The going was slow as they set out from the camp, trudging carefully toward a frozen marsh nearby. Oscher’s limp held them back, but Moshe lingered with him, offering his shoulder for support, while Leon walked a few paces ahead with Yona.
“We’re fortunate to know you, Yona,” Leon said after they had walked for a while in comfortable silence. He was a quiet man, a former teacher who spoke only when he had something important to say, who played his cards close to his chest. Yona respected that, respected the quiet, respected that he only used his voice when it mattered.
“I feel the same,” Yona replied. “About all of you.”
He tilted his head to study her. “This must be difficult for you. You are accustomed to being alone.”
Yona nodded, and there was more quiet between them as the snow crunched beneath the soles of their boots. She was carrying a large willow basket on her back, one that she would use to catch the fish and transport them home, and it made her feel a bit as if she had wings. She looked back and slowed her pace slightly to allow Oscher, who looked like he was struggling, to keep up. She felt a surge of concern for him. Had it been a mistake to allow him to come? Had she put him in danger? Then again, surely it would have been worse to leave him behind feeling useless.
“It is the opposite for me,” Leon said after a while, resuming their conversation. Around them, the snow continued to drift down gently through skeletal trees that had stood guard over the forest for hundreds of years. The world was silent, still, peaceful. “I am accustomed to being with people—with family, with friends, with shopkeepers, with the rabbi, with my neighbors. Here, I feel very isolated.”
Yona tried to understand this. “Does it not help to share a shelter with Moshe, Rosalia, Ruth, and the children?”
Leon sighed. “It has been nice to have the children around. They don’t know enough of the world to truly understand what is happening, which lets us pretend for a moment that we aren’t running for our lives, living underground like rabbits. But Pessia often wakes up with nightmares, and I wonder at the demons that lurk in the dreams of someone so young. The others have been a comfort, certainly, but in a way, being together just amplifies our loneliness. They have become like my family, but they aren’t really my family, are they? My real family is dead, all of them, and to feel others breathing around me at night is to be reminded of the breath that is no longer there, that will never be there.” He sighed again and looked away. “I’m afraid that the longer we spend beneath ground together, the further away my old life feels. And I’m not ready yet to let that life go.”