The Forest of Vanishing Stars(53)

“Yes, I’m afraid it is.” Zus frowned and then turned to Chaim and nodded. An understanding passed between the brothers and Chaim stepped several meters away, out of earshot. Zus turned back to Yona. “I didn’t know, Yona. I wouldn’t have kept a secret like that. I don’t believe in betraying the people who care for us.”

“I know.” And she did. She understood, even with her limited exposure to people, that Zus was a different kind of man than Aleksander was, with a different kind of heart. She had felt it from the moment she first met him, and it had confused her then the way it confused her now. Aleksander had seemed like everything she needed: safety, security, a place to belong. In the end, he had been none of those things, and she wondered just how blind she had been. Certainly, she had been a terrible judge of character—and terrible at discerning what lay in her own heart. She wiped her tears away. Inside her chest, sadness was fighting a prolonged battle with fury. “Did you get the mercury?” she asked.

He nodded, opening his coat to show her a large knapsack of vials. Relief flooded through her, making her knees weak. Zus reached out to brace her, and their eyes met.

“Thank God,” she murmured without looking away. “Thank you, Zus, for doing this. I know it was dangerous.”

He seemed to hardly hear her. “Where are you going, Yona?”

“Away.”

They held each other’s gaze, and for the first time, Yona had the sense that he could read her like a diary, that perhaps he’d always been able to. The thought should have unsettled her, but instead, it filled her with a strange peace, an unfamiliar sense of being entirely understood. “Don’t go. Please,” he said.

“I have to. I should have gone long ago. It was a mistake to get comfortable, a mistake to stay. I never belonged. I see that now.”

“You’re wrong. You can’t let Aleksander force you out, Yona.” Zus took a step closer, and this time, when he reached out to touch her face, she didn’t resist, and he didn’t stop himself. His touch on her cheek was rough and gentle at the same time. “You didn’t see it, but he was never worthy of you.”

“Or maybe there is something broken in me.” Somehow, speaking the words aloud felt like releasing a flock of birds to the sky. “Perhaps I just don’t know how to love.”

“You will know, Yona. When it is the right person, you will know.” Zus took a deep breath. “And you’re not broken, Yona. It’s the cracks in us that make us who we are, and you… you are stronger than anyone I have ever met, I think. Stay, Yona. Please. We need you.”

“I’m sorry, Zus,” she said softly, stepping away. His hand fell from her face, and the sadness in his eyes was as deep as a well in the earth.

“Yona—”

She smiled sadly. “I am a dove, Zus.” She held up her wrist, which was throbbing with purpose now, warning her. “And doves are meant to fly.” She took another step away from him. “Protect them, Zus. I know you will. They listen to you now, all of them. They respect you. I do, too.”

“But—”

“Be well, Zus.” She turned, because if she let him hold her gaze for a second longer, she might stay forever. Then she ran, stumbling through the undergrowth, knowing that he wouldn’t follow—not because he didn’t want to, but because he knew the choice was hers.



* * *



Jerusza had always taught Yona to move east when there was trouble, always flying toward the sunrise, never the sunset. Always move toward the beginning of the day, not the end. The old woman’s words rang now in Yona’s ears as she fled in the wrong direction, wanting only to be free of Aleksander. She needed to clear her head, to run from the guilt of abandoning the group, even if some no longer wanted her there.

She had done what she could for them, and she’d left them with the tools they’d need to survive. They might well have made it through the winter without her anyhow; they didn’t know the forest as well as she, but they were all smart, resourceful. It was likely they could have figured out on their own how to eat, how to shelter, how to hide themselves from the Germans. Maybe she had meant nothing to them at all.

Besides, though she understood now that Aleksander was not to be trusted, he had led the group well, had made good decisions about their survival. Zus had become a leader, too, and together, they understood the things the forest would require of them.

She wasn’t a savior. How had she let herself believe that she held their fate in her hands? That had been foolish, selfish. They didn’t need her, no matter what Zus had said. So why did his voice echo in her ear now? Stay, Yona. Please.

For three weeks, Yona meandered through the forest, venturing out now and again on the southwestern edge of the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of other people just to assuage her loneliness. She could hardly believe that after a lifetime with only Jerusza’s company, she no longer knew how to be by herself. She missed the feeling of thinking she mattered, even a small bit, to others. She missed seeing others’ smiles, hearing laughter, sharing meals. She even missed the comforting heat of Aleksander beside her at night. She hadn’t realized that once one opened the door to one’s heart, it was impossible to fully close it again. At night, in those hazy moments before she fell asleep in the hollows of lonesome old trees, she often heard the voices of the children—Pessia, Leah, Daniel, Jakub, and Adam. She missed them most, for they were the most in need of her protection. They were the ones who haunted her when she tried to rest.