The Forest of Vanishing Stars(80)

“Zus—”

He held up a hand to stop her, his voice deepening. “Perhaps you still love Aleksander. But I—I wish my own heart was not so broken, Yona, because if it was whole, I think I would fight for you. I would tell you that I refuse to let you go, that I will not let you disappear into that forest without me ever again. But I don’t think I am capable of that, of all that comes with those kinds of feelings. And perhaps you don’t want to hear these things anyhow, so I will simply tell you good luck. And I wanted you to know, in case we do not see each other again, that I think you are far more special than you seem to see.”

His eyes didn’t leave hers as he waited for a reply, and in the quiet between them, she could hear them both breathing heavily. “We will see each other again,” she said at last. “We will reunite in the swamp in a few days, and then the Germans will retreat, and we will find our way back here together.”

He held her gaze. “I pray to God you’re right.”

“May I say something, too?” She hesitated, fighting the urge to look away from him. “I don’t know much about these things. But I think that broken hearts heal. I think that perhaps the only way through that kind of pain is to move forward. I think that losing people you love changes you forever, but I think that God finds a way to let the light in.”

He blinked a few times and nodded. “Perhaps,” he said. He hesitated for only a second more before stepping closer and kissing her once, gently, on her right cheek, his warm lips lingering there for a long time. By the time she opened her eyes, he was already walking away, back to the camp, back to the forest that lay before them.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO




Yona had been to the swamp only once—with Jerusza, in that strange summer of 1941—and as she walked through the forest now, deeper and deeper into the darkness, she wondered if Jerusza had taken her there because she saw this moment coming. But if she had seen the world descending into madness, why hadn’t she warned Yona? Why hadn’t she told her that in two years’ time, she would need to help lead a group of innocent people into the forest’s invisible heart to save their lives?

Yona walked ahead while the rest of her small group followed slowly behind her, Oscher doing the best he could with his limp to keep up, Bina beside him for support, Rosalia bringing up the rear several paces back, a gun over her shoulder as she silently scanned the forest. Yona was glad that Zus had suggested that Rosalia accompany Yona’s group; Yona trusted her more than anyone else in the camp except for Zus himself, and she felt safer knowing that she was there. Chaim, Leonid Gulnik, and Shimon Sokolowski each carried a gun, too; the two new families had each arrived with one.

As she led the group deeper into the dark woods, Yona found herself thinking about Zus and the things she should have said before they parted ways. He had told her that she was more special than she could see, but why had she missed the opportunity to tell him the same? After all, it was Zus she had thought of during her long walk back from the village, and it was his voice, his words, that had led her home. The way he commanded the respect of the others, through his gentle compassion, was something that moved her, but she didn’t know how to put it into words. Now, though, the things she’d left unsaid tugged at her heart.

After an hour or so of walking, Chaim fell into step beside Yona, his wife and boys several paces behind. They were all moving slowly northeast, deeper into the heart of the forest, navigating by the setting sun. At nightfall, Yona planned to stop and let them rest for three hours before moving again. To avoid the Germans, they would need to shelter during the day and walk at night from now on.

“My brother is a good man, you know,” Chaim said gruffly after they’d walked side by side in silence for almost thirty minutes.

His words, out of the depths of his silence, startled her. “How did you know I was thinking of him?”

“I didn’t.” He smiled. “But I hoped you were. I believe he is thinking of you.”

Yona shook her head. “He sees me as more than I am, I think.”

“No. He sees you for exactly who you are. And that is very difficult for him.”

“Difficult?”

Chaim scratched his jaw and paused before speaking again. “It nearly destroyed him when Shifra and Helena, his wife and daughter, died. It’s not my place to tell you, Yona, but he is not able to talk about it himself yet. And I think… I think he would want you to know.”

“What happened to them, Chaim?”

Chaim was silent for a long time, and it wasn’t until Yona turned her head that she realized he was trying not to cry. “Shifra had been married to Zus since they were teenagers, for more than ten years. She was a very good woman, and Helena, their daughter, she was only four. She was intelligent. Funny. Kind. She would have grown to be a good person, like her father. He loved them both with his whole heart, and I loved them, too.”

“I’m so sorry.” It was all Yona could think to say, though it would never be enough. Chaim didn’t seem to hear her.

“The Germans came. Zus, he had made a name for himself as someone people respected. We think that’s why they targeted him, to eliminate anyone who might speak up against them, who might encourage people to resist.” Chaim took a deep breath and went silent again. Their footsteps crunched over the fallen leaves, and the birdsong had gone silent, as if the forest were waiting for the remainder of the story, too.