The World That We Knew(18)

Ettie was in the woods by then, stuffing down her sobs as if there was a bird in her mouth. She swallowed the bird of sorrow and it sang a mourning song inside of her. It was too late to turn back, too late to climb back through the kitchen window and find themselves in bed, alive and warm in each other’s arms as their mother called for them to see to their chores and start breakfast. It was too late to stop the angel in the black coat from writing down Marta’s name in small black script as he walked among the trees. Some things hold on to you forevermore: the sharp crack of sound, the whirl of insects rising from the grass, the birds disappearing into the trees, their feathers falling to the ground like black rain. Afterward, Ettie would recall the moment when her sister fell again and again, each and every night at the same blue hour. She would never forget her sister’s face or her mother sitting beside her on winter nights; she wouldn’t forget the morning when they dug earth from the river, or the tall grass that reached almost to her waist as she ran, faster and faster, into the forest, her heart hitting against the cage of her ribs, until she found the east wind and at last disappeared, wondering how she would ever find a reason to live.



Through the window Lea saw one sister fall and the other run into the forest. She saw the cloud of crows and heard a strange rustling as Ava leaned out the window to call to the birds in a language that was too mysterious and beautiful for mortals to understand. Lea had heard what the younger sister had said. She had called Ava a golem. She had no idea what that might mean, but the word stayed with her.

Do not worry about who she is, but know she will always protect you. That is all I want and all I ever wanted.



Those detained in the field were being led to waiting trucks. Lea and Ava could hear women weeping as their children were taken away. A young soldier came to their compartment to examine their papers. He was impatient and he snapped his fingers at them. He looked like the one in the alleyway. His eyes were pale blue, but Lea was certain that it was just a matter of time before they turned red. She slipped her hand into her pocket to feel for the scissors. When the soldier asked her name, she could not remember what she was supposed to say. Again, she was unable to speak. She gazed into his eyes. If she had to, she would stab him in the neck or the heart. She would have to do it quickly, reaching upward, he was so very tall.

“What’s wrong with you?” The soldier wanted an answer when he spoke to someone, and when she was silent, his eyes began to change. He grabbed Lea and pulled her toward him, but all she could do was stammer. The scissors were cold against her fingers. She jerked away so that she could attack him, and when she did the clasp of her necklace unfastened and her birthday charm fell to the floor. The engraved Jewish symbols were there for him to see should he look down.

Ava was between them now, visas and tickets in hand. She was as tall as the soldier and for some reason he couldn’t look away. It wasn’t her long black hair or her wide beautiful mouth that mesmerized him. It was her gray eyes; he fell into them, unable to resist. He was drowning, silent, confused by his own reaction.

“We have all the necessary documents,” Ava told him.

Lea went down on her hands and knees. The locket lay open, and a slip of paper had fallen out. Lea was not meant to read the message. She had been told not to open the locket until the war was over and she was safe. But as she collected the message to return it to its proper place, she was drawn to her mother’s familiar handwriting. Without thinking she read the inscription. Do what I tell you, do what you must, all things that begin must end, all things that you know, you cannot unknow.

Lea’s heart hurt, as it had in the alley, before life had changed forever. She stuffed the folded paper back into the charm and slipped the chain around her neck. Lea could barely breathe. She knew she would never be herself again. That girl was gone.

The soldier was satisfied that nothing was amiss with their papers. He nodded and moved on, although clearly he wished to stay.

“Will you be back in Berlin?” he asked Ava.

“Perhaps,” she said, though the answer was no, she had learned not to say too much. Her maker had taught her this lesson.

When they were at last alone in the compartment, Ava turned to Lea. “Give me the weapon,” she said.

“There is no weapon.”

Ava held out her hand. “I speak to you as if I were your mother.”

“You’re not, and you won’t ever be.”

Lea had no idea why she was crying. Ava was not like other women; she likely didn’t even have feelings. Why fight with her?

Ava reached into Lea’s pocket and brought forth the scissors. “That’s not how you kill a soldier.”

Lea was interested despite herself. “How would you do it?”

“Quietly. Without blood.”

Lea scowled. She’d seen a murder. “There has to be blood,” she said knowingly.

“Sometimes yes, sometimes no.”

Ava was becoming more fascinating all the time. Lea felt the silver locket, cold against her chest. She didn’t understand Ava, yet she felt comforted by her presence. “What will happen to the girl who ran away?”

To that there was only one answer. “Whatever is meant to happen.”

“And do you know what that is?”

“Can anyone know?”

“I think maybe you can.”