Threads and Flames (8 page)

The ship's officer was waiting in a small, unoccupied second-class cabin. He sat stiffly in a wooden chair with Zusa standing nearby, fidgeting. His eyes glittered coldly when he saw Raisa and Brina; his mouth became small and hard as a chip of flint. The young sailor who had brought Raisa and Brina into his presence snapped to attention and gave the man a smart salute that was returned brusquely, followed by a long, intense burst of German. While Raisa's escort was responding to this, she moved next to Zusa. The two girls exchanged wary looks.

“What's he been saying to you?” Raisa whispered, nodding at the officer, who was still involved in conversation with the crewman.

“He wants to know about Brina's family,” Zusa hissed back. “Whatever happened—if it was just a terrible slipup or if maybe her mother had a reason to bribe someone to let her and Brina aboard with irregular documents—this man isn't going to let his ship or his company take the blame. They've gone through her mother's things. They found no mention of any relatives or family friends and they're mad as wet cats about that.”

“Well, that's because if they can't turn her over to someone in New York City, they'd have to pay to—”

Abruptly, the ship's officer snapped his head in Raisa's direction and bellowed at her. The crewman translated: “He says you are to keep quiet unless you have something you want to say to him.”

“I was only telling—” Raisa began.

Again the officer shouted at her and the translation came: “He says that if he wanted to listen to a lot of dirty Jew-chatter, he would filthy his boots on the doorstep of one of your damned synagogues.” The young crewman spoke as if his words were saying something as simple and self-evident as
The grass is green
or
The sky is blue
. There was no hint of shame or apology in his voice or his expression.

Raisa's face burned. She took a long, deep breath and wished she could let it out as a stream of fire.
What did we ever do to them?
Brina whimpered and squirmed in her arms.

All at once, Zusa spoke up, addressing the ship's officer directly in German. He looked dubious, but with a lift of his eyebrows and a faint nod, he beckoned his translator to bend close. The two men conferred in inaudible murmurs until at last the young sailor turned to relay the essence of their conversation.

“He begs your pardon, miss,” the translator told Raisa with a broad grin. “He was unaware that you and your friend here are not Jewish. He thought he heard you speaking in that tongue, but clearly he was mistaken. He asks your patience while he examines the few documents the dead woman brought on board with her. With luck, we will be able to settle the child's fate soon enough and take her off your hands.”

Raisa gave Zusa a hard stare. In the softest of whispers she demanded, “Is that what you just told him? That we're not Jews?”

“You see how he is,” Zusa whispered back. “He'll be nicer to Brina if he thinks she's not Jewish, either.”

“Unless there's something in her mother's belongings to tell him otherwise.”

“Don't worry about that, Raisa. I've been standing here longer than you. That poor woman had nothing but some clothing and a few household goods. Her only papers came from the steamship company, and from what I've overheard, they've got more holes than a beggar's coat. Her name isn't going to give her away, either. We're lucky that our official friend has cheese for brains. As far as he's concerned, good Polish Christian peasants are all naming their daughters Brina, Raisa, and Zusa.”

“So you lied for Brina's sake?” Raisa said. Zusa nodded. “Good. Then you're used to it.” Raising her voice, she called out to the young crewman, “Sir, please tell the good officer that we're sorry to have put him to such trouble. All we want to do is care for our little cousin, and make sure there will be no problems when we're the ones to take her off the boat instead of her mother.”

The sailor gawked at her. “Your . . . cousin?” Raisa nodded briskly. She didn't dare look at Zusa. If there was the smallest sign of misgiving in her friend's expression, she was afraid she would lose control of her own face and betray her daring lie.

There was more quick conferral between the translator and the officer, followed by the inevitable question: “Why did neither of you say anything about this earlier?”

Zusa leaped at the question, babbling in German. When she was done, the ship's officer stood up, gave her the scant handful of documents, and flung a last burst of harsh words in her face before marching out of the room. The next instant, the young crewman who had fetched Raisa and Brina was shepherding all three girls back down to steerage.

“May all be well with you,” he said kindly before leaving them.

Holding Brina tight, Raisa sat down carefully on the edge of Zusa's bunk and let out a loud “Whew!”

“The next time you decide to pull something like that, give me some warning,” Zusa said, leaning against the wall. “I had to think
too
fast there.”

“I knew you could do it,” Raisa told her. “So, how
did
you explain it?”

“I said that I was too scared to mention it because I thought he was the ship's captain and I would never dare speak up to such an exalted person.” Zusa lifted her chin high and pushed up the tip of her nose with one finger. “He yelled at me for wasting his time.” She glanced at the papers. “So we've got a cousin. What do we do with her now? More important, what will we do after we land?”

“What do you think we do? We keep her safe.” Raisa stroked Brina's back. The child had fallen asleep in her arms despite all the commotion of the meeting with the ship's officer. “We'll have plenty of help once we reach New York City.”

“I hope so.” Zusa didn't sound convinced. “Mama and cousin Selig wrote that we haven't got a lot of room.”

“She's going to stay with Henda and me,” Raisa maintained. “All that you and your family will need to do is help me find her address. I have it written down, but I won't know my way around the city.”

“You're sure your sister won't mind?”

Raisa shook her head emphatically. “When our mama died, Henda and I were welcomed to a new family. We'll do the same for Brina with all our hearts.”

 

 

The ship and her passengers enjoyed fair weather for the remaining three days of the voyage. Raisa's reading lessons were set aside as she and Zusa dealt with their new responsibility. Zusa secured the child's meager belongings, including her mother's few articles of clothing, and Raisa took care of the girl herself. It wasn't easy. Brina's every waking moment seemed to be filled with storms of tears and howls for her mother. She refused to eat, she wouldn't sleep anywhere except in Raisa's arms, and her rest was broken by recurring nightmares.

“My God, can't you give that child something to keep her quiet?” someone yelled from a nearby berth when Brina's terrified shrieks shattered the night.

“If I could, I'd give you a double dose!” Raisa shouted back. Her nerves were frayed from lack of sleep, but when the anger in her voice made Brina cry even louder, she was ashamed. “Hush, hush my precious,” she murmured, rocking the sobbing child. “Everything's going to be all right.”

Brina refused to be comforted. “Mama!” she wailed. “I want Mama! Where's Mama? Why did she go away?” All Raisa could do was repeat her empty words of comfort and try to hold back her own tears.

On the eleventh morning, she woke up to find three women and a girl standing patiently beside her berth, watching her. Raisa freed her arm from under the sleeping child's back, sat up, and returned their gazes with a puzzled look and a hesitant “Good morning?”

The three women smiled, and all of them began talking at once. Raisa couldn't understand a word they said, though from their gestures she guessed they were talking about Brina. Only the girl stayed silent. She looked a little older than Raisa and Zusa, with a single braid of shining black hair trailing over one shoulder and down the front of her dress, past her waist. While the women chattered away, the girl's luminous dark eyes were fixed on Brina's drowsing face.

The clamor woke Brina, who went from deep sleep to wide-awake fright in a second. She began to whimper, grabbing Raisa, while the women swarmed closer, still chattering, all of them vying to take the child into their arms. Their faces were kind and compassionate, but Brina was having none of it. Her whimpers turned to high-pitched cries of distress, and she dug her fingers so deeply into the flesh of Raisa's upper arms that it felt as if she was gripping the bones.

The raven-haired girl shoved her way between the women and the upper berth and pushed aside their outstretched hands. They glowered at her, but she held her ground, pointing at Brina's fear-stunned face and rattling off fiery words whose meaning flew straight over Raisa's head. Little by little, the girl's voice softened, and her expression went from stern to charming. The women muttered among themselves, then one of them said a few words in a grudging tone and they walked away.

“What was
that
all about?” Zusa asked testily from the lower berth.

“I have no idea,” Raisa said. She looked to the black-haired girl and even though she doubted she would be understood, she told her, “Thank you very much. I'm sure they were trying to help, but she”—she hugged Brina—“she's too little and too upset to know that. This is Brina. That's Zusa. I'm Raisa.” She clarified her introductions by indicating each of them in turn and hoping for the best.

“Luciana,” the girl responded, touching her fingertips lightly to her chest.
“Luciana Delvecchio. Vengo da Livorno.”

Communicating with Luciana was like being caught in a strange but fascinating dream. At first it seemed that her only language was Italian, though when Zusa impulsively tested speaking a bit of German to her, Luciana stumbled through a confusing answer combining both tongues. Zusa puzzled long and hard over her reply before declaring, “I told her that I hoped her relatives—you know, those three women who scared poor Brina to pieces—weren't mad at her for chasing them away. She said they're Italian, like she is, but not family. She's traveling alone. I
think
she said that her father had relatives in Germany. I can't figure out much more. At least it explains why she can speak a little of the language and why she sailed from a German port.”

Luciana plainly disliked the effort it cost her to use her scanty German, because her conversation with Zusa was the last time she uttered a word in that language. When she spoke Italian, Raisa and Zusa couldn't understand one word, and their Yiddish was just as alien to her, yet the three girls somehow managed to harness gestures, facial expressions, and sheer persistence to communicate. It turned out that Luciana had another means of communication at hand. She carried a little book of blank pages, many already filled with drawings from her travels, and used a pencil to sketch what she couldn't say. Soon she was entertaining Brina with pictures of Raisa, Zusa, the other passengers, and the child herself.

“Luciana, this is wonderful!” Raisa exclaimed over the girl's most recent sketch. “You've drawn more than Zusa's face; you've captured her spirit.”

“A fine capture!” Zusa grumbled, looking at the drawing over Raisa's shoulder. “She's made me look like a fox who's just stolen every chicken in the henhouse.”

“But a happy fox,” Raisa pointed out, giggling. “I thought you were proud to be so clever.” Zusa only snorted.

Luciana also helped calm Brina. The women she'd herded away came back later that day, bringing small treats and comforts for the child. A warm blanket, a bit of rock candy, and a faceless rag doll sewn together out of scraps all worked their small magic. Luciana acted as the go-between, since Brina was still easily overwhelmed by strange faces. The women stood at a little distance and let the Italian girl give the child their offerings while Raisa and Zusa told her to thank the good ladies. Brina never thanked them with words, but she actually smiled at them, then let go of Raisa's hand, ran across the gently rolling floor, and gave each of them a lightning-fast hug before dashing back to safety. Their delighted laughter made her jump into Zusa's berth and hide her head under the life preserver, which only made everyone laugh more.

That evening, a uniformed man came down to the steerage section when everyone was lined up to get dinner. He blew three short blasts on a brass whistle, shouted something in German into the silence that followed, and left. Little pockets of animated talk opened up throughout the crowd as those who understood his words translated for those who did not. The news spread like ripples on a pond until steerage rocked with the din of enthusiastic chatter.

Raisa was among the first to know what was going on. As soon as the uniformed man finished speaking, Zusa grabbed her arm and gleefully cried, “Tomorrow, Raisa! We land tomorrow! We'll never have to spend another night aboard this ship; we're almost
there
!”

The girls ate in a hurry and began searching around their berths for any possessions they'd taken out of their baggage in the course of the voyage. Everything had to be retrieved and secured for the next day's debarkation. Brina made it clear that she wanted to help. The little girl became so excited that Raisa wondered if she'd be able to get her to go to bed at all.
Never mind that,
she thought.
I wonder if
I'll
be able to sleep tonight!

As it turned out, she didn't have to worry about Brina. She fell asleep almost as soon as Raisa lifted her into the upper berth. Raisa lay cradling the child in one arm and staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing.
Tomorrow . . . America! Just one more day and I'll be with Henda again! Dear Lord, how will I be able to find her house? Wait, I don't have to worry about that. Zusa's mother and cousin have been living in New York City for a long time. They must know all the streets. I hope Henda doesn't live too far away. I don't know if Brina can walk that much, and I don't know how else we're supposed to get around. Maybe Zusa's family has a horse cart. Oh! Where did I hide my money?