Threads and Flames (7 page)

She's in a strange place, going somewhere she can't even imagine, and her mother's not well. She must be scared half to death,
she thought.
Poor little one; I have to make it better for her.
Aloud, Raisa asked, “Would you like to go look at the ocean, Brina? Maybe we'll see fish or birds.”

“Are you sure we should take her out on deck?” Zusa asked. “It's still pretty rough.”

“We'll put on her life preserver, and we'll both hold her hands the whole time.”

“If she'll let me,” Zusa said. “You're the one she likes. She must be able to tell you're the one who knows how to be a good sister.”

“Don't tell me you're jealous,” Raisa teased.

“Not at all. Here.” Zusa thrust the empty meal pail into Raisa's hands. “Big sisters get to do the washing.”

Raisa left Brina in Zusa's care while she went to clean the pail. On her way back from the washing facilities, she decided it might be a good idea to pick up the child's life preserver and take care of her mother's meal pail at the same time. She threaded her way back to Brina's berth and found the mother sleeping, her breakfast untouched. Raisa cast her eyes around until she found Brina's life preserver on the upper bunk, then hesitated a while, debating if she should trouble the sleeping woman with questions about whether she wanted the cold oatmeal left for her or cleared away. In the end she decided that the woman needed sleep and left her.

As soon as Brina saw Raisa coming back, she broke away from Zusa and ran to hug her. In spite of her protests about not caring if the child played favorites, Zusa sounded a little cranky when she remarked, “She'll need a coat, too, if we're going outside.”

“I don't know where to look for that, and her mother's asleep. I don't want to disturb her. Brina can wear my coat.”

“So you'll get sick and be sent back when we land?
Not
a good plan.” Zusa dug into her own bags and handed Raisa a thick sweater. “She can wear this, though I'm sure she won't let
me
put it on her.”

Brina loved the sea. It was all that Raisa and Zusa could do to hold on to the child's hands. Once up on deck, she squirmed out of their grasp and ran to the ship's rail, where she clung like a monkey, gazing out over the choppy water. The girls raced after her, grabbed her arms, and gave her a scolding, but she didn't seem to hear it. Her face was covered with spray and radiantly happy.

They walked the deck together, holding hands. Sometimes Raisa and Zusa lifted Brina high between them and swung her, making the child squeal with delight. The crewmen who watched them stroll past smiled, and one of them gave the girls some raspberry hard candy. By the time they returned to the steerage compartment, Brina was red cheeked and ready for a nap. She fell asleep sitting up on the edge of Zusa's bunk while Raisa was unfastening her life preserver.

“Would you look at that?” Zusa said, shaking her head. She knelt beside Raisa and helped place the sleeping child comfortably in her bed. “Do you think she'll wake up in time for lunch?”

“Lunch?” Raisa echoed, only half hearing her friend. She was too preoccupied with trying to remove Brina's shoes and get the child tucked in.

“Never mind. I'll go bring back something for all of us.” Zusa picked up the two meal pails and headed off.

Brina slept through lunch but woke up hungry when it was almost the dinner hour. The sea had grown calmer, and many of the ailing passengers had recovered their appetites. The line for food distribution was long and tempers were short. Zusa stared at the bickering crowd and sighed as she reached for the meal pails.

“No, let me do it this time,” Raisa said, grabbing the pails before Zusa could get them. “I'll go see if Brina's mother wants something, too.” She gave Brina some dried apples she'd saved from lunch, then headed for the child's berth.

She found Brina's mother sitting up in bed, picking at the cold oatmeal in her meal pail. “Oh, please don't eat that!” Raisa cried. “It must be awful. Let me bring you something fresh.”

The woman looked pleased. “My dear, it's good of you to offer, but I'm feeling better now. I'll be able to get dinner for Brina and me. How is she? I hope she hasn't been too much bother.” Raisa told her all about Brina's morning adventures, which made the child's mother even happier. “My little one is very lucky to have met you, Raisa,” the woman said. “But I can't take advantage of your good nature. I can look after my own child.”

“Why don't you let us keep her until it's her bedtime?” Raisa suggested. “You'll be able to eat your dinner in peace, and I'll make sure she eats well before I bring her back to you tonight.”

The woman raised one milky hand. “No need, really. I've been alone too much as it is, ever since my husband died, may he rest in peace. I want to look after my own child.”

Reluctantly, Raisa did as Brina's mother asked. The woman was just getting out of her bunk when the little girl ran back into her arms. The most Raisa could do was clean the congealed oatmeal out of the mother's meal pail before bidding both of them good-bye and going to collect dinner for herself and Zusa.

“Why the long face?” Zusa asked as the two of them ate their dinner. “We won't land for at least three more days, thanks to the bad weather. You'll see lots more of your little friend before that. We can even ask her mother where they're going to stay after they get off the boat, and I'll write it down for you. It's not as if they're going to drop off the face of the earth.”

“You don't have to do that,” Raisa said. “I did like taking care of Brina, but once we're in New York City, we'll all have other things to keep us busy. Of course, there's no reason I can't spend more time with her
before
the ship docks.”

“No reason at all,” Zusa agreed. “In fact, I'll bet that little pest will come looking for you tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, until you can't wait to see the last of her!” They both laughed.

But the eighth day of the voyage passed without any sighting of the little girl or her mother. Their bunks were too far away from Raisa's to allow an accidental meeting, and though she searched the crowds while waiting for meals or toilets or the washing facilities, they were never there at the same time she was. She and Zusa filled the time with more reading lessons and walks in the sunshine on deck. It was the same story on the ninth day. Raisa grew uneasy. She couldn't seem to give her full attention to Zusa's lessons.

“Is there a
reason
your head's in the clouds?” Zusa finally asked, exasperated.

“You'll think I'm silly, but I'm . . . I'm worried about Brina,” Raisa admitted. “I haven't seen her or her mother for two days, not even when we're served our meals.”

“It's a big ship with lots of people aboard,” Zusa said, dismissing Raisa's concerns. “They probably get their food at different times than we do.”

“I suppose you're right,” Raisa said reluctantly.

“Of course I am! Now, do you want to go back to
The Wishing-Ring
again or would you rather take another walk?”

That night, Raisa slept badly. Her dreams were filled with swirling images of ordinary people and places that melted into monstrous creatures. There was no up, no down, and the nightmare skies went from sun to storm to dazzling starlight before drowning her in total darkness. She woke up gasping.

Then she realized she was not alone in her bunk. A small, warm body was clinging to her side. By the dim light of the steerage lamps she saw Brina, her eyes brimming with tears, her tiny fist pressed hard against her mouth.

“Brina?” Raisa whispered, gently taking the little girl into her arms. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

The child opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a wild, heartbroken wail.

“Heaven have mercy, what's all the racket?” Zusa moaned from the lower berth. Other people occupying neighboring bunks added their grumbles and curses to the noise Brina was making. Raisa did her best to hush the child, holding her on her lap and rocking back and forth. She'd just gotten Brina's howling muted down to soft sobs when Zusa's sleepy face appeared over the edge of the bed. “What's she doing here? Got lost trying to find the toilet on her own?”

“I don't know,” Raisa said. “But I'm going to find out.” She climbed out of her berth, put on her shoes, and offered her arms to Brina. The child wrapped her thin arms around Raisa's neck and held her so tightly it felt as if she'd never let go.

Zusa trailed after the two of them as Raisa carried Brina back to her own bunk. There wasn't much light in that part of steerage. When Raisa bent down to peer into the lower berth where Brina's mother slept, she could see only shadows. “Excuse me, ma'am,” she said. “I'm sorry to bother you, but—” She stopped. The lower berth was very, very quiet.

Wordlessly Raisa stood up and handed Brina to Zusa. The child didn't want the change, but Raisa was firm. Zusa's face creased with anxiety. She began to ask a question that faded from her lips as Raisa bent down again and leaned into the darkened bunk.

The woman's hands lay cold on top of the overcoat that was her blanket. Her face was so white that Raisa could see it even in the shadows. There was no sound of breathing. Raisa closed her eyes and murmured a prayer before turning back to Zusa and Brina.

“I think—I think you should go get one of the crew,” Raisa told her friend. “You can speak German.” She took Brina back and hugged the little girl fiercely. “I'll take her to our berths.”

“All right,” Zusa said. “But I don't think the doctor will come down to steerage.”

“He won't have to,” Raisa said. She carried Brina away.

THE GOLDEN LAND

R
aisa took Brina to the shelter of Zusa's lower berth and huddled there while steerage erupted into an uproar as word of the woman's death spread. She saw several crewmen briskly going about the necessary business of restoring order, heard hysterical shrieking as people demanded to know whether the cause of death was anything contagious, and tried to give the child in her arms a little comfort by singing all the lullabies she could remember. When she ran out of songs, she turned to storytelling, but her attempts to distract Brina were interrupted when a young crewman stopped beside the bunk, squatted, and asked her to come with him. He spoke good Polish, so there was no problem understanding him.

“This is the child, yes?” he asked, his eyes filled with pity as he looked at Brina. She responded by burying her head against Raisa's neck.

“Her name is Brina,” Raisa said. “Can you tell me what—why her mother—you know?”

“The ship's doctor said it must have been her heart. He claims she was fine whenever he examined her.”

If he examined her at all,
Raisa thought bitterly.

“I'm surprised the company doctors didn't find a problem before she boarded,” the young man went on. “But these things happen. How well did you know her? Did she mention any family besides this little one? Did she say anything about her plans once they got to New York City?”

Raisa shook her head. “We didn't speak much. All I know is that she was a widow. Maybe she was carrying something that said—”

“Nothing.” The crewman sighed. “This is very bad. Poor angel.” He patted Brina's hair.

“What's going to happen to her?” Raisa asked. “Will they send her back?”

“Back to where? Back to whom?” The young man raised his hands, helpless. “There's been some sort of irregularity with the records concerning this child and her mother, places where the information is incomplete. How could such a thing have escaped notice? It's terrible. We don't know how to find the child's relatives on either side of the ocean, or even if she has any family at all. With no one to take responsibility for her, she'll be sent back by the United States immigration authorities and that will cost the shipping company a lot of money. They have to pay a big fine for every immigrant who's rejected at Ellis Island, you know, and that's besides the expense of her passage back. And for what? So they can put her in a German orphanage? I'm betting that our captain pulls some strings and calls in some favors once we land so that he can stow her in an orphanage in New York. If he can do that, at least the shipping company won't have to foot the bill for her return.”

An uneasy look came into his eyes. “I wish there were another choice for her. I once shipped with a sailor from New York. He, too, was orphaned young and packed off to one of those places. The stories he told!” A small but noticeable shiver shook the young man's body. “Whatever the captain decides, it will be a dreadful fate for the child either way.”

“No,”
Raisa said, gripping Brina. “He can't do that to her. I won't let him!”

“Ah, that's easy to say,” the crewman replied. “But to do—”

“I
won't
let him!” Raisa repeated even more forcefully, though she had no idea how she was going to stop the captain. All she knew was that this was something she could not allow to happen.

“You're a good, brave girl,” the young man said, admiration in his eyes. “If it all depended on courage alone, I'd feel sorry for our captain, going up against you.”

“Is that where you're taking us?” Raisa asked, her heart beating faster. “To see the captain?”

The young man gave a short, sharp laugh. “He has better things to do. One of the ship's junior officers will question you and report his recommendations about the child to our captain. That friend of yours is already there, the one who notified us about the dead—about this child's mama.” He patted Brina's golden curls again and clicked his tongue. “So young, and alone. Such a great misfortune.”