Words on Fire

“Audra is still young—”

“Will the soldiers care about that?”

My father set his cards down. “She must learn to see our world the way it is.”

“The way our world is, Audra is safer here.”

“Ignoring danger does not protect us from danger. Let me teach her.” His voice lowered almost to a whisper. “I’ve bee

n giving this a lot of thought. She’s better off if she knows.”

Mama crossed the room to face him directly, standing at my side. “Henri, we have an agreement.”

By then, I was sitting up even taller, trying to figure out what they were talking about. “What is the agreement? Mama, I want to know.”

Mama folded her arms. “You don’t understand what you are asking.”

I lowered my eyes, considering her words, while Papa said, “But we do. We cannot refuse to teach her any longer. We agreed to do everything we could—”

“But no more than that. Nothing that puts Audra in danger.” She glanced at my father’s canvas sack. “Is everything packed and ready?”

“Yes, including the most important part.”

My curiosity sparked. “Can you show it to me, Papa?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but Mama took his hand instead. “Help me carry in the milk,” she said, pulling him outside. Which meant they intended to finish talking where I couldn’t hear.

I hated when they did that, when they made it obvious how little they trusted me with their most serious conversations. If they couldn’t trust me, then I figured there was no need to be trustworthy.

Papa was carrying something away from here in secret. I had to find out what it was.

As soon as the back door swung shut, I tried to lift his bag, but it was so heavy, I could barely make it budge. I unbuttoned the top and wondered why. Nothing I saw should have made it so heavy. There were only clothes and blankets and a few tin pans for cooking. What was beneath all of it?

I started to dig deeper into the bag, but everything was stuffed in tight, making it difficult to maneuver around. I wanted to get to the bottom of the bag, but my parents’ voices were getting louder, coming closer.

I had just buttoned up the top when Mama walked into the house, picked up her spoon, and began stirring the pot of stew again. After a long sigh, she said, “I suppose the midsummer festivities only come once a year. If I go, too, then Audra and I can return home together.”

From where he stood in the doorway, Papa’s eyes twinkled—they often did. It was one of the ways I knew magic was inside him. I wanted my eyes to sparkle just as bright.

And Mama tried her best to smile, though all I saw in her eyes was worry, a glimmer of sadness I noticed more and more often, especially when Papa was away for his shows. And last winter, he’d been gone quite a bit, though he’d left his bag of magic tricks behind. On those trips, she did more than worry. Sometimes I heard her cry in the nights, long after she thought I was asleep.

Rubbing his hands together, Papa returned to the table and faced me. “Even with your mother there, you must follow our rules.”

My heart leapt with excitement. Whatever the rules, whatever the conditions, I intended to agree to them all. Anything so that I could go.

“I know the rules,” I said. “Avoid the Cossack—”

“There is one policeman in particular you must avoid. His name is Officer Rusakov and he is new to this district. He must have something to prove to his superiors, for he is strict with the law, all laws. We speak Lithuanian here at home, but out there tonight, it must be Russian, even if you believe you are surrounded by friends. Rusakov has spies, informants.”

“I never cause trouble, Papa, you know that.” I wasn’t a rock thrown into the pond; I was a leaf that fluttered onto the water where even the breeze wouldn’t notice me.

“And if anyone asks about school, tell them you are not interested.”

I wasn’t interested. I had enough to do to help around the farm. School could not offer me anything better than the life I already had.

“Also, if you should get lost—”

“I can find my way home, Papa.” I wasn’t allowed in the village, but in the daytime, after I’d finished my chores, I sometimes wandered the forest behind our home, and I knew the trails well. My parents didn’t know that, not even my father.