Words on Fire

I followed Lukas in, but by the time I’d turned back to Milda, she had leaned the cane against the door, fully straightened up, and was removing a white-haired wig, leaving gray-flecked hair in a bun beneath it.

“Be a dear, young lady, and get the pillow,” she asked me, untying the sash from her vest.

I stepped forward, unsure of what to do until Lukas motioned toward her back. I put a hand at the bottom of her vest and felt upward until I touched a small pillow. I pulled it out and her hunched back instantly disappeared.

Meanwhile, Lukas had wet a cloth at Milda’s sink and handed it to her. She began wiping at her face, removing the crust that had seemed like her skin.

“Flour and water and a few other ingredients,” she explained when she saw me looking. “I’ll keep working on the recipe.”

“Maybe add some ground oats next time,” Lukas suggested. “For texture.”

Milda smiled, and when she lowered the cloth, I saw a woman who was old but still seemed half the age of the near corpse who had answered the door. She had a pleasant smile and a pointy nose, and once she removed the thick glasses, she had intelligent eyes.

They settled on Lukas first. “I saw you coming from a distance, but you’re shooting up so fa

st, I barely recognized you!” She threw her arms around him for a hug, then stood back and looked at me, her tone becoming solemn. “I do recognize you. Your father’s hair, but your mother’s daughter in every other way.”

My eyes widened. “You know my mother too?”

“Of course. She was the bravest of women.”

“Is.” I’d spoken so softly, I was sure Milda hadn’t heard me, but when she tilted her head at me, I whispered, “My mother is the bravest of women. She’s been arrested, but she’s alive. Both of my parents are.”

Milda nodded. “I see. And what is that you’re carrying?”

I held out the package to her. “Mama wanted me to bring this to you. She gave it to me … before the arrest.”

Milda’s brows pressed together, and she accepted the package. “You poor, sweet girl, you must tell me everything that happened. Have you come all this way on foot? You must be exhausted.”

“Lukas helped me get here,” I said.

“Well, he probably only did it because he’s hungry and he knows I always cook extra. Are you hungry too?”

My eyes might’ve popped out of my head because she nodded and moved toward her fireplace before I could answer. Above it hung a pot of what I thought might be stew, but she grabbed a plate and dished out at least a dozen dumplings.

Lukas practically dove for them and I would have, too, but for my injured ankle. Milda merely pushed past him to set them on the table nearer to me, then gestured for me to have a seat.

I wanted the dumplings. My mouth was watering for them as it never had before. But I nodded at the package I’d brought to Milda.

“Can you at least tell me what it is?”

“Supper first.” Milda lowered a knitted afghan over the stool where the package was lying, then sat with me and Lukas to eat. She must have already eaten, because she took nothing for herself, but simply watched as Lukas and I devoured one dumpling after another.

I glanced over at him as we ate. If he was this hungry, then either he wasn’t a very good thief or else he didn’t steal food.

I finished first, and as we waited for Lukas to finish, Milda asked me about my parents. I opened my mouth, then looked again at Lukas.

“It’s all right,” she said. “You can trust him.”

I didn’t see how, but I started with the disagreement between my parents ending with their decision to take me to the midsummer festival, then the soldiers who had come, and the fire, and once I got past that, I spilled out the rest of the story, right up until meeting Lukas.

Milda sat quietly as I spoke, occasionally dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her apron. Lukas seemed to have forgotten his food and merely stared at me, slack-jawed.

Before I finished, I added, “Milda, I only came here because … well, I have an idea. The Cossacks want whatever is in that package, and I want my parents back. Will you help me make a trade?”

Milda’s expression fell. “Oh, my dear child, I’m afraid that won’t work. They’d take the package and use it to convict your parents, not save them.”

My heart sank, leaving an empty hole inside my chest. I hadn’t wanted to hear that. Maybe this plan was far-fetched and built on little but hope and foolishness, but I had nothing else left. I couldn’t let it go like that, like these ideas were nothing more than smoke in my hand.