“I was never the brave one,” Shayndel whispered. “In the forest, comrades were the heroes. I was a terrible shot, and after they died I was worthless. And my brother,” Shayndel wailed. “My brother should be here.” Leonie turned her around and held her tight. “We were supposed to be here together,” Shayndel cried. “It was Noah’s dream. I tagged along after him, and he was the best, the most wonderful …”
“You never told me about a brother,” said Leonie, stroking her hair.
“He was so good, so smart. I’m sure you would have liked him,” Shayndel said.
“I would have loved him,” said Leonie. “How could I not?”
The light filtered through the pine needles around them. The dew drenched their feet. Shayndel pulled away gently and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “The worst thing is,” she started, and turned to avoid Leonie’s eyes. “I don’t even know how to say this, but we lived for this, Noah and me. We were so sure we would be happy here, but now all I feel is afraid. He would have been ashamed of me, but the truth is, I have never been so afraid in my whole life.”
“What are you afraid of?” Leonie asked. “I’m not sure,” said Shayndel, her eyes brimming again. “And that frightens me, too.”
Leonie nodded. “Maybe you are just afraid of what is going to happen next.”
“What do you think is going to happen?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know. No one knows. Even you, who dreamed about life on a kibbutz in the land of Israel, even you can’t know how it will turn out. Everything that has happened to you, to me, to everyone who came with us … it all proves that nothing is certain. That it’s all a blank page.”
“But surely all of our work will …” Shayndel began.
“Yes?” Leonie said.
“No, you’re right,” Shayndel said. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”
“Well, I know that you are smart enough and brave enough to face whatever will happen, here or anywhere. That may be the only thing I am sure of.” Leonie took Shayndel’s face between her hands and kissed her on the right cheek and then on the left. “The sun is coming up. Let’s go see.”
“What are we going to see?”
“What happens next.”
Beit Oren
Shayndel was grateful for the warm cup between her hands. In many ways, the kibbutz dining hall looked like the mess hall in Atlit, a bit smaller, perhaps, but the open-beamed ceiling was the same, as were the sticky tabletops, the loud scraping of chairs over bare floor. But the differences touched her deeply: these pine panels had been fitted, tongue in groove, and stained the color of honey. There were posters on the walls, too, displays of earnest pioneers wearing shorts and caps, like the ones that used to hang in her Zionist summer camp. She could almost hear the echoes of songs she had sung there, songs she imagined were sung in this room as well.
A girl with thick braids under a blue kerchief brought over a woolen shawl and wrapped it around Shayndel’s shoulders. “My name is Nina,” she said. “Welcome to Beit Oren. Welcome to Eretz Yisrael. Are you as cold as you look?”
“Cold and dirty. Is th
ere somewhere to take a bath?”
The girl patted Shayndel on the back. “I don’t think you have time for that,” she said as she walked away.
“What did she mean by that?” Leonie asked. “Aren’t we staying here tonight?”
Shayndel had no answer for her; she was as much in the dark as everyone else. She waved at Tedi as she walked in wearing a gingham blouse and a pair of too-big trousers tied around the waist with red ribbon—clothes that made her look like a leggy twelve-year-old.
Shayndel smiled at the transformation. “You fit right in.”
“I think that’s the plan,” said Tedi. “The girl who gave me these clothes told me to go lend a hand in the kitchen, but when I went in there, they chased me out and told me to rest.”
“Where is Zorah?” asked Leonie.
“She went with Esther and Jacob. I think they took all the kids to see the nurse. Jacob was too tired even to eat, poor thing. Not me. Pass the bread and whatever else is down there.”
Three Palmachniks carrying rifles arrived; Shayndel recognized the man with the walkie-talkie, who raised his hands and announced, “Friends, comrades. The British are sending troops here and it has been determined that you will be safer at Kibbutz Yagur. It is not far and there are buses at the ready. We will be leaving in a few minutes, so gather your belongings and come to the front gate. Quickly, now.”
Despite some grumbling, nearly all of the Atlit arrivals got to their feet, pocketing pieces of fruit. But Leonie crossed her arms and sat back in her chair. “I am not going anywhere else today.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shayndel said. “It’s a matter of safety.”