“A Russian?” I’d spoken before I thought better of it, thinking of my parents and wondering if this man in front of me had been there the night they were arrested. He probably hadn’t been, but I still couldn’t help but wonder. And I instantly knew it was a mistake. My tone had been too sharp, too angry.
To cover, I quickly reached for the book he’d offered me. “Thank you. I’d like to learn to read.”
His suspicion cooled, even as my cheeks heated. Not because I was frightened, or because I’d made an enormous error, but because I’d just spoken aloud a truth that had stayed at the back of my mind for years, even when I’d denied it to my father.
Papa had asked me that very question once as we sat together at the supper table. I’d begun to answer, but before I could, Mama told Papa she needed his help outside, and they remained out there until long after our supper was cold. When they returned, my parents quietly continued eating, as if they hadn’t been gone at all. Finally, hoping to ease the tension in our home, I said, “I have no wish to read, Papa. Another time perhaps.”
That other time may have finally come. I wanted to learn to read.
“Don’t waste time with a peasant girl!” The officer who shouted to the Cossack I was speaking to must have been his superior, for this soldier quickly straightened up and saluted. “We’re going to monitor all roads north of here. We heard there might be trouble that way.”
That way happened to be the same direction I was headed, which meant I needed to avoid all roads from here on. My head had been ducked low while he spoke, and it was only after he left that the soldier I’d been speaking to sent me on my way.
I kept the book tucked under my arm as I walked. I figured it made me less suspicious to any other soldiers who might notice me—or at least, they’d see I already had a Russian book, so what would I ever want with a hidden Lithuanian one?
By midday, I’d made it to the next town, just as Milda had instructed. I hoped I was in the right place since she hadn’t given me its name, nor did this small village appear to have one. I ducked my head inside a blacksmith’s stables. Just to be safe, I asked my question in Russian, “Do you happen to know a Ben Kagan?”
The blacksmith looked me over like I was a bit of mold to be scraped off his bread. ?
?Who are you?”
I drew back, unprepared for that question. Finally, in my scrambling to say something coherent, I mumbled, “A friend of his sent me here.”
“You’re no friend of his, speaking as you do, and holding that Russian book. Go away.” The blacksmith returned to his work, making it clear he was finished with me.
I sighed and immediately felt someone tap on my back. With a start, I looked and saw Lukas behind me, arching his brows as if I’d done something to amuse him.
“Not bad, Audra, really, for your first try.”
I balled up my hands into fists. “You followed me?”
“Not followed you exactly. I only walked here on a separate path that allowed me to observe your actions without you, or that Cossack soldier, ever seeing me. Milda asked me to be sure you were safe.” He smiled and glanced down at the Russian book. “But what are you doing with that?”
I held it up. “It was a gift—that soldier gave it to me. I didn’t ask for it.”
“Why do you think it was a gift? Because no one will buy these little hatchets!”
My brows pressed together. “Little hatchet?”
“Their books are their weapons, meant to swallow us up if we allow it.” He took the book from me. “I know you’re supposed to meet Ben, but before you do, we must make sure this book is put in a safe place, somewhere special where no one will ever bother it.” He walked across the road and I followed.
An old farmer happened to be passing us by, pulling a load of manure. Lukas ducked in immediately behind the cart, then shoved the Russian book into the center of the foul-smelling load. Then he turned back to me with a wide smile. “Now it’s just where it belongs. Come with me and I’ll introduce you to Ben.”
Lukas and I had taken no more than three steps forward when a wagon barreled down the street straight toward us. Its driver had a patch over one eye, and the other was zigzagging in wild alarm. His white hair stuck out in every direction and his clothes seemed so much a part of him that I suspected he might’ve grown into them from birth, and simply slept, bathed, and prayed in them year-round. He held the reins with one hand and, with the other, tossed a long piece of canvas fabric behind him, letting it flutter in the wind to spread out its folds.
Lukas muttered to me under his breath, “Audra, meet Ben. You’ve caught him on one of his better days.”
I gasped and started to dodge out of the way, but Lukas took my hand and pulled me with him toward the wagon, stepping aside barely in time to clear the horses.
Ben slowed long enough to direct his attention to Lukas. “Get on or get run over, I don’t much care which!”
“She has to come,” Lukas said.
I protested, but Lukas must not have heard me. Instead, the instant Ben flicked his eyes at me and nodded, Lukas grabbed me by the waist and half tossed me onto the back of the wagon, then jumped on himself almost at the last minute as the wagon burst into full speed.
I scrambled deeper into the wagon, which was filled with bundles of hay. I pushed through them and felt something hard at my feet—books, I assumed. Of course they’d be books. No wonder I’d seen so few of them in my lifetime. Milda and Ben must have hoarded all the books in Lithuania. Lukas raised the back of the wagon’s gate and latched it, shutting us in.
“Grab a corner,” Ben said. I had to stand to catch the canvas, but a burst of wind tossed it out of my reach, and I stumbled, nearly losing my balance as our wagon tilted on two wheels around a bend in the road. Then Lukas caught an edge of the fabric, which brought my corner into control. Together we tucked the ends around the straw, and Ben tossed us some rope to tie everything down.