a short, sharp thing that faded away in the night like it was afraid to be caught. “Safe? I’m safe? I’m a Jew, we haven’t ever been safe. If what happened in Europe taught us anything, it was that reminder.”
“That’s what you were trying to do, isn’t it? Go back and make it so none of it ever happened. Not the camps, not Hitler, none of it.”
“That’s right. Jacob told us he had been praying and an angel came to him, just like the burning bush came to Moses. He said if we cast the ritual on the solstice, when the veil between Heaven and Earth was thinnest, the angel would help us reach back through time and make sure Hitler never came to power.”
“And none of the people you lost would die,” I murmured. It was a good lie. It sounded so easy, just push one thing out of line and it would save so many lives. Too bad you can’t do it.
“None of them. Not my aunt or my cousin. Not Hiram’s wife. Not Rachel’s mother and father. None of them. We could have them back, and everyone else, too. It sounded so . . .”
“Good?” I asked, my voice gentle.
“Yes. It sounded like it couldn’t be anything other than good. It would take away all that pain, all the loss, all the loneliness, all the . . .”
“All the guilt,” I said. “I know that guilt. I watched the woman I love die at the hands of a Nazi, and it drove me crazy for a while. Why did I have to lose her? Why did I get to live when she had to die? She was so much better than me, so kind, so pure, so . . .” My voice trailed off and I realized my cheeks were wet. I hadn’t cried for Anna in years, but now the tears flowed like raindrops.
“Yes,” Rosalyn almost whispered. “Why did we get to live?”
“Because sometimes the good people die to remind us what is worth living for.” Luke’s voice was soft, and when I looked at him I saw centuries of pain and loss in his eyes. I remembered the painting he moved from home to home, always in his bedroom, of a beautiful woman with brown eyes and dark hair. I saw her face in his eyes at that moment, just as I saw Anna’s face before me.
“Sometimes the best of us die to leave us an example,” I said with a nod. “They show us what life is supposed to be, but they have to die to pull it into focus. And sometimes . . . well, sometimes people just die. And there’s no reason for it, and it’s stupid, and it’s evil, and it hurts so bad it makes you want to do anything to fix it . . .”
“But you can’t,” Rosalyn said, her voice a butterfly’s wing in the night air.
“No,” I agreed. “You can’t. But you can live. You can stand up, set your chin, and you can see each sunrise.”
“Is that what you do?” she asked.
“Most days,” I admitted, my grin more than a little rueful. “Some days I can’t quite manage to get my chin straight, and those are the days I lean on my friends. My family. My other survivors. Because the best way for me to honor Anna is to live, just like I would if she were by my side.”
I saw Rosalyn’s eyes widen, but I shook my head to ward off the questions I didn’t want to answer. “Go home, Rosalyn,” I said. “Go home, get some sleep, and see the sunrise. We can’t go back in time. We can’t rescue our lost. But we can live our lives, and we can honor them.”
Then I stood up, and without looking back at the girl with the achingly familiar eyes, I walked out of the park and never returned. I went to Battery Park and I watched the sunrise, and I wept a river of tears for the woman I loved and lost. And then I got up, wiped my cheeks, and returned to the living.