“Not issued to fliers. Odds of them successfully crash-landing are so low they don’t waste a gas mask on a pilot. But he got it worse than most, flying right through the cloud.”
“So much necrotic damage. Will he walk?”
“Pardon me, madame, but are you a nurse? We could use the help here.”
I smiled. “No, just nurses in my family, but I’m happy to help.”
“Well, I can tell you have the gift.” He smoothed the sheet, which covered Merrill’s unaffected leg. “It’s hard to predict the extent of the muscle damage. May be a long recuperation.”
“I know just the place for him to recover. And I have experience with pneumonia, Doctor. We’re old friends.”
I looked down at Merrill lying there in such terrible shape. The man who never wanted to travel. The man I’d shamed into battle.
He stirred and I bent to whisper in his ear. “With any luck you’re going home soon, dearest.”
“Eliza.” He felt for my hand and I took his in mine.
“Once you land, you’ll stay up in Bethlehem to recover.”
“No. It’s too much—”
“They do need a general store up there very badly. I know it may seem far-fetched to you right now but you’re going to be well again one day and you could do us all a favor and run it.”
Merrill smiled.
“And we’ll start a baseball league. In the back meadow. We’ll pass the hat for the umpire. Call them the Bethlehem Farmers.”
“Ploughboys,” Merrill said.
“Yes, that’s better, dear. See? You’re adapting quite well to country life already.”
Dr. Martin felt for Merrill’s pulse. “There is a troop ship leaving next week for New York. No promises but we can try.”
Merrill held fast to my hand.
“Consider it done, Merrill. You’re going home.”
CHAPTER
44
Varinka
1919
One cold, rainy morning, while Mamka sewed, I tried to teach Max his letters by reading him the newspaper. He paid little attention as I ran one finger under the headline and read it aloud: OUSTED KAISER ENJOYS HOLLAND.
Max just looked to his lap with longing at his two thumbs, which I had covered in pepper and petroleum jelly to stop his thumb-sucking.
Since the war had ended and Germany’s kaiser had fled in disgrace, he was often in the news. But the front-page photo that day was not of the kaiser. It was of the former tsar and tsarina and their children, for nothing kept the public’s attention like that family, even months after they were rumored dead. The photo showed the tsar’s daughters aboard the royal yacht in better times, the eldest, Olga, closest to the camera, squinting in the sun.
Max leaned over and looked closer at the picture. “Maman,” he said, pointing to Olga.
I gasped a little breath and Mamka’s gaze met mine.
“I am your Maman, Max.” I flipped the newspaper over. “Does he still remember what she looked like?” I whispered to Mamka. “He was so little last time he saw her.”
Mamka tied a thread and clipped it with tiny, silver scissors, a far cry from when she used to use her teeth to cut threads. “My first memory, I was two. My mother going to a dance. She died soon after but I remember her face.”
I pulled my shawl closer. After everything I’d done for Max he’d still not forgotten her. Would he ever think of me as his mother?
* * *
—
MAX NAPPED ON THE FLOOR of my bedroom and I read a stack of French magazines Mamka had brought home from Lanvin. Hems were shorter and white kid shoes with patent leather toes seemed to be the newest footwear to have. Perhaps I would take more money from Taras’s boot and buy some.
Rain hit the windows making me drowsy there under the blankets. Where was Radimir on that messy day? We were supposed to see Luna Park together.
“Varinka, come quickly,” Mamka called from the front of the house.
I ran to the vestibule to find Mamka there with a French policeman, a tall woman shaking off her umbrella, and little Max between them, dripping water on the marble floor.
“You the mother?” the policeman asked, brushing rain from his navy blue cape.
I nodded.
“Madame LaBlanc here found this child, wet to the skin, in the middle of the street.”
“I had no idea—”
Madame LaBlanc brushed rain from her coat. “What kind of a parent doesn’t know her own child is missing?”
“I was just reading—”
“Ran away from home.” The policeman handed Mamka a lumpy pillowcase. “Wouldn’t get far with a stuffed owl and a towel.”