agreement, Ettie was ready to go forward with the preparations. “When is your birthday?” she asked.
“March first.”
That fell in the current Hebrew month of Adar, an auspicious time for what was needed.
“You were born under the sign of water. I was born under the sign of fire. All we need is a third party born under the sign of air. Luckily, my sister is such a person. Combined with the earth we dig, we’ll have the four elements. That is the way we begin. We must act without fear and without regret.”
“I can do that.” Hanni cared about nothing else.
“Then we have an agreement.”
From now on they were partners in bringing forth life.
CHAPTER FOUR
WATER, FIRE, EARTH, AND SKY
BERLIN, SPRING 1941
HANNI SLIPPED OUT BEFORE DAWN. In the hallway, she sprinkled the last of Ruth’s invisibility mixture over her coat, then made her way through the dark morning. Her heart was already beginning to break, but she was a seamstress and she stitched herself together well enough so that she could go forward. She felt light-headed as she raced along the quiet street, fearing that the rabbi’s daughter would change her mind. It was a relief to spy Ettie and her sister at the arranged meeting spot on the bank of the river Spree. Marta was a quiet, dark girl of fifteen, only three years older than Lea, not a pretty girl, but kindhearted and willing to do whatever her beloved sister insisted she must. Of the two, Marta had always been a follower, a shy, dreamy girl who had rarely been away from their household. She had her father’s large distinctive features, and she wished that she looked more like Ettie, with red hair and light eyes. Now, on the muddy banks of the river, she shivered and wished she were home in bed. It was so early the air was a silvery mist and the calm surface of the water reflected a pale gray. They must use soil that had never been plowed, the damper the better. That had been the rabbi’s mistake, one his daughter was not about to repeat. That is why they had come to the river, despite the danger.
The world was a marvel and, if you didn’t remember what the day would bring, achingly beautiful. The sisters didn’t spy Hanni until she was upon them. She realized how young the girls were; she was old enough to be their mother. But they had come together with a single purpose, firm in their resolve to do what they must. All three wore black dresses and head scarves to hide their long, plaited hair. They walked until they were knee-deep in mud. The sisters had brought along their mother’s large wicker baskets, and were silent as they dug up mounds of damp clay, their backs soon aching with the weight of the wet soil. Marta paused to take a breath. In the past, her sister had done all of the hard work, but this day was different. There was more than enough work for three. Beneath the clotted clouds, there was already a pale band of light in the sky as time spun around them.
“Don’t stop,” Ettie urged. She was working with such ferocity she had sweated through her dress. Her hair was wet as well, and her head scarf soaked through. Last night she’d had a terrible dream that she herself was a bird whose feathers were plucked until she was bleeding and bare. She had wings, but they did her no good. She had a voice, but no one could hear her call. She feared the Almighty’s punishment for what she was about to do. But a bargain was a bargain, and what was promised would be granted.
Her father was a great rabbi, but she was the one who had a true talent. For the thousandth time she wished she were a boy. She had no interest in marriage or babies, only in the world of scholars, from which she was prohibited. She could taste the bitter dirt as they finished digging, and she nearly choked on it. It occurred to her that once she broke the rules of her family and her faith, there would be no going back. But on this morning, all she knew was that she wanted to live. She nodded to her sister, and Marta nodded in return. They were in this together.
Before long there would be light and soldiers would be posted on the streets. The air was gauzy, a