they had done and what was still to come overwhelmed her. She was overtaken by emotion when she imagined sending her daughter away. Until the incident in the alleyway, she would have said nothing could be worse than being separated from her child, but now she could think of far more terrible possibilities.
When Ava saw that her companion was crying, she couldn’t help but be curious. This was her first encounter with human sorrow.
Hanni wiped her eyes with her hands. She noticed the golem staring. Clearly, her daughter’s guardian was not a monster, and so she confided in Ava as if she were a woman. “I beg you for one thing. Love her as if she were your own.”
What Hanni spoke of was the deepest human mystery, which could not be understood by mortals or angels. All the same Ava nodded. “Whatever you say I will do.” Her German was already perfect. She was a very quick learner, and she knew exactly what Hanni wished her to say.
They were beneath a beautiful, old oak tree whose branches had been cut down for bonfires for those newly homeless Jews who slept on benches and in doorways. Only a few green leaves remained on the ancient tree. Hanni took the golem’s hand, warm in her own.
“I want you to feel what I feel. Do you understand what I mean? Real love. That is what I feel for my daughter, and what I will always feel for her, no matter what happens. Even when I am no longer here.”
“I will see no other,” Ava assured her. Her eyes were strangely hot and wet.
“Yes.” Hanni was relieved that the golem had understood. “We should go in now. They’ll be worrying.”
Lea had been awake for hours. Once she’d found that her mother was gone, she stationed herself at the window, in a panic. She had been changed into a girl who expected the worst. She thought of the fierce look on her mother’s face in the alleyway, and worried what Hanni might do next. Perhaps there was some evidence against her that had come to light, an eyewitness to what had happened in the alleyway had come forth, or some neighbor willing to turn her in, in order to save himself.
When Hanni appeared in the dim courtyard, Lea called out to her grandmother. “She’s come home!”
And not alone, it seemed, for a tall, dark young woman followed her into the building. As soon as Bobeshi spied Ava from her window, she knew the miracle had been accomplished. It was an amazing achievement, but it brought its own sorrow. The time for Lea to leave had arrived.
“Pack up anything that matters,” Bobeshi told her granddaughter. “The suitcase is under the bed.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Lea insisted. But when she saw her grandmother’s dark expression she did not dare to argue.
By now Hanni had unlocked the apartment, and Lea ran to embrace her mother. She had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Bobeshi said I should pack.”
“You should,” Hanni said. “Right now.”
“And when will you pack?” Lea asked.
Hanni turned to the woman lingering in the doorway. “Come in. Come in,” Hanni told her before turning back to Lea. “Here is your cousin, Ava. Say hello.”
In time Lea would forget how suspicious and angry she was and would come to remember the details of this day as if a light had poured over them. She would forget the way she glared at the stranger, and how she had taken a step back, as if ready to run and hide. Instead she would recall the blue pot of soup on the stove, the ticking of the clock on the mantel, the way Bobeshi covered her face so no one would see her cry, the stranger’s heavy boots, more suited to a man than to a young, pretty woman, her mother’s dark hair swept up with tortoiseshell combs, the sadness in her eyes, the gauzy curtains that made it seem as if the world was still the same, if you narrowed your eyes, if you didn’t look too closely, if you managed to still have hope in the world.
“I didn’t know we had cousins.” Lea was cautious. Too much was happening all at once. The world was turned upside down and nothing made sense.
“You have many,” Hanni insisted. “You’ve just never met them. You’ll be visiting cousins who live in Paris.”
Hanni turned away so that her daughter wouldn’t see her eyes brimming with tears. It didn’t matter.