"We have to go. Get out of Germany. Before..." Isaac let his words hang in the air and he looked at Rachel with a world of meaning in his eyes. She breathed out the rest of his unfinished sentence.
"Before it is too late..."
He nodded, grimly. She looked away, dragging her gaze over the room that was so achingly familiar, and so painfully empty with her baby sisters gone. Another silent prayer for their safety went up to God from her aching heart. She looked at her papa. He sat in his easy chair, his pipe in his hands. His pipe was cold.
Treasure Island lay closed on the table beside him, the bookmark still in the middle where he had left off reading... just a few pages before Jim discovered the treasure. No one wanted to read when Bekah was not stomping around in her eye patch, brandishing her makeshift sword, or Shonie sporting feathers in her dark curls and squawking "pieces of eight, pieces of eight!" like Silver's famous parrot. So Treasure Island lay neglected... and Jim would never discover the famed treasure now.
Rachel's mama sat on the floor beside Papa's chair, rather than on the settee with her mending in her lap. With the girls gone, there were no little stockings to darn or dresses to trim with lace. She leaned her head wearily against her husband's arm and let her eyes fall shut. She looked tired and old... and there was more silver in her hair now than there was brown.
"If... I must... say goodbye... to the last... of my babies..." her mama began slowly, her voice barely there. She didn't finish, just turned her face until it was buried against her husband's shoulder. He dropped his pipe and it rolled to the floor, spilling out ash, as he moved his hand to rest on his wife's head.
"Tonight," he whispered. "It will give you enough time to get ready. You will join the little ones... and give them hugs and kisses and love from us."
"Come with us," Isaac urged as Rachel stumbled across the room to fall to her knees at her father's feet. She could not speak. "We can all escape."
"Nein," he murmured, shaking his head. "Nein... it is too dangerous... too many of us... and leaving all at once, it is no good. No... I have a friend... we will leave later... give it a couple of weeks so that you are safely out of the way... and we will meet..." he paused and leaned forward to gather his remaining daughter into his arms. His last words were whispered into her hair, his voice husky and brittle with tears.
"We will meet where the sun shines again."
Rachel knew what he meant. They may never meet again on this earth.
"Now go and get ready, my children," he spoke again, after a long, long moment of silence during which no one had moved. "Pack lightly, only take what you need. It will be a long journey, you will need food and warm clothes, but nothing else. I will give you directions, a map... I shall get all the papers ready. Hurry, we have not much time."
And so they packed, slipping a few necessities into a tiny suitcase... In spite of her father's warning, Rachel made a few treasures fit. She slipped in a small framed photograph of her family, a tiny Tanakh* of her father's, a handkerchief that Bekah had clumsily stitched for her, and a china doll only two inches tall that Shonie had treasured. From the kitchen, she took a battered old wooden spoon and hugged it close before hiding it beneath her warmest winter dress. Mama's spoon... for baking... she could not leave it behind.
Around her neck, and hidden beneath her dress, Rachel wore the symbol that once had marked a proud and blessed people... a symbol that now meant hatred and shame... but this one was in gold and was from long ago. From the days when the Star of David meant honor. It had belonged to her grandmother, and her great grandmother before her... and never, never would she let it go. She believed in her people. And she believed in the God that had brought them from Egypt... and to the Promised Land.
✡✡✡
One last time... Isaac and Rachel stood in the foyer of Rachel's home. They stood hand-in-hand, facing Rachel's father, white and solemn. A few last instructions were given, mingled with whispered words of love. Isaac nodded, Rachel only bowed her head and wept. Her mama said nothing. But she handed them apple strudels wrapped carefully in linen napkins... a gesture of love. Her eyes remained fixed on her eldest daughter's face.
Rachel's father stepped forward and placed his right hand tremblingly on Rachel's head, his left on Isaac's. In a low voice, he began speaking ancient words of Hebrew blessing.
"Y'varechecha Adonai v'yish'm'recha..."
The Lord bless thee and keep thee...
"Ya-er Adonai panav eilecha vichuneka..."
The Lord make His face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee...
"Yisa Adonai panav eilecha v'yaseim l'cha shalom."
The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.
✡✡✡
Adonai. Abba Father. Choneni, Elohim, Have mercy on me, oh God!
Hear the cries of our hearts...
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