The now-moving train car closed in on Éva until she couldn’t draw a deep breath. She broke into a cold sweat, and the world spun. She had to get out of here, couldn’t stay a moment longer. If Reka turned around, she would recognizer her. Reveal her true identity. “Excuse me,” she whispered to the man beside her.
“Are you feeling ill?”
She nodded.
“Let me help you.” He touched her arm.
“Nem, that’s not necessary. I just need air.” Blackness edged her vision. Causing as little commotion as possible, she slid by him and to the door a few steps behind her.
Once outside, she rested against the railing on the bridge between the two cars and focused on breathing. The dizziness subsided.
She turned as the Hungarian countryside whipped by. Thick, green forests gave way to lush meadows, cows grazing in the fields, munching as if all were right with the world.
Her Hungary. The land of her birth. Where she’d grown up and built a life. A good one. Neither she, nor Patrik, nor Zofia, nor Ernő had any idea of what lay ahead of them or if any of them would ever return.
She would do whatever she had to in order to come home. When the Soviets freed her beloved country and handed it to the Hungarian people, she would come back. Even if she had to fight for it. Palestine would not be her permanent home.
Apu and Anya were here, waiting for her and Ernő and Zofia. They could pick up the pieces of their lives, rebuild their business.
Those thoughts tapped into a reservoir of strength.
But she couldn’t go back into the car. At some point, Reka would turn around, discover her, and call her by her real name. Curious that she showed up on the same train as them. Then again, she did say she went home to Nagyvárad every Thursday. And today was Thursday. Éva hadn’t even thought about that until now.
Had Reka seen the others while she’d searched for a seat? God in heaven, nem.
Despite the danger, she had to locate Patrik and let him know. Just in case.
Steeling herself, she meandered to the next car, searching for him without appearing to be looking for anyone. She strolled down the aisle, but no Patrik.
She searched through several more cars. He had to be behind her, because she couldn’t walk by Reka. Each time she stepped into another coach, she breathed a prayer for success.
The wind ruffled her skirt as she pulled open the next door. Almost right in front of her sat Zofia. Éva averted her gaze as she sped down the aisle as fast as possible without drawing attention to herself.
She stretched for the door’s handle when someone reached from behind her and took hold of her by the hand. Her heart skipped a beat.
“What are you doing?” Patrik whispered in her ear.
“Come outside with me.” Together they left the compartment.
They stood facing each other on the narrow coupling between the cars, Éva clutching the railing behind her. “You scared the stuffing out of me.”
“Why are you up and wandering around the train?”
“Searching for you.”
“Like I said before, it’s dangerous for us to be seen together. Our odds of surviving are best if we are separate.”
“But she’s here. That’s why I couldn’t stay put.”
At that, he leaned forward. “What are you talking about?”
“Reka.”
He raised his full, dark eyebrows. “She’s on this train?”
“Not only on this train but sitting in the seat right in front of me.”
He leaned ever closer, so his breath brushed her cheek, sending an ache shooting through her. “Did she see you?”
“I don’t think so. As soon as I spotted her, I ducked behind the seat. But I may have aroused suspicion in the man beside me. I told him I was ill.”
“Good thinking.”
“What if she did notice me? I might put all of you in danger.”
Patrik reached out and pulled her close. Though she didn’t want to, she found herself relaxing in his embrace, his cotton shirt cool against her heated cheek. As she breathed in the spicy scent of his aftershave, she was at home. Nem, she couldn’t. She pushed away from him.
He hummed a tune, one she’d never heard before, simple yet haunting. The melody engulfed her. As she listened, she imagined the song speaking of them, telling their story, happy in parts, sad in others. Major and minor mixed together. “What’s that music? I don’t recognize it.”
He stopped humming and touched her forehead. “When we were apart, I was so very empty. Without you, a múzsám, there is no music in my soul. Composing became impossible. All except for this tune. I think of it as our song.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Just as you are.” He lowered himself until he hovered just over her, pushing in for a kiss.
Nem. She yanked herself from his mesmerizing gaze. She couldn’t allow her heart to take over from her head. Couldn’t let those memories of all the good they had shared cloud her judgment. “Please, don’t.”
His brown eyes darkened. “I’m sorry. Will you let me explain?”
“You said we can’t be seen together. Especially not like we were. Just tell me what to do.”
“Find another seat.”
“I left my suitcase, my pocketbook, and my clarinet where I’d been.”
“That’s not a problem. When we arrive, wait until most of the passengers have disembarked. Then, if Reka is gone, make your way back to collect your belongings. If she’s still there, you might have to leave them behind.”
“My clarinet too?”
“Everything. What is more valuable—your life or your instrument?”
Éva didn’t have an easy answer for that. Her clarinet was her life. Musicians understood that. “I need it.”
“You need to live more. Don’t take any risks just to get it.” He cupped both of her cheeks. “Do you understand me? This is crucial. If you put yourself in jeopardy over the clarinet, you put us all in danger.”
She nodded.
“Good. You’re right, we can’t stay together any longer. Sit somewhere else. We’ll meet at the rendezvous spot later tonight.” He kissed her hands. “And be on guard.”
She would. She’d protect her heart from loving him again. But she wouldn’t leave the train without her clarinet.
No matter how hard he tried, Patrik couldn’t settle back into his place after his encounter with Éva. Part of it had to do with the narrowness of the space between the seats. Even though he stretched his legs underneath the bench in front of him and into the aisle, no position proved comfortable.
The other part had to do with Éva herself. She’d waltzed right by him. When he’d caught up to her a couple of cars later, she’d been surprised to see him.
Having her and Ernő on this trip was perilous. The Zionists had trained Patrik and Zofia to elude authorities. Though not perfect, they did possess a few skills. Ernő and Éva didn’t.
At least no one sat on the seat beside him as he wrestled for a position that didn’t cramp his legs.
How good it had been to have her in his arms once more. Nothing compared to holding her small, trembling body close. They had almost been husband and wife. Then he had let her slip through his fingers.
He restrained himself from banging his head on the seat in front of him. Why had he pushed her so hard just now? Embracing her, almost kissing her had been the worst thing he could have done. Before they could resume any type of relationship, they had to rebuild their trust. Or rather, he had to help her trust him again.
After she’d been hurt and lied to by Károly, that would be next to impossible.
If only they could get a chance to talk alone. If he could explain to her everything, all of it, every little bit, including his identity, she would understand.
He leaned against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. The train rocked as it raced through the countryside. Not much longer and they would be in Nagyvárad. Then the most dangerous part of the journey would begin.
He must have dozed, because the screeching of the train’s brakes sent him bolting upright. A murmur passed through the car. Patrik rubbed his eyes.
The conductor rushed through. “Everybody off. Run as fast as you can. Get away. Then hit the ground. Soviet planes.” By the time he’d finished his instructions, he was halfway out the door.
Nem, not the Soviets. They had almost made it. And now they ran the risk of Reka spotting any one of them. He shook himself and popped to his feet. What about Zofia and Éva? They must be so frightened.
He couldn’t worry about that now. Lord, protect us. With the other passengers, he rushed to the door, down the steps, and across the field into the night. A full moon hung in the sky, a single candle shining through a darkening cloth. Beams of light streamed down, illuminating the Soviet’s target. Overhead, their planes’ engines buzzed, closer and closer until the sound shook his very bones.
“Get down! Get down!”
Like marionettes, everyone around Patrik collapsed. He too fell to the warm, damp earth, the grass tickling his face, mosquitoes biting his arms.
In the light of the full moon, the Soviets had their choice of targets. The ground reverberated as bombs struck the train. Explosions on the heels of explosions.
Other planes chose to target the civilian passengers. With their guns, they rained bullets on the groups of people strung throughout the meadow. Women screamed. Children cried. Men moaned.
Patrik’s body went clammy. A burning pain shot through his left leg. He clutched his calf, sticky blood coating his hands. There was nothing he could do about it now. He had to stay low while the aircraft remained in the area.
As suddenly as the planes arrived, they vanished. The skies above quieted until no sound remained save that of the crickets.
Their chirping stirred a solemn, somber tune in his head.
A few at a time, people rose to their feet. Voices carried on the evening breeze. How many had been injured? Killed? His gut clenched, and the langosi he’d consumed in Budapest threatened to come up. He bit back the queasiness.
He turned to investigate the damage to the train. Not much of it remained. A few of the cars toward the back were intact, but the engine was a smoking shell.
They wouldn’t be taking this train to Nagyvárad.
Nor could he, Éva, Ernő, or Zofia remain with the other passengers while the tracks were cleared and another train sent from Budapest. That could be days.
He rose to his knees, his leg throbbing. At the sudden movement, he wobbled. In the moonlight’s glow, he caught sight of Zofia’s red head. She stood out in a crowd almost as much as he did.
Unable to call to her, he struggled to his feet. He whipped off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. He folded it then wrapped it around his injured leg. Though he was no Florence Nightingale, it would do the trick.
After testing his weight on the leg, he limped in the direction he’d spotted Zofia, keeping his head down to minimize his height. Ah, there she was, standing in the middle of the field. He came from behind her and touched her arm. She jumped and squeaked.
“It’s just me.”
“Thank goodness. I don’t know where the others are. I didn’t know what to do.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Nem. You?”
“Just got nicked. Flesh wound.” Though it burned like a thousand beestings. “We can’t stay here.”
“I know.”
“The rest of the way we’ll have to go on foot. We’re close.” He wobbled.
She caught him by the elbow and nodded.
“See those woods?” He pointed.
Another nod.
“Hide in there. I’ll locate Ernő and Éva and meet you.”
“I was just reunited with my husband. I’m not going into the forest until I find him and know he’s safe. You’re in no position to argue with me.”
“I’m fine.” Though the earth tilted at a crazy angle. “Think about your baby. If the Russians come again, you won’t make it to the tree line in time. You’ll be like a deer in the open, prime for picking. Please, go now. Ernő would want you safe. I promise to find you as soon as possible. We have to stay apart, at least until we’re under the forest’s cover.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Please, bring me my husband.”
“I will. Don’t worry.” He prayed he’d find Ernő in one piece. If not, Zofia didn’t need to see it.
She headed toward the stand of trees a short distance away. He straightened, his world around him spinning, and scanned the area for any sight of Ernő or Éva. Was that them there? The woman was blond enough to be Éva.
One step toward them. Two. His leg buckled, he collapsed to the ground, and darkness consumed him.