On the first of Tishrei, Rosh Hashanah, the streets in Podil were quiet. The market closed. Anya brought apples and honey to the hospital, along with a round challah they shared for lunch. Miri had told Anya she’d stay for only a little while, but she’d been out searching for an American, for her brother and Yuri every night, and wasn’t ready to leave yet because she’d still found nothing. If only she could warn Baba that it was taking her longer than expected, that winter was bearing down quickly. “Miri, what is it?” Anya said.
“You know I’m looking for my brother.” Miri had long since given up trying to keep that secret. With her patients offering tips, bringing midwives and anyone else who might know something to the hospital, her search was known to everyone around her—especially Anya. “I was supposed to see him today. That was our plan. To meet on Rosh Hashanah.”
Anya leaned down and kissed Miri’s forehead. “You may stay as long as you need while you search. G’mar chatima tova.”
“Thank you,” Miri said. But she was as relieved as she was anxious. She wanted to keep looking for Vanya, but what about Baba?
At dusk, Miri and Sasha went out for a walk. They wandered the maze of alleys surrounding the hospital, passing a half dozen small synagogues. The murmur of men praying leaked through the walls, sounded like home. When the blast came from the ram’s horn, Miri took Sasha’s arm. “You don’t think my brother went to Peter, do you? That he’s there, with Babushka already?”
“No.”
“Did I misunderstand the telegram? Maybe he never even came to Kiev.”
“No, he was here. The one-eyed man said as much.” Sasha ran a finger along the scar between her thumb and pointer finger. “Miriam, we should go to Petrograd now. I know it’s on your mind, too. Snow will come soon and if we don’t leave, we’ll have no choice but to wait it out. Food is running low already. And your grandmother can’t be alone for the winter.”
“She has Klara.” Miri looked away. Klara was only a few years younger than Baba, and their jewels wouldn’t buy much if the whole city was starving. “I can’t leave without Vanya. Please. Just one more week.”
A group of children burst past. Their voices were light; their laughter was loud. Sasha turned to Miri. “My grandfather had a powerful friend, Avram Noskov. He lives in Kiev. Do you want me to ask him for help?”
“How do you know you can trust him?”
“I don’t, but I’m willing to risk it. Or we can go to Peter, spend the winter with your grandmother, and come back in the summer if the war is over.”
“If we leave, we’ll never come back.”
She felt Sasha hesitate. Finally, he said, “Would that be so bad?”