Chapter 30

Spiez, August, Thursday—Present Time

I woke when it was light outside. The rain had stopped, and the house was very quiet except for the sound of birds chirping outside. Only a few hours left with David. He was stretched out next to me, with his left leg on top of the down comforter and his palm underneath his pillow. My heart sank. As much as I tried not to allow myself to get attached to him, I could hardly help it. With a feeling of loss gripping me already, I got dressed and went downstairs to the library, where we had left the pictures. We never did solve the mystery of why there were no pictures of Mark. Maybe it was Edward I was really looking for? If only Rebecca would give me another glimpse into her memories.

I took one of the albums and sat by a small lamp in an armchair, legs folded, ready to look again. A sudden tap, tap, tap on the window startled me, and I bolted out of the chair, the album falling off my lap. Fear crawled up my spine. I backed up a few steps, wondering if David could hear me from where I was. I searched around for a weapon, grabbed a heavy metal globe, and approached the window cautiously, hoping my vocal cords would allow a scream loud enough if needed.

I saw a large pine tree beyond the window, needles waving with the wind, rain water still dripping down. I looked for any large animal or human figure outside, my arm ready to strike anything coming at me through the window. Then I put my arm down. My mind didn’t believe what I was looking at, but my body calmed down slowly.

My robin was perched on the branch closest to the window, head cocked, watching me intently. We played the staring game for a while; then it flew to the window and tapped with its beak. I set the globe down on a table. What the hell?

I approached the window slowly. The bird didn’t fly away, just nodded its head at me. I opened the window a crack, stepped back in invitation, and the robin fluttered in, hovering a moment. I whistled to it, and it sang happily back.

“Well, hello there. We’re finally going to make friends, are we?” I said.

The bird flew around the room, then landed on a bookshelf and sang another song.

“I wonder if I should give you a name. You are kind of like my pet, aren’t you?” I joked. “What should I call you?”

The bird sang again, not moving from its spot, then rose in flight and settled back down in the same spot.

I stood up. “All right, what are you trying to show me?” I cautiously approached the bookshelf, but the bird didn’t move. The bird suddenly turned and pecked at one of the volumes, then chirped.

“Okay, I get it. You want me to look at this book. You might want to move, then.”

The bird hopped away, and I reached for the old leather burgundy cover it had pecked at, hoping it hadn’t made a hole in it. It took me a moment to distinguish the well-worn letters on the title.

Jane Eyre. My fingers shook violently then. I placed the book on a small table and collapsed in the chair next to it. I closed my eyes and, when I opened them a few minutes later, the robin was sitting on the book, looking at me calmly. Did it look sad, or had I totally lost my mind?

“Ella?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

The robin flew close enough to my face to brush its wings against my cheek lightly before it was gone through the open window.

I ran to the window. “Ella!” I called out to the trees and the lake covered by the fog from the rain and morning dew. But she was gone.

The book was still in my hand. I sat back down and flipped through the yellowed pages, even though my nerves felt shattered. I hadn’t touched this book since my sister died. It was her absolute favorite. What was that passage she really loved? Something about…the bird? I was searching intently for the passage when I noticed something inserted between the pages. My fingers gently pulled out a small envelope addressed in flowing handwriting to…

Mark Minchin.

“Oh,” I whispered. “Rebecca, you’re ready to tell me your secret, aren’t you?”

I unfolded the letter, careful not to tear the old paper. The letters were beautifully formed, but some were smudged.

Was she crying?

My Dearest Beloved, Mark,

I only say your name when I pray now. But I see you in my dreams. I feel your hands touching my face and your lips kissing mine, especially when petals fall on my face in our garden. And when first snowflakes begin to fall.

I only have a few minutes to write this letter, yet my hands shake and my eyes are watery. It’s been a long time since you said you would return to me.

I wait every day. Every hour. Every minute.

Sometimes, at the hospital, I hear your footsteps in the hall, and I can hardly do my work. Sometimes, I ask the cook to make extra food for dinner in case you suddenly walk in through the front door.

I know your revolution succeeded and Lenin is in charge of Russia now. I wonder if you’ve been to see your family or if you are working with the Bolsheviks to create a new country. I wonder if you ever made it to Odessa, where you hoped to live. I wonder whether Lara or Vlad are with you, helping you.

The world is different now because of your revolution, and I like to think that it’s different because of you. Workers will soon have an eight-hour working day as you always wanted. Germany and Britain have allowed women the right to vote, and more countries will soon follow.

I hear rumors of a war in your country, and I fear the worst. I see you injured and bleeding with no one to care for you. But then I think it impossible, as you were so dear to Lenin and he wouldn’t send you into danger.

I search all the newspapers for your name, and then I pray I will not see it. I pray that you are safe. I pray that you are happy. I pray that there’s someone who loves you at home.

Mother has forced me to marry. No. That’s not a fair accusation. I’ve decided to marry. You see, I can’t bear to stay here in Bern. Every place reminds me of you. Of us. I’ve agreed to marry, so long as I can live far away from here. So I’m traveling to America with my new husband, Edward. He is kind and tall. He promises to allow me to practice medicine if the State of New York will allow it. I think they will. There are a few women physicians in New York now and even a hospital where they can practice. It’s called the New York Infirmary for Women and Children. I might be able to get a position there.

I am leaving this letter with Grossmami. I don’t believe you’ll ever read it. But Sarah says I must never lose hope. She is wrong. It’s lost already.

I will love you forever.

Your Rebecca.

“It’s not possible,” I said.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” David said behind me.

“You have got to stop popping up on me like that!” I rubbed the goosebumps on my arms. “I’m sorry,” I said, slowly calming down. “I’m just not a big fan of people startling me.”

“Especially in old houses after a rainy night?” he pointed out.

“Yes, definitely not a fan of that,” I said. “It’s all those years of working in old hospitals late at night and having to walk to my car or the subway in the dark. I’m easily spooked. I’m sorry I’m roaming through your family’s house. I just wanted to look at the pictures again.”

“No problem. I only got up because I missed having you near me.” He came close, sat next to me, and held me tightly until my body began to melt into his. Again.

“Hey, do you believe that coincidences could have meanings?” I asked.

“Coincidences that have meanings? Let me think. Bashert—do you know that word? It’s the Yiddish word for destiny. Is that what you mean?”

“I thought it meant soulmate?”

“It means both, really, but I don’t believe in either. I believe in making my own choices and that nothing in my life is predetermined.”

“So you don’t think we were destined to meet? You don’t think my finding your great-grandmother’s ring was a meaningful coincidence?”

“Look, are you going to tell me the universe planned for my father to die? Or for your sister to die? I think that people who believe in Fate or destiny are people who have been very lucky.”

“That’s not true at all. I believe in Fate and it’s been very unkind to me.”

He looked back at me, assessing. “Well, maybe you’re looking for answers that aren’t there.”

“Well, I think I have my answers now. You see this book?” I showed him Jane Eyre. “I found it here this morning. It was my sister’s favorite book. I haven’t touched a copy of it since she died.”

“Maya, no one can fix what happened to either of us.” He spoke with a tone of irritation in his voice. “And things just happen sometimes. A coincidence is simply a coincidence. You shouldn’t look for meanings in these things.”

“Well, as I picked up this book, I flipped through the pages and found this letter.” I handed him Rebecca’s letter.

“Not possible!” he exclaimed a few minutes later.

“You still don’t believe in Fate or meaningful coincidences? I find a ring that belongs to your great-grandmother, then I meet you, then I end up in a house that used to belong to your relatives; we come here because photo albums are missing, we can’t get out because of the rain, and then I find the book my sister loved when we were eleven and it has exactly what I’m looking for. What is this all about? Ever since I found Rebecca’s ring, my life has been nothing but a string of messages from the universe or Fate or whatever!”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I don’t have the answers to your questions. I just…don’t believe in things like that.”

“Why am I so drawn to you if it’s not Fate or destiny?” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his neck. I gasped from the sensation of his body’s warmth, and my whole being pulled toward him, with a desperate need, as if I’d been missing this feeling of being touched by his lips and arms forever. I was spinning with sensations, and I grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to keep myself connected to him.

“I don’t know,” he said and held onto me firmly, his lips first gentle then more demanding on mine, his body fitting perfectly into mine like a puzzle piece. When he slowly pulled away, his face was flushed. He turned away briefly, and then he looked up at me with a deep knowledge in his eyes.

“Do it again,” I said. “I feel like it’s all just so perfect.” I stroked his chest gently.

“It is. Don’t go. Stay for the weekend.” He kissed my fingers, briefly stopping at the one that wore the ring, as if he were afraid to touch it.

My phone rang loudly, echoing through the small room.

“Let it go to voicemail,” David said, as he nuzzled my neck.

“Okay,” I said, reaching over to silence it. Then I saw the caller ID.

“I’m sorry, it’s my grandmother. I have to pick it up. She worries about me. Baba, what’s the matter?” I asked.

“It’s Pavel.” I heard my grandmother’s neighbor’s voice.

“Pavel?” I pulled away from David. “Did she ask you to call me? Is something the matter?”

“Da, beda. Trouble. Your Babushka had a stroke and died last night.”

“What?” I stood up, almost knocking David over. “What are you saying? What do you mean?” I screamed. I felt David’s arms around me, trying to calm me, but I shrugged him off.

“Alina was dropping off some groceries for her yesterday and found her in her bed, very weak. We called for an ambulance. The doctors said she had a mild stroke, so we didn’t want to worry you. Then, last night, the doctor called to say she had a problem with her lungs. And then this morning she died. It all happened so quickly, there was no time… My wife and I don’t know what you’d like to do. About the funeral, I mean.”

“What funeral? What do you mean she died? I spoke with her on Monday. What are you even talking about? David…” I looked helplessly at David. “There is a man on the phone, he is saying my grandmother died this morning, but she wasn’t even sick. Can you please talk to him?” I handed him the phone, my hands shaking.

I watched David talk confidently into the phone, my ears buzzing with a strange noise as I paced the room. I felt cold, very cold, and there were spots dancing in front of my eyes.

“I think I need to eat something—my blood sugar must be low,” I said quietly as I saw David end the call.

“Or you might be in shock again.” David gave my hands a gentle squeeze.

“Why would I be in shock?”

He looked at me with watery eyes, and I remembered, grief striking me and making my insides curl up in pain.

“It’s true, sweetheart. Your grandmother has passed away. I’m so, so sorry.” He hugged me close.

I cried hard, unable to take a breath between sobs. “It hurts so much, I can’t stand it, David,” I whispered between the sobs when I was finally able to speak.

He continued to hug me without saying anything, and I cried some more into his shoulder, slowly quieting.

“My last conversation with her wasn’t even good. I never got to say goodbye!” I blew my nose into a tissue he handed me. “I haven’t seen her in almost a year. I’m the worst human being ever.”

“I’m sure she knew you loved her. This guy I spoke to said she never came to after the stroke. You wouldn’t have been able to say goodbye.”

“What else did he say?”

“She died in her sleep; she didn’t suffer. That’s what the doctor told him.”

A new series of sobs burst from my chest, and he hugged me again. I waited until the wave of grief calmed, then got up and went upstairs to get my shoes and backpack.

“What are you doing?” He came up behind me, touching my arm.

“I have to go. Don’t worry. I’ll get an Uber to the train station.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“I don’t want you to. I have to go right now, and you have to get dressed and lock up the house. I want to be alone. I just need to leave right now.” I tripped on my way out of the bedroom.

“You can’t just take off. Think. We can go together. We need some time to talk, to think this through. Just give me a moment to get ready.”

“I’m done thinking. This is all my fault, don’t you see? I have to go now! The least I can do is go back home and give her a funeral and say a thousand times ‘I’m sorry’ to her dead body.”

“Oh, God, Maya. This isn’t your fault, and there’s nothing you can do to make your grief go away. You can’t fix this. You have to let yourself be sad. I know! Let me go with you and comfort you. You can’t go through this alone.”

“Alone is all I have now.” I ran downstairs, and he followed me. “Do you understand? I’m completely alone now!” I checked on the status of my driver, then turned to look at him. “I have no family. Nobody.”

I stood outside waiting for my car, grateful for stray raindrops falling on me and cooling me off. David followed a few minutes later, dressed now, but still barefoot.

“Maya, please stop running away. You’re not alone. You have me now. I can help you cope with this. And you have my family.”

I walked back to him and kissed him. “I wish I could, David. I really do. But I messed things up so badly in my life. I can’t bring you into this. It’s simply not fair. I have to go.”

He took my face in his hands gently, his eyes pleading. “Stay with me. I love you. Stay and let me love you. Let me help.”

“I don’t know how.” I pulled myself away and walked off to the approaching car. I slammed the car door behind me as I got in, and I didn’t look back.