All the next day Cossacks stormed our shtetl. We stayed under the rug by the back wall and watched what little we could through the slats. They were bashing down doors and crashing into homes carrying off anything they wanted—brass candlesticks, silver Kiddush cups, anything valuable. Rocking softly, Ma whispered the Hebrew prayers. Silently I said my own prayers. Please make him safe. Please make us safe. One time we heard gunshots and terrible screams very close by. The sounds sent a death chill through me. They seemed to come from Ana's house. But no, that wasn't possible. Their family had a big silver cross on their door.
We stayed hidden inside and said very little, only what was needed. Nothing about Benyomin. Nothing about the pogrom, this endless nightmare.
An unbearable emptiness hung around us. Would we find his body? All trampled? Would we even be able to recognize him?
The next day, the Cossacks thundered past our house on their big horses. Then everything was unusually quiet. It seemed they were gone. Still, we didn't dare go out. We waited more than half the day.
Finally Ma opened our door and lifted off the little silver cross. "I must check on them," she said and hurried to Ana's house. When she came back, her face was pale as ashes. "I have terrible news." She sank into a chair as if her body was too much for her. "Ana, Tomas..." Her hands fell into her lap. She picked mindlessly at her apron and shook her head. "The whole family. They're all dead."
"No!" Kvola covered her face. "No!"
"It can't be," Hannah pleaded. "They had that big cross on their door."
"But they were rich." Ma narrowed her eyes. "Those rotten Cossacks ransacked the whole place—the house, the barn, everything."
All I could think of was beautiful Mira.
"I can't believe it." Ma let out a heavy sigh. "They were such good people. They saved our lives."
It made me shiver. Mira. How could they kill her? Beautiful Mira. I felt sick to my stomach. And Ana. She was so kind to us. And Yusig. With stinging guilt I thought of the trap we'd made for him just the other day. Me and Benyomin.
We'd heard the screams next door. But none of us had said our fear aloud—just as none of us were saying it now about Benyomin.
With grim faces, all of us headed out to the spot where we'd last seen him. But there was nothing—no sign of him at all. We trudged through the shtetl— even Hannah—asking everyone we saw. "Did you see Benyomin—the little Jewish boy? He was outside when the Cossacks came." "Did you see his body somewhere?" "Do you know what happened to him?"
No one did.
I even went to Lila's house. I hated to. But if anyone would know, she would. "Do you know what happened to Benyomin?" I asked.
"No. What?" She leaned in sucking her breath. "Tell me." She gripped my shoulder.
"We don't know," I said shaking her off. I quickly left before she could ask anything else. I hated her for not knowing. And I hated her even more for wanting to know.
No one knew. Numbness filled the shtetl like thick fog. Wherever we went, people were in shock. Bad news followed us everywhere. This one dead. That one dead. But no one knew anything about Benyomin.
Maybe the Cossacks had carried him off and left him somewhere. We searched the road and ditches, dreading what we'd find. Beryl went out with his horse and wagon far beyond our shtetl in both directions but didn't find a trace. Ma never scolded me for not staying with Benyomin that day. No one mentioned it. But I couldn't stop thinking—if only I had.
Why hadn't I made sure he'd heard me when I ran back to get him? That question tortured me. What kind of brother was I? So afraid to be the last one on the road? Or still mad that he'd teased me about Mira? Or that he was so much better than me with that wheel? Such small stupid things. Nothing made sense. I should have run all the way there and grabbed him.
I pictured it a hundred times in my head—just how I should have done it. Again and again I asked myself, What kind of brother was I?
Beryl seemed to know what I was thinking. He put his arm around my shoulders and gave a squeeze. "Don't blame yourself. You thought Benyomin heard you. There's nothing else to it. You did the right thing or else you'd also be..." He shook his head and didn't say it.
I wanted to believe Beryl—that I'd done the right thing. But I knew I should have stayed with Benyomin or, at least, gone all the way there and grabbed him. It left me gasping inside—as if I were running the same race over and over. Each time I ran my hardest and each time I lost.
That evening, tired and worn out, I crawled up to the shelf above the oven. It was empty as death. I tightened into a ball, squeezing back the tears. I tried to fall asleep. But I kept seeing Benyomin running off with that wheel. I should have stayed with him. If only I had!
I would've heard all the yelling about Cossacks coming. I would've grabbed him. We'd have run home together, safe—with plenty of time.
There was a knock on the door.
Ma got up heavily and unlatched it. She opened it a crack and gasped. And then, like some waiting prayer, Ma said the one word that my whole body was aching for: "Benyomin!"
I hardly believed my ears. I leaped down in no time. And yes, there he was—already in Ma's arms.
"Benyomin. Oh, my Benyomin!" she said over and over, tears streaming down her face. Hannah and Kvola were sobbing and laughing all at once. I hopped from one foot to the other, too excited to stand still.
"Benyomin!" Oh it felt good to say his name! "Tell us," I urged. "What happened?"
But Kvola jumped in. "We saw that Cossack swipe your hat. And then ... ooh!" She shivered. "We thought you got trampled. So tell us, Benyomin!"
"Give him a minute to catch his breath," said Ma, wiping her tears away. "He'll tell. Don't worry. He's not going anywhere!" And that was the sweetest truth.
"That hat saved my life," Benyomin said. He finally took a chair. Ma lit a spindle of wood. And we all sat down around him. "That Cossack would have killed me for sure. But the leader dared him to just get my hat. You all saw? He missed my head by that much." He showed with his fingers how close.
I shuddered.
"Then I got knocked down. See?" He showed us big bruises on his back. Dark purple and green.
I winced. "That hurts!"
Benyomin nodded. "I would've gotten trampled. But I rolled off the road." He gulped a breath and went on. "An old lady opened her door a crack and motioned me in."
"What a brave woman!" Ma exclaimed.
"I flew in there so fast." His eyes grew wide. "She latched the door and told me I had to stay until they were all gone. She even fed me!" He patted his stomach and licked his lips. "But she wouldn't let me leave." He shrugged. "Even this afternoon, when everything was quiet, she was afraid they might come back. She worried what would happen if she opened her door. But finally when it got dark, she let me go home."
"I can never thank her enough," said Ma. "Never."
That night, I gave Benyomin all the room he wanted on the shelf, gladly. But there was still something bothering me. "Why didn't you come home when I called you?"
"You called me to come home?" Benyomin sounded puzzled. "Way down the road? When I had the wheel?"
"Yes," I answered.
"How can that be?" he said almost to himself. "I thought you said, It's my turn or I'm going home."
"What?" I snorted. "You thought I ran all that way for a stupid wheel?" I burst out laughing. It was so dumb. I couldn't stop.
But Benyomin wasn't laughing. He was quiet for a while. Then softly, he said, "You ran all the way back to get me?"
"Of course, you numskull."
"And you knew that Cossacks were coming?"
"That's why I went! I thought you heard me for sure. So then I ran home." And finally I knew, in the truest corner of my heart, that this was so.
He gave my arm a squeeze. "You're some brother." That's all he said. But that was plenty.
I fell right to sleep thinking the worst was over.