فصل 95

florian

Her hips were in my hands. Her lips were on my ear. And then the word came out of her mouth.

Murderer.

I moved my head back and laughed. “That’s supposed to be my good ear, but it sounded like you said ‘murderer.’”

She said nothing, just stared at me, her eyes pooling with tears. What? She wasn’t joking?

“I,” she began slowly, taking a breath, “killed my cousin.”

I felt my eyes widen. She nodded. Tears dropped onto her cheeks.

“My—my cousin Lina,” she stammered. “She was my best friend. When we fled from Lithuania, my father repeatedly told me not to leave anything or speak to anyone. But I couldn’t leave without saying good-bye to Lina.”

Tears streamed down Joana’s cheeks. Her breathing fluttered. It pained me to see her crying.

“I wrote her a letter, explaining that we were on Stalin’s list because my father had joined an anti-Soviet group. I gave the letter to our cook and asked her to mail it. I never should have put those things in writing. After we fled, the NKVD ransacked our house. My father’s secret contact wrote to us and said the NKVD had my letter.”

“The cook gave your letter to the NKVD?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “My mother said she was probably trying to protect herself. When the Soviets came looking for us we were gone. But based on my letter they located Lina’s family and took them instead. My father’s contact corresponded with Lina’s neighbor. She said they were arrested and deported to Siberia.”

She tried to wipe her tears. “Two years ago our neighbor sent a letter with a coded message saying that my uncle was tortured and died in a gulag.”

I pulled her in to me. The pieces slid into place. Joana felt responsible for her cousin being sent to Siberia.

“When was that?” I whispered.

“Four years ago. June of ’41,” she cried.

From what I’d heard, Stalin’s torture in Siberian gulags was brutal. Her cousin was probably dead. I wanted to say something to comfort her, but I wasn’t good at this kind of thing. “Maybe she got away somehow. Maybe she’s still alive.”

Joana brightened. “Do you think so?” she asked. She dabbed her eyes. “I feel so guilty. My freedom cost her family their lives. The drawing you found in my suitcase. It was from Lina. She was so talented and was just about to start art school.”

“Stop talking about her in past tense. She could be back in Lithuania soon.” The positivity seemed to comfort her.

We stood in silence. Her honesty and guilt, they made me like her even more. I tried to wipe her tears. She resumed my haircut.

“So what are you going to do when we arrive in Kiel?” she asked.

Kiss you, I wanted to say.

“Let’s see. First, try not to get arrested. Second, try to find my sister and protect her until the war ends. What about you?”

“Try to communicate with my mother to find out about my family.” She finished cutting and brushed the hair off my shoulders.

“There you are, Prussian. I think it looks nice. You could use a shave though.”

My hands were still on her hips. I stared at the amber pendant around her neck. “Call me Florian, not Prussian, okay?” I pulled her close. “And I wasn’t delirious,” I whispered. “I do think you’re pretty. Take a break and meet me later,” I told her. “Let’s meet here at nine thirty.”

She seemed to think about it, then smiled and nodded. She moved toward the door. “I wasn’t going to tell you because I was mad, but that blond soldier came by before we sailed. He received a message from Koch,” she said.

My head snapped up.

“Yes. It said, ‘Have Beck contact me directly. Tell DRL dead. Keys needed. Urgent.’” She reached out and touched my cheek. “See you at nine thirty.” Joana slipped out the small door.

A root twisted in my stomach. Dr. Lange was dead. Who had gotten to him?

I would be next.