Broken Song by Kathryn Lasky Page B

had been unthinkable then, and even when he had replied that Lovotz should give him some time so he could get used to the idea, Reuven had believed in his heart that he would not consider. But now he had to think about it. He was cornered. Cornered by murder, by blood, and by the shining promise of real safety for Rachel in America—the
Goldeneh Medina
, the Golden Country that had drawn his uncle. Uncle Chizor’s words came back to him now. “
But you see, Reuven, I am not a revolutionary. I am a tailor. I have nobody to save except myself
.
I have anger. But I guess not enough to stay and turn the whole place upside down. And I have no patience. Yes, I am an impatient man. Very impatient, and that is why I choose to leave
.”
    But did Reuven have enough anger? Or maybe it was really a question of love. Did he have enough love to let Rachel go?
    For Rachel it was a game. It was just like the good night game except it was the good-bye game. She was bundled into her new coat and her new shoes. Basia and the four children stood on the platform where they would catch the train that would take them to Vienna. There they would then catch another train to Bremen, where they would board a ship to America.
    “Bye-bye.” She kept waving. “Bye-bye, Reuvie.” And then she would rush into his arms. What would happen when they all boarded the train and Rachel figured out that her brother wasn’t coming? When would this knowledge dawn on her? Reuven and Basia had discussed the departure endlessly. Reuven had thought that he should not come to the train station at all, or perhaps put them all on the train and then quickly disappear before the train pulled out. But Basia was against this.
    “No,” she had said. “Rachel must see you waving good-bye on the platform. I do not believe in tricking children. She will cry, yes, but we will explain to her that you will be coming to America later on. In the meantime, you will write her letters and send her little presents.”
    In the end, Reuven had agreed.
    And now the train was pulling into the station. A porter had been hired to help them with their bags. Basia had it all planned out. She explained to the porter that they wanted the seats on the platform side so she could hold Rachel up to the window to wave to Reuven.
    There was a great creaking and whoosh of steam as the train pulled to a halt. Basia began issuing orders like a field commander. Miri, the oldest, held the baby. Yossel was instructed to hold on to Miri’s cloak and not to let go. Basia picked up Rachel. The porter went first with their bags and secured the seats. When he came back down again, he began helping them up the steps. He took Rachel in his arms momentarily while Basia mounted and then handed her to Basia. Rachel started to lift her hand for bye-bye, but it dropped softly onto Basia’s shoulder. Quickly they were inside and Basia was holding Rachel up to the window. Basia picked up Rachel’s hand and began waving it for her.
    Reuven stood on the platform waving, waving like crazy. He could not make himself smile. He tried, but each time his lips pressed together into a grimace. It seemed to Reuven there was nothing left in the world other than this train window, himself, and the confused little face behind the glass.
    It was suddenly dawning on Rachel that this was no game.
    She had grown stiff in Basia’s arms, stiff with rage as her hand was waved. Then her entire body began to twist and struggle. Reuven could hear her piercing furious shrieks through the glass. Rachel tried to kick thewindow with her feet, but Miri came to her mother’s side and held them tightly. Rachel leaned toward the window, having freed one little fist, and began to pound on the glass. Her face was glazed with tears. Reuven watched, transfixed by the enormity of her fury.
    And the words of Lovotz came back so clearly in his ear. It was as if Lovotz were standing beside him on that platform. “
If I am not for myself, who will