Which Way Is Home? Page 2

  I nod and squeeze her hand.

  My father’s only been gone for three months and it’s been terrible, so I can’t imagine what it’s like for Maruska, who hasn’t seen hers in years.

  “Okay, what next?” Ruzena turns to us from the piano.

  Pavel glances over at me and Maruska.

  “‘Nepudu Domů’!” he shouts. I know he is trying to cheer us up, and we all laugh as my sister begins the funny tune about the little boy who doesn’t want to go home because he will be in trouble for eating all the noodles that his grandmother cooked for dinner. The whole family sings together, and Pavel dances about, doing his best impression of the naughty boy and the angry grandmother. We laugh until tears run down our cheeks.

  “Okay, one more. What shall our last song of the evening be?” Ruzena asks.

  “‘Zeleni Hajove,’ for Papa,” answers Mama. It is the song he always sings.

  Mama and Ruzena sing together, and I try to join in, but my voice sticks in my throat.

  I look around at all my relatives, thinking about how I am a part of so many generations of family members who have spent their lives connected to this place. It’s where we always come back to. It’s where we’re from.

  I won’t sing this song till Papa comes home.

  Chapter 6

  WHOM TO TRUST?

  ON SUNDAY MORNING, Teta J helps Maruska get dressed for church while I button up my best dress. I notice it’s a little shorter than the last time I wore it. Mama will have to let down the hem again, but it’ll do for today. I run my hairbrush through my straight brown hair and pull it back off my forehead with a red bow. I smile at myself in the mirror. Not as beautiful as Ruzena but cute enough.

  Maruska and I hold hands as we run through the farmyard and down the main road, following our mothers to church. Two of the new lambs are very excited by us.

  “Hi, lambies!” Maruska calls.

  “Do you want to come to church with us?” I shout. The lambs jump about and bleat as if they are answering me. “Okay, then you have to walk like this.” I skip, and the lambs seem to copy me. Maruska and I almost fall over, we are laughing so hard.

  Ruzena gives us a disapproving look as we find our places in the family pew. Pavel catches my eye and does a remarkably good impression of Ruzena, and we dissolve into laughter again. Pavel leans over to whisper to us, and I am about to move toward him when I see Babicka’s face. She looks so solemn that I know now is not the time.

  * * *

  After the service, people line up to greet my grandmother outside the church. Maruska and I stand together behind Babicka and watch as several men in formal Czech military uniforms take turns bowing low over Babicka’s hand.

  “Stop gaping at them!” Ruzena whispers harshly. “Don’t you know who they are?”

  I shake my head, and Ruzena gives an exasperated sigh. “They’re members of the Czech government who resigned rather than work for the Communists. They’re here to pay their respects to Babicka and Dedecek, and show that they stand for the old democratic Czechoslovak government. They’re making a brave statement.”

  I nod. It feels like danger is closing in all around us and we are not even free to be ourselves. I watch my mother and aunts talking to the men. Their faces look very serious.

  Maruska and I follow Ruzena down the path from the door of the church to the cemetery. We come here every week to tend the family graves—replacing the dead flowers with fresh ones and watering the plants. The cemetery is usually a peaceful place, and I enjoy keeping it beautiful, but today the mood is very solemn. As I look at all the flower arrangements surrounding my grandfather’s grave, death feels very close and real. I miss Papa terribly. Nothing feels right without him.

  I spot Pavel filling a watering can at a spigot in the wall and go to join him. “Everyone seems so tense now,” I say.

  “I know what you mean,” Pavel replies. “I think it’s hard to know whom to trust when the Communists want everyone to spy on each other and report anyone who isn’t on their side.”

  I shuffle my feet, kicking a few pebbles down the drain in the ground.

  “Pavel, remember when the war was finally over and the Nazis were gone and the Russian soldiers drove their trucks and tanks down the main street?” I ask.

  Pavel nods.

  “We were really happy to see them. We picked lilacs and threw them at them. I thought they were the good guys.”

  “Sure, I remember,” he says. “We were grateful they helped beat the Nazis and end the war. We didn’t know we’d be released from one brutal government only to be taken over by another.”

  “Yeah, we were so hopeful things would go back to normal,” I say. “No more roundups of people who resisted . . .”

  “No more . . .” Pavel sticks his finger under his nose like a mustache and goose-steps around me in a circle like Hitler. I know he’s trying to distract me from my worries, but nothing seems funny now.

  “It’s gotten scary around here again now,” I murmur. “Ruzena told me that anyone who doesn’t side with the Communists will be sent to prison camps or even killed. Do you think that’s true?”

  Pavel sighs and nods again. “I think so. I’ve heard my parents saying things like that at night when they think I’m asleep.”

  “Of course it’s true!” I jump at the sound of Ruzena’s voice. I didn’t realize she was standing nearby.

  Ruzena is only two years older than Pavel, but she talks to us as though we’re just little kids. She puts her watering can under the spout and lowers her voice so it’s barely audible over the sound of the running water. “The Russians want to turn us against each other. They were very tricky, pretending they were on the side of democracy at first, but all they wanted was to use us. Why do you think Mr. Z’s always prowling around the farm even though he was fired? He wants to gain favor with the Communists by reporting on our family. He knows we’ll never be loyal to them.”

  “Ugh! I hate that guy! He sure went quickly from being Hitler’s best friend to being a good little Russian comrade,” Pavel says through gritted teeth. “It was the best day ever when Babicka fired him!”

  “I hate him too,” Ruzena replies. “But since he got fired from our farm, he has it out for us even more! He’d be rewarded if he could turn Papa in. You know how badly they wanted a war hero like our father to join their party—and how much they’d love to punish him as an example to anyone else who’d dare to resist them.”

  “But Mrs. Z was always nice to us. She wouldn’t let Papa be sent to jail. Would she?” I say, trying to control my voice so that Ruzena won’t hear the tears welling up in my throat.

  “I don’t think Mrs. Z would be able to stop him. It’s not like he ever cared about what she wanted anyway.”

  Ruzena turns off the tap, picks up her watering can, and marches off across the cemetery, leaving me in shocked silence.

  Pavel wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Mr. Z and his comrades are no match for our family.”

  Chapter 7

  BRAVE ANNA

  AFTER LUNCH, MARUSKA, Pavel, and I play fetch with my dog, Gar. Gar’s an excellent retriever, and no matter where we throw the stick, he always comes tearing back across the lawn with it in his jaws.

  “Look how far I can throw this,” Pavel boasts with a grin. He releases the stick, and it flies over the fence. “Okay, puppy, let’s see if you can get that one.”

  Pavel must have thrown the stick really far into the field, because Gar doesn’t return right away.

  Then bang! The sound of a gunshot shakes me to my core.

  We hear Gar’s yelp of pain. Maruska turns and races toward the barn, but Pavel and I run to the gate. We are met by Gar, who leaps into my outstretched arms, trembling violently. Blood is soaking the tip of his ear. I stroke his silky brown fur, trying to calm him down.

  A f
amiliar voice chills my blood. “Keep your nasty dog off my property,” Mr. Z walks over and snarls at me.

  I want to scream for Mama, but feeling Gar shaking in my arms, suddenly brave Anna from the storm takes over. I step forward and say in a voice I hardly recognize, “How dare you hurt my dog!”

  “That dirty animal was digging in my field. I could have killed him if I’d wanted to. Remember that, little girl,” Mr. Z growls. He is still clutching his gun, and I can’t take my eyes off it, but somehow I keep talking.

  “He’s not a dirty animal! And now you’re on our property, so get out!”

  Mr. Z laughs. “Your property, eh? We’ll see how long that lasts.” He spits on the ground and turns to go. Just as Mr. Z reaches the gate, he turns back and says, “By the way, how’s your father, little girl? Tell him I’m looking for him.” And then he’s gone.

  “Anna, you were amazing!” Pavel says to me. “You were so brave! See, I told you he was no match for you!”

  “I can’t believe I just did that!” I exclaim, looking up at him in shock. “What if he had shot me?”

  My arms ache from holding my dog, so I carefully set Gar down. I sink to the ground beside him just as Stepan appears at my side.

  “Are you okay?” he asks. “Maruska told me what happened. Let me see the dog.” Stepan begins to examine Gar gently.

  “Is he going to be okay?” I ask, unable to keep my voice from shaking.

  Stepan nods. “He’ll be fine. It’s just a small nick on his ear. I’ll take him back to the barn to clean the wound.” Stepan carefully lifts Gar.

  “Good dog. Go with Stepan,” I whisper, patting his back, and he stops trembling.

  I want to go with them, but my legs feel too weak, and a new wave of terror hits me. I turn and grab Pavel’s arm.

  “What did Mr. Z mean, ‘We’ll see how long that lasts’?” I ask. “Do you think he’s going to try to get the Communists to take away our farm?” I know this could happen because we’ve already seen them seize property from families we know.

  Pavel takes my hand. “No chance. You really stood up to him. He won’t be back anytime soon.”

  My shoulders start to relax, but I know Pavel’s just trying to comfort me.

  I lean forward and give him a hug. “I’m going to miss you so much when you go to Boy Scout camp!”

  “I’ll miss you, too, but I’ll be back at the end of summer.”

  We sit together for a while, listening to the horses rustle in the stable. Pavel picks blades of grass and releases them into the breeze. As I watch them float away, I think about how cruel Mr. Z has become.

  “Pavel,” I say. “Do you think Mr. Z was the one who turned in Maruska’s father to the Nazis during the war?” I ask.

  Pavel looks sad at the mention of our uncle. “Maybe.”

  Then I ask something I have never said aloud. “Pavel, do you think our uncle is dead?”

  Pavel takes a deep breath and slowly nods. “Unfortunately, I don’t think the Nazis would have let anyone who tried to overthrow them live. And if he had escaped, he would have come home after the war. Alive or dead, he’s a real hero, you know. All the Czech Resistance fighters are.” Pavel brushes the back of his hand across his eyes, and I know he doesn’t want me to see his tears.

  I nod and bite my lip to hold back my own tears and ask the questions that scare me the most. “What about Papa? Do you think he’s okay? Do you think I’ll ever see him again?”

  This time Pavel leans forward and looks intently into my eyes. “Anna, your father left at just the right time, and I’m sure he is being very careful. He has a lot of connections, and I’m sure he is safe wherever he is.”

  I want to believe what Pavel says so badly.

  I want to believe that Papa is safe. That our country—and my family—will be okay.

  Chapter 8

  GEESE & STRAWBERRIES

  “MAY I OFFER you more tea, Mrs.?” I ask, holding out the china teapot to Maruska.

  “Yes, thank you, Mrs.,” she replies as I fill her cup with water.

  “And how is your dear little daughter today?” I ask.

  “Oh, quite well. Thank you for asking. Her fever has gone down, and I think the medicine is working nicely,” Maruska says as she lovingly strokes the hair of the doll sitting next to her.

  “And how is your little girl, Mrs.?”

  “Oh, she is very well too. Only, she will not sit up straight at tea,” I say, adjusting my doll so that she leans against the back of her chair.

  We are having one of our many dolly tea parties in the gazebo in the middle of the garden. Ruzena says I’m too old to play with dolls. That might be true, but I still have a lot of fun playing with Maruska—and she loves it, so I don’t want to give it up.

  A soft mist is falling, but the air is warm and fragrant, and we are enjoying being outside. I spread jam on a piece of bread, and Maruska helps herself to another cookie that Babicka baked for us. It is still such a treat for us to eat sugar, since it was so rare during the war.

  Maruska looks out across the lawn. “Do you think it’s dry enough to do some routines from the Slet?”

  “Maybe I could do some of the dances, but it’s probably too slippery to do any gymnastics. I could show you how I ate spinach again,” I say.

  Maruska bursts out laughing. “Yes! Show me!”

  I put a cookie on my plate and look at it curiously. I pretend to cut it into tiny pieces with a fork and knife, and then I place a single crumb in my mouth. I wrinkle my nose, widen my eyes, then swallow, smile, and bow. Maruska applauds enthusiastically.

  “Hooray!” she cries. “I think eating spinach for the first time might have been your favorite part of the Slet,” she says with a laugh.

  Maruska loves hearing stories about the week I spent in Prague at the Czech national gymnastics festival. Performing with my gymnastics troupe, or Sokol group, was one of the most exciting things that’s ever happened to me. It was a very special event because this was the first Slet in ten years, since the Nazis didn’t allow them to take place during their occupation. My Sokol group was invited to attend along with groups from all over Czechoslovakia. We got to wear uniforms with our name, group, and town embroidered on them. Ruzena performed with her Sokol group, too, and Maruska and I couldn’t wait for her to be old enough to participate as well.

  “Come say goodbye, girls!” Mama calls from the front steps of the house. I sigh. It seems like everybody is leaving. Mama is taking Ruzena to Prague so she can prepare for her concert with her piano teacher. Pavel’s parents took him to camp a few days ago. Teta J has to go back to work at the hotel today, but at least Maruska gets to stay at Roven with me.

  Maruska and I run across the lawn hand in hand. We haven’t talked about it, but I know that neither of us wants to be alone in case Mr. Z comes back. It feels safer to stick together.

  Mama is hugging Babicka goodbye, and I notice that neither one seems to want to let go. When they see me, they open their arms to include me in their embrace. I snuggle in between Babicka and Mama and breathe them in. Mama smells of the lavender perfume she always uses, and Babicka smells of flour and yeast from the bread she has been baking. I feel cozy and safe. I wish I could stay like this forever.

  Once they’ve left, Maruska and I return to the gazebo for our dolls.

  “Come on, Mrs., the rain has stopped. Let’s take our girls for a walk,” Maruska says as she settles her doll into the toy baby carriage we share.

  “Yes, Mrs., let’s take them to see if the strawberries are ripe yet.”

  “Splendid idea, Mrs.”

  I tuck my doll next to Maruska’s, and we set off across the lawn, each pushing one handle of the carriage. Gar follows at my heels. Halfway across the lawn, I see a small flock of white geese pecking at the grass.

  “Husy, husy, husy,” I call out.
Maruska laughs because she knows what will happen next. As soon as they hear my voice, the geese lift their heads and look in our direction.

  “Nice little geese,” I call. “What good pets you are.”

  “They’re not pets.” Maruska giggles. “They’re farm animals.”

  “You know they’re my pets. Watch this. Husy, husy, husy,” I call again as we get nearer, and the geese line up single file and hurry over to follow me. I waddle at the head of the line, and the geese copy me. “What good little geese!”

  “How come animals always do what you tell them?” Maruska asks as she runs next to us, pushing the doll carriage.

  “Because they’re smart,” I joke as I lead my gaggle of geese across the grass.

  As we near the strawberry patch, the air is perfumed with the sweet smell of ripe fruit. I breathe a contented sigh. I have to close the gate so that the geese will not get into the strawberries.

  “Sorry, guys, you know you’re not allowed in here, but here’s a treat.” I throw them a handful of cookie crumbs, and they snap them up. Maruska and I kneel in the damp grass, chatting and eating the small red berries until our mouths and fingers are stained and our bellies are full.

  Chapter 9

  PRAYERS

  “LET’S LEAVE THE windows open tonight, Mrs. That way we can smell the strawberries in our dreams,” I say to Maruska as we tuck our dolls into bed. Almost a week has passed since the berries first ripened, and their perfume is even more delicious now.

  “Mmmm, yes,” she replies. “I will dream of pancakes with strawberry jam for breakfast.”

  “Anna,” calls Babicka from the next room, “are you girls ready for bed?”

  “Almost,” I answer. “We’re just putting the dolls to bed.”

  “Just a few more minutes, and then I’m coming in to say good night,” she calls back.