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  Relieved that she was back on her best behavior, Rupert held his arms wide to help her from the carriage.

  “Come now, my darling. I can assure you we are at the correct address.” He smiled broadly and kissed her cheek before leading her up the stairs.

  The door swung open. A very tall man with impeccable style bowed with great dignity.

  “Good evening, Mr. Willows, welcome to Ravenscraig, sir.” His deep voice sounded amplified in the entrance hall.

  “Good evening, Chadwick, my good man. May I present, Mrs. Willows.” Rupert gracefully extended his arm and smiled at his wife.

  “Indeed, sir. Welcome, madam. It will be a pleasure to serve you.” Chadwick bowed. It was simple and elegant and yet his manner caught her completely off guard. As only a butler trained in London could do, he spoke as if Mrs. Willows were the most important woman on earth.

  Beth hooted in surprise as Rupert scooped her up in his arms and proceeded to carry her over the threshold. As he set her down, she looked about the grand entry hall and took in the magnificent staircase rising and curving to fold around a spectacular glittering chandelier. As dreadful as the house was from the outside it was utterly majestic and enchanting on the interior. She threw her head back and laughed.

  “Oh, Rupert, this is a fine joke. April Fool’s Day came and went months ago. Oh, you make me laugh. What is this all about, and why are we not at Stonebridge?”

  Rupert grabbed her and kissed her. On cue, four musicians with violins appeared and struck up a very romantic version of the popular new waltz, And the Band Played On. He put his finger to her lips and said, “Not a word. Not yet. It will break the spell.” He swept her into a dance, and behind them, a line of servants formed, each wearing black and white parlor uniforms and each carrying a posy of miniature roses. At the chorus he sang his own words to the song.

  Rupert would dance with the raven-haired girl

  And the band played on,

  He looked in her eyes and saw love was returned

  And the band played on.

  Her laughter spilled over the music and finally, with great flourish at the end of the dance, Rupert bowed and turned his wife to face the servants. He nodded to the butler.

  “Mrs. Willows, if you please, it gives me great pleasure to introduce your household staff.” Mr. Chadwick efficiently went down the line giving their names as heads dipped, one by one, in either curtsey or bow. When he got to the last one, Rupert turned and spoke grandly to Beth.

  “Yes, my darling, this is your house. A gift to show my appreciation for your love and affection,” he beamed. She stood frozen in shock and stared back at him as if her heart had stopped beating altogether. This was the one reaction he had not thought to expect and rushed to fill the silence. “And don’t be disappointed that we are not going to the Ballantyne’s home. They and a dozen or two other friends are coming to Ravenscraig to be our guests this evening. Aren’t you thrilled, sugar?”

  Beth let out a gasp, then wobbled and dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

  Chapter Six

  Leaving Russia

  October 11, 1895

  The full moon bathed the kitchen with an eerie light. Hannah looked around to see if there was anything she had missed in her packing. The bundles stood neatly by the door. She thought of the day when she had helped her sister Esther pack her bundles as she and her husband Leib left to try their luck in England. The two girls had hugged each other through their tears and promised to be strong for each other. Both knew they might be saying good-bye for the last time, but neither had spoken the fear out loud. Young and each newly married, they talked, instead, of the children they would have and the happiness they would feel when they were re-united. How she longed to see Esther again. Perhaps in time, they too, would come to Canada.

  She nodded to Zev. It was time to wake the children. Zev’s mother had taken charge of packing the food and was carefully reviewing the contents of the two sacks before her, grunting as she tested the weight of the larger one.

  “Mameleh, it is too heavy for you. Leave the extra potatoes for me to carry,” Hannah told her mother-in-law.

  “Shush, now. It is good. I can take it. Not so heavy.” Bayla answered as she tightened the kerchief knot under her chin.

  Ziporah was already awake and dressed when Papa came to get her. She was more adept at listening in on her parents’ conversations than her older brother Isaac. She knew about the long hike they would be taking that night and the reasons for it. She wanted to show Papa that even though she was only eight, she was as good as any ten-year-old. She was tall and strong for her age and she would be a big help to Mama, she explained to him.

  “You are a special person for one so young, my dear little girl,” Zev smiled and hugged his daughter. Nine-year-old Isaac was a heavy sleeper and Zev set to work to get him up and organized while Ziporah gently woke up little Aaron, imitating the soothing sounds Mama made whenever anyone was sick or afraid to go to sleep.

  “Shh, shh, Aaron. Remember what Baba told us. We have to be very, very quiet for our adventure. Can you do that?”

  Aaron nodded his head and yawned heavily, holding his pudgy arms out to his sister to carry him.

  “You’re a big boy, Aaron. You can walk a little can’t you?” She asked as she slid him off the bed to plant his tiny feet on the floor.

  “No. Ziporah carry Aaron,” he insisted, reaching up to her.

  Ziporah shuddered at the thought of Cossacks coming to chase them in the night, and gathered her little brother into a protective embrace.

  Baba Bayla had warned them to be absolutely silent so that the czar would not hear them and send his bad men to come after them.

  “Come, children,” Mama interrupted and picked up Aaron. “It’s time to be on our way.”

  Ziporah saw that Mama had everything packed into bundles to be carried. Baba wanted more to carry, but Mama said there was a lot of hard walking and insisted that Baba not be overloaded. The small sack of food held bread and boiled chicken and some cooked eggs and apples. This was entrusted to Ziporah and tied onto her back.

  “This way if the path is dark, I can take your hand to keep you safe,” said Baba. “God forbid you should disappear.”

  “Isaac has a bigger pack than I have. I want more to bring!” Ziporah protested.

  “He is stronger, Ziporah, now please, this is not the time for arguing. Remember we must be quiet,” Papa said calmly. He turned away and missed seeing Isaac stick out his tongue at his sister, followed by the sharp shove that Ziporah gave him in return. Mama, however, missed nothing when it involved her children.

  “Isaac, you stop that! Ziporah, behave yourself!” She hissed under her breath as only a mother can. “Now, no more arguing. No more talking!” Seeing that Mama was in no mood for anything but obedience, Ziporah decided to save her ready insults for Isaac for another time.

  Papa was loaded down with more than the rest of them altogether, it seemed. Mama took charge of Aaron. She tied a shawl over one shoulder and slung it across her body to brace her little one against her hip. Then she hoisted another sling onto the opposite side for the bundle she would carry. Mama could carry almost as much as a man, Ziporah thought.

  They set off, with Papa in the lead, followed by Baba and then the children and finally Mama at the end, to be sure the children were all accounted for, she said. They walked one behind the other into the warm autumn night, through the gate and down the lane, leaving the only home Ziporah had ever known behind them. They were leaving Russia and would never see it again. She looked back for a brief moment then quickly turned to face forward. They walked past the Brenman’s home and the dried remnants of the poppies against the fence, and then by the oak tree at the end of the lane where the children and their friends had spent countless hours playing hide and seek. Finally, they came to the main road. With the bright light of the moon to help them find their way, Papa guided them across the road and onto an old path that went through
the woods. He explained it would take a little longer, but it would be safer. They walked for a long time before Papa let them stop and rest for a few minutes.

  In time they came to a creek. Ziporah looked about and thought certainly there would be wood fairies dancing in the moonlight in such an enchanted looking place. The water sparkled and the owls hooted in the night. Papa looked around and when satisfied told them to put down the bundles. The great canopy overhead provided a comforting covering to the scene. Ziporah looked to see where there might be a bridge to cross and couldn’t find one.

  “Are you sure this is the way, Papa?” she whispered.

  “Quite sure,” he smiled.

  “But where is the bridge?”

  “There is no bridge.”

  “A boat then?” Ziporah jumped and brought her hands together in glee.

  “No boat either. But won’t it be fun to have a swimming game at night?”

  Mama clapped her hand over her mouth. She must have been so happy to have Papa think of a game to take their minds off of the tiring walk, thought Ziporah. Papa pulled a long rope from his pack and tied one end to a tree. He jumped into the water and checked his footing.

  “It’s quite warm for this time of the year,” he said reassuringly.

  He moved slowly and steadily across the creek, testing each step as he went. The water rose to just over his knees. He carried the rope to the other side and tied it to another tree, then pulled it hard to make sure it was strong, and tied an extra knot, just to be sure. Ziporah, Isaac, Mama, and Baba sat quietly on the bank, while Aaron slept in the shawl at Mama’s side.

  Ziporah watched as Papa made four more trips back and forth carrying the bundles on his shoulders. Finally, after carrying Aaron across and sitting down with him on the far bank, he called for the others to enter the water. “Hang on tightly to the rope,” he called softly, “and walk carefully. The creek bottom is muddy and slippery.”

  Mama took off her shoes and gathered her skirts up high around her waist. Ziporah knew her mother was anything but enthusiastic about swimming, but she did look determined.

  “It’s all right, Hannah. It is fine.” Papa waved her on with an encouraging tone. Mama took a big breath. Quietly humming a happy tune, the way she sometimes did when she was nervous, she marched through the water to the other bank and picked up Aaron, who only wanted to sleep.

  “Watch how fast I can go, Isaac.” Ziporah leaped ahead of her brother, prompting a shushing from Baba. She hopped through the creek like a water nymph, lifting her knees high to show how nimble she was. Isaac was unimpressed. He clomped through the water like a man, one step after another. Coming up on the bank, he couldn’t suppress a shout of accomplishment. He turned back to call to his grandmother.

  “It’s all right Baba. There are no snakes. Not even one!”

  Baba froze. Her skirts held tightly and her shoes in hand, she had been all set to step into the water, but had not thought of snakes. Papa gave Isaac a big slap on the head. Mama called out to Baba, Ziporah stifled a giggle and Aaron cried.

  Telling everyone to be quiet, Papa went back into the water to rescue his mama. He had lots to say as he crossed the stream, but he said it so quietly enough that it was hard to make out the words. He lifted Baba onto his right shoulder and, telling her to stop fussing. Grabbing the rope, he strode steadfastly through the black water to safety.

  A couple of hours later, they came upon a roadway. A man was waiting there for them with a wagon hitched to a very big horse. Ziporah could tell that Papa knew him from the way they spoke, but she had never seen the stranger in their village. The man reached into the cart and pulled out a coat and hat and handed it to Papa. It was the kind of clothing the Ukrainian peasants wore.

  “Here, put this on, and do something about those strings hanging down there.” The man was all business as he pointed to the tzitzioth of Papa’s prayer shawl hanging below his waist.

  Ziporah was astonished to see her father tuck the tzitzioth into his trousers and put the coat on. Was this not a sin to treat the sacred garment, in such a way? What would Rabbi Levin say?

  With the hat and coat Papa looked very much like the farming peasants. Isaac thought it was very funny and started to laugh until Baba shushed him.

  Instructions were shouted in Ukrainian and Papa urged them to hurry. Mama and Baba got into the cart with the children and pulled blankets over their heads. Papa and the man who owned the wagon threw hay over top of them, and soon the steady clip clopping of the horses’ hooves lulled them all to sleep. The wagon came to a stop just before the sun came up. The man pulled the hay off, and as the family slipped out of the wagon and found their feet, he waved directions to Papa and set off at a gallop down the road, soon disappearing around the bend. Mama searched frantically about, counting the bundles that were hastily tossed from the wagon.

  “Oy, Zev, do we have everything? Children, look to see we didn’t lose anything.” Panic rose in Mama’s voice. “The candlesticks! Where are my mother’s Shabbat candlesticks?” For several minutes the bundles were thoroughly searched.

  “Here! It’s all right. Here they are, Hannah,” Baba called, waving one of the silver treasures in the air.

  Papa wiped Mama’s tears and comforted her with a prayer of thanks to God for leading them safely through the most difficult part of their journey. They had made it across the Russian border and were now in Galicia. The family members gathered up their belongings and set off again on foot. When the sun came up, they found an old barn and settled down to sleep in the hayloft.

  For two more nights they walked, sleeping in the woods one day, and behind a haystack another day while Papa kept watch over them. Finally they came to Zalischyky.

  Ziporah was not sure how her father had made the arrangements, but he knew the name of a rabbi in the village who warmly welcomed them and made comfortable in a barn for the night. The next day, the rabbi took them to the little house that would become their new home. Ziporah thought it looked like a cottage from a folk story. It had a thatched roof and was not made from wood boards, but from earth that had been plastered over with something that made the walls white inside and out. The little house had two rooms, one door, and three windows. In the middle of one room, there was a big stove made from clay. Papa told them it would keep the whole house cozy in the winter. In many ways the house was nicer than the home they had left in Russia.

  Before long, Papa brought home a cow and four chickens. And soon the neighbors came by. Some brought bread and salt to say hello, as was the custom of the Christians, welcoming the Zigman family with warm words in Ukrainian. Here, as in many of the villages of Galicia, the Jews and Christians lived side by side. There was a divide between the two groups, but also a mutual acceptance. Together, they were townspeople. Separately, they lived quietly with their own beliefs and traditions among people of their own kind. No one wanted trouble. Mama said it was good to have such nice neighbors and talked about the importance of respecting their differences.

  Over the winter months, Papa worked hard, picking up small jobs, and his skills as a carpenter quickly became known in the village. The family settled in and made friends. Papa said it was not a place to become rich, but that they would not starve either. The months flew by in a blur of work and worry. Through it all, the dream of Canada grew in each of them.

  Then, all too quickly, spring arrived and the day came to say good-bye to Papa. They had been in Zalischyky fully six months. The food supplies were well stocked, seeds had been purchased for the garden, and a small stash of money was buried in the root cellar. Through countless hours of discussion and training, Papa could see that Mama was well prepared to take over in his absence.

  Absence. The thought of her father leaving cut through Ziporah and filled her with pain. Papa had said good night to her every day of her life. Now he had to leave. For the first time she felt the ache of saying good-bye.

  Papa held her close. “Please don’t cry, Ziporah.” He stroke
d her hair and told her how much he loved her and how he was counting on her and Isaac to help Mama. He told her he would work very hard so that soon they would all be together again. “Think of our life in Canada.”

  Papa went to each of them and hugged them, and each in turn wished him well. Ziporah tried very hard to be brave. She slipped behind her mother and buried her face in the soft folds of Mama’s skirt to hide her tears from her father. Papa didn’t want anyone to be sad. This was the beginning, he had told them, of their new life. With faith in God and hard work there would even be enough money in time to send for Aunt Esther and Uncle Leib and their daughter Malka in England.

  “Look at this.” He pointed to the bright purple crocuses pushing up bravely through the snow, and then laughed. “You see, I believe it is a sure sign of good luck to see the crocuses arriving on this day. My journey will be a good one.”

  Then he kissed Mama and whispered something that made her smile and cry all at the same time. Baba cried without sound, with just her shoulders moving. Papa wrapped his arms around his mother, and in time she was calmed and tried to smile. She said she looked forward to when she would next see him and her husband, Zaida Baruch, Ziporah’s grandfather. Mama placed her hands on Papa’s cheeks one more time as if she was memorizing his face. He waved and then he was gone.

  It would be eight months before they received their first letter from him.

  Chapter Seven

  Winter Holiday in Florida

  October 28, 1895

  Rupert ran up the snowy steps and burst through the door like a schoolboy.

  “Beth! Oh, Beth, where are you, darling?” He closed the heavy front door and stamped the snow off of his feet, then dashed up the stairs. As he rounded the second floor landing into the hall, he all but knocked over Mrs. Butterfield.