Nevertheless, we must delay our departure. First, because no ship captain will take Papa for fear of infecting other passengers, even though the doctor says that Papa’s consumption is not of a contagious nature. Second, because the good doctor plans to send Papa to a convalescence clinic that our revered liaison from the JCA has graciously arranged. Imagine Papa, like a rich landowner from Bobruevo, being served all his meals while he lounges all day in the sun! We only hope that there will be other people to speak to, because Papa is regaining his chattering spirit—

Batya raised her gaze to Sergio. “Your organization is taking good care of my father, I see,” she said. “Thank you so very much.”

He smiled. “Didn’t I promise to repay your great help?”

Her heart expanded. A real doctor, rather than a traveling folk healer selling elixir. A hospital. A convalescence clinic. Who would have ever thought that these were possible for her father, who hadn’t known a day of rest in his life? “But they can’t leave.” She wiped a tear with the back of her hand, then read on.

Since our stay at the hotel was never meant to be long, we have obtained the right to a room in an apartment shared by two other families. My dear Duvid has found a job as an apprentice carpenter, a profession that will serve him well wherever we go next. He’s learning fast. In the meanwhile, he brings home a few kopeks each day that he works, and we eat our meals in a soup kitchen run by good Jewish souls, may they be blessed with long and healthy lives. The only worms that gnaw our hearts are missing you, Keyla’s recuperating boy, and the worry over Papa’s health.

I will write to you when we are ready to take the long journey to meet you, may it be before winter, God willing. In the meanwhile, I hope that you will keep your good health and prepare your mansion for our arrival.

Your very loving sister,

Surale (and Keyla, who is home now, joins me with her blessings)

Batya was crying openly as she folded the letter. She imagined Surale and her husband and two children, with Keyla and her two orphans, as well as the toddler Vida, all in one room. Yet Surale, with her good nature, was happy with the few kopeks her husband earned and the soup kitchen that provided them with more food than they must have had in years. But Surale’s refusal to accept Batya’s story that she no longer lived a life of comfort was exasperating. Rather than facing the harsh realities of agricultural labor awaiting them in Moïseville, Surale still imagined that they would be delivered into a life of luxury that had never existed. She was probably feeding Keyla the same illusions.