Now Zalman needed to forget the past, to build a new life for himself. He vowed never to spend the rest of his days as a voyeur, as he had in the pirates’ room during the war years, in the barn waiting for Jacob’s cue, watching Jacob’s marital happiness unfold. From now on, he would be a participant in his own life. Zalman’s life would be his own, and he would never look back.
As the train screeched to a slow halt and a blast of sunlight shot through the grimy window, Zalman scanned the platform for familiar faces. When his eye caught one in particular, he quickly stood up, gathered his things, and, just as the signal shattered the morning air, stepped off the train.
PART IV
CRACKS IN THE ROOF
EIGHTEEN
Jacob, 1934
Jacob let his hand slide down the flank of the great horse. The black hairs felt smooth and silky, falling away beneath his small palm, so that after a few moments of stroking, he was no longer afraid. Almost as if it sensed the child’s trepidation, the animal stood as still as the gray tombstones that lined the cemetery in the old town, its giant dark eye open, staring only at the winding path ahead.
Somewhere farther afield, he could hear them talking. The man’s voice gravelly, punctuated by a smoker’s cough, showed signs of a heavy accent, hers warm and familiar, like water tripping over rocks. The words themselves were incomprehensible. Business.
He decided not to pay them any attention, instead focusing on the horse beneath his hand. “Good boy. Such a good boy.”
It seemed like hours as Jacob and the horse remained together, but, in fact, it was only minutes since the man had trotted the horse out of its steel barn and coaxed the boy to come closer. Klaus, long past being a pony, was a workhorse and no longer a frivolous colt, would never harm a soul, the man assured. Only the flies that swarmed about Klaus’s coarse, bushy tail were subject to the occasional swat. But that was to be expected. And, in fact, when she called to the child, finally, Jacob startled, then ignored her, pretending not to hear. The horse was his friend now. Maybe his best friend in the world.
But she persisted in calling him, and when he heard a sharpness creep into her tone, he withdrew his hand as the horse, aware somehow of the unwelcome interruption, turned its head slowly and began sauntering up the hill.
He took his time trailing behind, and even when he had her in sight, crouching, her arms outstretched, expecting his ready embrace, he halted barely a foot away, his eyes fixing on the clouds of dust left in Klaus’s wake. She crunched her brow, faking a grimace. Jacob became excited as he got closer, but then he came to a halt as out of the corner of his eye, a short distance behind, he saw another. Mama flashed the man a broad, red-lipped smile. The man was tall, even taller than Jacob’s papa, and he stood now with hands clasped behind his back, the medals on his tan uniform sparkling in the early-afternoon sunshine. He was the owner of the big horse, and so, despite Jacob’s love for the animal, he felt a sudden stab of guilt sear through his chest.
But soon his mama’s arms were around him, and he fell against her bosom, inhaling the familiar scent of her soap.
“And have you made friends with big Klaus?” she asked him in Yiddish, pushing back the child’s sandy-color locks with her fingers.
“Yes, Mama,” he answered as the memory of his time with the horse sent a smile flooding across his face.
“And so, I suppose you should say a thank-you to Herr Reichert for letting you pet him, no?”
“Yes, Mama.” He turned toward the tall man, but his eyes only fell in line with the glittering medals.
“Thank you, Herr Reichert.”
The man reached down to pat the child’s head but, thinking better of it, dug his fingers instead into his pockets as he bounced on his feet. Jacob took note that the smile on his face now matched his mother’s. A few words in German flew from Herr Reichert’s mouth—sharp, staccato. He tried to catch their meaning, but he had only just begun learning the language of the Fatherland in school. Before he could sort it out in his head, his mama spoke again.
“Herr Reichert says you are welcome to spend time with Klaus anytime you want. You may even ride him if you like.”
Jacob nodded. He couldn’t quite imagine how wonderful it would be to sit snugly in a leather saddle atop the great horse, his head nearly touching the tips of the clouds!
His mother was curving her mouth into the red-lipped smile again, a smile that, he could see now, was meant only for the tall man with the medals.
“Mama, can we go home now?” Jacob asked, willing her to glance back in his direction.