Arthritis had long ago deformed Bobby’s joints, but her left hand was far more swollen than her right. Cassie ran her fingers over the crooked fingers and bulbous knuckles that required ice on bad days.
Bobby’s voice startled her. “Do you know death is not the end? It’s just another reality. In the old world, we knew that. We welcomed the dead into our homes. We set places for them at the table at Christmas. Held feasts in their honor. But here, I’ve forgotten those ways. I need to prepare, so I’m ready for my death.”
“Stop, Bobby.”
“I’m not afraid of death,” she went on. “Only of disappointing her. I never got the chance to tell her what I needed to. I never got the chance.”
“Who are you talking about?” Cassie gripped Bobby’s gnarled hand tighter.
“You must do something for me,” Bobby demanded, her voice suddenly strong and decisive. “Go to my closet. Behind my clothes on the middle shelf, there’s a box. Take it.”
Cassie retrieved the box without mentioning that she’d already looked through it. She set it on the bed, and Bobby turned her head away. “I can’t look at it anymore. I tried, but it hurts too much. You and your mother have always wanted to know about my past. Everything is in this box.”
Both excitement and guilt coursed through Cassie as she flipped through the contents. Maybe Bobby would finally explain all of it so she could actually understand. Bobby stilled her hand.
“Not with me here. You’ll need Nick to help you. It’s all in Ukrainian, but he’s a good boy. He’ll help. He likes you, you know.”
“He does not,” Cassie said automatically, but she was only half listening. Her mind was already focused on the treasure trove of information sitting in front of her—her key to helping Bobby.
The next few days passed by smoothly without any more incidents. Birdie seemed to be settling into their new life, and Cassie had to admit her mom had been right. She felt happier here than she had at her old house, as if she’d shed the hard outer shell of her grief. Cassie found herself smiling and laughing more, like she was slowly waking up from a long hibernation.
The box was her one source of frustration. She’d spent hours staring at the journal, running her hands down its worn leather cover, and trying in vain to decipher the words within. She’d even tried looking online, but it was impossible to type the Cyrillic letters into the search engine. When she got tired of that, she’d pored through the black and white photos and looked for glimpses of Bobby in the young women.
“You must ask Nick to help you,” Bobby had said again over breakfast.
“Why can’t you read it to me? Or tell me about it?” Cassie begged. She wanted to hear the story from Bobby in her own words.
Bobby shook her head. “No. Surviving through it once was hard enough. It’s important that you know, but I will not relive it.”
“Just call Nick,” Anna had said. She, too, was dying to know what was in the journal, and, as she’d let Cassie know on more than one occasion, she was more than a little miffed that Bobby had skipped her over and given the materials to Cassie.
“I will,” Cassie said. And she intended to–as soon as she had a better grip on her reaction to him.
That afternoon, she, Birdie, and Bobby walked to the park down the street. There, Bobby sat on a bench in the sunshine while Birdie played on the jungle gym. Cassie moved back and forth between the two as necessary.
“She reminds me of you when you were little,” Bobby said, as they watched Birdie sliding down the tallest slide, then racing back up to do it again. “She’s fearless.”
“She used to be, before the accident,” Cassie said. “But, for a long time afterward, I couldn’t get her to leave my side. Since we’ve been here, I’ve seen something in her shifting.”
The warm breeze rustled the budding tree branches canopied overhead, bringing the spring scents of damp earth and newly awakening plants with it. Bobby scrutinized the young girl.
“I still see it in her,” Bobby finally said. “She’s like you. She’ll get back to her fearless self.”
Cassie drew in a wavering breath. “How do you see that when I’ve been such a mess?”
Bobby patted Cassie’s knee. “It doesn’t matter what I see. It’s what you see.”
As Cassie thought about that, Birdie ran off the playground toward the street, waving her arms.
Cassie jumped up. “Hey, where are you going? Don’t go in the street!”