The Woman with the Blue Star, Pam Jenoff [highly recommended books txt] 📗

with a mighty splash. The worker spun around and raced swiftly onto the boards, pulling me to safety. Then he tried to reach for my father. But as his hand neared Papa’s, the strong current pulled my father away and he was drawn under. From the far bank, my mother screamed.

Papa reappeared above the surface. He emerged like a phoenix, his entire torso and most of his legs lifting above the water, defying it. Hope rose in my throat. He was going to make it. The water seemed to seize him then, a giant hand reaching out to pull him under. It dragged him, head and all, in a single swoop beneath the icy blackness. I held my breath, waiting for him to reappear, to fight back and emerge once more. But the surface of the river remained unbroken. The bubbles of air he had left behind disappeared into the current and then he was gone.

4

Sadie

Stunned, we stared at the unbroken surface of the sewer river. “Papa!” I cried again. My mother made a low guttural sound and tried to fling herself in the water after him, but the sewer worker held her back.

“Wait here,” he instructed, racing farther down the path and following the current. I grasped Mama’s hand so that she would not try to jump in again.

“He’s a strong man,” Saul offered. Though he meant it comfortingly, my anger rose: how did he know?

“And a good swimmer,” Mama agreed desperately. “He might have survived.” I wanted to cling to hope as much as she did. But recalling how the current had tossed him around like a rag doll, I knew even Papa’s sure, burly armed swim stroke would be no match for the river.

Mama and I huddled together for several minutes in silence, numb with disbelief. The sewer worker returned, his face grave. “He was caught underneath by some debris. I tried to free him, but it was too late. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done.”

“No!” I cried, my voice echoing dangerously through the cavernous tunnel. My mother’s hand clamped down over my mouth before I could speak again, her skin a mixture of vile sewer water and salty tears on my lips. I sobbed against the warm filth of her palm. Papa had been here just minutes earlier, keeping me from slipping. If he hadn’t reached for me, he would still be alive.

A moment later, my mother released me. “He’s gone,” I said. I leaned against her, feeling like a small child. My father had been a gentle giant, my protector, my closest confidant and friend. My world. But the sewer had swept him under and away like so much trash.

“I know, I know,” Mama mouthed through her tears. “But we must be quiet or we will be done as well.” Making too much noise could cause us to be detected by the police on the street above, and none of the others would suffer that risk. Mama slumped against the wall of the sewer, looking vulnerable and helpless. This whole escape had been Papa’s plan—how were we ever to manage without him?

Saul took a step toward me, his brown eyes solemn. “I’m sorry about your father.” His voice was friendlier now than it had been when I’d tried to speak with him earlier. But it didn’t matter anymore. He touched the brim of his hat and then moved back closer to his father.

“We must keep going,” the sewer worker said.

I stood stubbornly, refusing to move. “We can’t leave him.” I knew Papa had been pulled downstream, yet some part of me believed that if I stood right here, in the very spot where he disappeared, he would resurface and it would be as if none of this had happened. I reached my hand out, willing time to stop. One moment Papa had been here real and firm in the space beside me. Now he was gone, the air empty and still.

“Papa is dead,” I said, the reality of it sinking painfully into my bones.

“But I am here.” Mama cupped my face in her hands, forcing me to look into her eyes. “I am here and I will never leave you.”

The sewer worker walked over and knelt in front of me. “My name is Pawel,” he said gently. “I knew your father and he was a good man. He trusted me with your safety and he would want us to keep going.” He stood and turned away and continued on, leading the others down the path.

Mama straightened, seeming to gain strength from his words. Her rounded belly protruded even more. “We will make it through this, somehow.” I stared at her in disbelief. How could she even think—much less believe—that now, right as we had lost everything? For a second, I wondered if she had gone mad. But there was a calm surety to her words that I somehow needed to hear. “We are going to be fine.”

Mama began pulling me forward. “Come.” She had always been deceptively strong for her slight size, and now she tugged so hard I feared that if I resisted I might slip into the water and drown as well. “We must hurry.” She was right. The others had kept going without us and were now several meters ahead. We had to follow or we would be left lost and alone in the strange, dark tunnel.

But I hesitated once more, looking fearfully at the churning dark river that ran alongside the path. I had always been terrified of the water, and now those fears seemed validated. If Papa, a strong swimmer, could not manage the murky current, what chance did I possibly have?

I looked down the dark path ahead. There was no way I could do this. “Come,” Mama repeated, her voice softer now. “Imagine that you are a warrior princess and I, your mother, the great queen. We will travel from the halls of Wawel Castle down to the dungeon to slay the dragon Smok.”