“I … I don’t know who’s coming,” I said.
“If that were true, you would not look back with such fear.” I realized I’d been doing that very thing and forced myself to turn to Rusakov again as he said, “I am going to let them pass, I’ll let them think I’ve been fooled by a silly girl like yourself. And I’ll do this because you are new and need time for what I’m asking. I am looking for a boy near your age, a smuggler like you. He has given me a great deal of trouble.”
Lukas. He was looking for Lukas, who was headed directly our way right now!
Rusakov continued, “Within two days, I want you to meet me here with that boy’s name and any information you have on how to find him. Do this and I will release your parents. They will come back to you and you can be a family again. If you are not here to meet me in two days, then you will spend the rest of your life wondering how long they were able to survive in Siberia, if they even made it there alive. Or you will get the answer for yourself when I arrest you for book smuggling and give you the same punishment.” Ben’s horses rounded the corner. “Do I make myself clear?”
I couldn’t speak, so I merely nodded and tried to hold back my tears.
By then, Ben’s wagon itself had come into view, but I only saw Ben, whistling a tune and smiling as if he hadn’t a care in the world. If Lukas was still with him, then he must have been hiding beneath the fabric to throw off any suspicion about the books. Either that, or he knew Officer Rusakov was after him.
“Halt!” Rusakov ordered, walking to the center of the road to stop Ben, who pulled up on the reins and tried not to look at me from his unpatched eye. “What are you carrying?”
“A delivery of straw for a farmer in Šiauliai.” Ben spoke as if he was bored, as if he’d been through searches like this many times, and maybe he had. But never exactly like this.
Rusakov put a hand on my shoulder. “This poor girl is attempting to sell fabric scraps. Would you take her as far as Šiauliai with you? I think she may have some luck there.”
Ben’s head tilted, surprised at the luck he thought he was receiving. If only he knew. If only he knew.
Ben offered me a hand to climb beside him onto the wagon seat, though I couldn’t even look at him. Once we left these soldiers behind, he’d congratulate me on creating a story that turned their suspicions, when in reality, I’d done just the opposite.
Instead, I’d have to tell Ben the truth, that Rusakov had offered me a way to save my parents.
Or …
I’d tell him a lie, let him believe that I had created a story so that the soldiers let us pass by without being searched. I’d lie, at least until I figured out what to do about Lukas.
Ben dipped his head humbly toward the Cossack officers. “As you wish, sir.”
I kept my head down as we drove away, completely drained of any strength I might have had and exhausted from the effort of pretending to be brave for so long.
A full kilometer ahead, Ben finally stopped the wagon so that Lukas could come out from beneath the canvas. They both faced Ben and me gave me a deep nod of respect. “You have your parents’ blood indeed. Perhaps one day, when you are much older, you can become a book carrier.”
I lowered my eyes, deeply ashamed of myself for considering Rusakov’s offer. Ben was praising me for saving books, even as I was deciding whether to turn in a person who smuggled them. It was wrong; I knew it was wrong. But wasn’t it also wrong to refuse to help my parents—even to save their lives—when it was possible to do so?
Yes, it was still wrong.
This was horrible, and I had no idea what to do about it.
Lukas grinned over at me, but said to Ben, “I prefer the term ‘book smuggler.’ Anyone can carry a book, but smuggling is an art.”
“Smuggling is a crime,” Ben countered. “Carrying is noble.”
“Then let Audra be noble with us. She’s good, Ben. I’ve seen her and she’s got good instincts.”
“She’ll have those same instincts when she’s older.” Ben turned around to face the road again. “After this delivery, we’re taking her back to Milda’s. This is too dangerous for a young girl.”
“It’s too dangerous for all of us,” Lukas said. “But we have good reasons for doing it.”
I had my own reasons for continuing to smuggle—within two days, I could bring my parents back home.
And I had better reasons for jumping from this wagon and running as far away as I could from the books, from Lukas, and from that cruel Officer Rusakov. That’s what I should do. Run from a decision I didn’t want to make because any decision I made would be awful.
But I didn’t run. Instead, I lowered my eyes and said, “Let me keep smuggling.”
If Ben heard me, he said nothing. I took his silence as a yes.
As we continued on our ride that afternoon, Lukas seemed to sense my thoughts were heavier than usual. He leaned forward. “There’s a story for when you’re in a mood like this.”