Words on Fire - Page 36

“What’s this book for?” I asked.

Milda smiled. “It’s a wedding gift. The book is the gift; the quilt is the disguise!”

I giggled and helped her wrap the quilt around the book, then tie it off with the ribbon. “Where should I deliver the gift?”

Milda glanced back at the clock hanging from her wall. “The wedding will soon begin at the church. Go there and follow the wedding party to the reception. Have a fun evening and enjoy the celebrations, but”—she added as I began to run off—“stay away from the Cossacks. They’ve been good to let us keep our traditions so far, but we must always be careful.”

“I will!” I kissed Milda on the cheek and ran out the door with the package in my arms. I’d never been to a wedding before, which was exciting enough, but the idea of delivering a book to the new couple about to begin their lives together made it even better.

I made it to the church just in time to see the bride entering with a wreath of rue around her head. I paused there and swallowed a lump in my throat. I imagined I could almost hear my father’s voice calling me, “Little Rue, come inside, it’s getting dark!”

“Little Rue,” he’d say before bedtime. “Remember that I love you.”

And what would he say now? “Little Rue, I am waiting to come home. Bring me home soon.”

“I can’t, Papa,” I mumbled beneath my breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Then I wal

ked the rest of the way to the church, ducking inside to see the bride already kneeling at the altar beside her groom. The wreath of rue had been replaced with other flowers now, because the bride would be a married woman and rue was symbolic of childhood.

Maybe similarly, I was Little Rue no longer. No longer the innocent child I had once been. And that was a good thing, because I had proven myself strong enough now for so much more.

When the priest pronounced them married, the groom placed a ring on his wife’s finger, kissed her, then led her right past me outside the church and across the road near a barn where the evening’s celebration would continue. It had been decorated with candles and ribbons and lace, and with all the colors of the harvest.

At first, I stood back to watch the families perform their rituals to protect the new couple in their life together. When they’d finished, trays of bread were brought out along with wine and bowls with salt for everyone to eat. It wasn’t particularly tasty—I felt my face scrunch as I tasted the salt—but a woman nearby explained the symbolism. Bread represented the hard work of building a family, salt was for the tears the couple would shed, and the wine was for their celebrations.

“What a lucky coincidence, meeting you here!” I jumped and saw Lukas had snuck up behind me yet again.

I smirked at him. “The last time you surprised me like that, I nearly broke you in half with a stick.”

“Nearly,” he said. “But thankfully, not entirely in half. Would you like to dance?”

I realized I was still holding the quilt with the book inside. I’d wanted to present it to the bride and groom myself, but that seemed absurd, given that other gifts had simply been left on a table near the side of the party.

I walked with Lukas to set the quilt down, but by then, bowls of grain had been brought out to toss at the bride and groom, symbolic of our wishes for the couple to have a rich and successful life together, full of bounteous harvests.

I tossed one handful forward, then felt a splatter of grain on me.

“Sorry,” Lukas said with a wink. “I missed.”

I grabbed another handful and threw it directly in his face, then grinned. “So did I!”

Lukas reached for his next handful, but the music had abruptly stopped playing and the clopping sound of horses could be heard on the road behind us.

Lukas leaned out, then the muscles of his face tightened, and through clenched teeth, he said, “We have to go now.”

I set down the bowl of grain and began to follow him away from the road. But we’d only taken a few steps that way before more Cossack soldiers appeared ahead of us too, and this group was holding torches.

Why were they holding torches?

“Everyone remain where you are,” a man said from behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to recognize the voice of Officer Rusakov. He added, “We’re going to do a search. And you all had better hope that we don’t find anything suspicious.”

Despite Officer Rusakov’s orders, Lukas and I absolutely could not remain where we were. If these soldiers performed even a basic search of the gifts, they would find the book. Surely many guests here had seen me arrive with Milda’s quilt. It would only take one guest to point me out.

Without calling attention to himself, Lukas slowly sank behind a large wooden barrel and directed me to do the same. I shook my head, worried that I’d be spotted. Rusakov called for his soldiers to gather around and receive their orders, and the instant he did, Lukas grabbed my hand and yanked me down.

“In this job, you don’t hesitate,” he hissed. “When I tell you to do something, you do it!”

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen Historical
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