Klara's Journey by Ben G. Frank

Author:Ben G. Frank
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Marion Street Press, LLC
Published: 2013-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

19

Klara Discovers Family Secrets, Irkutsk, August 1918

During August 1918, the Siberian war expands. Cossacks have set up independent fiefdoms. These forces will soon welcome the Allied “interventionists,” which include Greeks, Italians, Americans, British, and Japanese. Entering Russia, these nations say they only want to protect Allied supplies in Siberia against German seizure. Most of the Allies, however, want to intercede in the civil war on behalf of the Whites.

The Czechs and the Whites control Irkutsk. The Reds have not attacked. All the more reason for Mischa to plead again with Klara to go now. He knows they’re coming. But like his sister, he’s too blunt. Timing is not one of his virtues.

One morning as they finish a light breakfast, coffee and a piece of black bread, Mischa says, “Klara, you must move from here. Get ready. I know a Buriat soldier. Met him when we visited Rachel. You can go with him. They’re Mongolian nomads and they’re intelligent. Their leader is a shaman, a type of witch doctor. They’ll take care of you. They won’t bother you. Hide with them for a while. And then he’ll take you across the border.

“Alright already. I’ll go!” snaps Klara, her anger rising toward this brother of hers, who clearly won’t help her find Vladimir. “You’re a nag. Always interfering in my life. I can’t take it anymore. Leave me alone. You’re a pest; you just want me out of the way.”

Her eyes bear down on him. Out come all the hurts.

“You did that in Odessa, too. You’re just jealous because Momma chose me. She had no faith in you. And did you ever prove it,” she sneers. “You ran out on her. You’ve offered up all the excuses, but you even told me you left the day after I got on the train in Odessa.”

“You ungrateful bitch. How many times have I saved your ass? More than that sheigitz boyfriend of yours.”

She slaps him. The sting hurts and loosens his tongue.

“Go already,” Mischa says, raising his voice. “I don’t give a damn about you anymore. You’re not my sister, anyway. You’re …”

Silence.

“I’m not what?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. Out with it.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re not going anywhere unless you tell me,” says Klara getting up, moving to the edge of the room. Turning around, she places her back up against the door. She folds her hands across her slightly heaving bosom. Her eyes burst with anger.

“What are you? A guard at a prisoner of war stockade?” laughs Mischa in a mocking yet agitated tone.

“Better tell me the truth. Out with it, you bastard,” and she raises her hand, ever so slightly, but enough to warn Mischa, who though stronger physically, flinches. He knows this has gone too far already.

“Don’t get crazy. I just lost my temper.”

“Okay. Let’s start over. ‘I’m not your sister,’” she says, shaken by the very words coming out of her mouth. Standing resolute in front of the door, she, too, is not sure what this’ll lead to; nor that she ought to know.

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