The Stolen Child : A Novel by Keith Donohue

Author:Keith Donohue [Donohue, Keith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0385516169
Publisher: Nan A. Talese
Published: 2006-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

42

Musikant Eger Boheme

213 Clara Ungerland

40

"

"

214 Friedrich "

14

"

"

215 Josef "

6

"

"

216 Gustav "

½

"

"

217 Anna "

9

"

"

"Won't she be delighted? What a fine wedding gift."

I could not begin to answer his questions. The names evoked a rush of memory. Josef, my brother— Wo in der Welt bist du? Anna, the one who died in the crossing, the absent child who broke my mother's heart. My mother, Clara. My father, Abram, the musician. Names to go along with my dreams.

"I know you said he was here in 1859, but sometimes the past is a mystery. But I think 1851 is right for Herr Ungerland, not 1859," said Father Hlinka. "History fades over time."

For a moment, the six came alive. Of course I did not remember Eger or Cheb. I was a baby, not yet one year old, when we came to America. There was a house, a parlor, a piano. I was taken from there and not from this place.

"No records in the churches, but I thought we should try emigration archives, no? Won't Mrs. Day be thrilled? I cannot wait to see her face."

I folded the paper and stuck it in my pocket. "Of course, Father, yes, you should be the one to tell her. We should celebrate ... tonight if you like."

The pleasure of his smile almost made me regret lying to him, and I was equally heartbroken to leave the magnificent organ behind. But I hurried from St. Nicholas's, the history in my pocket against my heart. When I found Tess, I made up a story about the police sniffing around the church for two Americans, and we slipped away, retracing our steps to the border.

When we reached the forest near the river crossing, I was shocked to see a young boy, perhaps as old as seven, standing by himself beside a large tree. He did not take notice of us, but remained quite still, as if hiding from someone. I could only imagine what might be in pursuit, and part of me wanted to rescue him. We were nearly upon him before he flinched, and putting a finger to his lips, the child begged us to be quiet.

"Do you speak German?" Tess whispered in that language.

"Yes, quiet please. They are after me."

I looked from tree to tree, anticipating a rush of changelings.

"Who is after you?"

"Versteckspiel," he hissed, and hearing him, a young girl burst from the green background to chase and tag him on the shoulder. When the other children emerged from their hideaways, I realized they were playing a simple game of hide-and-seek. But as I looked from boy to girl, from face to face, I could not help but remember how easily they could alter their appearance. Tess thought them cute and wanted to linger awhile, but I hurried her onward. At the river, I hopped from stone to stone, fording the water as quickly as I could. Tess was taking her time, frustrated and annoyed that I had not waited for her.

"Henry, Henry, what are you running from?"

"Hurry, Tess.

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