Page 7 of The World That We Knew

Ettie hushed her sister. “You can walk among us,” she told the golem. “Sit up.”

As the creature did so, Hanni was overcome with tears when she saw the expression of mute trust in its eyes.

Ettie sat back on her heels, a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was an intense connection, as if the four were one. The very air was smoky and foul.

“She should have a name,” Marta whispered, for the clay was now clearly alive.

“Don’t be silly. The other one wasn’t named.” The men had called it “you” and “it” before they had destroyed it. Ettie doubted that a naming was proper.

But Marta was unyielding. Her blood had helped bring it to life. They could not treat it like a slave with no identity. “She must be named.”

Ettie was reluctant to treat a monster as if it were human, but her sister was so insistent that in the end she relented. What difference would a name make? Dogs were named, and that was not an affront to God. They decided to call the thing Ava, reminiscent of Chava, the Hebrew word for life. They hadn’t expected her to be beautiful or young, but she was both, appearing to be no more than twenty-five. When they began to clean up the mud and muck, the creature quickly took over, sweeping the floor, cleaning out the basket in which they’d carried the clay that had made her. Then she clapped her hands together so that any remnants of soil were dispersed. She was given the dress Hanni had sewn, which fitted her perfectly. The sisters offered up a pair of the rabbi’s old boots, for the creature’s hands and feet were as large as a man’s. She was strong, they could see that, and, they could tell, she was learning more about their world every second. She cocked her head and listened to their conversation.

“Do you understand us?” Ettie inquired.

The golem stared at her, then nodded.

“I believe you do,” Ettie told her creation. “You should know from the beginning you do not have a heart or a soul and can never be a woman.”

The creature nodded again, acknowledging what she’d been told. Ettie took Hanni aside, out of the golem’s hearing, and out of Marta’s hearing as well. There were rules when one fashioned a golem, some of which Ettie believed her sister was too sensitive to hear. It concerned the creature’s extermination, which Ettie now revealed was as important as her creation. Everything had an appointed season and there was a time for every matter under heaven.

Hanni gazed at the innocent creature with compassion when she was told of the last step.

“You must understand,” Ettie confided. “It doesn’t matter that she looks like us. She is not human. If she lasts too long, and gathers too much strength, she will be uncontrollable, and will no longer do as she’s told. As in all things, there is a beginning and an end. This is what my father told his students, and this is what I must tell you.”

When they came back to address the golem, Ettie informed the creature of what her task would be, from this time forward. “You’ll do as this woman tells you. You’ll care for her daughter at all costs. You cannot abandon her or leave her on her own. She is the only one who matters to you.” The golem nodded, having understood.

Now that the deed was done, Hanni gave the rabbi’s daughter the packet of jewels and two tickets to Paris on the night train. She was a thief and a murderess, but she paid her debts and she knew how to love someone. In this brief time, she had come to love this serious red-haired girl. In a moment of raw emotion, she threw her arms around Ettie. “You would have been a great rabbi,” she told her. It was likely a sin to say such a thing, but what was one more sin after what she had already been party to?

For so long, that had been Ettie’s secret wish, the reason she had yearned to have been born a boy. But that was no longer her desire. She didn’t ask to be a scholar or a student or even to earn her father’s respect. The most she dared to wish for now was to live long enough to become a woman.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE FOLLOWER

BERLIN, SPRING 1941

THE GOLEM MADE CERTAIN TO keep ten paces behind Hanni. She understood both her purpose and her place from the moment she was brought into this world. She was tall, nearly six feet, made even taller by wearing the rabbi’s heavy winter boots. She didn’t feel cold or heat or wind or rain, but as they walked into the sunlight that was breaking through the foggy morning sky, the light fell upon her for the first time, and she was amazed. The marvel of all she saw was staggering. He has made everything beautiful in its time. She understood her time was now. What had been clay had become flesh.

Every now and then, Hanni glanced behind her, fearing that the golem might disappear, rise into the air and float away or disperse into dust. Or perhaps she herself would wake in bed to discover that everything that had transpired in the cellar had been a dream. But no, there was the golem, calmly following, her long dark hair flowing down her back, her eyes raised to the sky as if looking for the Almighty, who had allowed her to breathe and walk and speak.

She may be like a dog, or she may have thoughts and desires.

This one seemed more like a dog, stopping a few steps behind Hanni each time Hanni paused to find her way. At last they came to an address Ruth had given her, an apartment house not far from Grosse Hamburger Strasse, near the oldest Jewish cemetery in the city, in use from 1672. Everyone in the neighborhood had been taken away to Judenhäuser, overcrowded housing. A single squatter remained, moving from flat to flat. The forger. He had been an artist and a printmaker, and Ruth had assured Hanni that he created false documents so well made no authority would dare to question them. Hanni had one treasure left. On their wedding day her husband had presented her with a gold necklace. Now, in exchange for the necklace, she acquired visas to France and identity papers under the names Lillie and Ava Perrin. Each visa cost ten thousand Reichsmarks, but the forger was delighted to have gold instead. Currency changed; gold never lost its value.

While the golem waited in the courtyard, she let herself rest, perching on a stone bench. She was good at mimicking human behavior, to ensure that she wouldn’t stand out, and when Hanni emerged from the forger’s apartment, she had to remind herself it was not another woman who was waiting for her. She assumed the smile on Ava’s face was meant for her, but, in fact, Ava was astounded by all she saw. The green leaves of the trees. The brightening of the mottled clouds. A bird wheeling across the gleaming sky. Fly away, it said to her in a beautiful language that she immediately understood. But she couldn’t listen to the bird’s counsel. She had a duty to uphold.

When they passed the river, she found herself drawn to the water. She could hear the fish calling to her in cool, silvery voices as they warned her to keep herself far from mortal life. But she had no choice. She had come to life with a single purpose, to watch over a girl of twelve who was waiting in a small apartment, on the third floor, half a mile away.

Ava was not sure what sort of being she was. She knew she was not a bird or a fish; she hadn’t that sort of freedom to go where she pleased and do as she wished. As they walked along, she spied a black dog in a fenced yard. She gazed into its eyes. Was this what she was? A beast such as this? The dog was chained, and when it barked plaintively Ava felt something inside her chest tighten. They must do as they were told. They were bound to humans, but humans were not bound to them.

“Hurry,” Hanni called when Ava lingered at the fence listening to what the dog had to say, a litany filled with loyalty and despair.

Do what they say, but don’t think they will ever hear you in return.

The sun had already risen when they entered the courtyard. At last they were safely off the street. There was a measured pause while Hanni stopped to draw a deep breath. The enormity of what they had done and what was still to come overwhelmed her. She was overtaken by emotion when she imagined sending her daughter away. Until the incident in the alleyway, she would have said nothing could be worse than being separated from her child, but now she could think of far more terrible possibilities.

When Ava saw that her companion was crying, she couldn’t help but be curious. This was her first encounter with human sorrow.