Salt to the Sea

“What happened?” he asked.

I began removing the stitches. What could I tell him? How much would he even understand? He stared at me. Was he waiting for the story or just looking at me? I took a breath.

“There is no boyfriend,” I whispered. “The family she was staying with gave her to the Russians to save their daughter. The boyfriend was a story she made up to continue on. She won’t really look at the baby yet.”

His face changed. Sincerity and sadness erased the bravado. “That kid. She’s a warrior.”

“Yes, but fighting who?”

He looked at me, surprised. “Everyone. Everything. Fighting fate.”

“Now I understand. She clings to you because you saved her from the Russian in the forest. You’re proof that there are still good men in the world.”

“Stop. Don’t say those things.” He stared at the wall.

I pulled the last of the stitches from his muscular torso.

“How long until we sail?” he asked.

“They say we’ll leave soon.”

“I need to find somewhere out of sight,” he whispered. “Do you know of a place?”

He had boarded, but now he wanted to hide?

I shook my head. “I don’t know the ship well yet. I’m constantly getting lost.” I watched him button his shirt. “Florian, will you do something for me? Will you come say hello to Emilia? Please? It would really lift her spirits.”





emilia


Was I dreaming? Was the knight really walking toward me? I sat up quickly. His eyes immediately shifted to the baby.

“Yes, that’s the beautiful girl,” Joana told him.

The knight stopped and raised his arms. “No pink hat? Where’s your pink hat?” he asked.

I pointed to a heap of coats. The knight dug through and retrieved the knit cap. He then gently lifted the baby and tucked the hat over her like a blanket. She sat like a little crescent moon in the curve of his arm. He walked over to me.

He looked from the baby to me and then back to the baby.

“Hmm. Your eyes. Your nose. Pretty,” he said. He put his lips against the top of the baby’s head and closed his eyes. He looked beautiful. Joana stared at the knight. She thought he was beautiful too.

He opened his eyes and whispered to me. “Kind of incredible. She is you, she is your mother, your father, your country.” He kissed her head and leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“She is Poland.”

My arms lifted and reached for the child.





florian


We left the Polish girl holding her baby. Joana followed me out of the maternity area, her face a mixture of shock and confusion. She grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a door.

“What just happened in there?” she whispered. “Who are you?”

I shrugged. “I like kids.” I lifted my pack onto my back. “But now I need that sailor to help me find a place to hide.”

“Why is he helping you?”

I tried to suppress a smile. “I told him he would get a medal.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Joana.

“I did.”

“You’re awful.” She laughed.

“I’m awful? Then why are you laughing?” I asked.

She laughed even harder. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t laugh.”

“So stop laughing.”

She laughed more, leaning against my shoulder. Her face smelled of soap.

“You look nice clean,” I said.

Her laughter eased and she smiled. “Thank you. And thank you for bringing my suitcase.” She stood on her toes, took my face in her hands, and kissed me.

My arms were around her. I kissed her back. And kissed her again.

“And thank you,” she whispered, looking into my eyes. “For Emilia.”

She slid from my arms and walked off.





joana


The hallway narrowed and tightened with oncoming passengers. I turned the corner to the glass enclosure of the promenade deck. Frozen constellations of ice laced the edges of the window. I put my fingers on the chilled glass, staring out but not looking. I was supposed to be the smart girl. What was I doing? He was younger. I knew nothing about him. He was clearly involved in something deceitful. But if he could be so gentle with the baby, so kind to Emilia, could he really be a bad person?

I kissed him because of Emilia.

My conscience tapped at me from behind the glass.

Or maybe I kissed him because I wanted to.

And oh, my, it was nothing like chewing crackers.

I turned around and leaned against the window. January permeated the glass and my blouse. For the first time in a long time, my body felt warmer than the outside air.

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