“Perhaps I will tell the governor of our treatment here,” she threatens at his back.
“As you wish, madam,” he says, an almost imperceptible smile creeping across his face. “We leave in less than an hour.”
Miss Graffam leads the last of the hopeful in an impromptu prayer. Lucine stands outside the group and waits patiently for the celestial entreaties to come to an end.
“You didn’t join the prayer,” Miss Graffam says to her finally.
“I don’t need prayer,” says Lucine.
“Everyone needs prayer, Lucine.”
“Not me. I came to ask you for a favor.”
“Anything.”
“My father’s insurance papers. Can I have them?” asks Lucine.
“They are back in Sivas.”
“Then will you take the horses?”
“The horses?” her teacher asks.
“Tell them you can’t walk. Make them take both horses. Please.”
Miss Graffam’s sad eyes drift toward the sleeping infant in Lucine’s arms and then back to Lucine. “All right,” she says, nodding her head slowly.
The missionary leaves early that evening, accompanied by the commanding officer and a gendarme, all on horseback. Miss Graffam’s big cream-colored hat recedes away from the river. Another trusted adult disappears from her life, but this time it is a gift.
“Where is she going?” Bedros asks.
“Malatya.”
“Will she get help?”
“She will try.”
“Are we going to be flies and follow her?”
“No, Bedros, where she is going there will be soldiers, and you and I need to stay away from people for a while. We will follow the river down as close as we can, staying close to nature,” she says.
“So we won’t get swatted,” he reasons.
She smiles, surprised at his cleverness and at her ability to smile at it.
“But we’re going back for Mairig, right? And Anush?” he asks.
Lucine pretends not to hear him. The four remaining gendarmes issue no new orders. With their commander gone, they disrobe and reward themselves with an impromptu bath in the river. The deportees huddle closer together, turning their backs to the river both from modesty and from envy.
“It’d be nice to bathe with a beauty,” the thick-lipped gendarme barks at their backs.
“Anyone who wants to bathe with a beauty won’t be bathing with the likes of you,” says a fresh-faced soldier, laughing. He reminds Lucine of a Greek boy who once courted Anush. Earlier in the journey, this soldier seemed kinder than the others, but soon he was just as cross as the rest of them.
Lucine waits until all four are up to their necks in river water. “It’s time,” she whispers to Bedros. “You walk along the caravan on the side of the river. I will do the same on the other side. Stop along the way, just like a fly would, going from one group of people to the next. Make as if you are searching for family members. When you get to the end of the caravan, make your way to the brush. Aram and I will be there, waiting for you.”
“How will I find you?” he asks.
“Don’t worry, I will find you.”
She waits for the bony mass of his back to recede, then makes her own way to the wild uncultivated bush that dots the road all the way back to the bridge. She sticks her pinky finger into Aram’s mouth. He slurps and sucks on the makeshift nipple in relative silence. Very few people raise their heads when she approaches. Everyone is concerned with themselves and what’s left of their own. When she gets to the last cluster of deportees, she walks behind the nearest bush and squats as if answering nature’s call. The sky goes from blue to gray, deepening until it resembles one of Hairig’s fabric dyes. Lucine imagines him standing in his leather apron up in the clouds, stirring the colors of the sky until they are dark enough to protect his loved ones. Protect me, Hairig. Hide my body from the wolves and vultures.
She scans the groups of deportees for Bedros. The gendarmes are out of sight, but she can hear them swimming in the river. A branch snaps behind her and her heart leaps into her mouth. Could Bedros have made it to the bush before her? She remains completely motionless, frozen in her squatting position.
“Don’t move.” She recognizes the voice as well as the deep, openmouthed breathing of the thick-lipped gendarme. “Don’t move and you won’t be hurt,” he says from behind her. He is closer now, his breath heavy. “Bend over.” He wraps one arm around her waist and pushes her neck down with the other until her knees buckle and her forehead hits the ground. Aram squirms on the ground between her elbows and knees.