Page 63 of Cilka's Journey
“I saw someone do that once to someone who had fainted,” she explains.
In the dark they can’t see if Josie has begun to open her eyes. Cilka senses that she is coming to and talks softly to her. Brushing Josie’s face, she feels tears.
“It’s all right, Josie, we have you.” It is an effort for Cilka to keep her voice gentle. A part of her feels enraged, helpless to the point of dizziness. She has seen too many naked bodies lying in snow. With no choice but to give in. But Josie has a choice. Maybe Cilka hasn’t helped her enough to see that. “Josie, you are going to be all right. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”
A chorus of support increases Josie’s crying. “I’m sorry,” comes out, choked with tears. “I’m so sorry. I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” Cilka says with force. “You can. You must.”
“You can, Josie,” Elena says, and the other women echo the words, reaching in to touch her.
Cilka says, “She’s going to be all right now. Take back your blankets and get some sleep. I’m going to spend the night with her.” She will curl up beside her, despite the dizzying rage. She will give her what she needs. She will hold her. She will make her see this is not the end. “Thank you all,” Cilka says. “We have to stick together, we’re all we have.”
Many of the women hug both Josie and Cilka before going back to their beds, where sleep may or may not come for the rest of the night. Cilka doesn’t respond to their affection, but feels grateful somewhere deep down.
Cilka moves Josie over and climbs into her bed. With her arms over Josie’s large belly, their heads resting against each other, Cilka murmurs softly. Josie soon falls asleep. It doesn’t happen for Cilka, who is still awake when the clanging sounds in the dark, signaling it is time to get up.
After roll call, Cilka tells Antonina that Josie is having some pains and she thinks she should come to the maternity hospital with her in case the baby is coming. Antonina looks like she is just about out of patience with Cilka’s requests, but says nothing, which Cilka interprets to mean she is allowed to take her. She will need to return with some extra tea or bread for the brigadier, or she will suffer the consequences.
Petre examines Josie. “The baby is fine,” he says. “It has a strong heartbeat, but it is not ready to be born.”
Josie, who has not yet said a word all morning, but has kept one arm clutched on Cilka’s on the walk to the hospital, tells the doctor she just wants the baby to be born. Petre senses there is more to her story and has her placed in a bed for rest.
Cilka is grateful. There are no signs of frostbite, because they found her so quickly, but Josie had shivered all night, and now she needs to rest and stay warm. Petre takes Cilka aside and asks her if there is anything else going on with Josie. Cilka looks into the doctor’s kind face and thinks she can risk telling him what happened last night, emphasizing that Josie is not a shirker, that she is in fact unwell.
Josie sleeps the day away. When it is time for her and Cilka to return to their hut Petre tells them that he thinks he needs to keepan eye on Josie as her baby could come at any time. He hands Cilka a note to give to Antonina, stating that Josie is to come to the hospital for observation every day until the baby is born. Cilka tucks the note into her pocket along with the bread she has saved from her meal. Her stomach groans. She has not eaten enough herself today, and the fatigue has made the hunger worse, but she must keep the brigadier content.
For the next three weeks, Josie sleeps and helps out on the ward. She holds the hands of young women like herself as they labor and give birth. Cilka can see that being on this ward is helping Josie just as it helped her. While remaining fearful of the process she is yet to go through, Josie tells Cilka she thinks she can do it, and is now beginning to look forward to meeting her baby, holding her baby in her arms, and feeling what she has seen on the faces of many of the gaunt, tired, beaten women when they first look at their child. Cilka starts to smile a little again, realizes how the muscles around her neck and shoulders have been bunched up—not from the cold but from holding the worry in her body that Josie would not find a way to make it through. Cilka herself does not know how she has always found a way, does not know where that comes from, within herself. She has never wanted to die, despite the horror.
Josie goes into labor on the first day of Hanukkah. She endures a long, painful birth, helped and encouraged by Cilka, Petre and Tatiana. Cilka brings the blessings and songs of this time of the year, their comfort and joy, secretly to the front of her mind. It is less painful to remember them in this small, contained environment of new life.
She gets permission to stay with Josie after the end of her shift. On the stroke of midnight, Josie delivers a tiny, squalling, precious baby girl.
When mother and baby are clean and the ward is quiet, Cilka asks, “Have you thought of a name for her?”
“Yes,” Josie says, looking into her friend’s eyes. “I’m going to call her Natia Cilka. Do you mind if her second name is after you?”
Josie passes the baby to Cilka.
“Hello, little Natia,” Cilka says. “I am honored that you will share my name.” So many thoughts rush in for Cilka. How dangerous and unexpected the path ahead could be for this tiny new being. “The story of your life begins today, Natia. My hope for you is that you will be able to live your own life, with the help of your mumma and everyone who will love you. There is a better world out there. I’ve seen it. I remember it.”
Cilka looks up at Josie and realizes the baby has allowed her to express something to her friend that she can’t say directly. She hands the baby back and leans in to kiss them both.
The next morning, Natia is thoroughly examined by Petre, who declares her the healthiest and sweetest newborn he has ever seen, and he has seen a lot of them. Josie glows.
Later that day, Cilka takes Josie and Natia next door to the nursery and settles them in to what will be their home for the next two years. No mention is made of what will happen at the end of that time. Cilka has now heard from the nurses that the toddlers are sent to orphanages at two, but she doesn’t tell Josie this. She’ll find out soon enough. Two years is a long time in this place, and Cilka is determined to find a way to keep them together.
That evening, after Cilka fills the other women in on all the details of Josie’s labor and birth, the loss they feel without Josie starts to sink in. Within days, a stranger will be sleeping in her bed. The little gowns so lovingly made by them all are bundled up and given to Cilka to take to her. They also send word that they will continue to make clothes for little Natia, in varying sizes as she grows, and they will run freely with the embroidered lace now they know it is a little girl they are sewing for.
Without Josie’s presence Cilka allows herself a little thought of Alexandr, the messenger, finding that his face provides comfort. She wonders if she will ever speak to him again, hopes that she might.
Cilka and the others return to their hut the next day and find someone sleeping in Josie’s bed. The newcomer winces as she sits up to face the women’s scrutiny.
“I am Anastasia Orlovna,” she says, in a strong clear voice.
Elena walks over to her, looking her up and down. The bruises on the newcomer’s face reflect beatings over a period of time. The older ones are a purplish blue, more recent ones still black. Her right eye is partially closed from swelling.
“How old are you?” Elena asks.
