Рута Шепетис - Ashes in the Snow [aka Between Shades of Gray]

“Fish? Yes, a little fish,” said the man.

“Why didn’t you bring any for us?” demanded the bald man. Others also yelled at the repeater, calling him selfish.

“I stole it. There was just a little. Only a little.”

“Liale doesn’t like fish,” whispered Janina. I looked at her. She clawed her scalp.

“Does it itch?” I asked.

She nodded. Lice. It was only a matter of time before our entire mud hut was crawling with them.

We took turns digging a path out the front door to make our way to the bakery for rations. I scooped up large amounts of snow to melt for drinking water. Jonas made sure Mother ate her entire ration and drank water. We had been relieving ourselves outside, but with the snowstorm in full rage, we had no choice but to sit on a bucket in the jurta. As a courtesy, the sitter did not face us, but some argued the rear view was worse.

WHEN THE STORM broke, the NKVD yelled at us to get back to work. We emerged from our mud hut. Even though it was dark, the white snow brightened the charcoal landscape. But that’s all we could see—gray everywhere. The NKVD ordered us to roll and chop logs for firewood. Jonas and I passed a jurta completely covered in snow.

“No,” cried a woman outside. The tips of her fingers were bloody, her fingernails shredded.

“Idiots. They built their door so it opened out. When it snowed, they trapped themselves inside. The weaklings couldn’t pull or claw the door down!” Ivanov laughed, slapping his thigh. “Four of them are dead in there! Stupid pigs,” he said to another guard.

Jonas’s mouth hung open. “What are you looking at?” yelled Ivanov. “Get to work.”

I pulled Jonas away from the crying woman and the snow-covered mound.

“He was laughing. Those people died and Ivanov was laughing,” I said.

“Four people died in the very first snowstorm,” said Jonas, looking at his feet. “Maybe more. We need more wood. We have to make it through the winter.”

They split us into groups. I had to walk three kilometers to the tree line to find wood for the NKVD. The bald man was in my group. We trudged through the snow, a dry crunching underfoot.

“How am I expected to walk in this with my bad leg?” complained the bald man.

I tried to rush ahead. I didn’t want to be stuck with him. He would slow me down.

“Don’t you leave me!” he said. “Give me your mittens.”

“What?”

“Give me your mittens. I don’t have any.”

“No. My hands will freeze,” I said, the cold already scraping against my face.

“My hands are already freezing! Give me your mittens. It’s only for a few minutes. You can put your hands in your pockets.”

I thought about my brother offering me his coat, and wondered if I should share my mittens with the bald man.

“Give me your mittens and I’ll tell you something,” he said.

“What are you going to tell me?” I asked, suspicious.

“Something you want to know.”

“What would I want to know from you?” I asked.

“Hurry, give me your mittens.” His teeth chattered.

I walked on, silent.

“Just give me your damn mittens and I’ll tell you why you were deported!”

I stopped and stared at him.

He snatched the mittens off my hands. “Well, don’t just stand there. Keep walking or we’ll freeze to death. Put your hands in your pockets.”

We walked.

“So?”

“You know a Petras Vilkas?” he asked.

Petras Vilkas. My father’s brother. Joana’s father. “Yes,” I said. “He’s my uncle. Joana’s my best friend.”

“Who’s Joana, his daughter?”

I nodded.

“Well, that’s why you’re deported,” he said, rubbing the mittens together. “Your mother knows. She just hasn’t told you. So there you have it.”

“What do you mean, that’s why we’re deported? How do you know?” I asked.

“What does it matter how I know? Your uncle escaped from Lithuania before you were deported.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I? Your aunt’s maiden name was German. So your uncle’s family escaped, probably repatriated through Germany. Your father helped them. He was part of it. So your family was then put on the list. So your father’s in prison, you’ll die here in arctic hell, and your best friend is probably living it up in America by now.”

What was he saying? Joana escaped and went to America? How could that be possible?

“Repatriate, if they can get away with it,” said my father, stopping abruptly when he saw me in the doorway.

Dear Lina,

Now that the Christmas holiday is passed, life seems on a more serious course. Father has boxed up most of his books, saying they take up too much space.

I thought of my last birthday. Papa was late coming to the restaurant.

I told him I had received nothing from Joana. I noticed that he stiffened at the mention of my cousin. “She’s probably just busy,” he had said.

“Sweden is preferable,” said Mother.

“It’s not possible,” said Papa. “Germany is their only choice.”

“Who’s going to Germany?” I yelled from the dining room.

Silence.

“I thought all of Auntie’s family was in Germany,” I said.

“Apparently she has a relative in America. She gets letters from him. He’s in Pennsylvania.”

It was possible.

Joana’s freedom had cost me mine.

“I’d give anything for a cigarette,” said the bald man.

“BUT WHY DIDN’T you tell me?”

“We were trying to protect your uncle. They were going to help us,” said Mother.

“Help us what?” asked Jonas.

“Escape,” whispered Mother.

There was no need to lower our voices. Everyone pretended to occupy themselves with their fingernails or clothing, but they could hear every word. Only Janina watched intently. She sat on her knees next to Jonas, swatting lice off her eyebrows.

“When they got to Germany, they were going to process papers for us to try to repatriate as well.”

“What’s repatriate ?” asked Janina.

“To go back to where your family is originally from,” I told her.

“Are you German?” she asked Mother.

“No, dear. But my sister-in-law’s family was born in Germany,” said Mother. “We thought we could get papers through them.”

“And Papa helped them? So he was an accessory?” I asked.

“Accessory? He committed no crime, Lina. He helped them. They’re family,” she said.

“So is Joana in Germany?” I asked.

“Most likely,” said Mother. “It all went horribly wrong. After they left, your father received reports in April that the NKVD had entered and searched their house. Someone must have informed the Soviets.”

“Who would do such a thing?” asked Jonas.

“Lithuanians who work with the Soviets. They give information about other people in order to protect themselves.”

Someone hacked and coughed in the hut.

“I can’t believe Joana didn’t tell me,” I said.

“Joana didn’t know! Surely her parents didn’t tell her. They feared she might tell someone. She thought they were going to visit a family friend,” said Mother.

“Andrius said they thought his father had international contacts. Now the Soviets think Papa has communication with someone outside Lithuania,” said Jonas quietly. “That means he’s in danger.”

Mother nodded. Janina got up and lay down next to her mother.