“I figure I’ll know it when I see it,” he said, and smiled.

He glanced over at her. She smiled at him. “Remember Mrs. Kantor?”

“Wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be in love with you.”

“Awww,” she said, forgetting what she wanted to tell Emil and scooting over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

He put his arm around her, and she snuggled against his chest as the sun rose high overhead and the air turned even warmer. Despite his dark moods, Adeline felt so safe in Emil’s arms, and the wagon and horses were moving so smoothly in rhythm that her eyelids got heavy, and soon she was dozing, too.

October 1933

Birsula, Ukraine

In Adeline’s dreams, Mrs. Kantor and her guests had all raved over the chicken and egg-noodle soup. Esther called it “a triumph,” which made Adeline blush because she thought so, too. She had taken half a bowl for herself and could not remember the last time anything had tasted so good. And there was that handsome, funny young man who’d sold her the firewood.

Emil. He made her smile. Maybe her life was changing for the better again.

She saw Emil pass by on his way to the bakery the evening after the chicken feast and the evening after that. She got irritated that he had not once looked toward the house where he knew she worked. On the third evening, he did the same thing, and she felt hurt in a way that surprised her because, really, she’d only spoken to him for a few minutes. What had she expected, anyway?

Adeline was at the sink, furiously scrubbing pots ten minutes after he’d gone past her for the third evening in a row, when she happened to look up through the kitchen window and saw Emil standing at the rear gate, looking awkward. He waved.

Adeline waved back, dried her hands, checked her hair in the mirror, and went out. “More wood to sell?” she asked.

“Uh, no. Uh, you need some? I can make sure you’ve got enough.”

Adeline smiled. “You can drop by a little every day if you like.”

Emil blushed, smiled, and then nodded. “I can do that. I . . . I’d like that.”

Their conversation never ended from that day forward. Granted, it stopped during the day when they were apart and working, but together they picked back up right where they’d left off, both of them mooning over each other like fools. At times, Adeline felt like they could complete each other’s sentences, and her heart physically ached whenever they parted.

But when Emil asked her to marry him on the first anniversary of their meeting, Adeline was conflicted and asked him for time to think about it. She loved cooking and taking care of Mrs. Kantor. And she had a steady paycheck for the first time in her life and made more money than Emil did gathering firewood. On the other hand, she adored Emil. He was funny, hardworking, and even though he had not stayed in school as long as she had, he was smart, street-smart, the kind of man who would survive. But would he grow and thrive? Would she have a better life with him than a life alone?

The next morning, Mrs. Kantor noticed her fretting, and Adeline explained her predicament, finishing, “I have it so good here. You are kind to me. We have enough to eat, and you’ve given me a warm place to sleep. What should I do? He collects firewood for a living.”

Mrs. Kantor gazed at her for several moments before replying. “I shall be heartbroken if you leave, Adelka, but it is better to be a poor wife than a rich maid. You have said Emil is a good man, which means you will know love if you leave me. You will have children if you leave me. You will have a family. And what a family it will be!”

Her employer had said this last statement with such enthusiasm that she almost knocked over her water glass. This caused Adeline to burst out laughing, which very much pleased Mrs. Kantor.

“Keep laughing,” she said, wagging a finger at her. “Laughter keeps you young at heart. Laugh at least once a day. Twice is better.”

“That’s easy,” Adeline said.

“Not always. Can I give you some other advice that has helped me in life?”

“Please,” she said.

Mrs. Kantor waved her to the chair across from her where her friend Esther had sat. Adeline took the chair tentatively, but then smiled at the older woman.

“My dear,” Mrs. Kantor said, “I have come to believe after eighty-one years on this earth that our job in life is to endure, to be kind, and to constantly put the past behind us and not dwell too much on the future. If you must look back, try to find the beauty and the benefit in every cruelty done to you. If you must think about the future, try to have no expectations about it. Trust in God to guide you through. You understand?”

Adeline did not understand everything the older woman was saying, but she nodded.

“Good,” Mrs. Kantor said. “Because when you do that, my dear, you will know God’s blessing and deserve every happiness and abundance this life has to offer as long as you give part of your abundance to others less fortunate. Do you understand?”

Adeline was still not fully grasping what Mrs. Kantor was telling her, but she nodded again. Her uncertainty must have shown in her face because her employer sighed.

“I’m trying to give you the keys to a long and happy life, Adeline,” Mrs. Kantor said. “Listen again. Our job in life is to endure, to be kind, and to constantly put the past behind us and not dwell too much on the future. If you must look back . . .”

The old woman’s voice blurred and faded, replaced in Adeline’s dream by another memory, a later memory, one far more bitter and scarring.

January 13, 1936

Pervomaisk, Ukraine

Feeling weaker and more helpless than at any other time in her life, twenty-year-old Adeline gazed down at her baby boy, dear sweet Waldemar, fussing in her arms, still trying to nurse at her painful, dry nipples, his own arms so tiny, and his skin so thin and close to the bone, she wanted to break down sobbing and did.

Emil put his arms around her shoulders. “My friends are trying to find cream for him. We will find some; I’m sure of it.”

“We’ll both go ask strangers,” she said, panicked. “Anyone and everyone. Find your mother first. Get her to come take care of her grandson while you and I try to keep him alive.”

The couple had relocated to Pervomaisk shortly after their marriage because Emil’s mother had moved there and said there was work in the small city four hours east of Birsula. Emil got a job first as a field hand and then in the brewery. Life as newlyweds suited them despite their humble living arrangements, and soon Adeline became pregnant.

Back in August 1935, more than six months into her term, Adeline was still working in the fields. The month had started out wet, and then turned hot. The mosquitos along the aptly named Bug River were thick as she worked, so she never knew which bite passed the disease. But by the first of September, as she entered her seventh month, Adeline was suffering the debilitating symptoms of malaria. The first attack began with a pleasant, heavy feeling at the base of her neck that led to drowsiness and then to a delicious sleep in a darkness so complete and comforting, only painful joint ache and a soaring fever could wake her.

Day after day, Adeline burned up, hallucinating her father’s long-awaited return as new fevers spiked and then broke, drenching her in sweat. Within minutes, she’d be chilled to the bone and shivering so violently, blankets could not warm her.

She’d fall asleep finally, only to have the same pleasant, heavy feeling at the back of her neck again as the malaria cycle started over. With each new attack coming six to eight hours apart, Adeline became weaker, unable to keep food down. She lost weight. She feared for the baby growing inside her but could do nothing until Emil found a doctor who gave her quinine.

Improving steadily by the end of September and through October, Adeline had not had a malaria attack in nearly twenty days when November took the calendar and the birth of her first child loomed. On the twelfth of that month, she was sewing a blanket for the cradle Emil had built. The baby was active, kicking all the time, something she adored.

It was early afternoon, but she was very tired and set her handiwork down and closed her eyes, almost immediately feeling the familiar, hated, lovely pressure at the base of her skull. She slept the dreamless sleep and awoke to malarial fevers different from the previous bouts, higher temperatures and headaches so bad, she thought the pain would break her eardrums.