Leah reaches for her scarf, for its familiar softness, but finds nothing there. Ah, yes. It has disappeared along with Vasara. She grits her teeth and tackles the staircase that Vasara had pointed to.

The girl. She must find the girl. Though at the thought of confronting that gaunt, pinched face, her fingers dig into her palms. How the girl will react to this twisted state of affairs is anyone’s guess. Hugging her handbag close to her side, Leah climbs the rickety stairs. Her throat constricts. The dust must be getting to her.

Leah sees Daina’s feet first. Two knees sitting on a stair; denim-clad legs, beating against the side of the corner landing. Once-white sneakers that are now gray and scruffy. A piece of sole hanging loose. She had better be careful coming down these stairs.

Leah stops, keeping her distance from the grubby banister. The girl has her arms crossed. Her hair hangs loose around her neck. She needs a haircut. For a moment, their eyes meet, and Leah tries to fathom the jumbled words behind her inquiring eyes. Pretty, blue eyes. Pert nose. There’s personality there, but it’s locked in a frame both frozen and fearful. For once, Leah cannot think of what to say. She cannot even talk to the girl in her native language.

Before she has a chance to say a word, Daina rises mechanically and begins to move down the stairs.

Leah lays a hand on her shoulder. “Wait!” She rushes back down the stairs and scans the front yard for their Lithuanian helper. The notary. He’s standing with Leibel under a tree, leafing through the legal forms, ensuring all is in order.

“Please,” Leah calls, catching his attention, “say girl she come with us — okay? And she must take bag with”—Leah sweeps her arms wide open—“with everything! Yes?” The corner of the man’s eyes narrow in comprehension, and he turns his face to Daina, who has appeared at the door. A string of Lithuanian leaves his mouth and Daina garbles something in reply. He clears his throat.

“Her name is Daina. She says she learned a lot of English in school. You can speak to her directly.”

“Ahh, okay.” Leah bends over and tries to meet Daina’s face. “Daina. Is like Dina. In Israel we have name Dina.”

The way the girl stares back at her, Leah may as well have kept her mouth shut. Leah forges on, pointing at herself.

“Me — I Leah. Can you take bag? Bring you things? We need must go airport now, plane no wait for people.” She taps at her watch’s face for emphasis and Daina appears to understand. When she vanishes back inside, Leah follows, her brain whirring on autopilot. They could just get going and buy what she needs later. Still, Leah stops herself. She should let her take stuff of her own. Whatever clothes the girl may have that she would like to bring along with her. (Excerpted from Family First, Issue 619)