The Lady at the River's Edge

34 - Reunion

Erzsebet held out the two ragged cloth dolls, feeling oddly self-conscious about the gesture. "Here," was all she said. Her tongue wasn't to be trusted; the wrong word might yet wake her from this fantasy, this lovely dream where her siblings were here, safe in the tent with her.

Ilona's eyes went wide at the sight of the dolls. She reached across to take them, hesitant, reverent, as if they were holy relics. "You–how did you..."

"I went looking for you that night," Erzsebet explained, stroking Antal's head as he slept in her lap. Speaking of the past at least seemed safe, its details already set in stone–it was the present which could yet be torn from her, and with it any bright future. "After we were separated in that crowd, I came back to find you. I went as far as the tower..." Did Ilona know about Mihaly's death? From the light in her eyes, it seemed not, and Erzsebet had no wish to darken the girl's spirits. "I didn't find you, obviously," she went on, "but I found the trunks with our things, so I took your dolls, because... Well, I suppose, in hopes of a moment just like this."

And there it was: the truth of her terror, the crippling disbelief. One of her hopes, one of her dearest hopes, had come to pass. How, after all she had suffered, could she not think it fleeting? How could it be anything but a cruel trick?

But there was nothing cruel in what she saw before her: her little sister, staring down at her dolls with rapture, joyful tears beading at the corners of her eyes. She sniffled, squeezing them to her chest.

Erzsebet gave the girl some time, happy to simply sit and marvel at her. She seemed well; her dress was stained and torn in places, but no worse than Erzsebet's own, and she looked to have been eating plenty. Yet more gratitude she owed Facan–she glanced towards the tent flap, wondering what he and Janos might be talking about with Bolya. Dared she to hope they were drawing up a battle plan?

"It's you," Ilona murmured.

"Hm?" Erzsebet looked back at the girl.

She raised one of the dolls up, facing it towards Erzsebet. "This one is you," she said. Still her voice was thick with emotion, but the light never wavered from her eyes. "I called her Erzse."

She felt her own tears start to well up, and worked to keep composure. "Oh?" she asked, pointing. "Then, is that one you?"

"Mhm." The girl nodded, raised the other. "This is Ila."

"Erzse and Ila," she repeated. "Well, I'm glad they're together."

Ilona shuffled over on her knees and wrapped her in a hug. In a small voice she said, "So am I."

It was not their first embrace since reuniting–nor would it be their last, if Erzsebet had any say–but there was something different now, some aspect of this moment that persuaded her of its reality. She held her little sister with one hand, rested her palm on the warm forehead of her little brother, and was convinced at last that she could trust this happiness. At least, for the time being.

This was something to cherish, something she needed to protect, which meant it was real.

Eventually Ilona let her go, wiping her eyes, looking a bit sheepish. When she had settled back into her seat, Erzsebet finally asked the question that had haunted her ever since that dreadful night: "What happened, after I lost my hold of you? I was so scared, I thought you fell..."

The memory was clearly difficult for the girl as well, but she steeled herself admirably and answered. "I did fall. It hurt my knees, and it was so scary, everyone running and yelling above me. People kept bumping into my back. All I could do was hold Antal and kind of... curl around him, I guess. I was so scared, I thought they were going to crush me, and it was all so loud..."