Free The Impossible Journey by Gloria Whelan

with his suitcase. We could not walk across Siberia carrying suitcases. When I found a secondhand store, I went inside and put our two cases on the counter.
    â€œHow much will you give me for these?” I asked the woman behind the counter. She was a short, plump woman nearly hidden by the counter’sjumble of plates and pots.
    â€œWhere did you steal those suitcases?” She looked suspiciously at the good leather cases, which Mama and Papa had managed to hang on to from the days long ago when their families were wealthy. When she opened the cases and saw our clothes, the package of fruit and bit of ham that was left, and our blankets, her expression changed from suspicion to curiosity.
    â€œWhy are you two running away?” she asked. “Have you done something bad?”
    I shook my head. Before I could stop him, Georgi said, “We’re looking for our mama. The policemen have taken her away.”
    At once she guessed the truth. “Hush,” she said. Though the store was empty, she looked nervously about. “It is a terrible thing when parents are wrenched away from their children and sent off to Lord knows where.” She burrowed among the jumbles and drew out two knapsacks. “Put what you must carry in here,” she said. “Your suitcases are fineleather. I’ll have no trouble getting rid of them.” She handed me a little pile of rubles. There was a sad look on her face, as if she were made unhappy by the stories of all the abandoned wares piled up in her store. Now our own story would be an added burden.
    I stuffed our belongings into the knapsacks, then put the lighter one on Georgi’s back and the larger one on my own.
    While the shopkeeper and I transacted our business, Georgi was looking longingly at a small glass globe enclosing a tiny cottage. When he shook the globe, a shower of snow covered the cottage. He watched me put the rubles in my pocket.
    â€œMarya, remember at Christmas there were no presents? Couldn’t I have the little cottage in the glass?”
    I looked at the price marked on the globe. “It’s too much money, Georgi. We need every kopeck.” We were nearly at the door when the shopkeeper called Georgi back.
    â€œHere, young fellow, take it.” She handed Georgi the globe, and he danced out of the store. I thought that she would make a great deal more on the suitcases than she gave to us, so her giving the globe to Georgi was not terribly generous. Then I was angry with myself for being suspicious.
    After peering in the windows of several food shops, I chose the one where the prices were the most reasonable and the flies the least numerous. The June day was warm, and I knew warmer days were ahead. Whatever I chose would have to withstand the heat. I bought dried fruit and dried meat, a large loaf of bread, and a big hunk of hard cheese. I also bought a knife and some matches, for I hoped to hunt small wild animals and cook them over a fire.
    With our purchases made and the remaining rubles tied up in a handkerchief and tucked into my pocket, there was nothing to do but to find the river and begin our trip.
    Taking Georgi’s hand, I walked through the town,using as our guide to find the river an immense bridge I could see in the distance. When we finally reached the river, I looked longingly at the landing where a steamship was tied up. A line of passengers was filing onto the ship. I saw that each passenger was handing a soldier a little booklet to be stamped. Passports. Even if we had had enough money for tickets, we had no passports and no Dr. Glebov to take us aboard the steamship with his family.
    â€œMarya,” Georgi begged, “can’t we sit down for a bit? I’m tired, and the straps from the knapsack hurt my back.”
    I led him along the bank of the river to a grassy spot and was as glad as Georgi to settle down. I knew that we ought to begin our trip, but I didn’t know how to take the