When nothing did, she felt curiously let down. Then, four days after her encounter with the Bird Lady, she overheard her aunts talking about her. It was Tuesday morning, and Natasha was heading downstairs for breakfast. She froze. “. . . but what you don’t seem to understand is that I want what’s best for her too,” Aunt Vera was saying. “Natasha was five years old when Klara left. Five years old!” “Yes, Vera,” Aunt Elena said. “I was there, too.” “She’d started kindergarten only days before, and afterward, for weeks, she said, ‘Why isn’t Mama taking me? Why can’t Mama pack my lunch?’” “It broke my heart,” Aunt Elena said. “Klara broke her heart,” Aunt Vera said. There was an edge to her voice. “Klara broke everyone’s hearts.” “Vera, please. I’m not trying to rewrite history,” Aunt Elena said. “I just . . . I don’t want you to erase history.” “The past belongs in the past,” Aunt Vera said. “I told you that on Natasha’s Wishing Day.
