What She Lost

by Melissa W Hunter

  Harry turned to Rubin with a confused expression.

  “It’s for Sarah!” Rubin exclaimed proudly. When Harry continued to stare at him, Rubin laughed and said, “We never got you a wedding present, you see?”

  “So you got us a cow?” Harry asked in disbelief.

  “Yes!” Rubin said. “A cow! For Sarah!”

  I laughed at Rubin and walked to the calf, putting a hand on her soft, leathery hide. Her ear twitched, and when she looked up at me with her milky brown eyes, I smiled.

  “You’re drunk, Rubin,” Harry said.

  “But of course I am.”

  “What are we going to do with a cow?” I asked. She stretched her nose forward to nuzzle my palm, her tail swishing lazily. She had a white crescent around her left eye, reminding me of the moon.

  “You can find a stable for her, and have all the milk you desire,” Rubin said. “Or, if you’d like, you can sell her. She’ll bring you a healthy sum.”

  “No,” I shook my head. “I want to keep her.”

  Rubin slapped Harry on the back. “There. You see? She wants to keep her.”

  Bemused, Harry shook his head and, grabbing the flask from Rubin’s grip, took another long drink.

  “You must give her a name, then,” Rubin said, turning to me. “Then she is truly yours.”

  I considered the cow for a moment. “How do you say ‘moon’ in Russian?” I asked.

  “Луна,” Rubin said.

  “Luna,” I repeated, nodding. “That’s a perfect name for her.”

  I never had a chance to tell Harry about the baby before he left for work. We invited Rubin upstairs for breakfast, and when we’d finished, he and Harry left the apartment together. I suspected both were drunk as they descended the steps, arms around each other’s shoulders. I decided to tell Harry when he came home. I would have supper laid out and candles lit. I would put his hand on my stomach and tell him, “I have a secret to share.” He would take me in his arms and kiss me and whisper, “Thank you, Sarah, for making me so happy!” I moved about the apartment like a sleepwalker, happily anticipating the moment he would walk through the door. So when there was a loud knock, I opened the door without thinking, hoping to throw myself into Harry’s arms. Instead, two strange men dressed in unfamiliar uniforms stood on the other side, their expressions cold. I immediately took a step back.

  A feeling of apprehension settled over me. “Yes?” I whispered cautiously, holding the knob of the door tightly in my fist.

  “Are you Sarah Werthaiser?” one of the men asked in a brisk voice.

  “Yes,” I said softly, my eyes moving between him and his partner.

  “You must come with us,” he said, stepping forward.

  “What?” I gasped, instinctively attempting to close the door in his face. To my horror, he pushed the door open so that I was thrown backward, tumbling against the table. Both men walked into the apartment uninvited. I backed away, my heart racing. I noticed the guns holstered at their waists and a memory returned of another time, long ago, when men with guns forced their way into my home. “My husband will be home shortly,” I said in as brave a voice as I could muster, my arms out, hoping to stop them. I glanced behind them, frantically trying to calculate if I could run past them and out the door, but cold fear rose through me like icy tendrils, and my feet were frozen in place. The man who had yet to speak walked behind me, and before I could turn, he yanked my arms back. I felt pain in my shoulders. I felt something cold circle my wrists, and I struggled when I realized I couldn’t move them forward. Panic shot through me like an electric shock.

  “What’s happening?” I cried as the man behind me pushed me toward the door.

  “You are under arrest for stealing,” the first man said.

  “Stealing?” I breathed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “We received a call that a cow has been stolen from a local dairy. They gave us your name.”

  “But I didn’t steal her!” I cried. “She was a gift!”

  The men didn’t answer as they forced me out the door and down the stairs. My feet fumbled beneath me, and I worried I would fall on the slippery steps. My thoughts instantly turned to the baby in my belly, and I tried desperately to keep my footing, leaning away from the men, supporting myself against the railing, terrified of hurting my unborn child. When we reached the bottom of the staircase, I craned my neck to see Luna, hoping to explain the situation. “She’s there,” I said, trying to nod in the direction of the garden. “If there’s been some mistake, please take her. I didn’t steal her!”

  They ignored me, thrusting me to the front of the building where a car waited, its engine running. My knees went weak. If I got in the car, where would they take me? And would I ever return? Would I ever see Harry again? I heard screams in my ears. Don’t take my daughter! I started to cry. Mama! Mama! Mama! With a burst of adrenaline, I struggled, kicking and screaming, dragging my feet across the sidewalk, trying everything in my power to get away from my captors. But they were too strong. “Please,” I whimpered as they ruthlessly shoved me into the back seat, my wrists still handcuffed behind my back. “Harry!” I cried in vain as they slammed the door shut. Condensation ran down the glass of the foggy window like tears. The two men climbed into the front seat and drove away from my apartment, from my garden with Luna still tied to the fence post, with me trapped in back.

  Forty-Eight

  The doors of the prison cell closed behind me with finality. I barely stood on trembling legs, peering around the dirty cell through watery eyes. A single cot sat in the corner, along with a thin blanket and dirty, flat pillow. A bowl and bedpan sat on the floor, and near the ceiling was a long, thin, barred window.

  “Why are you doing this?” I gasped, turning and gripping the cell bars until my knuckles turned white. “I haven’t stolen anything!”

  The two officers ignored me. The uniforms they wore were different from the Russian police officers’, and when they spoke to each other, it was in Polish. I had grown leery of the Poles in town and tried to keep my distance, but their population continued to grow. Tears fell from my eyes onto the cell floor, and I shook uncontrollably.

  “Where is Ruth Kohn?” I asked nervously. “I need to speak to her.”

  “Who?” one of the officers asked, looking at me at last.

  “Ruth Kohn,” I said again. “She works with the Russians in the local police offices.”

  The men regarded each other for a moment before answering, “They are not in charge here anymore.”

  My knees went weak, and I fell to the floor. Bile rose in my throat as my heart raced. “My husband,” I begged weakly. “At least inform him I’m here. Please. He’ll come for me.”

  The men had turned their backs on me once more, sorting through papers on the desk by the door and talking to each other in low tones. It was like I had ceased to exist. Despair washed over me as I pushed in desperation against the solid bars. One of the men glanced at me over his shoulder and laughed at my pathetic attempt, then they gathered a pile of folders and left the room together.

  I crawled to the corner and hugged my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth. The sudden silence in the room only heightened my panic. Even in the camps, I had never been alone. I leaned against the wall, my hands shaking as I stared at them. I tried to calm my breathing, to think rationally, but a now-familiar and overwhelming panic gripped me. Would the officers send word to Harry? If not, how would he know I was here? How long would I be by myself with my tortured thoughts?

  The hours dragged, and the feeling of isolation, of being totally and utterly alone, became unbearable. I was suffocating. The silence in the small room was so complete that I heard the sound of my pounding heart. I felt my pulse in my ears. Despite the cold in the cell, sweat ran down my face and dampened my hair. I was thirsty, my throat so dry that I swallowed compuls
ively.

  When I closed my eyes, I was transported to the camps. I remembered how Gutcha and I had clung to each other as we were loaded onto trains outside Olkusz. I remembered the darkness that surrounded us when the doors were shut and locked. I remembered the cries, whimpers, and muttered prayers as I held on to my cousin for dear life. I remembered being packed body to body, sleeping standing up, leaning against each other, as small vermin ran over our feet. I remembered the stench in the car and the hunger that gnawed at my stomach and the ache in every limb as we were transported to our fate.

  My eyes flew open and I gasped, shaking my head. “No, no, no, no, no,” I moaned as the emptiness around me, so different from the crowded train cars, yet just as frightening, threatened to pull my sanity under like quicksand. When I thought I would finally go mad, the door across the room opened, and a familiar face peered in.

  “Ruth!” I cried, crawling to the bars again and reaching out for her.

  “Sarah!” she exclaimed, rushing to the cell and kneeling before me, taking my outstretched hand in hers. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know!” I sobbed. “These men came to the door and told me I was being arrested. They said I stole Luna. I didn’t, Ruth! She was a gift! But they wouldn’t listen to me! I don’t understand!”

  Ruth looked at me, anxiously shaking her head. “There is much debate right now about who is in charge,” she said quietly. “The office is in a state of chaos. The Russians are transitioning authority to the Poles, but it’s messy, and there’s been little to no record keeping. And the Poles want people arrested for taking property they think belongs to them.”

  “But I didn’t steal Luna!” I insisted.

  “I know, Sarah.” She sighed, biting her lip. “There’s no order anymore. I want to help, but I’m just a secretary. What can I do?”

  “Can you let Harry know?” I implored. “Can you tell him where I am? He’ll know what to do.”

  Ruth nodded and squeezed my hand reassuringly. “We’ll get you out,” she whispered back. “Don’t worry.”

  At one point, a Polish officer came back holding a tray. I was lying on the cot, staring at the ceiling, trying in vain to calm my nerves. Waves of nausea rolled over me. Shadows were growing in the corners of the room as evening approached, and I dreaded when night would come and I’d be alone in the dark. If that happened, I thought I’d surely lose my mind. I raised my head slightly when I heard the door open and glanced at the officer. He walked to the cell, pulled out a set of keys, and unlocked the door. He slid the tray onto the floor before quickly closing and locking the door again. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  I didn’t move from the cot. After he left, I spared a look at the tray, at the tin cup that held water and the hunk of stale bread and congealed stew and felt my stomach churn. I rolled onto my side to stare at the wall. I pictured Harry’s face and cried silently, longing for the protection of his strong arms, drowning in my misery. Suddenly, I felt a small movement in the pit of my stomach, a tiny, indistinct flutter. I sat up, crossing my hands over my abdomen. Like being thrown a life buoy, I realized with a growing sense of awe that I wasn’t alone. I had the small life growing inside me. I stared at my lap, wondering if I had imagined the little somersault in my stomach. “Do it again,” I whispered into the dark. I began to hum a remembered lullaby from my childhood, closing my eyes and massaging my middle, feeling the small bump hidden beneath my clothes. A certain calm settled over me, and I held on to the fact that I wasn’t alone, that I would never be alone again, as I fell into an exhausted sleep.

  A sound woke me sometime later. I blinked in the darkness, unsure at first where I was. Then the memory of what had happened returned, and I sat up, fear gripping me once more. At first all I saw were the silhouettes of two or three people standing on the other side of the bars. I crept to the far corner of the cot, trembling. Someone struck a match, and then I saw Harry’s face in the light of a candle.

  Relief washed over me. “Harry!” I sobbed, too weak to move.

  His face was angrier than I had ever seen it, and for a moment I worried he was mad at me. But then it softened into a look of pure tenderness, and he whispered, “Oh, Sarah, I’ve been so worried!” He ran to the door of the cell and began to shake it with a terrible ferocity.

  “Shhh!” a voice huffed, and I saw Rubin step forward. Beside Rubin, I saw Ruth, her face pale even in the darkness. Rubin took the candle from Harry and shielded the flame with his hand. “We don’t want to be found out,” he hissed. Harry reached out a hand to Ruth, and she nodded and placed something shiny in his palm. He thrust the key into the lock, throwing open the door to my cell.

  “Come quick, Sarah!” he whispered urgently, and I didn’t need to be told twice.

  I ran into his waiting arms.

  Forty-Nine

  We moved cautiously through the empty main office of the police station to the front door. Harry kept his arm around me the entire time. I wondered how late it was. I was unnerved by the silence and emptiness of the large room, weaving through a maze of desks and chairs. Closed doors led off the office to other rooms with cells, and I kept expecting a guard or officer to walk through and catch us. Surely they didn’t leave prisoners alone at night? Had I been the only prisoner?

  Once outside, we ran through the cold, dark city streets, sticking to the alleys, avoiding the main roads where streetlamps shone in the early-morning darkness. Snow fell silently from heavy clouds, blanketing our heads and shoulders and concealing our footsteps. We parted ways with Ruth just outside our home. “Stay with Sam and Sophie,” Rubin told her. “Do not come into work tomorrow. Understand?”

  She nodded and ran to Sam’s door. I saw a light on beneath their drawn window shade. I wanted to see Sam, but Rubin urged us up the stairs to our own apartment. I wasn’t able fully to catch my breath until we were safely inside. “Lock the door behind me, Harry,” Rubin said in a low, serious tone. “Whatever you do, don’t leave the house. And don’t open the door for anyone. Not for Sam or Sophie or Ruth or Erna or Pinky. I will be back tonight. You’ll know it’s me by my knock.”

  Harry nodded. “Be safe, Rubin,” he said, extending a hand to his friend while hugging me close to his side with his other arm. Rubin stepped forward and wrapped us both in his large embrace.

  “Remember what I said,” Rubin whispered as he stepped outside our door, turning up the collar of his coat and pulling his hat low on his head. Harry nodded and closed the door, turning the lock securely in place and pulling the chain across.

  Once we were alone, I collapsed onto our bed and began to sob. Harry sat beside me, holding me, his emotions raging. He swore under his breath and ran his hand over his face. His cheeks were bright red from cold and anger, his eyes bloodshot. “I’m sorry, Harry,” I whispered, trying to stop my tears. “Don’t be mad.”

  “When I came home and you weren’t here,” he started, but then his jaw clenched and he stopped. I lifted my chin and saw the fear in his eyes. I reached up and ran my hand along the stubble of his jaw, wanting to wipe the grim expression from his face. “I’m all right,” I whispered.

  “I called for you over and over,” he said, “and when you didn’t answer, I didn’t know what to do. It was just like with … like with Estella.”

  I let out a breath, realizing then what he had been through as well. I wrapped my arms around him and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He laid his head on mine and breathed softly into my hair, “I’m just so relieved you’re home.”

  “How did you know where I was?”

  “Ruth found me. She came to the apartment shortly after I got home and found me frantic. She told me what had happened. I was ready to march down to the jail and demand they release you, but Ruth stopped me. She told me that they would never listen to me and that she had stolen a key to both the main office and your prison cell before she left th
e police station. She knew we had to go back for you once everyone had left. I didn’t know what to do with myself in the hours until then. I couldn’t imagine what you were going through.”

  “Ruth did that for me? Isn’t that dangerous?”

  When Harry didn’t answer, I knew the answer was yes. I shook my head in disbelief. “Oh, Ruth,” I whispered. “So that’s why Rubin didn’t want her to go to work today?” Harry nodded, his lips stretched in a grim line.

  “I always knew you would come,” I said. “That kept me strong.” He pulled away and looked at me somberly. Then he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “I won’t lose you too, Sarah,” he whispered, his arms tight around me. Together, we lay on the bed fully clothed, falling asleep in each other’s embrace as the sun began to rise.

  We spent the day barricaded inside. Harry paced the rooms, peeking furtively through the drawn curtains every hour to glance at the street outside.

  “Why can’t we leave?” I asked. “Isn’t it over?”

  “No,” Harry said firmly. “When they discover you’ve escaped, Sarah, they’ll come back for you. It’s a matter of time.”

  I felt the blood drain from my limbs and I grasped a chair to keep from falling. “I can’t go back to jail,” I whispered, and Harry rushed to my side. “You won’t, Sarah. I won’t let them take you. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

  He spoke the words so forcefully that I wanted to believe him. Every time the floorboards creaked or the wind rattled the windows, I jumped. Every vehicle that drove past on the street outside caused my chest to tighten in panic. We barely ate. We barely spoke. I was sure that at any moment, another angry knock would shake our door.

  As the day turned to evening, the apartment grew dark, but we didn’t dare turn on any lights. Harry moved to the window again and looked outside at the street below. “It’s empty,” he said, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I think we’re safe for the night.”