He’s careful, doing as little hammering as possible, and when he’s done, I can’t tell that his wall is not the wall of our attic. Not until he moves two of the vertical planks, showing me the space behind. He’s even hung a laundry rope.
“I’ll move up some of the odds and ends from the second bedroom,” I tell him. “To make it look like a storage space.”
“We’ll need a bucket,” he says, “in case, you know …”
I look at the space behind the wall. The roof slopes down to two low windows on one side, letting in some light. Most of them won’t be able to stand up, there’s going to be no privacy, and beneath the summer sun and the tin roof, it’s hot as the devil’s stove up here. But what does that matter when your life is at stake?
“We also need something over the windows,” Max says. “Did you know the Krajewska boys climb on the roof?”
No. But I bet Helena did. “Did they see you?”
“Nearly.”
“I’ll get curtains.” But I don’t know with what. I’ll have to start checking the rubbish piles again. We’re feeding ten people on two ration cards, my income, and Hirsch’s contributions, and it’s not quite enough. Mrs. Bessermann doesn’t understand why I don’t buy better bread. Old Hirsch wants to know where his cigarettes are.
I don’t dare tell him I’m selling my cigarette ration.
“Have you heard from Henek or Danuta?” Max asks.
I shake my head. They were supposed to leave a blank piece of paper under a rock outside our weak place in the fence, showing they were ready to come. I was supposed to leave a hairpin beneath the rock to show I got the paper and was ready to have them.
“He’s going to wait too long,” Max says. “He’s the only brother I have left. And he’s going to wait too long.”
I check the spot at the fence every day in August. And beginning in August, Lubek starts dropping by. Often.
“Fusia’s lover!” whispers whoever is on duty at the window, which I do not appreciate. Then eight people have to disappear to the well-curtained attic and lie on the floor unmoving, in complete silence, miserable and sweating, while Lubek talks and smokes cigarettes at my half kitchen table.
This is not bringing harmony to my home.
But Lubek is interesting. His cousin delivers fish wrapped in foreign newspapers, and he hears the Germans aren’t doing well in their war against Russia. That the British are putting up a fight with the help of the Americans, even though the Americans are also fighting Japan. Germany has two huge fronts.
They might lose, Lubek says. Maybe they’ll lose before they can kill everyone, and Przemyśl will be in Poland again.
Lubek is thoughtful. He’s nice-looking. Less of a boy than I thought. I’ve never seen him lose his temper. He’s never been unkind. Except maybe to Januka, because I don’t think she knows he’s coming here.
Lubek makes Max mad, which amuses Mrs. Bessermann. I offer to meet Lubek somewhere else so everyone doesn’t have to sit in the attic. But Max doesn’t like this idea, either. Which also amuses Mrs. Bessermann.
Mrs. Bessermann is irritated because Siunek pays too much attention to Cesia. Cesia is fifteen, but she doesn’t look it, and we are in a small space. Dziusia fights with Janek on a regular basis, because he torments her, and Dr. Schillinger stares into space instead of defending his daughter, which means Max or I have to do it. Old Hirsch sits and broods as well, sniffing the residual smoke of Lubek’s cigarettes.
I don’t blame Helena for disappearing every day. It might be safer for her. It might be saner for her.
But it makes me worry.
So after a day when Dziusia had to go in the bucket in the attic, and then fight Janek because he said he’d looked, which caused me to explain to Lubek that the cat was upstairs chasing rats, I get into bed beside Helena. The moon is bright, shining silver around the cracks of the lily curtains. I pull the covers over our heads, and Helena puts her head on my chest. She smells like the outdoors and a little girl. I whisper, “Hela, what do you do when I’m at work?”
“Feed the chickens and get the water and take out the dirty bucket. You know that.”
“Yes. But what else?”
She thinks. “Fight the Krajewska boys. When they won’t give me the water.”
Now I wish I could see her. “What do you mean?”
“They always say the well belongs to their mama. But if I don’t take in water, then our people will be thirsty, because they can’t go outside. And then I have to hit them. The boys. And sometimes they try to come in, and I have to hit them then, too.”
“I see.” I’ll be talking to Mrs. Krajewska about this. “And when you’re done with those things, where do you go?”
“Different places.”
“Like where?”
She thinks again. “There’s a broken stone house up on the hill. Like a castle. I play there sometimes. Like it’s a real house. And I go to the convent, because sometimes the nuns have cookies, and I go to the cathedral …”
“You do?”
She nods. “It smells nice.”
“Do you ever play with anyone else? Other boys or girls?”
“Of course I don’t!”
It would be hard to have a secret like hers and be around other children. It’s not a secret for just one or two nights anymore. Not like Mickiewicza 7.
“Sometimes,” Helena says, “I play a game in my head where Mama comes back and she sews me a dress, and the fieldmen bring lots of food to the house …”
I’m surprised Helena remembers the men who used to work our fields.
“… and during the day while Mama works, I go to school so I can know all the words on the shop signs. I know a lot of them, but not all of them.”
“I could teach you to read, Hela.”
Only this is a voice outside the covers. I pull the blanket down, messing up our hair, and Max is on duty at the window, the chair leaning back on two legs.
“Would you like me to?” he asks.
Helena smiles, then smiles bigger, and when I come home from work the next evening, her brown head is next to Max’s dark one, poring over a dental textbook. Helena doesn’t care about the subject. She is just thirsty for the words.
I didn’t realize she was so lonely.
And then Cesia runs in and says, “Fusia’s lover!”
They move with precision and silence, grabbing every belonging and disappearing up the ladder without disturbing the chickens. I check for dishes, and Helena sighs when Max takes away the textbook. But I see Max hesitate. And at the last second, instead of going up, he slips into the bedroom.
To the other bunker. Where he can hear me talk to Lubek.
I’m annoyed.
Lubek knocks and tries to walk straight in, which he can’t do because the lock is turned.
It’s really not good that he feels so comfortable here.
I open the door, and Lubek grins, pushes a pecking chicken away from his feet, and goes straight to the pot to make himself a cup of tea.
He talks about the fire we had at the factory, a small one that shut down everyone’s machines, but not for long, and how bad the smoke was. I tell him this is funny, considering how much smoke he breathes all the time. He says that’s different.
I can almost feel Max’s ears stretching out in our direction.
So I say in a clear voice, “How do you feel about eavesdropping?”
His brows go up. “Same as anyone, I guess. No one wants to think their private conversations are being listened to. Who’s been … Wait. Where’s your sugar?”
“What? Oh. Sorry. I’m out.”
“But you weren’t out the day before yesterday. You had a half-kilo sack.”
And Mrs. Bessermann and Cesia baked, which made Max angry, because what were we supposed to tell Mrs. Krajewska or the foul SS man, Ernst, when they saw the smoke coming from the chimney? When they smelled the smell? That Helena was whipping up a batch of babka?
“I don’t think
I did,” I say.
“Yes,” he insists. “You did.”
“I ate it,” says Helena from the sofa. I turn to look at her. I’d forgotten she was there.
“You ate a half kilo of sugar?” asks Lubek. “Do you know how much that costs?” My sister looks stubborn while he shakes his wheat-gold head. “You’re going to have to punish her, Stefi.”
And don’t tell me how to deal with my sister, I think. Especially since she’s wonderful.
“Why don’t you take that chicken outside?” I say sternly to Helena. “And we’ll discuss this later.”
When she’s picking up the chicken, I turn my back to Lubek and blow her a kiss. She grins and blows one back, which probably looks impertinent from Lubek’s point of view, and runs out the door.
“I wouldn’t want to raise a little sister,” he says. “What else do you think she’s eating?”
Other than the occasional bite of butter, I don’t know what he means.
“You’re going through a lot of food. I see the kasha sack going down every time I come here. You can’t be eating that much. What are you doing with it all?”
Lubek is much too observant.
“Selling,” I say. “I’m reselling for a profit. Sending money to my mother.”
He nods and lights a cigarette. “That sounds like you.” He doesn’t say anything more for a few minutes, and I hope Max is having leg cramps.
“I wonder what you’re thinking,” Lubek says suddenly. “About what you might want to do after this war. Do you have any ideas?”
Find my family. But other than that, I really don’t know. I shrug.
“I want you to think about it,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because I want you to think about doing it with me. I want to make plans. Loose ones. But I want to make them. With you.”
And that’s all he has to say about it. He finishes his tea, tells me to be firm with Helena, and leaves me to my thoughts.
I really, really wish Max hadn’t heard that.
I think Max agrees. When he comes out of the bunker with dirt in his hair, he doesn’t meet my eyes. He only says, “If he keeps coming here, we’re going to be found.”
I know it. But that night, snuggled next to Helena, part of me wonders if Lubek would keep my secret. Maybe even help me. Then I remember what Emilika said about German spies. What Lubek is doing would be an excellent way to flush out Jews.
I avoid him the next day at work, talking with Januka until he leaves for home. She walks me over the iron bridge, and I keep my steps slow so that if Lubek comes to the house, I won’t be there to let him in.
I know Helena won’t let him in.
I don’t mention any of this to Januka. But I do tell her I have to stop by the coal merchant’s to buy a few kilos for the stove. She says their box is low, too. She might as well go with me. The coal yard isn’t that far out of her way.
We buy five kilos each, in drawstring bags. And then Januka starts flirting with the coal merchant. Actually, she’s playing the coal merchant like a cheap violin. I’m impressed. And I don’t feel quite so bad about Lubek. And then I notice that the coal merchant has a watch on.
“Is it twenty after eight?”
Januka tilts her head to look at the man’s sooty wrist and says, “Oh!”
Curfew isn’t until nine, but I have nearly half an hour of walking, and Januka has more. We need to hurry.
We dart out of the coal yard with barely a word and walk fast down the sidewalk. The sun has dipped behind the hills, the twilight coming down, and the streets are clearing. The safe feeling of a crowd is gone. We walk faster, and the coal is getting heavier, and then we reach the corner where Januka needs to turn and I need to go straight on to Tatarska. We pause, say a quick goodbye, and then two German soldiers are crossing the street, one of them waving a hand. At us.
“Halt! Wer ist da?”
Januka and I look at each other. It’s not nine o’clock yet.
The first soldier is young. Maybe not older than me, with a machine gun strapped on his back and a pistol at his side. He holds out a hand, asking for Januka’s papers. She sets down her coal and starts searching through her purse. The second soldier comes to me. His hair is dark brown, and he has a tiny little mustache. Like Hitler. I hand him my papers.
They give our information the quickest glance, then start talking to each other. They don’t seem to speak any Polish. They don’t hand our papers back.
The watch on the wrist of the first soldier says forty-seven minutes after eight. I wait, tapping my foot, staring at the hole where the synagogue used to be. The two soldiers laugh, a joke for only themselves. But I catch one word I know. “Neun.”
Nine. They’re going to hold us here until nine. So they can arrest us.
I look at Januka, and her eyes slide over to mine.
We are in trouble.
The German soldiers keep talking, and now it’s obviously about us. The younger one runs his fingers through Januka’s hair, and when I tell them it’s almost nine o’clock, goodbye, and try to walk away without my papers, the one with the mustache yells at me, pulling me back by an arm. Januka is frozen, petrified. And then the cathedral bells ring.
The young soldier laughs, and they hand us our papers. I think they’re going to let us go. We pick up our coal. But then they take us each by an arm and walk us down the street. Back the way we came.
We are in big trouble.
And my senses sharpen like knives.
I know the street we’re on. They’re walking us right down the middle of it, because the sidewalk here is pockmarked from bombs. There’s a German boarding house at the end, where soldiers stay, mostly the ones who are with the police. But before the boarding house, there are apartment buildings. On the right and the left side of the street.
My soldier isn’t joking anymore. He’s ignoring me, lips pressed together, his eyes straight ahead. His grip on my arm is hard, bruising. Purposeful. Januka’s is touching her hair again, putting his face in her neck and smelling her while they walk. She cringes, and my soldier barks something sharp that must be telling him to stop.
Or to wait.
“I don’t think they speak Polish,” I say quietly to Januka. We both look for a reaction, but other than watching us, there is none.
“Smile,” I say. And we do. “Laugh,” I tell her, and we do.
Surely even a Nazi couldn’t think that had been real. But the grip on my arm relaxes just a little.
“There are buildings coming up,” I say in a pleasant tone. “Apartments, with front and back doors, a hall going straight through. Do you understand? Laugh now, Januka.”
She laughs and shakes her head no at the same time.
“When I count to three, we’re going to hit them in the face with our coal. I’ll run right, you run left, into the front door of the building and out the back. Run like the devil. Can you do it? Laugh now.”
She laughs. Loudly. And nods. I laugh with her. My soldier looks smug.
Januka has to give this all she’s got, or it will never work.
“As hard as you can?”
She nods, but she doesn’t laugh. Her eyes are big and frightened.
I look ahead to the buildings, choosing. And I think I see two that will do. Our feet tap together on an empty, silent street. The buildings I want are coming.
“One,” I say, smiling at Januka. Then I look ahead. “Two. And three …”
I grab my coal bag suddenly with two hands and use my whole body to swing it upward. The bag smacks my soldier straight in the mustache, and he goes over backward onto the paving stones. I pause for a heartbeat, stunned that he actually fell, and then I hear Januka squealing, “Run!”
Her man was down before mine.
I run. Like a rabbit. Like the wind. Like I’ve never run before. And my heightened brain shows me the door latch just before I need to turn it. I slam the door shut without breaking my stride. Down the dark hall and to the ne
xt latch. The door opens and shuts, and I haven’t lost a second. Down the steps into an alley. I turn right, and quickly left. I hope I’m not going to hit a dead end. And there are shots in the street. Pistol shots. Words yelled in German.
Oh, Januka, I think. Please be all right.
But I cannot stop. I stay in the back alleys, twisting and turning until I have to climb the hill to Tatarska. Now I just stay in the shadows. I don’t know if there’s anyone behind me. I can’t hear them.
I think if there was someone chasing me, I’d be shot.
I fly into the courtyard and around the back in the dark, and if Mrs. Krajewska sees me, it’s probably only a blur. I bang on the door, and Max flings it open, pulls me inside, and turns the lock. He must have been on watch at the window.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened to you?”
I lean on the door and gasp. And gasp. I don’t have any breath.
But I do have a bag of coal. I drop it on the floor.
“Your young man came,” says Mrs. Bessermann.
“Get her some water,” orders Schillinger, and Dziusia goes to get the glass. Siunek and Cesia are coming from the other room, Old Hirsch looking frankly curious on the sofa. I see Helena sitting in the corner, shrinking her body down to fit the space. I hold out my hand, and she comes to me, throwing her arms around my waist.
They must have been terrified when I didn’t come before curfew.
When my breath comes back, I tell Max about the soldiers and about Januka, who might be dead. The thought leaves me shaky. A little teary.
Max grits his teeth while I talk. He rubs his head. Then he bangs the front door behind him with a fist. Helena jumps in my arms.
“Okay,” he says. “That’s enough. I’m teaching you how to box. Right now.”
* * *
It’s interesting to me that Max has become the leader of the hidden. Dr. Schillinger is older, and in the dental practice, he was Max’s boss. Hirsch is older than Schillinger. Mrs. Bessermann is a mother, used to ordering people around, and Siunek is twice Max’s size. But when a decision needs to be made, they all look to Max. If Max says I need to learn how to hit a Nazi—or anyone else who might deserve hitting—then they clear a space and assume I’m about to learn how to hit a Nazi.
The Light in Hidden Places Page 23