Seated together on the grass, they chatted a little. Mr. Todd asked about Werner’s schooling, and the boy told him about Mr. Pendergrast. Mr. Todd chuckled, “I had a few like that myself.”
He explained that he had only managed to stay in school for five years. “My mama died when I was small,” he said. “That left my big sister with eight of us to raise. She did a good job with us and with some of her own. Bessie’s her daughter.”
“Does Bessie have kids, too?” Werner was curious.
Mr. Todd paused. “She had a son, but he ain’t with us no more.” The lines in his face seemed deeper. “No, he ain’t with us no more.”
Werner thought about the heart of Jesus surrounded with a ring of thorns. They each had their own grief – Bessie, Anika, and his own family. He also thought of dear Esther in the big lonely hospital ward. How was she doing now? Was she feeling stronger? Was she even…Werner couldn’t think any further. He jumped up, grabbed the shovel and went back to work. He stayed hard at the job all afternoon. Indeed, the trees were casting long shadows across the grass when the two quit. They put the tools away in the shed and walked to the bus stop.
A few minutes later, standing in line, Werner watched a hefty policeman stroll past. Noticing the boy, the officer stopped short.
Werner gulped, figuring the burly policeman had guessed who he was. In another minute, he’d be arrested and hauled off to jail. Instead, the police office’s voice was pleasant. “Whatcha doing in this line, kid?”
Werner stammered. “Huh? What do you mean?”
The cop’s mouth slid into a leer. “Come on, kid, you know where this trolley is heading. It’s heading for Harlem. White people get off here at this stop, they don’t get on.”
The burly man glanced toward Mr. Todd and the other Negroes waiting in line. “You ain’t with any of them, are you?” He was carrying a big thick billy-stick. He thumped it a few times on the palm of his hand.
For a second Werner couldn’t think what to say. His head felt muddled. He just wanted the police officer to go away. “No sir, I’m not,” he mumbled. “I’m not with any of them.”
The officer nodded. “You made a mistake, didn’t you? You wuz standing in the wrong line, weren’t you?”
Again, Werner had a hard time answering. “Maybe…maybe I am in the wrong line, sir,” he muttered, backing away. “Maybe I got mixed up.”
The police officer smiled broadly. “That’s how it seems to me, kid. Seems like you made a stupid mistake.” He started walking down the avenue again, glancing right and left. He looked like he ruled the street and always had.
Werner stood apart from the line of Negroes for several minutes. No one looked at him. Then the bus arrived and people began to file on. Mr. Todd was the last in line. There was a heaviness in his step. Finally he called to the boy, “You coming?”
Werner stumbled onto the bus, his head low, ducking past the Negro passengers. He found a seat at the back and sat staring out but seeing little. His head throbbed. A thought ran through his mind over and over. Not everyone in America, this great country, this home to the free, was treated equally. Not everyone. Esther was wrong.
From where he sat, he could see the back of Mr. Todd’s head. He was glad he couldn’t see the old man’s face. He remembered when the Hitler Jugend had spit at him and forced him to write “dirty Jew” on the pavement. Those boys didn’t know his name, yet they hated him. Now Werner realized he wasn’t so different. It was easy to hurt others. No matter where you lived, in any country and at any time. You could easily turn away from people who looked or acted differently from you. You could turn toward hate.
He and Mr. Todd climbed off the bus at 125th Street. The two walked in silence with the width of the sidewalk between them. Werner kicked a sharp piece of broken glass off the pavement into the gutter.
After a few blocks, Mr. Todd asked, “You tired as yesterday, son?” Glancing over, Werner saw no trace of hurt or anger in the old man’s face. In fact, he looked as dignified as ever, as regal as one of the tall trees in the park.
“No, sir,” Werner said, stepping closer to Mr. Todd. “I don’t feel nearly as tired.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When they walked in the door, Anika looked happy as a puppy.
“We had a good day,” Bessie said. “Look at all we got done.” She pointed to a high stack of laundry that was clean, pressed and neatly folded.
“I ironed most of it myself,” declared Anika to Werner. Her face looked as bright as when the two had been together on the ship.
After cleaning up, everyone sat down for a meal. Bessie began serving some meat from a heavy black skillet. “Hope y’all like pork chops,” she said. “I got some ’specially fat ones from the butcher today.”
Anika instantly pulled her plate away. “None for me,” she declared.
Bessie looked surprised. “You don’t eat pork chops?”
Werner kicked Anika under the table, but she ignored him. “Of course we don’t. We’re Jewish.”
At her words, Werner felt his body stiffen. He knew Father’s words by heart: “Don’t tell anyone you’re Jewish.” Even now, in the United States of America, how could you know how people might react or what they might do if they knew?
Bessie merely spooned the extra chop onto Mr. Todd’s plate. “I’ll just give y’all some more greens and fried potatoes. I bet y’all would eat that, wouldn’t you?”
Anika nodded quickly, and Werner mumbled, “Thanks.”
Mr. Todd started to cut up his pork chop. “I hear you folks is having a bad time of it some places.” He forked up a piece of meat while looking at Werner.
The boy stammered. “Y-yes, sir, in Germany where we come from.”
“It’s horrible.” Anika’s voice trembled. “Our families are still there.”
Mr. Todd was silent for a moment, then he glanced at the picture on the wall of the gentle man in a robe. “I never could see how folks could worship one Jew and act so hateful to others.”
“It don’t make good sense,” declared Bessie, standing at the stove. “But there’s lots of things in this world don’t make good sense.”
That night when Werner finally fell asleep, he had a terrifying dream. As if looking through a dark window, he saw Bettina and Father. But they weren’t at home together as he’d last seen them. They were in a forest filled with tall gloomy trees. His sister was playing her favorite game of hide and seek. She was hiding behind a dead tree stump in the woods, a wide smile lighting her face as she waited to be found. Werner started to join the game and pretend to look for her himself. Then he heard someone counting: “Eins…zwei…drei…vier…” He glanced back to see who was playing “it”. To his horror, he saw Oscar Buddorf sneaking through the forest, searching for Bettina.
“Nein, nein, Bettina!” Werner screamed. “Don’t jump out! Stay hidden, please, don’t let him find you!” Though he yelled as loudly as possible, no sound came out…
Waking the next morning, Werner lay on the quilt for several minutes, trying to forget the nightmare. His eyes were still shut when he heard someone crying softly. Opening them, he saw Anika sitting on the sofa, wiping away tears with a hankie.
He sat up. “What’s the matter, Anika? Tell me what’s wrong.”
She looked down at her hands wringing the lace handkerchief. “He won’t find me here.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ll never see Father again. Never.”
Werner’s sleepy brain took a moment to figure out what she meant. He thought of everything that had happened in the past two days, starting with their escape from the Furstburners, their overnight stay in the park and their journey to Harlem with Mr. Todd.
Climbing off the quilt on the floor, he sat next to Anika on the sofa. She was right, of course. How could her father find her in a place so far from where she had been living? Still, Werner couldn
’t speak for a moment. Outside, he could hear a few birds calling cheerfully to one another. Mr. Todd and Bessie were still asleep in their bedrooms. Finally he looked back at Anika’s tearful face. “It’s all right,” he said. “When you’re ready, we’ll go.”
She blew her nose into the hankie. “We’re going to leave?”
He stood up, stretching. “Yeah, we’ll go back to the Furstburners.” How he hated even the sound of their name.
Anika smiled and clapped like a child. “Father will come soon. I know he will.”
Werner didn’t say anything more. He hoped she was right, that her father would come soon and his family, too. But for him, leaving this friendly oasis would not be easy. He liked Mr. Todd and Bessie; their home was simple and safe. Besides, what did he have to go back to? He had been gone over three days. Mr. Mozer and Sam must be wondering what had happened to him. Was he lost? Was he dead in some alleyway? In his neighborhood, you often heard stories of people who disappeared or were murdered.
“I like Bessie and Mr. Todd, too.” Anika said softly. She reached for Werner’s hand. “But we have to go back.”
He nodded. “There’s no hurry. We’ll go after breakfast.” He wanted coffee and biscuits; he didn’t want to rush off.
Whatever they thought of the decision, Bessie and Mr. Todd didn’t make a fuss. Bessie gave the two kids a big smile and a hug. First Anika was folded into her warm embrace, then Werner. He held on long as possible.
Amos walked with them to the bus stop. As they walked, Werner tried to think of how to apologize. He wanted to say he was sorry for what he’d said to the police officer. Yet the right words didn’t come. Finally, he just thanked Mr. Todd for everything as sincerely as possible. The old man put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, his eyes holding an ocean of understanding.
The two kids climbed on the bus and waved goodbye. Anika stared unblinking out the window. Her body was tilted forward like she wanted the bus to move faster. Werner wondered how much she had gained from her time with Bessie. He figured some people learn slower than others.
When they climbed off, she became even more jumpy. She clearly wanted to cross the park as quickly as possible. Not Werner. He took his time looking at every bush and tree. Vendors were setting up for the day. Bright-eyed children tugged on their parents’ hands, eager to play. His feet moved slower and slower until finally the two stood at the street curb. Across the wide avenue, they could see the large apartment building where the Furstburners lived.
Anika stopped and seized Werner’s hand. “I never told you why I don’t have a mother, did I?” Her voice was shaky.
“You don’t need to tell me,” Werner replied gently.
“She left us because…” Anika looked away. “Because Father and I are Jewish and she isn’t.” Anika’s voice faltered, then she took a deep breath and continued. “A year ago, I found Mother in my bedroom, packing a suitcase. She said to me, ‘You can go, too, Anika. We’ll bring all your dresses and shoes. We’ll go to Grandmother’s village. The Nazis won’t find us there. Come with me, darling, come with me.’”
Dozens of cars were whizzing past on the wide avenue. Yet Werner could only see Anika and her mother surrounded by a jumble of clothes, shoes and suitcases.
“But I couldn’t leave him, could I?” The girl shook her head firmly. “Of course I couldn’t.” She squeezed Werner’s hand hard, right on the blisters. “Father will come. I know he will.”
Werner turned to her quickly. “You’re right, he will.”
For a long moment, the two stood there, poised on the edge of the street curb.
“You know what, Anika?” Werner tugged on her hand. “I got a turtle, Julius, somewhere in the park. Maybe we should go look for him.”
“Look for a turtle?” The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. She knew he was stalling for time. She turned away from him and gazed across the street. “You don’t have to go with me, Werner. I know the way.”
But she didn’t drop his hand. The two remained there another minute or longer. To Werner it seemed like a heart-throbbing scene from a movie, when the violin music swells and people sniff into their handkerchiefs. Like when Jane bids farewell to Tarzan because she has to return to civilization and he must remain in the jungle. Except this wasn’t a made-up story, it was Anika and he.
“Hey, you’ve never been downtown to meet my friend Sam,” he started to say. “You’d like Sam and he’d like –”
But at that instant, two cops came racing down the sidewalk toward them. Behind the police was a boy with frizzy orange hair, panting to keep up.
When the policemen grabbed Werner, Norman yelled, “That’s right, officer, you’ve got the kidnapper!”
Werner elbowed one cop in the stomach and jerked to get free from the other. A cop shouted, “Whatcha think you’re doing, bud?”
Then Nathalie dashed up, pointing at Anika. “Grab her, too, before she runs away again!”
“Before she runs away?” said the policeman who was gripping Werner. He stopped squeezing his arm so hard. “You told us the girl was kidnapped.”
“He did kidnap her. He broke into our apartment and stole stuff, too,” Norman lied. “But she…she helped him. She told him what to take.”
“I did not! How dare you say that!” Anika exclaimed defiantly. Then she turned to Norman and Nathalie. “You want me back?” she declared. “Here I am.”
Already, her face was blank. She wasn’t going to let the Furstburners know anything – not why she’d left or why she was returning.
Natalie began to pout. “She thinks she’s too good for us. Just because she speaks German and French and listens to classical music.”
“Let him go,” Anika told the policeman still gripping Werner. “He never stole anything. Certainly not me.” The policeman loosened his grip and Werner pulled free.
“He’s a robber and a bum. He belongs in jail!” Norman muttered. But the police officers just glanced at one another and shook their heads.
“Where you two been?” the cop asked.
Werner knew telling them about Mr. Todd was not a good idea. “There’s lots of hiding places, if you know where to look.”
“We were just playing games,” Anika said, then added deliberately, “and you don’t have to worry. I won’t be seeing him any more.” She nodded stiffly in Werner’s direction, then quickly looked away.
Werner’s heart sank. Was this really their last moment together?
Anika stepped off the curb and started to cross the street. But she looked once more at Werner. “Auf Wiedersehen, alte-Freund.”
He swallowed hard. She was truly saying goodbye. And indeed they were old friends, even though they’d known each other less than a year. Time was like that now – so uncertain, so troubled – it made you old fast. He watched as Anika walked steadily forward. She held her head high, though her neck seemed fragile as the stem of a flower.
He called just loud enough for her to hear. “Farewell, princess.”
Chapter Thirty
Werner began to run, fast as he could. He wasn’t sure where he was running, but he wanted to get away. Away from the cops and far from Nathalie and Norman. If he’d stayed, he might have busted that boy’s snotty nose and truly ended up in jail. Nobody ran after him; their attention was on Anika. Soon she would be back in the Furstburner’s apartment with the door firmly shut. No chance of sneaking her out again, even if she wanted to go. But she wouldn’t leave; she needed to stay where she was, even if she hated being there.
Sometimes the faster you move, the less you hurt…
He tried hard not to think about Anika. About the way the Furstburners treated her like a servant. Of course Anika could survive a little harsh treatment. She looked breakable as a teacup, but she wasn’t. In her own way, she was as tough as him.
Suddenly Werner wondered if he was really
that tough. He touched his blisters; though still painful, they were beginning to harden. He thought of Mr. Todd – his hands were deeply calloused, but his heart sure wasn’t. No amount of troubles had made him mean and bitter.
At the steps to the subway, Werner stopped and looked around. He noted the shiny automobiles and classy people. Their allure had worn thin for now. He was eager to head back downtown where people were simple and direct. Then he’d figure out what to do next. At the bottom of the stairs, he sped past the ticket-taker and jumped the turnstile.
“Come back here, you hooligan!” yelled the man in the booth.
Werner paid him no attention. A minute later, he was lost in the crowd climbing on the train.
When he stepped out of the subway station, it was almost noon. Walking through his neighborhood, he gazed at everything like he’d never seen it before. Nothing seemed the same. It felt like he’d been gone three years, not three days. He counted on his fingers. He’d arrived in the U.S. in late September…now it was early July. Ten months had passed since the day he left the orphanage. How could so much have happened in such a short time?
Walking into Mr. Mozer’s store, Werner felt like Robinson Crusoe returning to civilization. Glancing up, Mr. Mozer paused for a moment as he counted out change to a tiny white-haired lady. Then he resumed. “Here’s $1.24, Mrs. Abramovitz. Thank you.” He picked up her sack of groceries and walked with her to the door.
Finally, he turned and faced Werner. “So, boychik, you weren’t shot, knifed, or run over by a bus?” His bushy white eyebrows rose high on his forehead.
“Nah, none of the above,” Werner muttered.
Mr. Mozer gave him a sharp look. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask…”
Forced Journey Page 13