The Winter Guest

by Pam Jenoff

  He cut her off. “Helena, that’s remarkable!” Then his face sobered. “Now we’ll see if he comes through.”

  “He will.” There was something about the man she sensed she could trust. Still, uncertainty lingered. “He liked me, I think.”

  “I’m not surprised, a beautiful woman like you,” he said.

  Helena blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way.” She would never get used to thinking of herself in such a way, especially not in such a disheveled state. But being with Sam made her feel somehow more feminine. “But I said I would help him. I have medicine for him and his men.”

  “You took medicine from the hospital?” he asked with disbelief. “You never should have done that.”

  “I had to. It was the only way he would trust me and help you.” Hiding in that closet had seemed so bad she had not contemplated any additional danger that stealing the drugs might bring. “I have to go back to the city in a week’s time to deliver the medicine. I’ll see what he can do to help you.”

  He straightened. “You mean you want to risk going back now, after learning the truth about your family?”

  She considered this. “No one else knows the truth.” To the rest of the world, she was still just a Pole—not a Jew. But something about Sam’s words nagged at her, as if the very fact she was half-Jewish, even unbeknownst to others, made things more dangerous. “What other choice do I have?”

  He wrapped his arms around her. She looked down then. Her skirt was soiled from the floor of the hospital and the pavement and the mud kicked up from the forest path as she fled. But Sam did not seem to notice any of it. She leaned back, savoring his embrace and this moment that she thought just hours ago would never come again. “You are so brave,” he said, his voice admiring.

  Helena turned her head away. She considered Sam brave and hardly felt worthy of being included in such company. “It’s no different than you coming here to help.” But it wasn’t about being brave. Now that she knew the truth, standing by was no longer an option.

  His expression turned serious. He pulled away and rose with effort. “I want you to go now.” She stood and stepped back, stung by the abruptness of his words. Had she done something to anger him? “It isn’t safe for you to come anymore.” No, his tone was one of pure concern.

  She took another step back, pained as she had been the night he had rejected a second kiss. “I don’t need to be protected.” The words came out more harshly than she intended.

  “Lena, this isn’t about being brave or right. It’s just about survival now. You helped me because you’re a good person.” Good. Helena had never thought of herself that way. Ruth had always been the good one. She was the good girl when they were little, and the one who was good with the children now. “But there’s no room for good people in this war. Go home,” he insisted.

  “Don’t you see, it doesn’t work that way?” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Even if I walk out that door now and never come back, it won’t undo the danger.” Or my feelings for you, she added silently. “There’s no going back, only forward.” He stared at her, not conceding.

  Helena stormed from the chapel, shaking. When she neared the trees, she looked back. She did not want to leave Sam in anger, but she could not bring herself to apologize when she did not feel remorse.

  The door to the chapel flung open. As Sam appeared, she raced back toward him. “Helena, I’m sorry.” Her lips found his, silencing further apology. She pressed her whole self against him and he cupped the back of her head in his hands.

  A moment later, he pulled back. “I’m sorry.” She stared at him, unable to respond. He reached over and uncurled her fists, which she had not realized she was clenching so tightly that her nails had dug into her palms, breaking the skin and drawing blood. “You do that, you know, when you get angry.” He paused. “Don’t leave mad. I couldn’t bear to have you thinking poorly of me.”

  She allowed him to draw her back inside the chapel. “I’m sorry I snapped,” he said.

  “It’s understandable. This is stressful.”

  “It’s more than that. Yesterday someone was nearby.”

  Her throat constricted, making it difficult to speak. “What?”

  “I’m sorry to tell you now, on top of everything else. It was just before dawn and I heard footsteps at the door. At first I thought it was you but when I realized it wasn’t, I went out the back and hid in a pile of leaves.” Someone had been at the chapel. Helena was seized with terror at the notion. Sam did his best to keep the outside of the chapel looking the same so that a passerby would not know that it was occupied. But inside, on a moment’s notice... “They didn’t pass by like the time you were here—they stopped and lingered. I don’t know if they actually came in. I heard whoever it was walking away.” His eyes darted back and forth as he relived the terror.

  “Did you see who it was?”

  He shook his head. “I was more worried about staying out of sight.”

  She processed the information. It could have been nothing. The chapel was not far from the main road, so a passerby might have come this way. But who had reason to be out these days? The Germans had restricted travel among the provinces more so than ever and there was no work or real trade to be had in the city anymore. Once the hunters might have been up this way, but the hills had been picked so clean that most of the animals had died or gone elsewhere.

  “So you see, I’m worried. Someone might know I’m here now and they might come back. That’s why you can’t come here anymore.”

  “I understand, and I’m worried, too. We can take extra precautions. My not coming isn’t an option, though.”

  He looked as though he might protest more, then swallowed, deciding against it. “Helena, there’s one other thing—if we are able to make contact with the partisans, will you come with me?” She opened her mouth but no sound came out. “I’d still have to be in the army, of course, but I could get you to America.” He seemed to hold his breath, eyes searching her face expectantly.

  “How?” she asked. “There are no visas now, not with the war.”

  “No, of course not, but it might not matter so much if we were married.” He gazed at her squarely, not noticing or not caring about the redness that had crept into his cheeks. “I mean, that way we could go together and it would make things a bit easier.” He was speaking quickly now, stumbling.

  “Married,” Helena repeated, the word thick and foreign on her tongue. Marriage was what her parents had, what Ruth almost had with Piotr. It was not something she had ever contemplated for herself. She had never viewed herself as someone’s wife, or thought anyone might see her in that way—until now.

  “Of course, I would understand if you didn’t want to,” he added quickly, misreading her hesitation as reluctance. “I don’t come from much.”

  “It’s not that at all,” she hastened to reply. Material things had never mattered to her like they did Ruth. “I just never expected...married,” she said again, as if trying it on.

  “Yes.” He faltered. “So you could emigrate with me. Not that it would just be a formality. I like you, that is, I think...I love you.” Love. The word seemed to bounce around the cavity of her chest, tender and hollowed out from the pain and tears she’d shed. Was it possible to love someone you had only known for a handful of weeks? She loved her siblings, of course, and had loved her parents, but this real kind of grown-up love she had never expected to be hers, much less under these strangest of circumstances.

  “I love you, too.” The words tumbled out, as if not her own. A woman should not give away her feelings so readily, she could hear Ruth admonish. But Helena had no experience in these things and she’d never been skilled at hiding the truth. “I love you,” she repeated the words, this time owning them. She leaned in to kiss him once, then again. Her heart felt as if it might burst. She could
see it now: a life in America, married to Sam. Suddenly the role she’d never considered seemed like the only one in the world.

  A moment later he pulled back. “I know that when we talked about leaving Poland, you said you couldn’t go because of your mother.” His tone was practical now. “But now that she is gone, surely she would want this for you.”

  She nodded, trying to catch her breath. Now that Mama was gone, there was even less reason for her to stay. But that didn’t solve the problem of the children and the fact that she would never leave her siblings behind. “I’m not suggesting you go without your family,” he added quickly, reading her thoughts. “But there’s a possibility we could take them, as well.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “A possibility,” she repeated.

  “There have been transports of children out of Poland to England. The Nazis have clamped down considerably on letting them leave. But there are ways.” He hesitated. “If I can get them to the border, I’m pretty sure I can get passes for the children to England or America. You’d be too old, of course, but if we got married that would take care of things.”

  A knot formed in Helena’s stomach. “That’s a very good idea and I’m so grateful. But it won’t work. You see, my sister Ruth is over eighteen.”

  His face clouded over. “She’s too old for kinder transport, I’m afraid. But once we get to America we can send for her.” His voice trailed off. He was unwilling to make promises he could not keep. No, once they were gone they would not likely be able to protect Ruth at all.

  “Helena, we have to get you out. You saw what happened in Kraków. It isn’t just in the big cities. In a village to the east, they burned a barn with Jews sealed inside,” he said, his voice cracking, seemingly not able to hold back the things he had been keeping from her.

  “The Germans have not come to Biekowice,” she said, clinging to this one bit of hope. But it wasn’t just the Nazis. There were centuries of distrust among the Poles of the Jews who lived among them yet remained strangers. She shivered. If some of their neighbors in Biekowice knew the truth, they would turn on Helena and her siblings as surely as they had on the Jews in the next village. It would not matter that they had gone to school or played together. The differences between them would transcend and wipe away all of that.

  “They are coming,” Sam replied, his voice full with certainty. He took her hand. “Come with me.” His eyes were pleading. “Why won’t you let me help you?” he asked softly. Because for so long it had been just herself, self-reliance the only certain way to survive. The others she had trusted had all gone. “You saved my life.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Is that what you think this is about, some sort of obligation or debt to repay?” He placed his hands on either side of her face, his fingers gentle but firm. “I love you, Lena. I’m not going to let you go because you’re too stubborn to see it.”

  Helena noticed then the parcel she’d left for him outside the door earlier that day, still in the same spot unopened. He had not found it yet. For a minute she considered taking it and tucking it back in her bag.

  But it was too late, she realized as his eyes followed hers. “What’s this?” he asked, reaching for the package.

  “Wait!” She tried to grab the note, but he unfolded the paper. She watched his face as he read it, the surprise and sadness and finally resignation blowing through like clouds on a stormy day. “You were just going to leave this?” There was no anger in his voice, just sadness.

  “I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t bear it.” She trailed off, ashamed. He had called her brave for everything she had done, but saying goodbye to him was the one thing she could not do. “The police have been to our house to ask about hoarding when my sister was there alone.”

  His jaw clenched. “They didn’t hurt her, did they?”

  She shook her head. “Just threats. She’s fine. But Ruth, well, she’s always been the nervous one and she’s more scared than ever now. She doesn’t want me to come here.”

  “And you?”

  “No, I mean, yes. I want to come.” She looked away, embarrassed by the effusiveness of her own response. “But I can’t endanger my family.”

  Of course, the point was a moot one: that morning, Helena had thought she was walking away from Sam for good. Now that she was back here, though, Helena knew she could not stay away. Like her mother, this could all be gone in an instant and she would take the moments while they were here. She could no sooner leave Sam than leave herself.

  “Dammit!” he exploded. Helena pulled back. “I hate that I’m stuck here. I can’t protect you, can’t help.” He reached for his waistband. “I want you to take this,” he said. He pulled out his gun, which dangled in the air between them.

  “Oh, I couldn’t,” she said. “I mean, I don’t even know how.” It was not entirely true—she had used Tata’s rifle, first as a child with him holding it steady and later on her own trying to find food for the children. But it was a far cry from the sleek pistol Sam held—which she might actually be expected to aim at a person.

  “I’ll show you.” He stood with effort and she followed. “Here.” She took the gun reluctantly. The steel felt cold and solid in her hand, but not as odd as she might have imagined. He moved behind her and put his arms around her on each side, adjusting her grip and then raising her arms to shoulder level. Her stomach fluttered as she felt his chest pressing warm behind her. “You brace like this,” he said. “And squeeze slowly and evenly.” Of course, they would not fire a real shot, not wanting to waste a bullet and for fear of attracting attention.

  Wordlessly they sat down once more. “I’m not taking it,” she said. “I still don’t think I could use it.” She did not tell him the real reason—Alek’s news of the other soldier’s capture had raised her fears that it was only a matter of time before the troops searching the countryside came upon the chapel and she did not want to leave Sam defenseless. “Anyway, it would be much worse for me if I was stopped and found carrying an American weapon,” she added. He pursed his lips, unable to disagree.

  “Sometimes I wish you’d never found me,” he burst out suddenly. She stared at him, hurt for a second. But it was understandable.

  “Don’t say that!” she cried. She could not bear to think what would have happened to him. She paused, taken aback. Sam was usually so optimistic. It was his desperation talking, giving voice to the same thoughts she’d had in the dark of the night.

  “We’re in it together, you see, too far in it.”

  “If you hadn’t found me, then none of this would have happened to you.” He regretted the difficulty he had brought her. He would have preferred to lay wounded in the brush, awaiting animals or Germans or both, rather than put her at risk.

  Sam had complicated her life to be sure, and she would not glamorize that. But her world had changed indescribably and she could not imagine putting it back the way it had once been, or having it not changed at all. If she had never found Sam, she would not have become involved in the spying—might never have known she was Jewish. But she did not regret it.

  “Anyway, we can’t change it so let’s not waste time thinking about it, okay?” She looked out the window into the darkness. “I have to go.”

  “You can’t go now. At least wait until first light.” She hesitated. Ruth would be worried sick but he was right, of course—it was pitch-dark and navigating the rest of the way home, even with the dying flashlight, would be impossible. She followed him into the chapel. She lay down on the pile of leaves he called his bed. He put his arms around her, resting them over her shoulders in a way that suggested warmth and comfort but no more. His fingers grazed the back of her hand like the feeling of the grass about her ankles on the summer days they’d gone barefoot as children.

  Helena thought Sam might try to kiss her again and was disappointed when he
did not. She fretted silently for a moment that learning the secrets they had kept from each other—his about the mission, hers about Ruth—had created mistrust. But his arms held her more solidly than ever. She pressed against him, savoring his embrace even now.

  Without warning her thoughts returned to the fact that she and her siblings were half-Jewish and the grave danger Sam said that could bring. “What is happening to them?” Helena asked. Though part of her did not want to know the answer, she could not turn away. “The Jews who are taken by the Germans, I mean.”

  Sam’s body sagged as he exhaled, and she knew he was unable to lie to her. “Some are going to the ghettos, designated neighborhoods with walls.” Helena understood then the construction she had glimpsed as she had crossed the bridge by Podgórze, the high stone fences that had seemed so impractical for the sprawling, industrial neighborhood. “And for others, the Germans have set up camps. For the Jews mostly.” Once this last bit would have brought her comfort, but now it hung dark and ominous in the air between them. “But also for political prisoners and others who they don’t like or they think don’t fit in.”

  “What’s the point—of the camps, I mean?”

  Sam hesitated. “They’re labor camps. The Germans only have use for those who can work.”

  “And for those who can’t work? The elderly and the children and the sick?”

  “I don’t know.” He turned away. Dorie’s face appeared in her mind suddenly, causing Helena’s stomach to twist. With her awkward limp, Dorie would be considered of no use to the Reich. Baby Karolina would similarly be dubbed surplus. Michal might be technically old enough to be useful, but he wasn’t strong enough to withstand hard labor. “Let’s not talk about it. You will never go there, not you or your brother or sisters. I’d kill someone first. I did it once,” he said in a hushed voice. “Killed a man.”

  “Oh.” She found herself stroking his soft hands. A moment ago it would not have been possible to imagine.

  “I just thought you should know. You didn’t mention a sister so close to your age,” he added, his voice now fuzzy with sleep. “I assumed that they were all younger.”