by Bina Bernard
The deep lines around Harry’s mouth stretched into a smile as he thought about the day he walked in on them in Koslow. “Luck was with me then,” he said. “For three weeks I searched for you. I walked from town to town, where the Germans had relocated the women and children from Warsaw. I kept asking if anyone had seen an old woman named Emma with a young child. I didn’t know if your mother would be with you. Think how lucky it was that Tuesday, the day the Uprising started, was her day off. It’s why you were together. And I found you both. Luck was with me then,” he said, his voice cracking.
Hannah closed her eyes and pictured that warm August afternoon in Warsaw.
Completely by chance both her parents had been visiting that day. She was very happy! After a lunch of kopytka and compote at Aunt Emma’s apartment, the four of them strolled along the promenade by the Wisła River. She was happy because they were together. It didn’t matter to her that her left hand was holding onto Bronisław Bieliński and her right onto Aunt Marta.
There seemed to be an unusual number of beggars asleep on the sidewalk. One of the bedraggled men motioned them over, but instead of asking for money he whispered, “Get off the street!” Realizing these men were part of the Polish Underground and that the rumored Uprising was about to start, Harry instructed the three of them to return to Emma’s apartment and stay together. Then he ran off.
“After I found you, I thought getting Lena back would be even easier. I expected to see the Mother Superior at the orphanage and tell her that Lena’s father had been killed and now her aunt, her dead mother’s sister, was ready to raise her niece. I suspected it might take some time to actually get her back, so we moved to Radom to be close to the orphanage.” Harry stopped talking briefly. He needed to weigh his words carefully so that Hannah would know exactly what happened that frigid January day in 1945.
On the sofa, Hannah remained expressionless, and listened.
“Any other cold day, with the same freezing temperature, I would have been shivering. But as I trudged through the frozen snow on the way to the convent, I didn’t even feel cold. The anticipation of seeing Lena kept me warm. As soon as I saw the iron gate off in the distance, I quickened my pace.” As Harry paused to wipe his fogged-up glasses, he managed a weak smile recalling how happy he was as he approached the convent.
“My heart was racing at the thought of seeing Lena in a matter of minutes. The young nun who greeted me at the gate led me to the Mother Superior’s office. I smiled remembering the sound Lena and I had made walking these same glistening hardwood floors years before. Once I was inside the office, rather than the kindly Mother Superior I’d met years before, a much younger woman with a stern expression sat behind the desk. Seeing this stranger unnerved me. I told her I was there to see the Mother Superior. She assured me that she, Sister Marianna, was the new Mother Superior, and told me to take a seat. I sat down, clutching the arms of the chair to steady myself and I told her, ‘I’ve come to get Lena!’ I made it clear to this new Mother Superior that her predecessor had understood I had only brought Lena to the orphanage temporarily, until someone in her family could care for her. Her aunt was now ready and able to do that, I explained, since Lena’s father had been killed in the war. When I finished, I relaxed a little. They had to give Lena back to her family. And Sister Marianna was now smiling. She didn’t seem as stern as she had when I entered her office. I expected to be told how many days it would take before Lena was returned to her aunt. Instead Sister Marianna announced, ‘I’m sorry, Lena is not here! There are no children here and have not been for many years.’”
Harry reached out to touch Hannah’s hand. “You cannot imagine the shock I felt hearing those words,” he whispered, and closed his eyes.
Noting the anguished look on her father’s face, Hannah did not recoil from his touch.
“I was stunned. I thought about the last time I saw Lena, her sad little face framed by her cascading blonde curls. All I could think of was that I had come back for her as I had promised, and she wasn’t there. ‘Where is she?’ I asked, barely able to get the words out. Sister Marianna insisted she didn’t know. She said all the children had been moved before she got there, and the orphanage records had been destroyed in a fire. She assured me Lena would have been placed with a fine family. That was of no comfort to me. As she was ushering me out, Sister Marianna offered me a promise to try to find out what happened to Lena. I gave her our address in Radom and asked her in the name of the family to try her hardest.”
Harry felt his voice getting hoarse. He stopped his monologue to take a sip of tea. But there was more to his story he was desperate to share with Hannah.
“Sister Marianna seemed sincere but as the gate shut behind me, I decided I had to talk to somebody other than the nuns. I had to be absolutely sure that Lena really was no longer inside. I waited across the street in the freezing cold, the howling wind blowing snow in my face, and watched. By five o’clock when a man wearing overalls and a warm sheepskin coat came out, I decided he could tell me what was actually going on in the convent. I followed him into a nearby tavern. After gulping down several drinks, I gained enough courage to approach him.”
“I don’t like to drink alone. Can I buy you a vodka?” he asked the stranger.
“I can sure use another drink in this bitter cold,” the man gratefully accepted.
After many shots, when the two new drinking buddies had their arms around each other, he finally asked his question.
“How many children are there at the convent these days, Jerzy?”
“No children. Only nuns. Not an orphanage anymore. Hasn’t been for years. Not since I started in ’43,” Jerzy said.
Hearing that, he realized that if Sister Marianna did not provide him with further information, he had no way of knowing where to start looking for Lena.
That night for the first time since his college days, he got so drunk he nearly froze to death when he fell asleep on a bench outside the train station. The next morning a porter woke him up and put him on the train to Radom.
“All during the war I was comforted knowing that she was safe in the orphanage. I had outwitted the Nazis, but if the nuns did not know where Lena was, how could I find her?” Harry said softly.
“But Sister Marianna did promise to find out what happened to Lena,” Hannah said.
“Yes. She said she would do her best. But did she care about reuniting Lena with her aunt? All I could hope for was that she did actually try to find out what happened to Lena and let me know. I couldn’t tell the Mother Superior the truth. I couldn’t tell her that Lena was my daughter. That I’d brought her to the orphanage to keep her safe because we were Jewish. The Russians liberated Poland from the Germans, but the end of the war did not mean an end to anti-Semitism. It was still open season on Jews in Poland in 1945.”
Hannah remembered.
They never went back to their old life in Krakow. There were rumors going around that some Jews who returned from the camps or from hiding were not welcomed back, some even killed. It was decided that it was safer to remain in Radom living as the Bieliński family.
With Emma part of the family, the four settled into a large but partially bombed-out apartment. Many of its windows were boarded up, and some rooms with collapsed walls were sealed off, but the plumbing and heating worked. One of the rooms was turned into an office. Dr. Bronisław Bieliński started seeing patients immediately. Because payment was often eggs, chickens, and bread, they had plenty to eat. Money was scarce.
“What about Lena?” Hannah demanded.
“What could I do? I waited and hoped Sister Marianna would locate her. I couldn’t force her. I had no proof that I had brought Lena to the convent in the first place.”
Hannah shook her head in disbelief. “You just gave up!” she said contemptuously. In spite of their disagreements, Hannah always saw her father as a fighter. His defeatist attitude shocked her.
“When I got back to Radom and told your mother the bad ne
ws she almost lost her mind. She wanted to go directly to the Archbishop! The Pope! What a joke! We’d have to tell him why we left Lena with the nuns. The Holy Father wasn’t much help to the Jews against Hitler. I was sure the Church was satisfied knowing Lena was being raised as a good Catholic. She didn’t need to be found and returned to a Jewish family. It was a very bad time for us. You probably don’t remember. . . .”
Hannah remembered.
Life in Radom had a veneer of normalcy. Once again as exiles from Warsaw, they were treated as heroes by their neighbors. Zosia started attending a Catholic school. She adored the nuns who taught her. Fully aware that the girls who vied to sit next to her in class might not want to play with her if they knew she was really Hannah Stein, Zosia continued to keep the family secret.
Now reunited, the Bieliński household was not a happy one. While her mother always looked as if she were about to burst into tears or had just stopped crying, her father, when he wasn’t seeing patients, seemed to be angry with everyone, but especially with his daughter.
“Why are you always listening at keyholes?” he’d yell if he opened a door and found her standing there. His scowl frightened her. Even when she didn’t know what she’d done to displease him, she always said, “I’m sorry.” Fortunately, her mother showered her with affection, so she shadowed her wherever she went.
On their first outing, as the front door to the apartment building slammed behind them, Hannah asked, “Where are we going, Mommy?”
“It’s such a beautiful day, we’ll go to the square and walk around,” her mother said cheerfully, and she squeezed her gloved hand.
They were both bundled up for their outdoor trek. Although the bright sun glistened over the snow, it was bitter cold. As they strolled, she playfully jumped over mounds of snow and laughed when her breath formed circles on meeting the cold air. No matter the temperature, Hannah was happy holding her mother’s hand. When her mother abruptly let go, she stood frozen. Bewildered, she watched her mother approach a little blonde girl a few feet away, sucking a lollipop.
Crouched down to be eye level with the child, she said, “You’re such a pretty girl. My name is Marta, what’s yours?”
Frightened, the child grabbed her mother’s skirt and Marta quickly stood up to face an unsmiling mother.
“You have a lovely daughter,” she said, hoping to pierce the woman’s icy stare.
“Thank you,” she said curtly.
Once Marta said, “This is my daughter Zosia. What’s your daughter’s name?” both Hannah and the child’s mother were visibly relieved.
“Maja,” the woman answered, more amenable now, seeing this stranger was a mother herself.
“Maja is a big girl. How old is she?” Marta asked.
“She just turned five. Yes, she is big for her age. She takes after her father!”
They moved on once it was clear that the girl was younger than Zosia.
That scene was repeated countless times whenever the two ventured out. Although puzzled by her mother’s attempt to engage every blonde girl she saw, Hannah was careful not to make any critical comments. She didn’t want her mother to be angry with her, too. Hannah convinced herself her mother was merely searching for suitable playmates for her.
“I felt there was something strange about our life in Radom . . . besides still pretending we were Gentiles.” Hannah said. “Mother cried a lot and you frowned whenever you looked at me. I thought you were either going to hit me or send me away again.”
“Why would you think that?” Harry asked, shocked.
“You seemed angry whenever you saw me, you never hugged me. Mother and you were always whispering and stopped talking if I was nearby. You spoke German so I wouldn’t understand.” Hannah chuckled. “That’s why I learned German. I had to know if you were plotting to send me away again.”
“Oh, my God! Sending you away was the last thing in the world I wanted. I wanted us to be together and happy.”
“That’s a laugh!” Hannah could feel her nostrils flaring the way Harry’s did during their frequent shouting matches. “I was sure I had done something wrong. Just couldn’t figure out what,” she said almost to herself.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. So sorry. I’m the one who did something wrong.” Harry’s voice was quivering. “I didn’t get Lena back. Your mother expected me to pull off a miracle. I was fresh out of miracles.”
“Did you at least go back to the convent?” she asked coldly.
“No. What good would that have done?”
“Maybe if you’d gone back, the nuns would have tried harder to find Lena. Maybe they thought the aunt didn’t care that much? How could you have given up so easily?” Her voice grew louder with each question.
The louder Hannah shouted the quieter was Harry’s response.
“You don’t understand how difficult it was.”
“I do! I was there! I would not have given up so easily!” she insisted.
Lamely, he tried to defend himself against her accusation. “You were a child, the country was in chaos. We were helpless. Who could we appeal to? The government the Soviets installed in Lublin was not functioning. Where could we possibly start looking for a child who was now part of someone else’s family? We had no trail to follow without Sister Marianna’s help. We had no proof she was our child. Sometimes giving up is all you can do,” Harry said softly, and closed his eyes.
Hannah kept shaking her head. Her father’s passivity was unacceptable to her. And at odds with her long-held view of her father as the family protector in spite of their troubled relationship.
After a brief pause Harry tried again to describe their predicament. “Lena was not the only one we were trying to find. There was your Uncle Leo and his wife, and other relatives who were hidden in Warsaw. The big question was what happened to my father and . . .” Harry’s mouth felt dry. He gulped down what was left of his cold tea.
“Do you remember the train trip you and your mother took to Krakow?”
Hannah nodded.
She had begged her father to let her go with her mother. On the train her only thoughts were about Grandma Sonia. She bypassed the Black Madonna, her designated patron saint, and spoke directly to God. Over and over she pleaded: “Please, please let Grandma Sonia be alive!” In her childish mind it seemed possible that her prayers could make that happen. She was sure her prayers had kept her father alive during the war, when everyone else thought he was dead.
As they got off the train in Krakow, her mother ordered, “Hold my hand, and don’t say anything to anyone.” Hannah obeyed, until they were outside the Landau Bookstore. Then she let go of her mother’s hand and ran inside. The familiar smell of new pencils welcomed her. She smiled as she headed to the counter where Sonia usually stood, fully expecting to find her grandmother there.
“Stop running!” she heard a man shout. “This is a store, not a playground for children!”
She ignored him. Nothing was going to keep her from her grandma. Tackled by the man, she felt his fingers dig into her shoulders.
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” he yelled.
“I’m looking for my grandparents!” she answered. The man loosened his grip and she ran behind the counter. He chased after her. This time when he caught her, he held on even tighter.
“I’m looking for my grandmother,” she yelled at him.
“If you mean Sonia Landau, she’s dead,” he said coldly. “This is my store now!”
Hearing that, she ran crying into her mother’s arms. “I want to go back to Radom.”
“We can’t go yet,” her mother said, and tenderly stroked her hair until her sobbing stopped.
Their next stop was the house where they used to live. Hannah did not want to go inside. Her mother had to push her through the front door. While Molly went into the parlor with the woman who now lived there, Hannah remained in the hall next to the front door and closed her eyes. Suddenly a girl about her size stood in front of her. With he
r hands pressing her shoulders, she pinned Hannah to the wall and shouted, “You can’t come back here. This isn’t your home anymore! It’s mine! It’s mine now!”
Hannah threw the girl’s arms off and put her small hands around her throat.
The two mothers pulled them apart.
“It was devastating when Mother learned that my father and her parents were definitely dead. We couldn’t even find out what happened to their bodies,” Harry said in a whisper. “I should have forced them to leave and go into hiding . . . they might have survived instead of being herded into the street and shot. Ela told mother they were killed soon after I took the train to Warsaw.” A profound sadness overpowered him as he recalled his risky exit. “Luck was on my side then.”
As soon as he had his false papers Hershel Stein set about transforming himself into Dr. Bronisław Bieliński. Over several weeks he grew a mustache, which he meticulously trimmed each morning until it was the pencil-thin shape he desired. He bought an expensive leather attaché case for his medical tools and had the initials BB embossed on the front flap. He purchased a fedora to coordinate with his camelhair overcoat. Although he was anxious, Harry was eager to start his journey to Warsaw.
Medical bag in hand, Dr. Bronisław Bieliński walked out of the Jewish Quarter under the cover of darkness and made his way to the main railway station just as a train was pulling in. He saw two Gestapo officers standing on the platform. His shirt collar was wet with perspiration, but he took a deep breath and headed toward the train. When he reached the officers, he tipped his hat and said, “Good Morning,” in crisp German. Both officers clicked their heels and let him board without even asking to see his papers.
Silent. Seemingly unmoved, Hannah remained at the opposite end of the sofa and listened.
“With no word from Sister Marianna, I believed we would never get our Lena back. We had to start a new life. I wanted us to go to America where my brothers were. But your mother could not give up hope of finding Lena. She insisted Lena was nearby. She could feel it. Mother prayed. Once I believed our Lena was lost, it was no longer possible for me to pray. By the end of April, it was clear there was no future for us in Poland. Owning up to who we really were was not a safe option. It was so difficult to live that lie, laughing at anti-Semitic jokes so no one could suspect we were Jewish. Your mother finally agreed to leave Poland when we found out that her brother and his wife were dead. They were hidden in the last building in Warsaw the Germans torched. No one survived that inferno.” Harry wiped his eyes. He glanced at Hannah, who refused to look at him. Yet she seemed to be listening. Harry hoped his words were making her understand their dreadful dilemma.