by Kathy Kacer
Each person had a story about where they had come from, how they had become blind, and how Herr Weidt had taken them in and saved them from a terrible fate.
“He’s saved all of us,” Erna said, insisting that I also call her by her first name.
“An angel,” Herr Bromberger added, echoing Anneliese.
I was beginning to realize how true that was.
Chapter 5
We continued working once the lunch break was over. But now, there seemed to be a feeling of ease in the air that hadn’t been there before. It was as if by introducing ourselves and eating together, we had broken the ice with the other workers. They now knew Papa and me by name. They were less quiet, less suspicious—more friendly.
“I still remember seeing a sunset even though I’ve been blind for so many years,” Herr Bromberger said, as I stood watching him weave bundles of fibers together to make a broom. He had silver hair and a film of some kind over his eyes that made them look glossy. “It was so red, it was like watching a fire on the horizon,” he said. “I remember that color so well.”
“I remember a sun so yellow it looked like the yolk of an egg,” added Marianne. “And I can remember what eggs looked like.”
Willy Latter was quiet. The deep worry lines on his face told the story of a difficult life. He had been a concert pianist and music teacher. His wife and two daughters were in hiding somewhere outside of Berlin. He didn’t know where they were and hadn’t been with them for some time.
Erna Haney sighed. “I wish I could have seen a sunset or an egg.” I remembered that she had been born blind. She suddenly looked nervous. “My husband isn’t Jewish,” she said, lowering her voice. “I thought that would protect me from being targeted by the Nazis. But I was wrong. There is no protection.”
My throat tightened. Erna must have sensed me stiffen. “But we’re safe here, my dear,” she said. “I don’t want you to worry about that.” She paused and then added. “My husband managed to get our two boys out of the country. I’m so happy about that. But I miss them every minute of every day.”
My mind jumped to thoughts of Mama. I missed her every day as well.
JJJ
The day passed quickly. I packed boxes of supplies. Papa and the other workers cut, combed, and assembled brushes and brooms. In between, we talked about our lives and what we missed. I had to admit, the work was fun, and working side by side with Papa was something I had never done before. Still, all the talk about leaving things behind made me miss my home as well. As grateful as I was to Herr Weidt, life wasn’t the same as it had been before all the troubles. And it wasn’t the same being the only young person in the middle of all these grown-ups. I missed my friends.
I hadn’t seen my best friend, Ruth, for many months. I had no idea where she was or if she was safe. We hadn’t met until my family fled to Berlin, but it was as if we had known each other our entire lives. Her family was among the few Jewish families in our Kreuzberg neighborhood, and we became inseparable. We lived next door to each other and walked to and from school together. In class, we sat next to one another. We wore the same ribbons in our hair that we braided in the same style. We could almost finish each other’s sentences. And because neither of us had siblings, we had always pretended that we were sisters. We planned to grow up and live next door to each other forever. A trapdoor of memories swung open as I summoned up one of our conversations.
“Show me the painting you made in school,” Ruth said as we walked home one afternoon.
I hesitated. “It’s so bad. You know I can’t draw.”
“Show me,” she insisted.
I pulled the drawing from my bag and held it up to her. She studied it for a long time, her head tilting first to the right, and then to the left.
“It’s not…terrible,” she finally said. “That tree looks pretty good.” She pointed to one side of my drawing.
I paused and then said, “That’s not a tree. It’s a man.”
Another long pause. “Oh.”
We looked at one another, and a second later, we exploded with laughter.
“It feels as if you’re a million miles away from me, my darling child.” Papa’s voice interrupted my thoughts as I passed by his workstation. And once again, it amazed me that he could sense what I was thinking and feeling, even though he couldn’t see my face. It was as if the feelings in my body oozed out of me and into the air where Papa would catch them and understand them.
“I was thinking about Ruth,” I replied, always honest with Papa. “And I’ve been thinking about Mama,” I added, dropping my voice until it was really just a whisper.
Papa stopped pulling horsehair into a tight bundle. “I know you miss them,” he said.
“Yes,” I replied.
“I miss your Mama as well. But she would want us to look to the future,” he added. “To focus on getting through the days to come. I’m sure your friend Ruth would want the same.”
“But do you think she’s safe? Ruth, I mean.”
“I pray every day that she and all of our friends are out of harm’s way,” Papa replied.
“I pray that for my friends and family as well,” added Herr Bromberger, who had been listening to our conversation.
“And my friends and family,” said Marianne.
“And mine,” echoed Willy Latter.
“And my children,” said Erna.
Tears pooled in my eyes as I looked around the room, blinking rapidly. Every single person here had friends and family members who were somewhere out there.
I wasn’t the only one who worried about loved ones.
Chapter 6
Herr Weidt disappeared after lunch, but he returned to the factory near the end of the day.
“Business meetings,” he said vaguely as he came to stand next to me. I was in the middle of packing a large order of supplies and struggling to close the lid of the box. He stepped in to help me tape it shut and wrap it with string.
“Tell me how you are doing, Lillian,” he said as we pushed the sealed box aside and I moved on to filling another one with shoe brushes.
“I’m fine, thank you, Herr Weidt,” I replied.
“And did you sleep well last night? Did Hetti look after you?”
“Oh, yes. She’s very nice. And very kind.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Herr Weidt replied. “I want you to feel safe here.”
I lowered my head and bit my lower lip, not knowing how to respond. I didn’t want to tell Herr Weidt about my longing for Mama and my worries about Ruth. That might make him think I was ungrateful for all he was doing to help us.
“Yes, I understand,” Herr Weidt finally said, when seconds of silence had passed. “Nothing feels very safe right now.”
I looked up. He was reading my mind, just like Papa. Finally, he sighed deeply and turned to Papa.
“I’d like the two of you to follow me to the back of the factory. There’s something that I need to show you. Something that’s also for your safety,” he added, looking right at me.
Papa stopped what he was doing, put the bristles back down on his small table, and together we followed Herr Weidt.
At the back of the workshop was a door. It looked like the door to a wardrobe of some kind. We stood and watched Herr Weidt open it. Inside were several coats and smocks hanging on coat hangers. I took a step closer, curious as to why Herr Weidt had brought us over here and what this had to do with our protection.
“I’ve told you that you’re safe here, and you are,” he began. “But out there,” he gestured toward the street, “out there, it’s a different story. And I’m afraid that the Gestapo is searching everywhere for Jews, even here in my little factory.”
A cold chill passed up and down my spine. I already knew what the streets of Berlin were like. But Herr Weidt and all the others had told us that we would
be out of harm’s way here, inside the factory. Now, he was talking about soldiers coming to search for us inside this place. And I knew what the Gestapo was. This secret police unit of the Nazi army was responsible for searching for Jews who might be hiding in places just like this one.
“But I have a plan for that,” Herr Weidt continued.
And then, to my surprise, he lifted one foot, stepped into the wardrobe, and disappeared inside. I leaned forward and watched as he moved past the coats and smocks that were hanging on the rod and pressed against the back wall. It clicked open, and he pushed this concealed door wide open, turning to beckon to me and my father. “Help your father through this door,” he instructed.
“Papa, take my arm,” I said. I pushed my father’s head down and nudged him forward, helping him to climb into the wardrobe, past the hanging garments, through the open back door, and emerging a moment later into another room. Herr Weidt was waiting for us on the other side.
“I had no idea this room was here,” I exclaimed as I looked around. The room was small, perhaps only ten feet long and ten feet wide. There was nothing inside, no chairs, no tables, and no windows to the outside world. One lightbulb was suspended from the ceiling, and it cast a pale glow across the room.
“That’s the idea,” said Herr Weidt, smiling from ear to ear. “You didn’t know it was here, and the Gestapo doesn’t know it’s here.”
He went on to tell us that, from time to time, soldiers conducted raids on his factory. “I believe it’s intended as a drill,” he added as I caught my breath. “They want to remind us of the power they have. So, they come through factories like mine to make sure we’re following their rules.”
To make sure there are no Jewish workers here, I thought.
“We can’t take any chances,” Herr Weidt continued. “I always have one of my trusted friends posted at the front door of the factory. If there’s any danger at all, if my friend sees that a Nazi patrol is approaching, he’ll ring the bell downstairs and you’ll hear it in the factory. That’s the signal to immediately stop what you’re doing and come back here. All of you,” he added. “You will all climb through that wardrobe and into this room. And you’ll stay here, not moving, and not making a sound, until someone comes to tell you that the danger has passed. Then you can come out again.”
I didn’t like the sound of this one bit. Herr Weidt said that his hidden room was for our protection, and I could see that it had been set up for that reason. But I felt as if our lives were in more danger than ever. It was unnerving; one minute hearing the promise of safety, the next minute fearing a Nazi patrol’s approach.
“It’s very important that you understand this plan and that you follow my directions,” Herr Weidt said. He turned to me. “I’ll be counting on you to help your father and the others get into this secret room.”
Up until now, Papa had not said a word. But now, he placed one arm protectively around my shoulder. And then he stepped forward and reached out to grasp Herr Weidt’s hand.
“We will do whatever you ask of us,” he said.
Chapter 7
After having crawled through the little wardrobe and into the safe room at the back of Herr Weidt’s factory, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that sat in my body.
That night, I dreamed I was in a dark tunnel.
Someone was shouting at me to move forward as quickly as I could. Don’t stop! Don’t look back! a voice commanded. I crept forward, slithering like a snake while coats and jackets and apron strings brushed past my face like the long, tangled vines hanging from a tall tree. Where was Papa? Where were Herr Weidt and the other workers? A choked cry rose up in my throat along with the bitter taste of bile. I thought I might be sick. The tunnel was endless—no light, no air, my eyes straining to see some shapes. Something was chasing me. I heard loud, angry voices and saw the glint of a soldier’s rifle behind me. This would be the end of Papa and me.
I must have cried out in my sleep because suddenly someone was shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see Papa standing over me.
“My darling,” he cried. “I’m here. I’m with you.”
I sat up in bed, shaking from head to toe and trying desperately to still the wild beating of my heart. Papa placed his hand, so cool, on my hot forehead, streaked with sweat.
“Can you tell me what it was?” he asked, sinking onto my bed and holding my hand.
“A dream.”
“More like a nightmare, I think,” Papa said.
“Yes.” My voice felt as shaky as my body.
“Would you like to tell me about it?”
I hesitated at first. I didn’t want to worry Papa any more than he already was. He had always protected me, but I now felt responsible for him as well. Besides, here in the quiet of Hetti’s house, it seemed silly that I should be dreaming about tunnels and crawling and getting away from the police. None of it was real.
“Sometimes it’s better when you talk and get your worries out in the open,” Papa urged.
I hesitated a moment longer, and then began to tell him everything. He listened patiently, nodding and clucking sympathetically when I described my dream. I told him the soldiers had been so close I could almost feel them breathing at my neck. He held my hand and sat with me until my heart stopped hammering, my body stopped trembling, and there was nothing more to tell.
“Do you think things will ever get back to normal?” I finally asked. It was something I hadn’t asked my father before. I sensed that he wouldn’t know the answer. Or perhaps I was afraid that he would, and it wouldn’t be something I wanted to hear.
Papa sighed. “Best not to think about that, my darling. Let’s just try to remember how lucky we are to be here and protected by Otto Weidt.”
Protected! In the past, protected had meant sleeping in my own bed, in my own house, with both of my parents in the next room. Now, it meant sneaking through the streets of Berlin to a factory that had a secret room in the back to hide in!
“Do you think you can sleep now?” Papa asked.
“I’ll try.”
“I’m right next door if you need me. I’m always close by.”
I lay back down on my pillow as Papa pulled the blankets up to my neck. He kissed me on the forehead and left the room. When he was gone, I reached for Schatzi, finding my doll buried in a tangle of sheets next to me. I pulled her up close to me, but my body still twitched with anxiety, and I couldn’t let it go. Then, I held my doll at arm’s length, staring in the dark at her features. She’s no help at all, I thought. She can’t comfort me or make the fears go away. She’s just a hollow, porcelain doll with a painted happy smile. Angrily, I threw her away from me. But a moment later, I reached for her and cradled her against me once more. That’s when I finally fell asleep.
Chapter 8
A few days later, Papa and I returned to Hetti’s home after a long day at the factory to find a surprise waiting for me. In the days in between, I had tried to push the images of the factory being searched out of my head. While at work, I would glance, every now and then, at the back of the factory and the wardrobe concealing the secret room. But then, I would look quickly away, and return to boxing the orders. Once, Herr Weidt caught me looking to the back.
“I’m afraid I scared you by showing you the secret room. I didn’t mean to do that. Having that room back there is a way to protect you.”
“I know it’s important,” I said.
“My workers are all grown-ups,” he said, sweeping his arm across the factory room. “I forget that you’re still a young girl. Children shouldn’t have to worry about these things.”
I nodded. “But I do. And I worry about my Papa and how he’ll manage if we ever have to hide back there.”
“He’ll manage,” Herr Weidt replied. “And you’ll help him. And so will the others. We’re all here to help each other. Don’t forget that.”
<
br /> That conversation stayed with me as we walked into Hetti’s apartment and closed the door behind us.
“Come in, come in, Mäuschen, and see what I’ve got for you,” said Hetti. We barely had a chance to remove our coats. She was practically dancing on the spot, shifting from one foot to the other, and urging Papa and me to go into the dining room. There, on her dining room table was a cake. And in the center of it was a candle burning brightly in the dim light of the room.
“Happy birthday!” shouted Hetti, grinning from ear to ear.
I startled and turned to her, mouth open, eyes widening.
“Your father told me,” Hetti continued. “I told him not to say a word all day and to wait until the two of you were back here for the surprise.”
“You have no idea how much I wanted to say something,” Papa added.
“I couldn’t let a birthday go by without a small party,” Hetti continued. “Even in these times, every child needs to have a birthday!”
My birthday! I had completely forgotten about it. After Mama died, my birthday had become less special. Mama had been the one to prepare a cake and buy a present. Papa tried after she was gone, but it wasn’t the same. Still, it had never passed without some kind of celebration, even a small one.
How was it possible that this year I had forgotten, when for my whole life I had always looked forward to my birthday? And yet, in the midst of everything that was happening around us, my birthday had disappeared from my mind, like snow melting from the ground in winter.
“It isn’t much,” Hetti added, pushing me forward. “Go ahead, Mäuschen. Make a wish and blow out the candle.”
What to wish for? I stared at the cake and the candle growing shorter with each passing second. Finally, I closed my eyes and whispered, “Keep Papa and me safe. And Ruth as well.” Then I opened my eyes and blew the candle out.
Papa had one more surprise for me. “I brought this with us when we left the house. I knew I’d give it to you at some point. Now, I think, is a good time.”