Aunts and uncles and cousins and nieces and nephews came too. For generations, the Grünspans had been a large, proud family spread across Poland, Belarus, and the Ukraine. In the end, there would be so few—only a small number would survive.
Once close and more distant friends showed up, those individuals who, collectively, encompassed Esther’s community in Przeworsk. The people with whom she attended school, the many who had benefited from her tailoring gifts, and those who bought bread from the bakery where she worked on Friday afternoons. Along with the ones she passed on the street daily and nodded to in polite greeting.
All these human beings—
All these unique souls …
—appeared to Esther to reach beyond the nightmare that had swallowed them whole, to describe in detail how their fate had unfolded.
Train or cattle car had taken many to the camp Sobibor, where a number had passed on after months of hard labor and near starvation. Some, those who had survived the maltreatment and rampant disease, were relocated to Auschwitz-Birkenau and ultimately led to communal showers with hundreds of others. They were met by spewing Zyklon B instead of cascading water.
The ones who had passed most recently—just in the last month—had been taken to the camp Majdanek located near the bustling city of Lublin. The circumstances there were no different.
Still others, those who were young and vigorous, had attempted to escape, to somewhere, to anywhere without the oppressive restrictions and dangers that had seized their homes and their lives. These were the individuals who were captured and sent to work camps in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, places with little food and water, daily beatings, and unspeakable abuses.
Esther listened attentively, never questioning, not uttering one word. She recognized that these people had come for her to pay witness, to listen, to digest. The arbitrary nature of the Nazis’ actions filled her with shock and nausea. The fact that she felt anything at all was in and of itself momentous.
I sat with them as Esther accepted the certainty of their visits.
Each of them … every one of them … were all now safe … far from harm’s way and out of all pain … beyond human need …
They were truly free.
Still … they were compelled … they knew it essential to describe their passage … the horror of it never … not ever … to be forgotten.
“Gey foroys, Etka. Continue on, Etka. Continue on for us all,” each said in parting, offering encouragement and courage.
I embraced them all with spirit.
And at that moment … for that one instant … I knew … she … Esther … felt me … understood me … accepted me … without question … and at the core of her very self.
As the nights passed by, Esther waited, expectantly, but Tonka, her dearest little sister, the one with whom she was once so close, never appeared. For this, she was thankful.
Abraham did not come. Somehow, impossibly, she thought, he must still be alive. Or—perhaps because the bond between them was never veritable—he could not make the connection the way the others had. Did not want to make the connection.
Esther came to anticipate the visits. There was no mourning for those who came, no lamentation for their passing. Just an understanding and acceptance without attachment. Each night she prepared herself for them—these groups of people she now knew would appear.
Only Tadeusz came alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
A part …
And only he came in her waking hours—
His distinctive voice breaking through the imagined boundaries of space and time and illusion.
Direct.
Sharp.
Insistent.
Imploring.
One word. The forcefulness of his inflection melding two syllables into one:
“Esther!”
There are no limits … no constraints … no barriers of any kind when it comes to true devotion … love … eternal love …
When two souls have pledged a path … designed a plan … made a binding commitment to one another.
Even when one seemingly deviates from their vow … they will come back together.
Sometimes … for a while … this may only be fleeting … in flashes … glimpses … feelings … but ultimately … they will be reunited …
For spirit and will … and verity … triumph above all else.
Tadeusz came at the Sabbath’s advent.
At the moment Esther lit the candle, his voice resounded against the walls and corners of the compact space.
Esther looked over to the edge of the bed where Zami lay, head buried in pillow and blanket. They had taken another lengthy walk that morning—akin to them being in training—
As they were …
—for an arduous physical trial, and this boy’s residual energy allowed for a few morsels of food before falling into a slumber that would permit no possibility of disturbance.
She sat down on the opposite side of the bed and closed her eyes firmly. She took in a quick breath. Esther knew at once what Tadeusz’s presence meant, but even the prior weeks of visitations had not readied her for this one.
There was no possible preparation.
More than eighteen years had passed from their time last together. And horrific history had transpired between them and before them and around them since then. Anguish he had birthed, and devastation wrought by overpowering outside forces.
An inordinate amount of time and energy and effort during these years had been consumed with suppressing and submerging and denying and resisting any remaining microcosm of affection that she once felt for him. And it appeared Esther had been successful—
Or so she thought …
—for she felt not an ounce of anything as her eyes slowly opened to him standing before her.
“Enshuldik mir. I’m sorry,” he blurted out, voice cracking.
“Esther. Meyn teyrl—My dear, dear Esther.
“I am so very sorry for everything I have done. For all the pain and all the misery I’ve caused you. I did a despicable, shameful thing. You did not deserve the way I treated you.
“But everything seemed to be moving fast, too fast. We had only known each other a year. Our connection was so powerful it overwhelmed me.
“I got scared. My fear overcame me. All I could do was run. And I ran in Sarah’s direction.
“I never loved her. I couldn’t possibly love Sarah.
“Dos voltstu shoyn gedarft visn—You must know that. You have to have always known this. But maybe what you knew only confused you more.
“Sarah was safe. Her family was rich. You know my family never had anything, and I had struggled my whole life. I was tired of going without.
“Kh’ob nisht gekent geyn vayter. I just couldn’t bear it anymore.
“I knew the two of us would always have to struggle. I couldn’t do it. I guess I wasn’t strong enough for you.
“Du bist azoy shtark—You’re so strong, Esther. The journey you’re on now proves that. I want you to know—as hard as this may be to accept—you were actually better off without me.
“If we had stayed together, if the wedding, our marriage, had taken place, you too would be gone.
“S’iz emes. This is true.
“You need to continue on the path you are on, for you will survive. You will triumph. Perhaps you can’t believe this right now, today. Ober a mol, vestu farshteyn—But someday you will understand.
“And you are better off without me,” he reiterated forcefully.
Esther sat impassively as he spoke.
She attempted to digest all he was saying—tried hard to believe what he was saying. But she could not.
Tadeusz continued, “But I never did stop struggling, although it was in ways I never anticipated—vayl Ikh hob nokh dir shreklekh gebenkt—because I missed you unbearably. And knew I had made a shameful error. An intolerable mistake. I constantly regretted what I had done.
“I struggled most because
I knew I gelebt in lign—lived a lie.”
At this last line, Esther stopped listening.
She could not absorb any more of his words. She could not accept his explanations. She simply sat there, immobilized. Waiting for him to leave. This time for good and for always.
Or … for when she would be ready …
For all that matters … truly matters … all that continues on from one sphere to the next … the only thing that endures is … love.
So Esther did not hear Tadeusz describe how Sarah, fragile and mollycoddled, had been captured and taken away to a work camp, where she died soon after. Or that he had initially been one of the fortunate when he escaped to the nearby woods and joined the Resistance. His detailed descriptions of how they fought back were lost on her, as well as his account of the day at early morning, in the moments before sunrise, when his group became entrapped.
However, Esther did hear him say, “It’s important you know I was not murdered by them.
“And that it was not an accident. Some might think otherwise or want to think differently. They might believe what I did was a sin. But I want you to be clear about this.
“I had a rope and un gehat a kavone—I had intention. I knew what I was doing.
“It was the last act of control in a world gone out of control. A world gone completely mad.
“And my last thoughts, mayne eyntsike gedanken—my only thoughts—were of you.”
“Stop!” Esther cried out.
“Genug! Enough! I will have none of this! Gey avek! Loz—mikh—tsuru! Go away! Leave—me—alone!”
No … she was not ready … she simply was not ready …
Tadeusz stood there, stunned. Distraught by her reaction. Tears streamed down his face.
“Du bist mayn gelibte—You are my beloved, Esther. I will love you always, across all time and space,” Tadeusz cried out as his image began to fade.
For a fleeting moment Esther was embraced by warmth and felt a tender, gentle pressure on her lips.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
And now …
I hear you probe:
from whence …
does one’s innermost puissance …
and resoluteness …
arise?
At a quarter past six, Esther lay down on the bed beside Zami. She covered herself with the portion of the blanket still accessible and, without effort or hesitation, fell into a state of suspended consciousness. They had gone for another extensive walk during the day, and Esther’s energies were spent. All she wanted was to not feel anything—anymore—ever again.
Esther did not care if she would reawake. For she understood there were other places and other options.
Not … now …
This is neither the time nor place.
Within moments of closing her eyes, she found herself once more in the imposing space of stone. Towering walls of irregular damp stone. Large smooth rounded stones, rough squarish stones, oblong shaped stones, amorphous stones and pebbles. An abundance of pebbles.
The location had grown familiar, even intimate, and hidden within its palette of grays and twilight, Esther could perceive gentle hints of color: blue tones and lavenders, shades of dark green, and hues of reds and roses. Restrained beauty. These elements added texture to an environment that had heretofore appeared more one-than two-dimensional. Esther was engulfed in the ethereal realm.
Here was safe haven.
But—where was here? Esther wondered when she awoke.
Early the next Tuesday morning, not much before eight, came one sharp, insistent knock at the door.
Esther, caught up in the morning rituals of dressing and breakfast, started. Not with fright, but surprise. Marc-Philippe and Yvette regularly checked in on them in the evenings. And they had just come by on Sunday.
She went close to the door and in her best, simulated French accent said with measured calmness, “Oui, bonjour.”
An unfamiliar male voice responded, in German, scarcely above a whisper, “Esther, it is Léon, a friend—ein Freund—of Marc-Philippe and Yvette.”
They had not advised her to anticipate a visitor or, in fact, told her anything of consequence on Sunday. With those spare words, Esther recognized this situation could suggest ill and give rise to events she had worked so hard, for so long, to evade.
Let us not discount that I was with her … with them … as I promised always … as I would be always.
Esther knew the door must be opened and this man let in.
Straightaway she took note Léon was older than his purported friends by no less than twenty years. He was wide of girth and unkempt. A thick beard and disheveled, longish hair covered his ears. His dark brown pants, black sweater, and thick, fur-lined jacket, while not tattered, were threadbare in places. His boots, which reached just below the knee, were scruffy and had chunky, beaten soles. He held a blue knit cap in hands of soiled palms and fingers with crusts of dirt in the cuticles and under the nails.
At first inspection, his demeanor did not bring Esther comfort or assurance.
But what choices are available to me? she thought. I am at the mercy of situation and circumstance.
Or … so she thought …
The moment the door closed behind him, Léon spoke hurriedly and bluntly. “Marc-Philippe and Yvette were arrested last night. They’re strong, but les boches—the Nazi swine—are stronger and will soon break their resistance. Da bin ich mir sicher—Of this I’m sure.
“We don’t have much time. We must leave immediately!”
Foreboding welled up in Esther’s chest.
Sometimes it is necessary … for reasons I cannot reveal … I must let … it is necessary to allow … certain situations … inescapable events … to unfold as they must …
“Leave? But to where?” Esther blurted out. Her voice trembled. Her mind began to race. She bit down hard on the inside of her right cheek. “Where can we go that is safe?”
“We must take our chances and cross over the Alps,” he answered. “In die Schweiz. To Switzerland.”
Léon swiftly relayed the details of his plan, describing how they would take the train from Gare de Lyon to Lyon. This would likely take seven or eight hours. Or more. From there, they would take another train to Chambéry and then transfer to a local train to Annecy. The final destination, on this first part of the journey, would be a town called Cluses in the southeastern corner of France.
As Léon spoke, Esther noticed how the room, with just this one extra person, became uncomfortable and constrained—claustrophobic. Strange, she thought, especially after these recent weeks of so many visitors coming in groups of three or four or more, where the space never felt crowded or confined. On the contrary, with their appearances, the room assumed an expansive quality.
There need be … no distinguishing between the physical presence and the ethereal.
For energy … each individual’s energy … essence … whether residing on this plane or another … conveys … imparts … the lightness or heaviness of the weight of veracity each carries.
“Alles in allem, wenn alles so klappt—In all, if everything goes as I’ve planned—it will take no more than one full day and one night of train travel. The trains are still running on time in this area and the route is, mostly, safe.
“To be especially careful, we must not be seen traveling together. You and the boy must be in first class. I’ll be right behind you in second.
“At Cluses I’ll meet up with you once again and wir werden unsere Wanderung beginnen—we’ll begin our walk—north. We’ll follow a river, Le Giffre, which runs through la vallée du Giffre. For a while, this area will be flat and easy. We’ll come near a town, Sixt-Fer-à-Cheval, that we’ll have to avoid. Walk far around it. We can’t let anyone see us. But from there, it’s only about fifteen kilometers to the border.
“There is a train to Lyon that leaves at 11:15 a.m. We must be on it to make all our connections.”
The names, the places, the r
oute Léon mentioned were unknown to Esther. Her head ached—thoughts spinning wild. All aspects of life felt out of control.
There must be questions to ask, answers to know, she thought. Are there options? Other possibilities? Is this, in fact, the safest route? The right time to depart? Then again, is it possible this horror is, truly, finally ending? A few more days and this nightmare, this confinement, will be over—can this be?
Before Esther could manage to form a syllable, Léon demanded, “I’ll need the money now.”
“Das Geld—The money?” Esther questioned.
“Ja, mein Schatz—Yeah, sweetheart,” Léon began gruffly.
Esther flinched at his coarse use of this word.
“—Das Geld. Listen, lady, you don’t think I’m doing this for free, do you? Especially not with a little kid. It’s far too dangerous. You think I’m doing this for a good time? Marc-Philippe told you how much it would cost, right?”
What he said was true. Esther was aware money would be involved. She and Zami had been able to stay at Yvette’s family apartment without charge, but when she first arrived, they had told her there would be “expenses” to get her to safety. However, the exact fee had not been mentioned, and what Léon now quoted her seemed exorbitant. But again, what alternative was available?
Choice is judgment and discernment … and need.
“I will get it,” she affirmed.
Esther felt Léon watch her keenly as she went to the side of the bed where Zami sat, impassively watching this scene unfold. Wide-eyed, he held tight to his train.
Esther reached beneath the thin mattress and pulled out a bundle of bills. She turned her back and counted.
Facing him once again, she handed Léon a small stack and said, “Here is, ein guter Teil—a fair portion—of what you’ve asked for. It is more than enough to cover your transportation and food. As we make safe progress along the way, I will pay you more. At the conclusion, if we are successful, I will pay you a bonus. More than you requested.”
Guesthouse for Ganesha Page 22