by Lisa Shea
I smiled. “Then, with all my heart, yes. Be with me, and we shall face this together.”
His eyes were rich, and deep, and I was lost -
There was the cracking of a branch behind us.
Robert whirled, rising to his feet. “Who’s there?”
I didn’t fight it. The joy within me was too rich. I had achieved what I wanted. When my spirit left this time, I knew that Haloke and Robert would have a long, rich, wonderful life together. I knew with certainty that they would survive the Long Walk, they would survive the four-year internment at the bleak camp, and they would at last return to these sacred grounds.
I was ready to move on.
Thunk.
Silence.
*
I blinked my eyes open, looking around me.
I was in an urban area. Three-story grey-stone buildings ran down the length of the street before me, grimy from years of use. It was late evening and the streets were nearly deserted. There were no cars, no streetlights, and the few people scurried along, shoulders hunched, in long, dark coats.
I could be anywhere. In nearly any time in the past century or two.
I stood and turned to look behind me.
A ten-foot wall of brick stretched along the entire length of the street. The top of it held barbed wire, angled to hold the people within.
I looked down at myself.
I was in a plain, black blouse with a dark-grey straight skirt. My brown shoes were boxy and of simple construction. I wore a black, wool overcoat and my hair was curled into a neat bun at the nape of my neck.
On my lapel was a yellow Jewish star.
My blood ran cold.
I was in the Warsaw Ghetto.
7 – Warsaw Destiny
I stood in shock, staring at the ten-foot-tall brick wall before me. The angled-in barbed wire across the top shone in the deepening sunset. I knew that it stretched around the entire circumference of the Warsaw Ghetto, caging in just over one square mile of land. And I also knew that stuffed within that tiny space was over 400,000 men, women, and children. Their only crime was that they practiced the Jewish faith.
By the time the Germans finished razing the ghetto in May, 1943, having destroyed the buildings block-by-block, over 300,000 of those Jews had perished.
I turned to put my back to the wall, looking at the row of stone buildings before me. Some had high, curved arches along their fronts. Others sported elegant carvings beneath the windows. I could have been anywhere in Europe. France. Italy. But I was here, in Poland, and I was now, during one of the worst periods humanity had faced.
And I was alone.
I looked down again at my clothing. I wore a simple, black blouse neatly tucked into a straight dark-grey skirt. My black wool overcoat hung open. My long hair was coiled up into a bun at the nape of my neck. The yellow star which marked me as a Jew was sewn prominently on my lapel.
Footsteps sounded from down the near-deserted streets and I pressed back against the wall, my heart hammering. Was it friend or foe?
He drew closer, emerging from the shadows -
My heart eased, and relief swept through me.
It was Robert.
He wore a black suit-looking jacket over a white shirt and dark pants. A black flat-cap sat on top of his head; his dark hair had been cut short. His tawny gaze was shadowed, and he strode straight toward me. His voice was low and tense.
“What are you doing still out, Elizabeth? You know the curfew is nearly here. And if they catch you on the streets -”
Sharp boot-clicks moved down the center of the street, and I glanced up in fear. A pair of Nazi soldiers were marching toward us. They wore domed helmets on their heads and their long jackets hung open over their uniforms. I could see the guns at their hips.
One of them looked over me with a leer. “Out plying your trade, are you?”
Robert’s eyes flashed in anger, and I put a hand on his arm. “We were just going home,” I assured the soldier. “Thank you for checking in on our safety.”
I turned and moved toward the wall of buildings, drawing Robert with me. I could feel the soldiers’ eyes burning into my back, but I willed myself not to turn.
Robert’s voice was a low mutter. “Those soldiers get more and more belligerent with every passing day. What are they going to do? Keep us in here forever? Stop feeding us and wait for us all to starve to death?”
I pressed my lips tight. No. It would be far, far worse than that.
He took the lead. “Let’s get you home to your parents. Before we are stopped again - by soldiers who aren’t as willing to let us go.”
He navigated me into the dense network of buildings which was the ghetto. Rocks and trash were scattered along the gutters. From several alleys came the sharp stink of urine and feces. Above us, metal porches jutted out from buildings, hung with drying clothing or boxes of supplies. Curtains were pulled tight. Lights glowed from a few windows, but many were pitch black.
A deep sense of foreboding hung over the ghetto, and I pulled my coat closer as we hurried along. I had read about the Warsaw Ghetto in school, of course. Studied it as yet another horrific action perpetrated by the Nazis. But to stand here - to take in the vast numbers of human beings teetering on the brink of destruction - took my breath away.
How could this have happened?
We drew up to a doorway in a long line of buildings and Robert pressed it in for me. Then we started up the dark, spartan stairs. My legs were aching by the time we reached the top floor - five full flights - and he stepped to the door. He pressed it open.
I blinked in shock.
It was like stepping into a museum.
A beautiful painting of a serene river landscape hung on the far wall. The couch was draped with elegant shawls. Silver candlesticks shone on the polished wood table. All along the edges of the walls were lined boxes of possessions, neatly labeled.
My stepmother looked up in shock. “Elizabeth! Quick! Close the door!”
I stepped through, easing the door shut behind us.
She shook her head in disbelief. “When will you ever learn, girl? Most apartments are stuffed with two or three families. We need to keep our lifestyle hidden!” She crossed her arms at her chest. “Once this is all over, and we can return home, you’ll appreciate my efforts.”
I took her in.
She was even slimmer than I remembered her, with her dark hair cut in a shoulder-skimming, attractive style. Her ruby-red dress had wide shoulders, fell to just past her knees, and was cinched at the waist by a matching band. Her face was artfully made up.
My father called over from his chair. “About time you came home, young lady.” His eyes drew up to Robert. “And you. I would have thought you’d make sure she was safely indoors before now.”
My father was in a full three-piece suit with a dark grey tie. A glass of port sat on the table alongside his upholstered chair. A book lay open on his lap.
Robert’s voice was tight. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
My father pointed a finger at him. “It’d better not. Those soldiers are getting more aggressive. Don’t give them a reason to bother you, and they’ll leave you alone, I always say. All we have to do is last this out. Once they get everything quiet and settled, I’m sure they’ll let us go home. Everything will go back to the way it’s always been.”
Deep shadows descended on me. Nothing would ever be the way it had been.
I looked around me at the wealth and luxury. Then I thought of the starvation and misery that surrounded us on all sides. Surely my parents could see what was going on?
My throat grew tight. “Father, we have to do something.”
He looked up in amusement. “What, did you want to play bridge?”
I shook my head. “No, no, I mean about here. In this ghetto.”
My stepmother shuddered. “I’ve asked you not to use that word. This is just a temporary processing location. Soon enough they will realize that peopl
e of quality do not belong here and allow us to return to our home. They just haven’t had time for that sorting to take place yet.”
I had a very real sense that when the sorting came, my stepmother would be in for a rude awakening.
I pointed to the heavily-curtained window. “I mean out there. All those people. Everything they’re going through.”
My father picked up his book and looked down into it. “Those people are not our concern, Elizabeth.”
I marched toward the window, reaching out my hand. “But if you’d only look -”
My stepmother’s voice rose in shock. “Don’t you dare touch that!”
I drew to a stop inches from the thick fabric.
I turned to stare first at one parent, then the other.
Robert stepped to the door. “Come on, Elizabeth, let’s go up to the roof. You always like it up there.”
My stepmother sat down at the dining room table. “Yes, please, go up there. I have a lot of silver to polish tonight, and I’d rather do it without your continual harping on this subject.”
I moved to join Robert, and in a moment we were going up a slim set of stairs to a final door. A step through, and we were beneath a vast sea of stars.
My throat closed up as we walked to the edge and looked out over the sea of buildings. So many. So many structures after structures, each one stuffed to the gills with helpless innocents. There were elderly and children in there, doctors, lawyers, schoolteachers, and all of them jammed into apartments like chickens into tiny laying cages. They were barely given enough food to subsist on.
Soon - maybe only months away - the ghetto would flare into riots.
And then it would be razed.
My eyes welled with tears. “Robert, we have to do something. We can’t just let it happen.”
He twined his fingers into mine. “We’ve talked about this. The soldiers shoot anyone who crosses that wall. It’s target practice for them - and they rarely miss. Maybe we will get through this, somehow.”
I shook my head. “On the Navajo’s long walk, I knew the risks - but I also knew that many of us would get to return home. That it was a hardship to endure, but there was a goal at the end.” I waved a hand at the rows after rows of apartment buildings. “Here, there is no goal. Just destruction. Utter and complete destruction.”
His face paled, and he turned to look at me. “Are you sure?”
I blinked, bringing my gaze to his.
I had gotten so used to him being at my side, facing each challenge with me, that I’d forgotten that he could not see what was coming. His dreams gave him brief glimpses into the past - into our racing clear of the volcano at Pompeii, or of him rescuing me from the burning house in Scotland. But he had no idea of the horrors yet to come at the Warsaw Ghetto. He had no idea that tens of thousands of those around us would be marched to the Treblinka camp and slain.
My voice was a whisper. “I am sure.”
Robert’s face firmed. “There has got to be something we can do.”
My mind searched … scrambled … and grabbed onto a name.
“We might not be able to save ourselves,” I murmured, “but there was at least one cause which found success. That was the smuggling out of infants and children. We can do everything in our power to assist with that. And then when the end comes at last …” I twined my fingers into his. “We can fight.”
He nodded, his eyes holding mine. “How do we begin?”
I thought of the artwork and silver stuffed into the apartment below me. “We begin by seeing what we have to offer the cause.”
He followed me down the steps, and I walked back into our apartment. I saw it through fresh eyes now. What would be of value as a bribe to a German soldier? Probably not a large portrait of a wrinkled man in a dark suit - I assumed that might be my grandfather. And probably not that elegantly carved menorah. Something small … something precious, and of use for him to then gain favor with a wife or mistress …
I turned to my father. “Do we have any jewelry?”
My stepmother’s shriek rang in my ears. She put a hand to the gold star at her neck. “I knew it! I knew it! She wants to steal the gold off my body, the ungrateful child!”
My father put his book back into his lap and looked over at me. “Where is this coming from, Elizabeth?”
I looked between them. They would never understand what I needed to do. It would seem utter insanity to them. I would be risking not only my own life but theirs as well. If the soldiers came up here, and saw this golden hoard …
But I had to try.
I drew up my strength. “Father, I want to -”
Robert smoothly interrupted me, coming to stand by my side. “We want to ask your blessings for our engagement.”
I turned to Robert in absolute shock, my mouth hanging open.
What had he just said?
My stepmother’s face grew sour. “What? Now? Here, in this hell-hole?”
Robert nodded. “Elizabeth wanted to keep it a secret, but I think you both deserve to know. We feel life is too short to wait. We want to make the most of the time we have together. And while the Warsaw Ghetto might not be the most ideal of places to make a new start, it is what we have. All that matters is that we are together.”
My father put his book to the side and drew to his feet. He came over to stand before us. “Elizabeth, is this what you want?”
I could only numbly nod.
He put his hand out to Robert. “Then, my son, I wish you the best of luck. I have seen how you have done your best to care for her. She can be headstrong, but she has a good heart. You both have my blessing.”
Robert shook his hand, his eyes shining.
My father turned to the boxes along the wall and his eyes ran down them, searching. At last he found the one he wanted. He drew it off the pile and brought it over to me. “Here, girl, this is yours. They are all things of your mother’s. I saved her jewelry, her silver mirror, and other personal belongings for you. She would have wanted for you to have them.”
I took the box from him, my heart lifting. “Thank you, Father.”
He nudged his head toward a door on the side. “Go on, take them to your room and look through them. They’re not much, but they’ll be a comfort to you as you start your new life.”
I didn’t need more urging. I stepped through the door.
My room was small, dark, with a heavy curtain sealing off the window. A narrow bed was pressed up against one wall and a simple wooden dresser stood opposite it. I plunked the box down onto the bed and opened the lid.
My eyes welled with tears. I remembered them. I remembered them all. The silver mirror my mother used to hold at an angle to better see the fall of her hair. The ruby earrings she so loved. The diamond ring my father had given her when they were courting.
Robert spoke low at my side. “Are you sure about this? That you want to give this all away?”
I brushed at my eyes and nodded. “Absolutely sure. These are just trinkets. They glitter and shine - but in the end they don’t matter. What matters is people. And we have precious little time.”
I looked back to the window. “How long do we have until curfew falls?”
He checked the watch on his wrist. “About a half hour.”
I nodded. “Then we’re going back out.”
His face creased in concern, but he stepped to the door. “After you.”
My father barely looked up as we passed. “Heading back to the roof again, you two love-birds? Take your time. I remember what it was to be young.”
My stepmother snorted. “If you were young, you’d give me a hand with this polishing, instead of losing yourself in those books.”
I closed the door behind us, and we headed down.
We reached the streets and I set into motion, leading us back toward the main stretch along the wall. Robert maintained a position at my side. “Where are we going?”
“Are there nurses who come through from outside the wall,
to check for typhus?”
He nodded. “Yes, certainly. Although often there is little they can do.”
“We have to find one of them. Surely she must be carrying a bag, or something so we can identify her.”
“We’ll do our best. If not tonight, maybe tomorrow, or the day after -”
“It has to be tonight,” I insisted.
My arrivals in locations had never given me days or weeks to work with. It was always a critical juncture. If I missed her now, our paths might never cross again.
“All right,” he agreed, his gaze firming. “We’ll find her tonight.”
Our pace quickened, and the moon was rising as we reached the main street alongside the wall. I looked up and down the street, my heart racing. Which way to go … which way …
There. At the far distance to the right. A woman walking along at a fast pace, a medical satchel held in one arm.
I lit into a run, racing after her. My voice rose high. “Irena! Irena!”
Miraculously, against all odds, she turned.
My feet pounded against the pavement as I crossed the distance between us. By the time I drew up by her side, my chest was heaving.
Her slim face was shadowed with concern. “My child, what is it? Is someone hurt?”
She was pale, dressed in black, with her dark hair braided along her brow and tucked back into a bun. She might have seemed almost delicate, but there was a strength in her gaze, a power which I knew would see her past any obstacle.
I dropped my voice. “I want to help.”
Her brow creased in confusion. “What, you want to learn how to be a nurse?”
I shook my head, glancing at Robert, then back to her. There was nobody else in sight, but even so I dropped my voice to a whisper. “I have a box of items. Jewelry. Silver mirrors. Embroidery. I want to give them to you, to use for bribes. To help get the children out.”
Her pale face turned to white, and she put a hand to her chest. “Who has said such things?”
“Nobody has said it,” I promised her. “But I know it is possible. You can tuck the infants into your bag. Hide them beneath a gurney. You have free access to come and go, and I have a sense of what good works you have done. I want to help.”