When the Heart Sings

by Liz Tolsma

  The grip on Teodor’s shirt loosened, and he inhaled. Lech swatted at the air and missed Teodor. Too high.

  Natia pushed away from him. “Don’t fight.”

  He nodded in the direction of the woman beside his wife. “Hold her for me.”

  As soon as he had both hands free, he wriggled around and rained punches on Lech’s head.

  Lech returned the volley, catching Teodor in the ear.

  “Lech!”

  “Teodor.” Natia’s soft voice pierced him.

  He held up his hands. “Truce. Fighting among ourselves doesn’t serve any purpose. Hours ago we sang a hymn together. Our child was stillborn. That’s why we don’t have a baby.”

  “Leave them be, Lech. And you too, Borys. They’ve been through enough.” The woman who called must be married to one of them.

  Teodor picked up the dipper and handed it to Lech. “My apologies.”

  Lech blinked once, twice, three times, his green eyes wide, his red hair a mess. “She can have two extra sips.” He bowed his head.

  Borys nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Natia fell against Teodor, her voice thin. “Please, moje serce, my heart, don’t fight with him. Or anyone else. I shouldn’t be entitled to more. If I take water from them, we’ll all be sick. You worry too much.” Her cheeks burned red.

  “My job is to worry about you, the responsibility I took on the day we married, and my privilege.”

  She stroked his stubble-covered chin. “You are too good to me.”

  His wife dozed as the train progressed to their destination. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. At least her sleep was peaceful. The best thing she could do now was to rest.

  The whistle blew, ringing out from the front of the train as it slowed, rousing the occupants from their stupor. The brakes squealed, and the car jerked to a stop. He kissed Natia’s forehead. “We’re here.”

  She straightened, though she leaned on him more than he would have liked. “We’ll see Tata, Helena, and Zygmunt.”

  From outside came a commotion. Dogs barked. Voices rose both from beyond the door and inside the car.

  “Where are we?”

  “What’s going to happen now?”

  These questions swirled in Teodor’s mind too.

  Natia stroked his chest, her hand shaking. “I love you, Teodor. For all you’ve done for me, for who you are. You’ll forever be with me, no matter what happens in the next minutes and days.”

  “Sing our song again. The one you’ve sung for me a hundred times like you did by the creek last year. Please, for me, if you have the strength while we wait.”

  So she did, while he bathed himself in her lilting Polka music.

  Memories are precious to me dear,

  for time is all I fear

  The days, the years, the hours,

  swiftly are fleeting by.

  The days, the years, the hours,

  swiftly are fleeting by.

  Then looking back on the years dear,

  our eyes may fill with tears.

  For joys, and thrills, and sorrows,

  may never return tomorrow.

  The bolt clanged in the lock, and the train car’s doors slid open. Teodor blinked in the sunshine.

  The black-clad soldiers, the lightning-bolt SS symbol on their lapels, yelled at the prisoners, motioning with their rifles. “Schnell, schnell!”

  Always hurry up with them. Didn’t they ever slow down?

  The crowd surged forward, pushing Teodor and Natia along. They came to the door. He jumped down and reached back for her. She all but fell into his arms, then smiled at him, warm as the sunshine. They moved toward the small two-story brick station, unable to do anything less. And beside him, though he held tight to her hand, she stumbled.

  And fell.

  The bright spring sunshine warmed Elfriede Fromm’s face as she swung her egg basket on her arm. A small giggle bubbled inside her. Imagine that. When Erich brought her to this little Polish town earlier this year, she’d been afraid she wouldn’t like it here. But Pieśń Nabożna was a very nice place. Different from Bremen and the rest of Germany, but still pleasant.

  She meandered through the town square lined with shops, three-story buildings crammed shoulder to shoulder, rising above the heart of the village. In the middle stood a statue of the famous Polish composer Frédéric Chopin, lean and elegant in a long frock coat. The Poles treated the musician almost as a god. Years of exposure to the weather had turned the statue green. His right hand was missing, sheared off, perhaps during the German invasion.

  A long, low whistle in the distance heralded the arrival of the train. An image of her husband’s stern face flashed in front of her eyes, his Hitleresque mustache twitching. He had told her to stay far away from the station. She was too delicate to witness the arrival of those detestable Poles, those barbarians, as he called them. He pampered her.

  “Good morning, Frau Fromm. How are you today?” Frau Rzeźnikowa waved from the butcher shop’s steps as she swept the front walk. She had come from Germany years ago and married one of the local men. Good for Elfriede, as Frau Rzeźnikowa was one of the few people in town who spoke German.

  Elfriede closed the small distance between them, a smile curving her lips. “I’m very well. And you?”

  “With a day like this, I couldn’t be better.”

  “Is the spring weather always this glorious?”

  “We get rain, but this brilliant sunshine makes up for what we suffer in the winter. Some beef came on the train yesterday. I saved you the best cuts. Come in, and I’ll get it.”

  Elfriede entered the shop and leaned on the wooden counter while Frau Rzeźnikowa hustled to the back for the meat. The almost-homey smell of sausage spices filled the air. The butcher’s wife hurried through the door and returned to the counter, her round cheeks rosy. “Here you are, my dear.” She patted Elfriede’s hand.

  “Do you know anything about the trains that come from all over the country?”

  The smile on Frau Rzeźnikowa’s face vanished, and she stepped backward. “Why do you ask?”

  What should she say? “I’m curious. Vater loved trains, and when he went from Bremen to Berlin on business, he took me with him. At the station, I’d watch the trains coming from all over Europe and going to exciting places. I loved it. The hustle and bustle, the smoke and dust, the rich and poor, all mingled together. The clanging of the bells and the belching of the engines were the best parts. I’d like to go to this station and see for myself.”

  “No need. Our little stop in this nothing town will pale in comparison to Berlin. Nein, you hurry home and get that meat in the icebox.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Elfriede huffed out the words. But once outside again, the call of the locomotive’s whistle tugged at her. Why did Erich and Frau Rzeźnikowa think she shouldn’t greet the train?

  She set her shoulders and headed in the station’s direction. The only time she’d been there was when she and Erich arrived from their temporary duty station in Berlin for his new job overseeing the factory. They didn’t linger when they disembarked, but now she followed the call of the whistle and found the station in short order.

  The nondescript red-brick two-story building squatted near the single set of train tracks. She entered and made her way through the large waiting room and out to the back of the building. A covered porch provided protection from the elements.

  Elfriede sat on the wood bench worn smooth by many years of patient people awaiting arrivals or those anticipating a trip to Warsaw or Kraków or some other large city. She set her basket beside her. As the sun hid behind a cloud, she drew her white cardigan around her shoulders.

  The train tooted its horn and chugged down the track. She peered at it as it approached. The engine led the way, followed by a few coaches and many boxcars. But Erich said they were bringing workers to the factory today. Maybe there was more than one train. She settled back. Watching for the arrival of the
passengers might be a pleasant way to spend a few hours instead of holed up at home alone.

  If only she had her child. He would keep her company. He would love her. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep away the threatening tears.

  The black behemoth chugged into the station, gave one last gasp, and stilled. German officers with dark uniforms like her husband’s, carrying rifles on their shoulders, spilled out of the coaches. Several of them clung to the leashes of snarling, growling German shepherds. They strode to the boxcars and slid open the locks.

  “Let’s get going. Out, out, all of you. Schnell. Move it, move it.”

  Elfriede slid forward on the bench. What was going on?

  And then dazed men, women, and children, their eyes large, tumbled from the cars. Had they installed seats or benches in the cattle cars? They poured out, a steady stream of them. How had they all fit in there? And the gagging odor of human excrement that followed them overtook her. Perhaps the Poles were as filthy as Erich had told her.

  As the passengers disembarked, a group of young boys called out insults in German and pantomimed slashing their throats. She shivered. Had her son lived, he would never have behaved in such a barbaric manner.

  As she rose, she pressed her lavender-perfumed handkerchief to her nose and wandered down the track toward the last car. The back of the officer’s head, his blond hair shaved close to his skull, struck a chord of familiarity. Erich.

  She slunk into the crowd so he wouldn’t catch her here. No need to earn his ire.

  He slid the bolt away with a clang and pulled the creaking door open. “Schnell, schnell. Let’s go.”

  More Poles stumbled out, peering around. One man, average in height but broad in build, jumped down. He reached back and caught a small woman who just about fell into his arms. With the greatest of care, he set her down and kissed the top of her head. He whispered something into her ear. Maybe words of love.

  Elfriede’s heart twinged. Erich could be like this. And other times . . .

  The man led the woman forward as the mass overflowed from the train car to the ground. And then, as they moved across the platform, the woman’s foot caught. She tottered and fell. Elfriede froze, gooseflesh breaking out on her arms.

  “Men to the left, women and children to the right.” A soldier separated husbands and wives, fathers and children, sisters and brothers. One couple refused to be parted. With two bullets, the soldier sent them to their deaths together.

  Her stomach rolled, and she squeezed her eyes shut. The image remained seared into her brain.

  After steadying herself, Elfriede dared to open her eyes. Erich marched toward the young couple she’d seen before. He nudged the woman with his gun’s butt. “Get moving. If you can’t work, we don’t need you. You are disposable.”

  Elfriede dug her fingernails into her palms. Her husband, that cruel? Nein, she must have heard him wrong. She tightened her grasp on her handkerchief.

  He prodded the woman again. She glanced around. Her survey stopped at Elfriede, who hugged herself. Something familiar flickered in the woman’s green eyes. The droop of them, the half-closed lids, the flash of light spoke of pain and suffering.

  The woman gathered herself and gave a weak shout. “Tata, Helena, Zygmunt.”

  The man at her side held her upright and spoke to her.

  Elfriede clasped her abdomen. She moved forward.

  Erich jabbed the woman again. What would he do to them? Shoot them? Elfriede picked up her pace and reached the threesome in a few strides. She took hold of her husband by his arm. “Stop it. Don’t hurt her.”

  He spun around, his mouth agape. He shook her off. “Get out of here.” His words were tight, his blond mustache twitched, and his face reddened.

  Her heart raced faster than a hummingbird’s wings. “She’s ill. Let me deal with her. I need help around the house. Imagine how nice it will be to have good meals instead of what I make. And someone to do the shopping who understands the language. Maybe with rest, I’ll conceive.”

  “Nein. She’s needed in the factory. We don’t want a Pole in our home. They’re filth. Not a toy or a pet for your pleasure. And you’re capable of conceiving. You just don’t want to do your duty.”

  “Look at her.” Elfriede pointed at the woman now doubled over, her jaw clenched. “You won’t get any work out of her in her condition. We’ll bring her home and give her a trial. Let her get better and cook and clean for us. If she doesn’t do a good job, you can take her away.”

  “Meanwhile, I’m down a woman. Nein. You shouldn’t even be here.”

  “I was curious. You can’t keep me locked in the house.”

  Erich raised his angular chin a tiny bit. “We will not have an argument in public. I’ve said my piece.”

  “And I’ve said mine. The woman is coming with me.” Where had that gumption come from? She gritted her teeth and pulled the woman from the man Elfriede assumed to be her husband.

  He lunged forward and cried out. She didn’t understand his words, but his tone was pure anguish. He clung to his wife.

  Didn’t he see she was trying to help? Keep them from being shot? Yet her stomach twisted as she tugged away the woman. “I’ll take care of her and help her get better. She’ll work for me.”

  Of course, neither the man nor the woman understood her. So she yanked again on the woman and motioned that she should follow.

  A stream of tears rolled down the couple’s sunken cheeks. The woman covered her face and sobbed.

  What was Elfriede doing to them? Shaking away the thought, she squared her shoulders. She needed help. And this woman, for whatever reason, needed her.

  Erich gripped his rifle, his knuckles white. “See the commotion you caused? Can’t you mind your own business? You should be learning how to run a proper home instead of interfering here.”

  She straightened. Never in their short marriage had she talked back to him. But something deep inside drove her. She couldn’t identify it or label it. This was one fight she had to win. “She will come with me. I want her for my own. That is the end of the discussion.”

  Little by little, Natia lost her grip on Teodor. This blonde-haired woman pulled her from her husband. Her one lifeline in this crazy world. The soldier shoved Teodor forward. She clutched her middle with one hand and her heart with the other.

  Then her husband, her song, her everything, disappeared into the crowd.

  “Nie, nie.” She screeched as much as the mad woman on the train. Who cared when she was losing everything? “Teodor, come back. Come back to me.” Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground.

  The German woman reached down and brought her to her feet. She said something Natia couldn’t understand but spoke the words in a gentle, river-like manner.

  By the time she peered up, Teodor was nowhere to be found. He might as well have ripped her heart out and carried it with him. The ache of losing him couldn’t be any worse.

  What was she going to do without him? Without any of her family?

  Would she ever see them again?

  Her legs trembled and threatened to give way. She was as weak as a cup of her grandmother’s tea. Only dehydration lessened her tears. But sobs wracked her body as she struggled to catch her breath. Without Teodor, what was the point?

  The German woman with the thin eyebrows and full lips steadied her. Why? What did she want?

  She handed Natia a handkerchief embroidered with an EF in blue. Natia wiped her eyes.

  “Komme.”

  That, Natia understood. She had to come with the woman. For whatever reason, she’d fought with the Nazi officer and won the right to Natia.

  The woman grabbed a basket sitting on the bench on the platform and led them into the empty waiting room. Natia stumbled. Would the woman beat her? Already, her side was bruised from the gun butts.

  Nie, the German woman smiled, just a slight upturn of her mouth. Could she be sympathetic to Natia? Kind, even? None of the Nazis she’d had the mi
sfortune of encountering in Piosenka were nice. They spoke in harsh tones and forced the villagers to walk in the muddy street. Neither was there kindness from any of those who invaded their town and stole their farms. Natia had made a point of steering clear of them.

  The woman pointed to herself. “Elfriede Fromm.”

  So that was her name. “Elfriede.” Natia pointed at herself. “Natia Palinska.”

  Elfriede tried it out. She giggled at her own attempt to pronounce the foreign name. Then she motioned for Natia to sit on one of the benches. They settled down. Very little was happening inside. All the commotion went on outside. The shouting of the guards. The cries of her countrymen being driven who knew where. Perhaps she could catch a glimpse of Teodor or the rest of her family through the window. One last look at them, a memory to carry with her until they were reunited. If they were.

  Then a gunshot reverberated in the air.

  Natia’s pulse pounded in her ears. Her stomach plummeted like the mercury in the thermometer in January, and she jumped up. “Teodor!”

  Elfriede pulled her down and shook her head. She pointed at the thin gold band on Natia’s right hand. “Teodor?”

  “Tak. Teodor is my husband.” Had he been among those shot? What was happening out there?

  Elfriede tried the Polish word. “Husband.”

  Natia nodded.

  “Husband Erich.” She motioned outside, scrunched her eyebrows, and pursed her lips.

  That was the man on the platform? Natia’s trembling didn’t cease. If she went with Elfriede, she would encounter him again. Cold shot through her body.

  They rested for a while before Elfriede took her by the hand and led the way out of the station. Away from Teodor, away from her family. Were any of them still alive? She hadn’t been able to say good-bye to them.

  Together, Natia and Elfriede walked several blocks, stopping a few times for Natia to catch her breath. Elfriede chattered away in German, but Natia didn’t understand a word. And she didn’t care to.

  Just when she didn’t think she’d be able to take another step, they arrived at a pleasant cottage, very Polish in its construction with a pink stucco exterior, a red-tiled roof, and curved dormers. Elfriede led the way into the bright interior. Soft-blue walls echoed the blue of the sky overhead, with white ceilings reminiscent of clouds. The ocher-colored tile floor might have been the road outside. If her heart wasn’t breaking, she would think it charming.