by Liz Tolsma
She shrugged. But her jaw tightened, and she squared her shoulders.
Natia shifted Dominik from one arm to the other, then back again. Her stomach clenched as she turned to the doctor. “She would have you arrested. And Dominik doesn’t go anywhere without me. No matter what.”
Dr. Bosco glanced at Elfriede. “Are you sure she doesn’t understand?”
Natia nodded.
“If I can save a child, even just one, then the risk is worth it.” He would be worthy of his son.
She kissed Dominik’s hand. The baby’s cries quieted. “You wouldn’t save him. She wants this child. If you take him from this house, Frau Fromm will send her husband after both the baby and you.”
Elfriede helped him from the floor to a half-standing position. He kept his attention on Natia. “It’s a dangerous game. Be very careful. I’m just down the street. If you need anything, any time of the day or night, please let me know.”
“You’re in danger too. Don’t you fear Pan Fromm? He’ll arrest you, surely.”
“That’s possible, though I’ve evaded that fate for a while. If it comes, it comes. That’s the Lord’s will. I’ll not stop doing my work and protecting the innocent.” He sighed, almost knowing, almost understanding.
This time, Natia kissed him on both cheeks, the squirming baby between them. “God bless you and go with you.”
“And with you.” He squeezed her arm. “You are in worse danger than I am.”
Elfriede closed the door behind the doctor, blocking out the chilly wind that tore down the street. She leaned against the jamb, trembling from head to toe. What had just happened? What had Erich done?
All fell quiet upstairs. Thank God. It wouldn’t do for Erich to return and have the baby crying. She didn’t want a repeat of the drama. Didn’t want him to harm Dominik. Didn’t want him to take the little one away. He almost had. For a while she didn’t think she’d be able to stop him, not until she threatened to tell Vater how Erich had hurt her. That made him think twice. To lose Vater’s approval would mean losing any chance at a promotion.
Her chest squeezed, pinching her heart. Maybe one day she would be able to give Erich the son he demanded. The son he deserved. To carry on the family name. To propagate the Aryan race. To make the fatherland proud. That was her duty, one Vater taught her to believe in.
Until then, she would love Dominik. Instead of breaking her heart, having a baby in the house soothed her, calmed her spirit, and healed her soul. Lessened her loss. Dominik did the same for Natia. That, they shared.
She moved to the window and pushed the blackout drapes to the side. What did it matter that a sliver of light eked onto the street? The Russians wouldn’t bomb this little nothing town. She searched for the stars, but clouds covered the sky.
The front door creaked. A burst of cold blew in. She gasped and turned. “Erich. You’re home.”
“Is that brat sleeping?”
“Why do you call him a brat? You wouldn’t say that about our child.”
Color flooded his face. “Our child? The one you’ve been unable to produce? You and your father duped me into marrying you. Were you even pregnant at the time? Were you?”
She backed up a step. “Ja. I wouldn’t lie. And Vater isn’t upset. He paid for this position for you.”
“You’re a failure. Look at Frau Eisinger. Expecting her eighth child, I believe. Five sons so far. Not like you, who can’t bear a single child. And the one you lost is one less for the perfect Aryan race.”
Erich slipped off his coat but hung on to it and narrowed his eyes. “Not only that, but you stepped into my business. You hollered at me in front of these Polish pigs. Why?”
She took two steps backward, her mouth dry. “You frightened me. I didn’t want you to hurt anyone.”
“What happens to the Poles is not your concern. They aren’t worthy of breathing the same air as you. You are pure. They are filthy. Polluted.”
“Natia is kind.”
His nostrils flared. “Don’t make friends with her. With anyone here. They are beneath us, only good to serve us for a little while.”
His words chilled her to the bone. “What do you mean?” She willed her shaking hands to still. This wasn’t the sweet, attentive man she’d married.
He pressed his hands together in a prayer position and touched his nose, his face returning to its usual pallor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re too delicate for such things. You shouldn’t have to see any of this. Perhaps I should send you back to Berlin.” He stroked her cheek, the same cheek he had slapped.
“Nein. I want to stay with you.” How would she conceive a child if they were separated?
“It’s too much for you.”
“I will do better, I promise. Just keep me here with you. What would I do without you?” A lone tear escaped from the corner of her eye.
He relaxed his shoulders and gathered her in his arms. “Very well. You know I can’t deny you anything.”
He kissed her, firm and sure as always. He tasted of cigarettes and alcohol. But she didn’t mind.
As long as he didn’t abandon her.
The door to the Nazi’s break room swung open. Teodor froze. The big bear of a guard stumbled into the hall. Right in front of Teodor and Jerzy. Teodor took three tiny, hesitant steps farther into the shadows and hunched over. If only he could keep his knees from trembling. The German didn’t bother to turn on his flashlight. He walked right by Teodor and Jerzy.
As soon as he took his post, Teodor and Jerzy finished their slow, careful trek to the door. Little by little, holding his breath, Teodor turned the knob. “Don’t squeak, don’t squeak.” He moved his lips but didn’t allow any sound to escape.
The Lord answered. The door opened without making a noise, and they slipped outside. As soon as they closed the door, once more with complete silence, Teodor dared to breathe. “That was close.”
They stuffed their pockets with the loamy soil. Perfect. This should clog up the machines and shut down production for a good while.
Not much time passed before their pockets overflowed with the soft earth. His coveralls sagged. He nodded in the door’s direction. Jerzy slapped his forehead. “The guards.” Of course, they had returned to duty, keeping watch over the dormitory door. A problem Teodor hadn’t planned for.
“No way in. No way out.” Jerzy pointed to the guard monitoring the grounds’ perimeter.
Escaping wasn’t an option. Especially not when Fromm held Natia hostage. It would bring dire consequences for his wife. He paced in small circles before leaning in to whisper to Jerzy. “Shift change.”
“How long?”
Teodor shrugged “Two hours?”
“But it’s freezing.” Jerzy coughed.
The guard spun around and swept the yard with his flashlight. Jerzy and Teodor flattened themselves on their stomachs on the cold, hard ground. Teodor tensed his muscles to keep from losing control of his bodily functions.
After a few minutes, the guard turned his attention in the opposite direction. Teodor gasped and drew in a lungful of oxygen.
Being in the chilly, damp night air for any length of time wasn’t good for Jerzy. They needed a different plan. But what? He gazed into the distance, toward the town. To where Natia was.
What was she doing? Was she safe? If only they could get to her. They could escape, leave this miserable place, find somewhere to hide until the end of the war. It had to come soon.
But how would they get out of here? There were too many guards. Too many searching lights.
Natia remained just out of his grasp.
He shook himself to clear his head. That was it. “A diversion.”
“How?”
How, indeed. They had nothing at their disposal except rocks, dirt, and coal.
The coal shovel. Was it still out here? Teodor, his eyes now adjusted to the dark night, motioned for Jerzy to stay put, then crawled to the coal pile, watching the guard. Was that it? He reach
ed out and touched the hard steel. Tak. He picked it up and hurried back to Jerzy.
Three minutes later they slunk inside again and up the stairs. Teodor peeked around the corner of the stairwell into the hall. The break-room door was shut, a sliver of light shining at the bottom. This time, no voices or noises came from within. The guard at the dormitory’s door turned his head. Teodor nodded to Jerzy.
In their stocking feet, they scurried to the first doorway. They repeated the process, moving to the next room each time the guard turned away.
After a few rounds, they came to the room where they had hidden on the way out. Teodor turned the desk so the opening faced neither the doorway nor the window. Jerzy tucked himself underneath it.
“Ready?”
Jerzy nodded.
With all his might, Teodor flung the shovel through the window. The glass shattered with a terrific crash. He scampered toward the desk and slid underneath it just as the door opened. Though his muscles strained, ready to dart out of the room, Teodor held himself in check.
And for good reason. Maybe half a minute later, several soldiers rushed into the room. They questioned each other, their words fast and furious.
At best, Teodor and Jerzy had a couple of seconds to get out and back to their beds.
He pushed Jerzy from underneath the desk and followed him. Holding his shoes against his chest, he slipped and slid across the smooth wood floors.
The diversion had drawn away the guard. They sprinted across the hall and entered the barracks. Hundreds of men sat up in their bunks and stared at Teodor and Jerzy.
“What are you up to?” The question came from several sources.
“Hush.” Teodor’s heart pounded in his throat. He and Jerzy bounded for their bunks.
They made it just as the guard returned to the room. He flicked on the light. “Who broke that window?”
Teodor pulled his blanket over his face. Would the other men turn them in?
A heavy, insistent, demanding knock sounded at Pawel’s front door. A chill raced through his body. Pan Fromm must have come to pay him a visit. It had only been a matter of time. And now what would happen?
The knocking at the door rang in his head much as it had the night the Germans came for his son. So did Antonina’s screams. At least this time, she wasn’t here.
Was this what Józef felt as the Nazis stole his life? Did his stomach churn the same way, did his hands shake this much?
Pawel rose from his desk chair and made his way to the door. His wife would never know what happened to him. That was the worst. She would always wonder. If only he could tell her good-bye.
He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. Whatever happened, at the end of the line, a better place awaited him. Lord, may that thought have given Józef peace.
He opened the door.
Fromm grabbed Pawel by the arm and pulled him into the living room. “I will not tolerate a dirty Pole pig interfering in my family.”
“I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“What happens in my home is not your business.” Fromm shoved Pawel against the ceramic stove.
In a burst of light, pain raced through Pawel’s head. He touched the back of his skull. Sticky blood covered his fingers.
Fromm kicked him in the stomach. He doubled over, the air whooshing from his lungs.
“Stay away from my family. That includes Natia and the little brat. Don’t ever come near them again or I will kill you. And I won’t need my gun.”
Pawel’s mouth went dry. Fromm was certainly capable of making good on his threat. But that wouldn’t stop Pawel from protecting the women and the child should the need arise.
Fromm marched toward him and pinned him against the smooth tile. Pawel’s head pounded and buzzed so much he had difficulty hearing Fromm’s next words. “An interesting bit of information crossed my desk this week. I’m sure you know what it’s about.”
Pawel didn’t move.
“Does the name Stanislaw Rosinski mean anything to you?”
Once again, Pawel remained still and forced himself to keep his breathing steady and even.
“I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”
But Pawel remained silent, the only sound in the room the incessant ticking of the schoolhouse clock on the wall.
Fromm punched him in the temple. Thousands of bright lights burst in front of his eyes. He would have stumbled backward, but the stove and Fromm’s pressure on his shoulders kept him upright.
“Answer me, or I will track down your wife and make her pay for your silence.”
If it had only been his life, Pawel would have sealed his lips and welcomed whatever Fromm meted out. But his wife. His heart constricted. He wouldn’t allow any harm to come to her. “I don’t know the man.” His words carried confidence, a confidence he prayed Fromm would believe.
Fromm again punched him in the stomach. Pawel coughed, and the metallic taste of blood soured his tongue. His legs wobbled.
“You have been working with Stanislaw, forging papers for Jews, haven’t you? I want the truth.”
“That’s what I told you. I’ve never heard of the man. I do not forge papers.”
“And what would I discover if I searched this house?”
“Go ahead. You will find nothing incriminating.” Of that, he was certain. Antonina accused him of being too meticulous. This was one case where that was a good thing.
Fromm released him, and Pawel slumped to the floor. The Nazi stomped away to the office. A racket sounded as Fromm ransacked it. Pawel raised himself on all fours and crawled to his office.
Fromm held up a handful of papers, a wide smile crossing his face, a brightness in his icy blue eyes. “What do we have here?”
“Blank birth certificates.”
“Ones that you fill out with false names and information to hide people’s Jewishness.”
Tak, including Dominik’s. “Ones that I use to record births in the town. Nothing else. You’re looking for something that is not here. Every doctor in Poland has a stack of blank birth certificates.”
Fromm tossed the papers in the air, and they fluttered to the ground. He strode from behind the desk, his fists clenched, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t get mouthy.” He kicked Pawel underneath his chin, snapping his head backward.
Pawel fought against the darkness that threatened to consume him. Fromm’s boots pounded on the wood floor as he moved around the house. More bumps and bangs. Expletives.
The fog closed in on Pawel. He pushed it away.
The floors creaked as Fromm returned to the room. “I know you’re involved. Believe me, I will watch your every move. At some point, you will make a mistake. When you do, I will be there to make you pay.”
Fromm stomped from the room and slammed the front door.
Pawel gave in to the darkness.
Teodor clutched the blanket that covered his face and squeezed his eyes shut. Lord, don’t let them hear my heart pounding. Not a man in the barracks stirred.
“Since none of you are that smart, I’ll repeat the question. Who broke the window?”
Teodor’s heart stopped, raced, and stopped again.
Silence filled the room. A palpable, ear-splitting silence.
Multiple boot falls echoed in the quietness. Multiple guards. The sound of them came from different spots in the barracks as they fanned out. Probably with their hands behind their backs, scrutinizing each prisoner.
The sharp thuds approached ever closer. Then stopped in front of him. The Nazi flung back his blanket. “Ah, Palinski. You’ve been nothing but trouble since you arrived. Was it you? Did you cause this commotion?”
Another guard piped up from across the room. “We recovered the item used to break the window, sir.”
“What was it?”
“A coal shovel.”
How could he have been so careless? Of course, he’d been the one shoveling coal in the yard. He knew it was there. The evidence pointed straight to him.
&n
bsp; Natia. Alone in the world. He dug his fingernails into his palms.
“You, up.” Hauptscharführer Krug yanked him from the bed.
“I didn’t do it.” Somehow, he kept the quiver from his voice.
Krug stooped and glowered at Teodor. “Of course you did. You were in the yard. Knew a shovel was there. How long have you been hiding it? Or did you somehow sneak out tonight?”
Teodor clutched his shoes to his chest. Another piece of evidence staring them straight in the face.
“Why are you holding your shoes?”
“It’s more comfortable to sleep with them off, but I don’t want them stolen, so I hang on to them. Like my ragged old blanket when I was a child.”
A round of titters swept across the room.
Krug struck Teodor. His eyes watered. With his free hand, he touched his cheek.
“I don’t enjoy being made a fool of.”
“You asked. I answered.”
A slap stung his other cheek.
“I will not tolerate impertinence. Is that clear?” The guard locked his jaw. “Let me see the boots.”
“Pardon me?”
The officer screamed in his ear, “Are you deaf? The boots.”
As he handed them to Krug, Teodor managed to swipe them across his chest. Maybe that would dry them and knock off some of the dirt.
“These are damp.”
What did he say to that? “Tak.”
“Why?”
Teodor might go deaf if the man insisted on shouting. “I spilled my water at dinner. They haven’t dried yet. It’s a damp evening.”
Krug grunted and handed Teodor’s boots to him, then turned to the rest of the men. “Has he been in the room all night?”
A murmur rippled through the prisoners. All yeses, as far as Teodor could tell.
A smart aleck piped up. “How would we know? We were sleeping.”
The guard drew in a deep breath, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “That is enough. You will have double duty tomorrow.” He returned his attention to Teodor. “And you are coming with me.”
Teodor slumped against the bunk. What awaited him?