When the Heart Sings

by Liz Tolsma

  “I am sorry. You sing so nice.”

  “Dziękuję Ci.” Natia’s lips twitched, like she wanted to say more.

  A loud laugh streamed in from the living room. Elfriede bent close to Natia. “Erich is bad.” Her chest squeezed.

  Natia touched her cheek and murmured words she didn’t understand. “You will be fine.”

  “How? Erich hurt people.”

  Natia nodded in the direction of the living room entrance. “Not now. We’ll talk later, when he is gone.” With all the gentleness of a mother, she bandaged Elfriede’s hand.

  “Dominik not Jewish?”

  Natia shook her head.

  All this over an innocent child. Not a Jewish infant. The paper proved otherwise. Erich was wrong. An honorable doctor wouldn’t forge a birth certificate. How did the paper get so weatherworn if it wasn’t in the woman’s pocket? That was the only explanation that made sense.

  At least, the only one Elfriede allowed herself to believe tonight.

  There were other hard-enough truths to swallow.

  The dark dampness of the prison cell seeped into Teodor’s bones. The cold, the mustiness, had become part of his very being. No matter how long he lived, he would never be dry or warm again.

  He huddled in the corner, the weight of aloneness pressing on him. For three weeks he hadn’t seen or heard another soul, except when he was taken out and beaten. Was he all alone in an evil world?

  Oh, Natia, Natia. The echo of her music filled the hollow places. The lullaby she had crooned on the hill overlooking their house. The love songs she whispered to him as they lay together in bed. The hymn she sang on the train. What was it again?

  His foggy brain refused to bring the words to mind. But the melody of it buoyed him. Through parched, cracked lips, he attempted to hum a few measures. His vocal chords vibrated, resonating deep inside. Only he heard the music. He and God. Maybe, out in the world somewhere, Natia heard him singing too. Felt him with her in a way only two who had become one flesh understood.

  If he could just remember the words.

  He rested against the chilly wall, wincing at the welts and bruises on his back. No window brought in sunshine. Just a sliver of light from underneath and around the heavy iron door. Was it dawn or dusk? Midnight or midday? Who knew?

  Did God even see him? Was he out there? Teodor dozed. The world of reality and the world of dreams merged. Natia was beside him. A smile lit her face. She laughed, twirled, sang. So very, very beautiful. And his. That the Lord would give her to him was beyond belief. Teodor reached out for her.

  She vanished.

  “Nie. Nie. Come back to me, my love.”

  “Shut up in there.” The first words spoken to him since he had arrived. He would cry if he had the moisture in his body to produce tears.

  He scratched at the fleas and lice that bit him. They were his only companions. As a boy, he had heard of flea circuses. Perhaps he could train some of these insects to amuse himself.

  He slept more, awakening with a jolt. Why did he have to return to consciousness? Slumber brought a respite, a release from this torture.

  A key scraped in the lock. That must be what woke him. The door creaked open on rusty hinges. A guard entered, dressed in the clothing of the Gestapo, a belt around his gray-green coat, tall, polished black boots on his feet. He pulled Teodor to a standing position and dragged him from the cell.

  Another beating awaited him.

  The muscular guard squeezed Teodor’s upper arm harder.

  Maybe he was going to his death? The thought was more appealing than any other, save for release.

  The guard pulled open another heavy door and pushed Teodor outside. His pulse accelerated. He took in a long, low drag of fresh air.

  Just at the edge of the horizon, the sun put on a show of red, yellow, and orange. Never in his life had he witnessed such a spectacular sight. Rising or setting, it didn’t matter. He would spend his last moments on earth enjoying the dazzling beauty of God’s glory.

  A glory he would soon behold with his very eyes.

  Leaving Natia was his only regret.

  “Strip.”

  Teodor turned to his captor. “What?” Maybe the man’s Polish was poor.

  “Strip. Everything off. Schnell.”

  Humiliation and more humiliation. Even in death the Nazis refused their fellow human beings dignity. He complied with the order. A brisk winter wind bit his bare flesh. He tried to cover his shame, but the guard tied his hands behind his back.

  Then he pushed Teodor forward, the flashlight casting a warm glow in the bitter night. A shiver coursed through him. The beam of light rested on a deep, old metal washtub. “Sit.”

  What a strange request. What was going on? Maybe this was just another vision. Another dream. But then the guard kicked him on his bare rear end. The pain of the jackboots meeting his flesh was too real.

  To avoid another kick, Teodor stepped into the tub and sat. His buttocks met the cold tin. He shuddered and stretched out his legs. He could just manage to peer over the edge of the tub.

  “This is what we do to Polish pigs like you.” An instant later, the coldest water he’d ever felt engulfed him.

  Natia hugged Dominik tighter and pulled his blue knit cap over his ears as they left the house in the direction of the factory. Since the night of the party, she kept the baby out of Pan Fromm’s sight as much as possible.

  Her head still rang with his accusation. Jew. The officer saw right through their ruse. Dominik’s coloring was dark enough to arouse suspicion. And the circumstances of his arrival on the Fromms’ doorstep were shady enough to cast doubt on his identity.

  Their only saving grace had been the man’s threat against Pan Fromm.

  If he hadn’t been afraid for his own life, she might be in one of those awful camps Pani Rzeźnikowa had told her the rumors about. Auschwitz. Mauthausen.

  A shudder wracked her.

  Natia hurried down the street. A cold wind tore at her. Darkness was drawing in. For the past few weeks, Elfriede had retired to her room, the shades drawn, refusing most food. Tonight, however, she requested some beef soup. With any luck, Pani Rzeźnikowa would have a bone so Natia could make the broth. Elfriede had dropped too much weight.

  A presence pressed on her, like someone followed her. She stopped and listened. The town lay silent, awaiting curfew. But still, someone’s gaze pierced her like pinpricks on her skin. She spun around. There was no one. The road in front of the factory was empty.

  She must be imagining things, was maybe even going crazy.

  Shaking away the feeling, Natia gazed at the now-familiar rows of windows blinking in the factory facade. She had never come this late. Would Teodor be in the barracks? Or was he working? The drone of the machines, the smoke from the stack never lessened except for Sundays. That was the only day the place sat quiet.

  She had to try. Had to see if he would answer.

  When he leaves me, how lonely,

  Do I long for him only!

  Was a sweetheart e’er so fine?

  And the sweetheart, he is mine!

  Was a sweetheart e’er so fine?

  And the sweetheart, he is mine!

  Only the hum of machinery and the call of a whistle inside the plant answered her. Not Teodor. Weeks had passed since he’d returned her song. For a long moment, she stared at the window where he had once appeared.

  But not tonight.

  Not any of the days or nights she’d come since the party. Where could he be? Even if his shift had changed, she’d tried so many different times of day, she was bound to have found one when he was in the barracks.

  Was he ill? Had he been injured? Possibly, but why would that keep him from her?

  Was he . . .?

  Nie, nie, nie. She squeezed Dominik, fought down the rush of tears, and forced her lungs to breathe. There had to be another explanation. He was fine. Still in the factory, working hard, surviving, just as she was, until the heavenl
y Father would reunite them.

  That’s what she sang. That’s why she told him to hang on. He would do that for her. He would do everything he needed to do to make it back to her.

  He must still be at work. That had to be the reason he didn’t reply. The Nazis must be slaving them close to twenty-four hours a day. Her poor husband. When this horror ended and they returned to their sweet farm, she would prepare a large meal for him with pierogi, tripe soup, and karpatka. Fill him up. She would rub his back and his feet. Would pamper him until the memory of this nightmare faded.

  She could almost taste the sweetness of the potato and onion in the pierogi and the silky creaminess of the cream cake. Not only would she do it for him, but she would do it for the rest of her family.

  Her family. Where was Zygmunt? How was he doing? Had his hand healed? And what about the others? Had they heard her song? Were they elsewhere in the bowels of this dungeon?

  The dream of being reunited spurred her on to Pani Rzeźnikowa’s place. She was just drawing the blackout shades when Natia arrived. She cracked the door. “What can I do for you so late?”

  “I’m sorry to be a bother. Do you have a beef bone? Pani Fromm has been ill but is now asking for some soup. I don’t have anything in the house for stock.”

  “Come in, and I’ll see what I can do. And such a chilly night to be out with the child. It’s warmer in here, though I have banked the fire. At least you can get out of the wind.”

  Natia embraced the older woman. “How are you doing?”

  “Lonely. This place isn’t the same without my husband, like all the life has been sucked out of it.” Pani Rzeźnikowa’s eyes shimmered, but she swallowed and controlled her grief.

  Would Natia be able to do so in a similar situation? “I understand.”

  “My son comes to help out with the butchering, but it’s not the same.”

  “How can you endure the loss?”

  “With God’s help. He’s here with me, even in the loneliest times, upholding me. Taking care of me.”

  Mama always said God took care of them, and Pani Rzeźnikowa believed the same. Could Natia? Even though he had stolen her children?

  “I dream of the day Karol and I will walk the streets of gold in heaven together.”

  “And I dream of the day Teodor and I walk the streets of Piosenka together with Dominik.” She kissed his cool cheek. “How would you like that, little one?”

  Pani Rzeźnikowa raised a single gray eyebrow, all traces of wistfulness gone. “You are going to keep the child?”

  “Where else would he go? We don’t know who his mother was. Most of his family probably is gone somewhere or . . .”

  “How will your husband react?”

  “He has always wanted a house full of kids. He’s seen Dominik. He’ll be thrilled. One more to put around our table.” And not in their graveyard, Lord willing.

  “I was thinking more about Pani Fromm. Won’t she want to keep Dominik? She and Pan Fromm don’t have children either.”

  Natia shook her head, more to clear that thought from her brain than to dismiss Pani Rzeźnikowa’s idea. “He would never take him. His looks are too Slovak. Not nearly Aryan enough. They couldn’t Germanize him, like is known to happen with some Polish children.” One small blessing. Some parents had their little ones ripped away to be taken to Germany, made to be the children of Aryan parents.

  Pani Rzeźnikowa touched Natia’s chin. “I am sorry to make you sad. I want you to be prepared, that is all.”

  “That’s not why I’m sad.”

  “What is it then? You’re so anxious.”

  “I hate to pour my troubles on top of yours.”

  “The Lord tells us to bear each other’s burdens.”

  Mama would have agreed. Natia leaned against the wall. “Teodor didn’t answer me again tonight. I’ve sung to him almost every day for the past three weeks, and he hasn’t replied. He’s always sung back to me. Even a little bit. Where is he? What is going on with him?”

  Pani Rzeźnikowa took Dominik in her arms and drew Natia in an embrace. She breathed in the unique scent of meat and soap and mother. How long had it been since a woman had cared about her like this? Natia trembled from head to toe. “Why? Why is God allowing this? I don’t understand, but I want it to stop. Just to wake up in the morning and find out this was a horrible nightmare.”

  “We all feel like that from time to time. But this is no dream. The Lord is testing us.”

  “Couldn’t he have tested us in our own homes? In fact, he did test me by taking my babies from me. So why this?”

  “I can’t answer that. Only the good Lord knows. But all of this is within his will. Even my Karol’s death. We must surrender ourselves to him.”

  Natia pushed out of Pani Rzeźnikowa’s embrace. “I cannot believe that he would will this.”

  “If he didn’t, then he’s not in control of the world. And I couldn’t live in a world like that. Only that thought sustains me in my loss.”

  “Take a look around. Does it appear like he’s in control?”

  “To our mortal eyes, it may not seem so. But he is.”

  On this point, Natia couldn’t agree with Pani Rzeźnikowa. This just couldn’t be God’s eternal plan for her life.

  Bone-rattling shivers rocked Teodor, stirring the icy water surrounding him. The guard stood over him, no doubt to make sure he wouldn’t climb out. A long greatcoat covered the Nazi. He pulled down the flaps from his hat. Thick gloves warmed his fingers.

  Teodor couldn’t control the quivering. His feet and hands went numb long ago. His brain too. There was only cold, ice, and more cold.

  Natia appeared beside him once again. She smoothed back his hair and kissed his forehead. “I’m here, moje serce. All will be well. I promise. Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.”

  He didn’t leave. She did.

  He couldn’t stop the chattering of his teeth long enough to call out to her. Come back! Come back! She didn’t listen.

  A heavy drowsiness descended, pushing him farther into the water. He shook his head. Nie, he had to remain awake. To sleep would be to die. He wouldn’t give his captors that satisfaction. What he needed to do was think. Maybe the fleas and lice on him and his clothes were freezing to death.

  Not that kind of thinking. Beautiful thinking. About the future. The days when this nightmare would end, and he would be with Natia once more. On frigid winter nights, they would snuggle together under their quilt, her body warming his. She would hold him close, so close her heart would beat against his chest.

  When spring came, they would take picnics outside, the bright Polish sunshine baking their skin. They would lie on a blanket and stare at the cloudless blue sky. Several children would play in the grass beside them. Laughter, singing, love. What a wonderful life they would have, little ones bringing them the greatest joy. The longing tore at his heart.

  And then, when they were very, very old, they would sit together in front of the fire, the logs crackling in the hearth, the heat of the flames radiating to them. They would hold hands as their grandchildren clambered onto their laps, kissing them with sticky, sweet lips.

  His shivering slowed.

  “Wake up, no sleeping allowed.” With his rifle, the guard banged on the metal tub, rousing Teodor. The present crashed like a wave around him.

  Oh, God, when will it end? Take me home now, Lord. But Natia . . .

  That hymn. He needed the words. The melody swelled, the notes reverberating in his bones, but the words remained frozen in the recesses of his mind. He had to think of that day in the train, his wife beside him. So small, so fragile in his arms.

  He hummed the tune, making as little noise as possible. No need to rile up the guard. The first phrase, and the second. Something about God helping. Our Savior. Wait, wait, wasn’t that it? He sang the hymn.

  God, my Lord, my strength,

  My place of hiding, and confiding,

  In all needs by night and
day;

  Though foes surround me,

  And Satan mark his prey,

  God shall have his way.

  Yes, foes certainly surrounded him. He gazed at the guard, who clutched his weapon and stared straight ahead. He must have drawn the short straw to stand here and watch Teodor. Did he have family at home? A wife and children he tried to take care of and protect?

  What a thought. Maybe this man was nothing more than a husband and a father watching out for those he loved.

  What could have brought him to this place?

  Through chattering teeth, Teodor sang with gusto.

  Christ in me, and I am freed

  For living and forgiving,

  Heart of flesh for lifeless stone,

  Now bold to serve him,

  Now cheered his love to own,

  Never more alone.

  Rifle still in hand, the Nazi spun a quarter of a turn. He parted his lips and furrowed his brow. Maybe he knew the hymn, recognized the tune. Whatever the case, he didn’t stop Teodor from singing. He started the next verse.

  Up, weak knees and spirit bowed in sorrow!

  No tomorrow shall arise to beat you down;

  By the second line, the soldier blended his bass voice with Teodor’s tenor. Though the language was different, the thought was the same. Teodor stopped and gulped. Could it be the song touched the guard’s heart? The German nodded for Teodor to continue. Together, they sang the rest of the song.

  God goes before you and angels all around;

  On your head a crown.

  For several minutes after they sang the last word, the world lay silent. Not a person stirring, an animal calling, a breeze blowing.

  Teodor didn’t breathe.

  Neither did the guard. But his facial features softened, and his shoulders relaxed. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then turned to Teodor. “That was my mother’s favorite hymn.”

  “My wife’s too.”

  “Every day, she sang it as she worked. Whether she hung laundry on the line or baked bread or swept the floors, those words were on her lips. And what a beautiful voice she had.”

  “Natia’s rivals the angels’ chorus.”