When the Heart Sings

by Liz Tolsma

  The shift dragged on. Not much different than solitary confinement, except here he could see his fellow prisoners. He still couldn’t talk to them.

  Jerzy slipped from his stool, a coughing fit wracking his body. He made his way toward Fromm. The man gazed around the room, never moving his head. Jerzy stopped in front of him, his back to Teodor. Jerzy leaned in to speak to Fromm. Good luck getting out of here to get a drink of water.

  Fromm narrowed his eyes. He threw wide gestures as he spoke to Jerzy. Nie, nothing had changed.

  But then, Fromm smiled.

  At Jerzy.

  What was going on?

  After a few minutes, he returned to his workstation. Teodor rubbed the back of his neck, the heat of the guards’ stares boring into his skin. Jerzy leaned over and whispered something to him, but he blocked out his friend’s words.

  How interesting that on multiple occasions since returning to the factory, Teodor had caught him speaking with Untersturmführer Fromm, smiling and chuckling with him, altogether too chummy. Jerzy knew too much. And was too willing to share it.

  “Hey.” Jerzy threw a piece of paper at Teodor, making ignoring him impossible.

  Teodor leaned over, picked up the crumpled bit of stationery, and tucked it into his pocket. He didn’t think of it again until several hours later when Untersturmführer Fromm took him off the drill press and had him lugging boxes up and down the stairs from the factory floor to the train. At least he managed to escape the looks of his fellow prisoners. Especially Jerzy.

  He paused for a minute on the stair landing between the second and third floors, the air warm and close but quiet, and read the note Jerzy had tossed in his direction. “Meet me in the lavatory at midnight.”

  The last thing he needed was for any of the Nazis to discover a note like this in his possession. He marched down the last two flights of the stairs, exited the building, and swallowed the small piece of paper.

  He wouldn’t go. Deep in the pit of his stomach, something didn’t sit right. He couldn’t identify it, but the nagging feeling refused to leave him.

  The problem was, later that night, exhausted as he was, he couldn’t fall asleep. He lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, as coughs gave way to snores. What should he do? What if Jerzy wasn’t in cahoots with Fromm? Maybe prison had turned Teodor paranoid.

  The bunk below him creaked, as did the floorboards beneath Jerzy’s feet as he made his way to the restroom. Though he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, a few minutes later, Teodor also left his bed and bumped his way through the maze of bunks to the bathroom. “Please explain why you want to meet under cover of darkness.”

  “Why are you avoiding me?”

  “Prison wasn’t a trip to the seashore. I don’t care to return.”

  “I can’t blame you. But that doesn’t explain your strange behavior since you’ve been back.”

  “How about your strange behavior?” Teodor’s voice rang in the small space.

  “Be quiet. Do you want the guards to hear?”

  “That’s what you want. Isn’t that why you called me here?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Teodor leaned against the wall. “You know very well.”

  He almost heard Jerzy shrug. “Nie, I don’t.”

  “Since I’ve been gone, you’ve made friends with Fromm.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it, now? I’m not so sure. You go and talk to him several times throughout the shift. And there’s only one reason I can think that might be.”

  “Enlighten me.” Jerzy coughed.

  Teodor waited until the spasm passed. “You’re snitching.”

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  By now Teodor’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light. He stood chest to chest with Jerzy and pushed him until his back was against the wall. “Tell me why you would turn on your friends, your comrades, your country.”

  “I’m doing no such thing.” Jerzy’s voice trembled.

  “Oh, but you are. If I wasn’t convinced before, I’m convinced now. You’re the worst kind of harlot. One who sells his soul for what? A little bit of rest? Or a piece of bread? What is it? What was your price?”

  “You are a fool.” Jerzy jabbed him in the shoulder.

  “You are a much bigger fool. I pity you. How can you sleep with yourself at night? How dare you call yourself a Pole? You are a Volksdeutsche. Selling out your Polishness for what?” Teodor spat on Jerzy’s shoes.

  He spun on his heel and stumbled back to bed. Sold out by a man he’d known for a good part of his life. One he had trusted. Jerzy had even worked with him, getting the dirt to gum up the machine.

  Of course. That’s how Fromm had found out he was the guilty party. Jerzy’s tattling got him sent to prison in the first place. Teodor’s breaths came in rapid gasps.

  Jerzy was right. He was a fool. A fool for ever trusting him or anyone in this miserable place.

  Teodor’s entire body ached. He tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. The thin sheet and worn blanket tangled around his legs.

  And though Teodor dozed for no more than a few minutes at a time the entire night, Jerzy never came to bed.

  Pawel drew his light jacket tighter. Though it was August and the weather was more than pleasant, a chill coursed through him. He hurried through the darkening streets toward the Fromm home.

  Pani Fromm had not divulged much information over the phone, just that he needed to hurry. He’d heard worry and maybe a bit of fright in her voice. After the last time he spoke to Pani Palinska, what might he find? Had Pan Fromm hurt one of them? Or the baby? If only the women would let him take Dominik somewhere else. He had contacts throughout the country, places where the child might be safer.

  Not that anywhere was safe these days. He’d heard rumblings from some of his contacts in Warsaw. Something about fighting in the streets. Not between Soviets and Germans, but a popular uprising. Everyday citizens, ready to throw off Nazi rule.

  If only Antonina could be here where he could keep an eye on her, watch over her, keep her safe. Who knew what was going on to the north?

  No sooner had he breathed a prayer for his wife, he arrived at the little pink house and rapped on the carved-wood front door. Low voices emanated from inside, and footsteps hurried to meet him. Pani Fromm answered, her blonde hair disheveled, her eyes red rimmed. “Come in, and hurry.” She pulled him over the threshold and slammed the door shut behind him.

  “What is this about?” He removed his fedora.

  She reached to take his cap. “I was out today, walking home. I hear this crying. So small. I look down and see a boy. The soldiers came, but I hid him. Then I take him home. He works at the camp. His bones . . . Come, I show you.”

  He followed her to where Pani Palinska combed a little boy’s wet hair. What there was of his hair anyway. His back was to Pawel. His rib and shoulder bones stuck out from underneath his almost-translucent skin. “Hello.”

  They both turned. Pani Palinska’s eyes were bright, but she clenched her jaw. The boy scooted behind her. “Thank you for coming. My brother has escaped from the factory, and we need your help.”

  He peeked behind her to address the child and glanced at the boy’s right hand. “Zygmunt?” He’d changed so much, grown so thin, that Pawel hadn’t recognized him. “Well, we meet again. Can I look at you? I want to see how big and strong and healthy you are.”

  He nodded, his green eyes large in his gaunt face.

  “Pani Palinska, would you get him a glass of warm milk please?”

  She left the room to fulfill his request. He turned back to Zygmunt. “Did you run away?”

  The boy bit his lip and stared at the ocher floor.

  “You can tell me. See, I’m Polish, like you. I won’t hurt you. Remember how I took care of you when you lost your finger? Let me help you.”

  “I ran away because I don’t like the people there. I don’t understand them, and
I’m hungry. Please, can I stay with Natia?”

  The words stuck in Pawel’s throat. There was no way the boy could remain here. As soon as Fromm saw Zygmunt and discovered his relationship to Pani Palinska, there would be no stopping the Nazi’s wrath. And he might not limit it to the Poles in his house.

  Pawel faced Zygmunt again and smiled, just for the child’s sake. “Let’s get you strong and healthy.” Pawel performed a brief examination. Though thin and malnourished, Zygmunt didn’t have any other obvious diseases or conditions. “You’re in good shape. Shall we go see if your sister has that milk?”

  They made their way to the kitchen where Pani Palinska flashed them a tentative grin and poured the warm milk into a cup. Pani Fromm patted the wooden chair beside her at the small table. “You sit by me.”

  “Actually, Zygmunt, could you take your cup into the living room? If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with these two ladies for just a moment.”

  He took his mug and left.

  Pawel crossed his legs and rubbed his chin. “He can’t stay here.”

  Pani Palinska sighed. “I know. Pan Fromm is probably on the lookout for him. We can’t let him find Zygmunt. Or discover his connection to me.” She wiped a stray tear from her sunken cheek. “Much as I hate to send him away, I see no other alternative. There is nowhere to hide him.”

  “Agreed.”

  She spoke fast and low, probably so Pani Fromm couldn’t understand them. “I know you’re involved with underground activities, things to help people in trouble. We need help for Zygmunt. A safe place for him. A place where he can wait out the rest of the war and not have to worry about being sent back to the camp. And a place where I can find him when this is over.”

  He wiped his damp hands on his tan pants. If someone had been able to help Józef, wouldn’t he have wanted them to? Even though it might mean another visit from Fromm, he had to do what he could.

  He cleared his throat and spoke just as fast and low. “I have a contact in Warsaw. Even if he can’t keep Zygmunt, he’ll know of a place where he can stay. Next week, I have to go there, so I can get him some papers and take him with me.”

  “You’ll help us?” Natia slowed her words and clasped her hands together.

  “You’ll have to explain to him why he can’t stay.”

  “Just tearing away another piece of my heart. But you’ll take him?”

  “I will.” A dangerous trip just got riskier.

  Darkness spread its dense blanket over the village. Pan Fromm would be home soon. Natia stared at her brother, here in front of her. If she could only take him in her arms and hold him close forever. To lose him again would be as painful as losing one of her own children.

  But keeping him here would be signing his death sentence. All of theirs. He had to leave. Now. Even though the pain was as real as a knife to the stomach, as the adult she had to control herself. She gazed at her brother. “Would you like more milk?”

  “Tak. That was good.”

  Once he had a second full glass and she was settled in her seat again, she touched his hand, loath to ever release her grasp, loath to ever release him. “I never want to be parted from you.”

  His green eyes lit up. “Does that mean I can stay? Please, Natia, don’t send me back to that horrible place. I was all alone. You weren’t there. And a nice lady gave me these.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the handkerchiefs she’d sewn for her father and sister.

  Her breath hitched, and she went cold all over.

  “She said they had died.” Fat tears raced down Zygmunt’s face.

  “Nie, nie.” If she refused to let her heart believe it, then it couldn’t be true.

  “I saw Helena. She was so still. So cold. I covered her with a blanket, but she didn’t wake up. The lady told me she was living with Jesus and so was Tata.”

  Natia crumpled the pieces of fabric in her hand. How much would God take from her? Was no one going to be left?

  “I love you, Natia. I miss you. Please, can’t I stay?”

  How she longed to hang on to this boy. She wiped the moisture from her face. Upsetting Zygmunt wouldn’t help. Later she could mourn. Now she had to tell him he was going to lose her too. “Nie, you have to go.”

  “But . . .” His chin quivered.

  “Just for a little while. The war is going to end soon, and I promise we’ll be together once more. It’s not safe here. Pan Fromm lives in this house.”

  Her brother’s face turned whiter than she’d ever managed to bleach the sheets. “You live with him?”

  “I’m his servant.”

  “Can’t you hide me? I’ll be very quiet. He’ll never know I’m here.”

  She stroked his cheek. “That’s too dangerous. If he found you here . . . Look, all you have to wear are your blue coveralls. But let’s not talk about that. For now, let’s enjoy being together.”

  “What’s going to happen to me? Do I have to go back to that awful place?”

  “Never. Dr. Bosco is taking you to Warsaw.” She tried to smile but failed. “Imagine that. You’ll get to see the big city.”

  “I miss Tata and Helena. I don’t want to go away from you too. Please, Natia, don’t send me away.”

  “I don’t want you to go either, but this is the only way for you to be safe. If anything happened to you . . .” A strangled sob cut off her words. After several deep breaths, she regained control. “Can you be brave for me?” If only she possessed a measure of the bravado she showed him.

  “I don’t want to be.”

  “But you must. We all must.”

  He nodded, his usual grin hidden. The work, this life, these deaths, had stolen his youth and innocence. Something he would never recapture, even if the war ended today. Her heart broke a little more.

  “We’ll only be apart for a short time. I promise.”

  Zygmunt rose from his chair, came to Natia, knelt beside her, his head in her lap, and they both wept.

  At least she had the chance to tell him good-bye. She’d never gotten to say those words to Tata or Helena. Always, it was good-bye. And you never knew when it would be your final one.

  The front door slammed shut, startling Natia as she stirred the thin soup on the stove. Pan Fromm marched into the kitchen and whacked the wooden spoon from her hand.

  She stepped backward.

  “A child disappeared from the plant today. And I come to find out he’s your brother. Zygmunt Gorecki. Isn’t that correct?”

  “Zygmunt?” She couldn’t keep the tremor from her voice.

  “Don’t play dumb. You had a hand in this. I know you did. I’ve had enough. For too long I’ve been lenient with you because of Elfriede. But no more. I have a special place in mind for you. Get the child and your things.”

  God, nie. Don’t let him take me to one of those extermination camps. Dominik and I wouldn’t survive.

  “Now.”

  On trembling legs, she climbed the stairs. As she packed her one spare skirt and Dominik’s few clothes, she clung to him. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you. God, protect us. Please, I beg you. Don’t let anything happen to us.”

  She took as long as she dared to finish the chore. Once she couldn’t delay any longer, she stumbled downstairs, her entire body numb. Was her heart still beating?

  Pan Fromm met her at the bottom step and grabbed her by her shoulder, almost crushing her bones under his grasp. He pulled Dominik from her arms, then marched them through the front door.

  Dizziness and nausea washed over her. The world spun and her knees buckled.

  Elfriede raced after her husband, out the front door and into the yard, her breathing rapid. “Stop it. Erich, don’t. Don’t take Dominik from me. This isn’t right.”

  Natia stumbled, and Elfriede rushed forward, reaching them.

  He growled and pushed her shoulder to move her out of the way. “What do you know about right and wrong? You duped me into marrying you by getting pregnant, but you can’
t bear a child. No children for the fatherland. Thanks to you, I’m a disgrace.” He turned to Natia. “And thanks to her, I’m looked down upon and scorned by both those under me and my superiors. Your Vater detests me. I’ll never get that promotion to Berlin. We’ll never get out of this outpost on the edge of nowhere.”

  The sting of his words bit into Elfriede’s heart. “This isn’t about me. Or us. It’s about you and what you’re doing.”

  “Out of my way. I warned you she would ruin us. Since she’s come, we’ve had nothing but trouble. I should have never brought her here. Never should have allowed this Jew baby in my house. That’s a wrong I intend to correct.”

  “Dominik isn’t Jewish. Please. You’ll rip my heart open.” Already, it was raw and gaping.

  Erich struck her across the mouth. “Shut up. Or I’ll do to you what I’m about to do to her.”

  The metallic flavor of blood stung her tongue, and her stomach plunged like an elevator without a cable. “Do to me whatever you want. But don’t hurt Dominik. Or Natia. I need them, Erich. If you love me, you won’t take them from me.”

  Wriggling in Erich’s arms, Dominik screeched. He couldn’t, wouldn’t harm the child. Would he?

  Trembling from head to toe, Elfriede reached for Dominik. “Give him to me. Let me take care of him.” She wrenched him from Erich’s hold.

  Leading with her free shoulder, she shoved her way between Erich and Natia. He released his grip. Elfriede spun around and handed Dominik to Natia. “Take him inside. Go.”

  Natia grabbed the baby and bolted.

  Elfriede released a pent-up breath and forced her voice to remain cold and even. “If you love me, you’ll keep him here for me. Or Vater will hear about how you’re treating me. I promise you, he will. And then instead of missing out on a promotion, you’ll find yourself demoted to an infantryman in the Wehrmacht.”

  Elfriede’s stomach jumped around in her middle like Dominik on the living room couch. But the threat was enough to make Erich back off. With a hard glare, he marched down the street, probably to indulge in some Polish vodka.