A Sparrow in Terezin

by Kristy Cambron

  “Miss? Can you hear me?” The man’s voice sounded frantic, the thick cockney echoing from somewhere directly above her. “I need you to calm down now.” A hand brushed over her forehead, easing her back to the hard ground. “Just lie back . . . that’s it. Good. You’re going to be all right now, miss.”

  Kája was being praised for ceasing to fight. That much she knew. But as to who spoke to her and why—nothing was clear.

  “This one’s hurt bad.”

  Are they talking about me?

  No. It couldn’t be.

  Kája shook her head, fighting the inclination to wake up out of the momentary dream world. Another voice, a louder one, shouted, “You there! Bring that lantern over here. And be smart about it!”

  Kája felt something pressing hard against her temple, causing a sting of pain to pierce the side of her jaw. She shuddered and gasped out, wishing she could scream, but her lungs refused to allow it. She fought as hard as she could, swinging fists out in the air, trying to push the intense pressure away.

  Her hands were caught and lowered. Her left arm was numb and surprisingly, she could discern that it felt ice cold. An odd sense of pressure came down on it too.

  “You with the lantern—over here,” she heard the man yell. “Yes. That’s good. Hold it right like that. So we can see her face. She’s got a shrapnel wound to the head—that much I can tell. But everything else is so covered in blood and soot—”

  “Golly.” A man coughed. “Would you look at her arm?”

  Kája heard something then—a muffled cry maybe? A voice she recognized? The whispers of men mingled in with the deafening sounds all around her. She tried to speak, to ask whose voice it was that spoke over her, but lay back in a fit of coughing.

  “You know this girl?” the cockney man asked someone.

  Kája could discern nothing after that, nothing certain. If someone did recognize her, they must have nodded, for she heard nothing else. Her eyes drifted closed, flitting against the muddled forms kneeling over her, and she felt herself being lulled into the welcome blackness of sleep. No use fighting. The pressure on her limbs felt all consuming, the cold creeping up her arm and pulling her away.

  “Kája.” She heard a steady voice take charge, felt the unexpected warmth of a hand brushing over the side of her head. “Stay with me. You hear me?”

  Something patted her cheek.

  “Keep your eyes open,” the voice said, and then, “Look at me.” She heard the chink of metal, then the voice ordered someone, “Here. Take my belt.”

  A pause. More blackness inviting her to drift away, and she gave herself up to it.

  “Wrap it tight around her arm before she bleeds to death.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  When did we get so much stuff?”

  Penny tossed a book in a nearby donation box, its sound echoing off the tall ceilings of the downtown loft.

  “My question would be: Why did we ship all of this junk from New York to California if we were just going to get rid of half of it?” Sera plopped down into a wing-back chair next to her friend, who was struggling to stand from a long-kneeling position. She handed her a chilled sparkling water. “Here. Let’s take a break.”

  “You’re an angel.” Penny took it and fell into a nearby sofa. She ran the coolness of the bottle over her forehead before taking a drink. “But only because I think I’d pass out from another second of working in this loft. Who’d have thought that such a large space could be so stuffy?”

  “And everyone says San Francisco is cool in summer. Guess we caught a rare heat wave right inside this loft,” Sera answered, looking around at the mountain of crates, unpacked boxes, and tarp-covered furniture that occupied every inch of the space. “At least we can survive by opening the windows.”

  “If you say so, fearless leader.”

  “Stop that!” Sera tossed a dust cloth at her friend and laughed. “You’re no longer in my employ. I’m not anybody’s leader. That means you’re a friend—plain and simple.”

  “Hmm . . . if I’m no longer in your employ, then why do I find myself in a downtown gallery unpacking about a thousand boxes of your stuff? Do all friends do that sort of thing?”

  “Only the best ones.” Sera grinned. “I can’t thank you enough for flying back out here.”

  “Any chance for a new adventure is enough for me.”

  Sera arched any eyebrow. “Is that an homage to your decision to go back to school instead of finding another gallery position right away?”

  “You could say that. Guess I’ll be waitressing again while I put myself through more academic torture.” Penny laughed and absentmindedly ran her hand over the softness of the baby-blue sofa beneath her. “So, since when does a modern art gallery have French-inspired nail-head sofas?”

  She looked around the loft, scanning the boxes and wares that were strewn around.

  “It looks like a Pottery Barn catalog up here.”

  “That was an impulse buy.”

  “Yeah? And the chair too?”

  Sera ran her hand over the arm of her chair and nodded. “Yep. The chair too.”

  “And what about those curtains over there?”

  The loft had beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the street. They’d opened all of them and let the summer breeze flow in. It sent waves of motion through the length of the white gauze curtains, giving the space a homey feel that hadn’t been there before.

  Penny paused, then picked up an orange-and-white trellis pillow and hugged it in her lap. She raised an eyebrow.

  Sera shrugged.

  “Well, it looks so good you could actually move in here.” Penny laughed, obviously making a lighthearted comment.

  Sera looked away to the windows for a moment, hoping an answer might present itself.

  “Wait a minute—you’re not planning to move in here?” Penny’s nonchalance turned to concern in the blink of an eye. She bolted upright, swinging her legs down to the floor.

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why . . . ?”

  “Penn—I just bought a few things from the furniture store. It’s no big deal.”

  “When you have an estate house full of furniture and a husband waiting for you at home, I think it is kind of a big deal.”

  Sera shrugged off the comment.

  “Does William know about this?”

  “He’s got enough on his mind.”

  “That’s not an answer. Sera, what in heaven’s name is going on?”

  She hadn’t wanted to mention anything. But then, Penny had a way of reading her thoughts at the most inopportune times, and in the most in-depth of ways. She could feel her friend’s eyes zeroing in on her, searching her face for any inkling of what had been brewing in her heart for weeks.

  “Nothing.” Sera shook her head. She willed the tears not to sneak out the corners of her eyes, though they burned in protest.

  “Will’s got enough going on right now without adding me to the mix.”

  “Sweetheart.” Penny set her bottle on the hardwood floor and leaned in to face her friend. “You’re his wife. I think that makes you the mix.”

  “I just thought with the gallery opening in a couple of months I might need to spend a lot more of my time here. And if that’s the case, I should have something to sit on.”

  Penny eyed her. “And did you buy something to sleep on too?”

  Sera didn’t need to answer. But then again, Sera knew whatever had been fluttering around in her heart would eventually find its way to her face. It always did.

  She looked away.

  “You’re moving out?”

  “No!” Sera shot up from the chair. Her hands needed something, anything to do. She walked over to the fireplace mantle and ran a cloth over its top, stirring a bit of long-settled dust in her haste to avoid opening up about her fears.

  She could feel Penny’s stare from behind her. After working together for so many years, she could tell when her friend was concerned. S
he got quiet and would wait; exactly what she was doing now.

  “It’s just . . .” Sera stopped dusting the mantle and instead ran a fingertip over a nearby framed photo. The bride and groom beamed at each other, their smiles alive and genuine. How could they have known what would happen just a few moments after they’d said ‘I do’? How could they have known the ceremony would end with an arrest, their marriage shrouded with the threat of husband and wife having to be separated for much, much longer than just a wedding night?

  “It’s just in case.” She shook her head and looked away. “You know.”

  “In case of what, Sera?”

  “In case I need someplace to stay, all right?”

  Sera could hear Penny’s footsteps across the hardwood floor. And before she could stop them, her friend’s arms encircled her shoulders from behind. Penny rested her chin on Sera’s shoulder and whispered, “Has something happened?”

  Sera raised a hand up to cover her friend’s. She took hold of her fingertips and squeezed before turning around to face her.

  “No.”

  “Then why would you think you need a back-up plan?”

  “It’s just that with the trial—it’s got Will completely preoccupied. He’s busy and—”

  “He’s pulling away already.”

  She felt reluctant in doing so, but nodded.

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? How could this happen?”

  “I think it’s just his way of preparing for the worst. We could lose the house. I mean, it’s not really my home, but I know the family would be devastated. And all of the assets are frozen pending the investigation. And if Will is sent to—” Sera choked on the words. No way she’d say them out loud. She felt the weight bearing down on her, sickening her stomach with worry.

  She grasped the fireplace mantle and rested her forehead against her hand.

  “We could lose everything,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut on the words. “And if that happens, this loft might be the only roof we have. I bought it before the wedding, so it’s only in my name. It’s just in case the worst happens.”

  “It’s okay to say you’re not sure what comes next, Sera. It’s okay to feel vulnerable. The man you love is facing serious prison time. Neither one of you are expected to know how to handle it. My guess is that marriage is tough on the easiest of days without adding the federal government tossing convictions around for good measure. So give yourself a break for feeling unsure, just as long as that break doesn’t have you packing boxes to move in here.”

  Sera raised her head slightly.

  Somehow the room was spinning. Between the weight of stress that continued bearing down on her and the stifling heat of the loft, she felt completely overwhelmed.

  The look of concern that covered Penny’s face was immediate. She creased her brow, fighting against an obvious frown as she took a step closer.

  “Fine. What do you need? Want me to go to the grocery? Unpack boxes? I’m here to work. And I can stay with you as long as needed. Fall semester doesn’t start up for a while, so you just say the word.” She put her hands to her hips as if she were all too ready to take charge over the roughest parts of Sera’s life.

  Sera took a deep, steadying breath and with the most courage she could muster, whispered, “Penn, get me a garbage can. I think I’m going to be sick.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  September 11, 1940

  Kingsland Road Hospital

  London

  Kája battled the weight of her eyelids until they finally opened.

  She’d wrestled with the heavy inclination of sleep that kept her feeling groggy and had opened and shut her eyes more than once, the brightness like an invading shock to her senses. But this time she managed to keep them cracked and turned her head to look around. The room was brick walled, with beds covered in white linens. Light streamed in from somewhere overhead. Beds lined a long, high-ceilinged hall. Windows lined the span of wall opposite her bed.

  She turned, thinking to find the same sight in the opposite direction.

  Instead, she saw that he was there.

  Liam was leaning back with eyes closed in sleep, in a wooden chair that had been scooted up close to the bed. He wore the same oxford and trousers he always did—his uniform of sorts—and had hair that was resting down about his forehead. A book had been laid binding up across his chest. The reading glasses so few knew he wore looked like they’d slip off the edge of his nose at the slightest of movements.

  She looked down, tracing the extension of his arm to the bed linens, to see that his hand just brushed the side of hers. That tiny connection, the touch of warmth from someone she’d come to trust, gave her enough courage to try to speak through the muddling of her senses.

  Her lips felt dry and cracked, like they’d not been used for ages. She licked them and said, “The flower market.”

  Liam started, jarring awake so that his back straightened and his book fell to the floor with a loud thud that echoed off the walls. He shook his head, then settled his gaze upon her and leaned in. He continued scanning her face, as if to make sure she was the source of the voice that had awoken him.

  “Kája?” He squeezed her fingertips in his. “What did you say?”

  “How did Smalls know to find you at the Columbia Road Flower Market?”

  A smile melted over his lips, softly upturning the corners of his mouth.

  He leaned back and took the glasses from his nose, pressing them down into his shirt pocket. “And that’s all you care to ask me after the fright you’ve issued us?” He pursed his lips and made a tsk-tsk sound. “Given where we find ourselves at the present moment, I’ll let that line of questioning go until you’ve fully recovered. Then I’m going to give you heck for it.”

  She squinted and looked around.

  “Where am I?”

  “Kingsland Road. All the other hospitals were full.”

  What hospitals? Why would I need a hospital?

  Kája tried to sit up but felt his hand upon her shoulder, ushering her back down to the pillow.

  “No you don’t,” he ordered, albeit gently. “You’ll be staying put. But I can get you some water if you need it?”

  “No.” A sickly swimming feeling took over her head almost immediately, causing her to lift an instinctive hand to her brow. It was unexpected, to feel the softness of a bandage pulled taut over her left temple.

  Kája looked back at Liam, scared that she was stuck in the drifting sleep and maybe he wasn’t really there at all. She feared that she’d somehow been sucked into the recesses of a dream world and had yet to awaken. She immediately tried to lift her arms and looked down at her legs. She had no idea why, but she felt the need to check that all of her limbs were accounted for, despite feeling as though she’d been pulled, like Alice, through the looking glass into an unknown Wonderland.

  Liam stopped her again.

  “You shouldn’t move that either,” he said, gently resting fingertips at her wrist. Her left arm was bandaged from just below her palm to the tip of her shoulder, rendering it nearly immovable. “Not just now.”

  “What happened?” She’d found her words, though they sounded like painfully scratched whispers.

  “Do you remember anything?”

  She closed her eyes, trying to recall anything past coughing through the sooty air and the ghostly cries piercing the darkness of the shelter. Until that moment, she’d not been able to remember anything but the blackness of sleep. And then it came back in a furious flood of terror.

  Her lips trembled. She brought a hand up to her mouth with her good arm and closed her eyes on the memories, feeling the power of the truth in what happened.

  “Columbia Road.” Kája nodded softly. “We were hit, weren’t we?”

  She opened her eyes and stared back at him, waiting for his denial. But it never came. Instead, he nodded, just once, and mouthed a soft, “Yes.”

  “You were injured. You and many others.” His eyes focus
ed on her, but they looked so tired, so embattled as he spoke to her.

  “How many others?” She stared back at him, recalling the heartbreaking image of the woman holding the lifeless bundle in her arms. “Was anyone . . . killed?”

  The fact that he didn’t answer gave her the confirmation.

  Kája ran trembling fingertips over the bandage at her brow. So others had died. The flashes, visions almost, of a soot-filled shelter . . . they were real.

  “How bad was it—the bombing, I mean?”

  “Well, you had a superficial wound to your left temple. Though it bled quite a lot, it’s really the arm that had the doctors most worried. Shrapnel hit an artery, and by the time you were carried in, there were some scary moments to contend with. You had emergency surgery,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Let’s just say it was bad enough that I’ve been sitting here reading the same page in this book for quite a while, waiting to see those pretty eyes of yours finally decide to open and look back at me.”

  “My arm.” It felt like a heavy, unusable mass of gauze and numb flesh. She was terrified to voice the next thought out loud. “Will I be able to . . . use it again?”

  “Yes. You should make a complete recovery, though I don’t think you’re going to feel like typing for a while.” He lowered his chin to look down on her with a stern set to his jaw. “Not until you’ve allowed yourself time to rest, that is. Edmunton will have to make his own tea for a while.”

  “Does he know?”

  “Everyone knows. Mary and Eleanor were here. And I’ve been spelling Trixie,” he said, and lifted a water glass to her lips. “Here—drink.”

  She did, gratefully. Her mouth felt like it was made of cotton. He must have noticed, as she took another large gulp from the tumbler. She fell back against the pillow, spent.

  “Better?”

  She nodded. “Much. Thank you.”

  It was odd to think of the girls she’d only known a short time taking shifts to sit with her at the hospital. And the fact that Liam had stayed . . . he couldn’t possibly know what it meant to her. It was humbling, to say the least.