A Sparrow in Terezin

by Kristy Cambron

  “So you told him about the baby?”

  Sera pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, trying to relieve the tension there.

  “Yeah. I did. In the worst way possible. I told him that when he finally did come home, we wouldn’t be waiting.”

  Penny said nothing right away.

  The ability to perfectly time when to react and when to remain silent; it was an admirable quality in a friend. And for what it was worth, as she sat, staring out into the throngs of travelers bustling by, Sera found herself grateful for Penny’s mastery of it.

  “Okay. And how’d he take it?”

  “He asked me to stay, tried to reach for me as soon as I mentioned the baby. But I pulled away.” She shrugged, though no one was there to notice it. “And he let me go.”

  “Sera.” Penny’s voice was sweet and whisper soft. “There is no way on God’s green earth he really wanted you to go. I’m sure he thought he was only protecting you.”

  “He’s got a funny way of showing it.”

  “Well, he’s right,” Penny scoffed. “For once. I’m inclined to agree with him.”

  Sera’s jaw dropped. “About what?”

  Not Penny. Sera couldn’t believe that he’d even managed to win over the one person in the world who was supposed to be on her side without question.

  “You need to go home, honey.”

  “That is why I’m here at the airport.”

  “No, I mean that you need to go home, and that home is with your husband—wherever he is. Home is not an estate house or a loft in the city. It’s certainly not at his father’s townhome, though I guarantee he won’t stay in London a minute longer than it takes to hop on a plane and go after you now. The point is, you need to be at his side, and you need to be on his side.”

  “But he lied to me! How could he not tell me about a sister he’d turned away? And all this time he knew about the art. The money. Everything.”

  “I know. I’m not making excuses for the man.” Penny sighed. “Believe me—I’ll be all too glad to smack him as soon as I get off the phone. He’s really botched this, that’s true. But what I am saying is that you love him, past mistakes and all. Isn’t that what you said when you pledged your heart to him? Did you tell me right after your wedding that you trust him, no matter what?”

  “Trust is earned.”

  “And it’s also a choice. I know you, Sera. You have a forgiving heart. And you made a covenant to love this man all the days of your life. Didn’t you think there would be some in there where he would make mistakes?”

  “Penn—”

  “Okay. Big mistakes. Lots of mistakes here,” she countered. “We’re not arguing over the fact that these are some king-sized flubs. I know. But think about it. Where did all this come from? He’s scared. Right? Just like you were when you met him.”

  “And he lectured me about living in the past back then.”

  “Maybe it was because he didn’t want someone he cared about to have to live the way he was? Look. He’s a stupid man from time to time—”

  “How is this helping?”

  “Not a cut, just an observation. William is like his brother. Those Hanover men need some looking after, I can tell you. But at least your William is smart enough to know what he has in you. And that, I’m sure, is what kept him from sharing any of this until now. If William thought he’d lose you, then I’d wager he was prepared to live in his guilt—even to go to prison for something he didn’t do—because he felt like he should pay for past sins. Sera, that’s not the mark of bad man.”

  Penny paused and was quiet on the line.

  “I know it’s not. He’s a good man. But I don’t know what the answers are. I’m so confused.”

  A final boarding call chimed over the loudspeaker.

  Sera heard it over the bustle of the travelers hurrying by.

  Paris.

  A plane, somewhere, was boarding passengers for Paris. Her heart fluttered on the thought.

  She looked at the clock on her cell phone.

  “Penn, I have to go.”

  “Okay. So tell me what time your flight leaves. I’ll come meet you and we’ll work through this thing together.”

  Sera pulled her suitcase along behind her, threading her way through the crowd. “I’m going home.”

  “Good.” Penny sighed into the phone. “You’ve come to your senses.”

  “I’m just taking a detour first.”

  “My dear, the fact that you are standing in my doorway should not come as a shock.”

  Sera stood in the hallway of Sophie Haurbech-Mason’s apartment building with her suitcase and a small jewelry box in hand.

  “I was so grateful you sent the pearls to me for my wedding. And I was going to ship them back, but seeing as I was so close to Paris . . .”

  Sophie was a tiny sprite of a woman, with hair so gray it looked glazed with violet in the light and a congenial warmth that only a wise old friend could offer. She opened her door wide and accepted Sera, who was by then exhausted in body and all cried out from the plane ride to Paris.

  “Come in, my dear. I’ve been expecting you and those pearls to find their way back to me again.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  December 7, 1943

  Terezin

  The moon shone high overhead, illuminating the alley in a swath of blue-silver light.

  Kája stood in the shadows. She was huddled up against the stucco wall of the building that held their attic room, tugging the collar of her coat up around her neck to ward off the severe chill of the night.

  “I brought food for the children,” Dane whispered, and looked over his shoulder before handing over a paper-wrapped parcel. “The guards confiscated the Red Cross food rations that came into the post office. The parcels were mailed to the Danish prisoners and they actually made it here. I was forced to steal this when the others weren’t looking. But there is canned meat and cheese. Black tea. There’s even a box of biscuits—the children will be strengthened by this, I’m sure.”

  Kája nodded. She took the wares he offered, hugging them to her chest.

  “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be overjoyed. We haven’t seen food in the camp this regularly in more than a year.”

  “Dane.” Kája’s voice was carried out on a winter breeze that blew around them, whistling slightly as it filtered in the alley. She kept her head down, unable to meet his gaze. The only action that could keep her from crying openly was to bite her bottom lip and she did so, even as she said, “My mother died today.”

  He studied her, standing near, having removed his hat to turn it over in his hands. He scanned back and forth between her withered form and the empty street behind her.

  “Is there . . . is there anything I can do?” His breath froze on a fog.

  “No. My father is incapable of accepting help right now. He’s kept us strong, both of us. I wouldn’t have been able to work unless he’d seen to it. And my mother wouldn’t have survived a single night if not for his presence here with us. And now?” Kája shook her head, the weight of sorrow pulling her eyes down to the ground. “I’m afraid it will break what will he had left to survive in this place.”

  She turned away from him then, her tears too intimate a thing to share.

  “I’ve never held someone’s hand as they passed from this world, not until I came here. And now? I can’t count all the hands that have clung to mine and then just slipped away. I’ve seen transports come in and ghosts of people go out. I remember every single face of the lost wandering around the town square.” She looked around the empty alley, shaking her head and whispering out against the bitter cold, “When did it become commonplace to see such a thing? Bodies in the street. Discarded. Covered in snow. Burnt in ovens. And what of my children, painting pictures of guards with guns trained on them? Dreaming of food but receiving a transport order instead. It’s too much. I don’t want to live in a world like this. Even bombs raining down on London never felt this
hopeless. When did we become animals?”

  Dane was silent. The night made slight sounds around her—the whisper of the wind and drips of water greeted them as ghostly companions. And then she heard his boots scrape in the ice at their feet.

  “I want to help you.”

  She opened her eyes. Yes, he’d taken a step toward her. She could feel him standing but a breath behind her. And a hand had reached out; she felt it, softly, barely warming her sleeve. It squeezed her shoulder from behind.

  “I went to the shop, you know.” She half turned, looking up at him. “I went back with some of the paper you left for the children—the money? I went to buy my mother’s pearls. It was silly, but I thought if she could see them again, that the memory might trigger something in her mind. But she was already gone. And so I have her pearls. But her earrings? I passed them by. I had to forget them.” Her voice choked out on a sob. “Because she’ll never leave this place.”

  “Kája, I’m so sorry.”

  She turned to face him. “Are you? Are you really?”

  “You know I am.”

  “But you’re one of them, aren’t you? You are a Nazi.”

  “Please don’t say I’m one of them.” His tone was ragged, teeming with regret.

  “You’re an engineer, I know. But you still do their bidding. You still walk by. You watch the people starve. They’re worked to death before your eyes and yet you stay. You take orders, don’t you? Tell me, have you ever killed anyone just because they told you to?”

  He didn’t answer. He stood still, stone-faced in the cold. And she couldn’t determine if it was because he actually had taken a life and didn’t want to tell her, or because he was shaken that she’d even had to ask.

  “But what does it matter, right? Men can’t change. We can hope, but it’s dashed by apathy.”

  “And I can only pick the people up off the ground, one person at a time.” His voice was a rough whisper—one with defiance and, unmistakably, heart—as he took a step closer. He looked down on her, a depth of feeling evident in the way he searched her face. “I may not be able to save every child, but if I can give you this parcel and save just one, then it’s all been worth it.”

  Kája hugged the parcel tighter in her arms, it somehow feeling like a lifeline that might help save them all.

  “Tell me what to do. Please—how can I help you?”

  “My father is . . .” Kája paused, looking for the right words. “Disconnected. Umm—dazed, I would say. I sent for him as soon as she got worse, but this all happened so quickly. She had a fever that wouldn’t break and the life just faded out of her eyes.”

  Kája shook her head, unable to continue.

  “Do you need anything?” He sniffed over the cold, though his eyes registered sincere emotion. “I could have a nurse sent in to tend to you.”

  Kája shook her head. “No. I couldn’t let anyone from the hospital be sent over when there are so many sick that need care. It wouldn’t be right. And I don’t want to give the impression that there is illness in the block here. They would—”

  She couldn’t continue. Her hand flew to her mouth, clamping down on a wail of emotion that fought to the surface. She shook with it, feeling the tears spill over until they formed hot trails that turned to frozen tracks down her cheeks.

  Dane stepped forward, his hat discarded on the ground. Without the necessity of words, he wrapped his arms around her.

  They stood, cloaked in darkness, neither one breaking the moment by looking over a shoulder to see if an SS guard lurked in the shadows nearby. She simply cried and for that single moment in time, he let her. Her fists balled up at his shoulders and she melted into him, her face buried in the scratchy wool of his lapel. His chin rested on the top of her head.

  “You’re right. They would clean out the block if they knew a nurse had been sent in. Typhus is running rampant everywhere.”

  “I know,” she said, crying. “We lost one of the children last week. A young girl. Nine years old. Sweet as can be. And I was the only one with her at the school. I don’t even know who her parents are to tell them their baby is gone.” She sobbed against his coat.

  His arms tightened their hold around her.

  “What is this place?” She breathed in and out, icy air coating her lungs with each painful breath. “Is it hell on earth? Is it worse? When I worked at The Telegraph, we printed stories of death camps like this, but deep down, I couldn’t believe it. I thought man incapable of such evil. And then I come here and find that misery is thriving. It’s alive and well, smiling, pulling triggers at people’s heads while dressed in Nazi green.”

  “Kája, I swear I didn’t come to add injury to you, God knows.” He paused, then continued with an iron resolve to his voice. “I had another reason for coming to find you tonight, other than to bring the food. But we don’t need to talk about it now. Not after all this.”

  “No,” she said, and rose up to look at him.

  The openness in his eyes made her realize that he was still holding her. She abruptly took a step back and wiped at her eyes with the backs of her palms, thinking of Liam with a pang. Should she feel guilty for accepting the warmth of another’s embrace in this terrible place, on such a terrible day?

  “Good or bad—I’ll not be afraid. I refuse to be shocked by any news now. I won’t give them that power over me. Not after they’ve taken everything from us.” Kája notched her chin in the air. “What is it?”

  “I’ve been charged with the cleanup of the camp.” When she tensed, he raised a hand in clarification. “No. Not clearing the camp. Cleaning. It’s not like that. You are safe. All of you.”

  Kája exhaled. “Then what?”

  “Beautification. SS Colonel Karl Rahm—you have heard of him?”

  “Yes,” she answered. Her father had mentioned the Nazi commander on occasion.

  “He wants the camp to look its best. Wants to improve things for the prisoners here. Do you remember when you first arrived and we put in the water pipes?”

  She nodded. To her knowledge, there had been no running water before their arrival. The wells that were on the property had been infected with disease and after the pipes had gone in, sanitation had improved some.

  “It will be like that, only on a much larger scale. I’ve been given supplies, money even, to ensure civic improvements around the camp. Those improvements will benefit the people here. Health. Human services for cleanliness. Medical care.”

  “And food?”

  “Yes. We are to make it a place where people will thrive while they work.” He nodded. “Look.” He held out a handful of small papers. “Tickets. I got them for you and the children.”

  She hesitated. “Tickets for what?”

  “They are opening a café on Neuegasse Street—tomorrow, across from the square. These are tickets so you and the children can attend. They’ll have food. Coffee. Desserts, even. And a musical show, just like the concerts and the stage plays we’ve seen in the camp. The SS has allowed the arts community to thrive here and now we have the chance to do even more.”

  “Dane. I’m sorry, but I don’t understand any of this.”

  “What don’t you understand? It’s food. Take it.”

  “Do you remember that day when you picked up the man in the street? You were knee-deep in mud and you risked your life for him. The other SS ridiculed you for it. Then I saw you again, at a funeral for the prisoners here. And you’ve left rations at the school. I didn’t understand then and I don’t now. I asked my father why you were helping us. And do you know what he said?”

  Dane shook his head and whispered, “No.”

  “My father said of the officer working alongside the people, ‘There is a man of God.’ Is that true? Is this why you’ve brought these tickets? Or is it for another reason?”

  “I don’t know if I’m a man of God or not. I’m not sure he exists.” He turned to pick up his hat, then slammed it back on his head, as if the addition to his uniform might r
emind her that he was a Nazi and any measure of praise was therefore foreign. “I’m trying to figure out what’s right and what to do about what I see in this place. Where’s the difference between what I’m ordered to do and what I hate doing? There is a line thin as smoke between them. But all I know is that I’m determined to do good here. Whether it’s from God or not, I haven’t a clue.”

  “Why have you really come, Dane?”

  He paused, flipping the tickets against his gloved hand. “I need your help.”

  “My help? What could you need me for?”

  “Rahm intends to highlight the arts community here and I need your help to do that.”

  “But why me? Why now?” She looked about. “And why would they even care about musical performances and stage plays when people are dying all around?”

  “The International Red Cross will be here. The Danish government’s wish for their visit is finally being granted and we’ve been charged with preparation.”

  The Red Cross.

  She hadn’t thought of it in months, how she’d once worn their uniform herself. Memories of the train compartment in Norwich where Liam had given it to her flashed before her eyes.

  “What?” He read whatever had splayed across her face.

  “It’s just that I once knew someone in the Red Cross.”

  “Who?”

  “No one,” she said, shaking her head. “We had a mutual friend in London, that’s all.”

  “Well, we don’t know who will arrive yet, but I hope it’s your friend, for your sake.”

  “Whomever comes, what do they expect to find when they get here?” Her eyes sailed up to the broken attic window up above, wondering what her father would think as he sat by her mother’s bed.

  “A model camp. That’s all I know. They expect me to make it happen by June. I need someone who can work with the people here. To organize the arts for the children. Will you help me?”