“The Vila family was shot last night. All five of them, taken out and shot in front of their home. Their bodies were left in front of the house for all to see. They hid a Jewish man and his daughter. No one in town imagined they had the two hiding there, and for years at that. Somehow, they were discovered. Seven lives, taken all in a matter of minutes.”
She ends her letter by begging Stephan to write back. Immediately, he heads out to the work shed to compose a letter. Jerzy follows him. I help Sophia stack the papers and hide the books in the storage space. I watch Sophia walk down the stairs and I feel a panic in my chest when she steps out of sight.
The air in the room is thick; it takes extra effort for me to breathe. If anyone discovers the truth about me, Sophia, Stephan and Jerzy could all be shot. I should run away, far away.
I wish I could write a letter to my parents and ask for help.
I should tell Sophia and Stephan the truth. Then they could decide if they want me to stay here or go back to the orphanage.
“Jerzy,” I call down the stairs. I try to make my voice calm.
“Yes?” He hurries into my room.
I look into his face. I remember the night he told me he was my brother. Without looking away, I say, “I have to tell you something. A secret.”
Chapter 37
Jerzy and I decide to leave early in the morning, before his parents wake up. “If they wake and we’re gone, they’ll just think we’re milking Old Ella or down at the chicken coop.”
I nod. It’s a good plan.
“Be ready,” he says as he closes my door.
I stay up late looking out my window. I think of all the time Mama spent teaching me to be Anna Karwolska. The days Auntie and Miss spent helping me learn about being Catholic. The papers, real true papers, provided by Jolanta. And how the time in the orphanage helped me learn how to behave in a Catholic church.
The moon is bright. A full round moon, like the moon on the night the small children were brought to the orphanage. It is the same moon. It only looks different. The moon keeps changing, day by day, shrinking and growing large. It pays no attention to the Earth being torn apart by war.
Grandma used to say, If everyone pulled in the same direction the world would topple over. But people are pulling against each other. And the world has toppled over. The world is upside down. Oh, Grandma!
I stare at the moon until my eyes blur. I want to go back to the time before the world toppled over, back to Warsaw before the bombs. Back to living with Mama and Papa. I climb into my bed and close my eyes, but I can still feel the moon, large and full, outside my window.
In the morning, Jerzy and I slip out without a sound. As we walk through the fields, I’m sure he can hear my heart pounding. It rings in my ears louder than the church bell. I walk straight and tall with purposeful steps, but there is a scream building in my chest.
Don’t be scared if you have no other choice, Grandma used to say. I’ve thought of everything and I have no other choice.
Jerzy pushes the small gate and it screeches as it scrapes across the concrete. There is no other sound, not even a rooster. I lead the way down the path, wondering if there is a better option. I shouldn’t put Jerzy in danger. Should I talk to the priest? Is there any way to contact Sister Maria?
Mama’s pleas buzz in my ears. Anna Karwolska would never play with a Jewish child. She’d never help a Jewish person. She hates all Jews. I’m not Anna Karwolska. I never have been. I stand at the door of the shed. The church is hidden behind the trees. No one can see us here.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Jerzy asks.
“I’ve seen them here twice,” I say.
I push the door open. Zina is sitting in her corner. Jozef is huddled next to her. He puts an arm up over his eyes, though it is still dark outside. Zina pulls Jozef into a tight hug. She looks at Jerzy and starts whispering softly.
“It’s fine,” I say. “He’s my brother. We’re going to take you someplace safe. Safer.”
Zina’s eyes dart between me and Jerzy, afraid.
I point to the door and to Jerzy. Zina shakes her head. She whispers again, rapid fire.
“What language are they speaking?” Jerzy asks
“How would I know?” I raise my voice. “There are a thousand languages in the world. And I don’t know this one.” Even though I told Jerzy about Zina and Jozef, I didn’t tell him all my secrets. I didn’t tell him about Anna Bauman.
Zina’s still whispering. Now she’s pointing to the door. She wants us out.
“Try French, Anna,” Jerzy says.
I try to remember French. I know children’s songs. I know Anna Karwolska’s address. I could ask Zina her name or the time of day. I have no use for this information, but I try anyway. “What is your name?” I ask Zina in French.
She’s silent a moment. I ask again. She shakes her head, doesn’t understand.
I have no choice. “A shitkel mazel iz vert merer vi a ton gold,” I say. A little bit of luck is better than a ton of gold. Zina nods her head; she understands.
“What language was that?” Jerzy asks.
“Something I know in French,” I say. I repeat the sentence several times, pointing to Jerzy each time I say the word luck.
“It sounds more like German,” he says.
I point Jerzy to the door and motion for Zina and Jozef to follow. We leave the cemetery by the side gate, far from the church, and make our way toward the forest. Jerzy told me last night that there is a group of fighters in the forest, fighting for Poland. They have food and shelter. Zina and Jozef will be safer there. Stephan and Jerzy go into the forest almost every day. Jerzy has promised to check on them.
When we’re hidden in the trees, Jerzy turns to me. “Go home, Anna.”
“No, I’m coming with you.”
Jerzy shakes his head. “You can’t. It’s not safe. My parents would never forgive me.”
I can hear in his voice that he won’t change his mind. He would leave Zina and Jozef here before he would let me come into the forest with them. If I argue it will only slow us down. “It’s not safe for me to walk through town. What if I’m stopped?”
“If you’re stopped, say that your mother wanted you to be first in line for food, but you forgot the ration cards at home.” My stomach turns to ice at the thought of being stopped by the Germans. “You can do it, Anna. Tell about the ration cards and walk straight home.”
I hug Jerzy and turn to Zina and Jozef. “Vahksin zuls du tsu gezunt,” I say, although no one has sneezed.
Chapter 38
A few days later, Stephan asks me to join him and Jerzy after breakfast. “Be sure to wear your coat,” he says. The thin coat I brought with me from the orphanage barely fits; the sleeves don’t reach my wrists.
“It’s not safe for Anna,” says Sophia. “Let her stay here.”
“Jerzy and I will keep her safe. We need her help.”
Listening to Sophia and Stephan arguing about me makes my stomach bend and twist. Their words push up against each other and remind me of my parents’ voices in the ghetto, the days before I left. Sophia bundles me up as if I were small. She winds a scarf around my neck, tucking it inside my coat. She kisses me three times on my cheeks.
We walk away from town. I wonder why Stephan asked me to come along. I know now that Jerzy doesn’t work at the tailor’s. He tells everyone that, and has the necessary papers to avoid trouble. Like me with Anna Karwolska’s papers. We take the country roads, even cut across some fields. Stephan and Jerzy turn their heads, scanning the area. It reminds me of Miss, when we left the courthouse. I asked Sophia what Stephan does when he goes on his long walks. “He’s making the rounds,” she told me. “Talking to people. Finding out what’s going on.”
We come to a small farmhouse. Stephan calls out a greeting, “It’s us!” and walks through the front door. Inside the kitchen, a lady is feeding three small children.
She brings her hand to her chest when she sees me. “I
was only expecting the two of you,” she says. Then she shakes her head as if the sight of me disturbs her still. “He’s out back.”
Outside, Stephan and Jerzy hurry to a small shed. As we get near, the building sounds as if it is spinning. Stephan opens the door and Jerzy and I follow him inside. The noise is so loud I clench my teeth. The room smells of oil. A man is bent over a large machine, turning a handle. Small papers, barely bigger than my hand, tumble out the end of the machine into a box.
The man notices us and stands. The machine quiets. “You’re here,” he says. He wipes his hands with a cloth. Jerzy carries three boxes to a table beside the machine. “Here’s how we do it,” he says. Jerzy shows me how to fold the papers in half and set them inside each other to make a small booklet. I catch on just in time because the machine starts up again. The noise bounces off the walls and pounds right into my ears.
Stephan stands near the window, reading the paper while the man feeds more sheets into the machine.
The paper I hold in my hand is one we removed from the books in my room. I can read a lot better than only a few weeks ago since I have been learning new words every night searching for Papa’s poem. I read the headlines printed on the first page.
POLISH GOVERNMENT IN EXILE FUNDS PATRIOTS
GERMANY SUFFERS DEFEAT AFTER DEFEAT IN THE UKRAINE
I almost drop the paper when I read the next headline: POLISH HOME ARMY FIGHTS GERMANS IN WARSAW
Warsaw. Home. Could the Polish army really push the Germans out of the city? I work as fast as I can, anxious to ask Stephan about this news. The machine stops and Stephan lays his coat next to the newspapers on the table. He unzips the lining and begins stacking the papers inside his coat.
“How do I look?” he asks when he puts his coat on. “Can you see anything?” Jerzy walks around his father, inspecting the coat, so I do the same.
“I can’t see anything,” I say.
“Looks good,” says Jerzy.
There are six stacks of papers on the table with long strings next to them. Stephan nods to us. “Tie those in bundles. I’ll be back.”
We quickly tie the papers. Stephan returns with a basket of old rags. “Put the papers under here. Don’t take them out until I tell you, understand?” We both nod. We take a long route home, circling the town on country roads. Stephan stops every so often and unzips the lining of his coat. He leaves newspapers in the strangest places: between logs in a woodpile, tucked beneath leaves in a wheelbarrow, under a rock.
“How will anyone find them?” I ask.
“They’ll find them,” says Stephan.
“The newspapers. Are the headlines true?”
“Every word,” says Stephan. “Straight from the Polish government in London.”
I walk between Stephan and Jerzy and gather my courage. “So there really is fighting in Warsaw, against the Germans?”
“Yes. The Polish Home Army is fighting for the city. They instructed the Germans to surrender. This is the turning point. The Germans are losing the war.”
The Germans are losing the war. I repeat that sentence in my mind a few times. It doesn’t seem possible. Germany has been in control of Poland for so long. They’ve always been bigger, stronger. “And the ghetto? The Warsaw ghetto?” I ask.
Stephan stops walking and looks down at me. “How do you know about the ghetto?”
“I . . .” Warning bells go off inside my head. I could never be afraid of Stephan. It would be such a relief to finally tell. The words sit on my tongue: I used to live there. The words grow heavy, but I can’t push them out of my mouth. I have to say something. “A girl in the orphanage told me about it,” I lie.
“Ah,” says Stephan. “Everyone in Warsaw knows about the ghetto. They were the first to fight the Germans. The Germans burned it to the ground, flat. That’s when the rest of Warsaw stood up to fight.”
Burned it to the ground. Flat.
“Your face,” says Jerzy. “Anna, what’s wrong?”
Stephan starts walking again. “I’m worrying you. Please don’t think about it, Anna. Warsaw is far from here. The Polish Home Army is sure to win.”
I walk along, scanning the fields like Jerzy and Stephan. “But the other papers down by the shops. They say that the Germans are winning the war. That they are in Finland. Moving into India.”
Stephan waves his hand in the air as if he’s swatting at a fly. “Lies. It’s what they want us to believe.”
We continue into town. After a few minutes, Stephan looks down at me. “Is that basket getting heavy?” It is, but I shake my head.
He leans against a fence and pulls a large ball of string out of his pocket. “I say it’s time we lighten the load.” He points to black birch tree next to the fence. “Do you feel like climbing?”
I nod my head. The closest branch is far out of reach. He passes the string to Jerzy. “Tie that to a bundle of papers.” He looks at me. “Up you go,” he says. “On my shoulders.” He hoists me up high and Jerzy passes the bundle of papers to me. I wind the string around my wrist and stretch for the first branch. Once I’m up, the climbing is easy. I glance down and see Stephan and Jerzy standing back to back: lookouts.
“Not too high, Anna,” Stephan calls up. “Right there is good.”
I loop the string over a branch and drop the ball of string down to Stephan. I wait for Jerzy to tie the other end to the fence, then I release my hold on the papers. It works; the newspapers are hidden but easy to find.
We repeat the process five more times. The other trees are pines and easy to climb. As I step up the ladder-like branches I’m hidden by the needles. I know the string will lead me back. Stephan and Jerzy are below, waiting. Each step I take I’m taller, stronger and somehow older than just a moment before.
At home, Sophia has warm soup waiting for us. I drink mine and go to bed early. I need time alone in my room to think. Two papers. One says Germany is conquering the world. The other says Germany is losing. The Warsaw ghetto, burned flat to the ground. So many buildings. Such a crowded place. Mama. Papa. Oh, how I want to tell them about the newspapers and me climbing high in the trees to hide them. They must be out of the ghetto, like me. They couldn’t have been there.
Before I fall asleep, Sophia comes in to check on me. She fusses over me and feels my forehead again. “Are you feeling well?”
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “Why do you keep asking?”
“Last night you were calling out. I came to your room. You must have been having nightmares. I held your hand. You were talking in your sleep.”
This can’t be. I’m Anna Bauman every night before I fall asleep.
“Do you want me to sit beside your bed tonight?”
“No, I feel fine. Really.” Her footsteps are soft as she heads down the stairs. I stare at my ceiling. Now I can’t even trust myself to sleep.
Chapter 39
I rub Old Ella’s nose and talk to her as Sophia milks. The cow’s warm breath tickles my neck and makes a cloud in the cool morning air. She’d been staying with the two other families for weeks. “I’ve missed you,” I tell her. “I’ve missed your good milk.”
Next we check on the chickens but there isn’t a single egg to be found. Sophia sighs as we walk home. “They need more food, better food. Like the rest of us.”
As we leave the shed, we see Stephan walking to the house with a woman. She’s older than Sophia and has a lot of dark black hair. “Anna,” he calls out. “This is the friend I wanted you to meet from Warsaw. Her name is—” Stephan looks to the lady as if he’s just forgot her name.
The lady smells like bath perfume and flower petals. She reaches out to hug me and kisses my cheeks three times. “Anna, how are you?”
“Fine.” I smile to hide my confusion. This is not the same lady that I saw from the tree, the one Stephan said he wanted me to meet.
Sophia tries to invite the woman in for a meal, but it is an odd time, so soon after breakfast and so long before lunch. The lady shakes her
head at Sophia’s suggestion, saying that she has another appointment in town. I wonder if she leaves because she knows we don’t have food to spare.
Inside, Sophia presents me with a brown canvas bag; embroidered flowers cover the outside. “You’ll need this today,” she says. “We’re going to town to visit some of the other teachers.” She rummages through the drawers in the kitchen. “And this, too.” Sophia hands me a small, sharp knife. I slip it carefully into the bag.
As we walk to town, she tells me her plan. “I’ll mention the poem you are looking for and ask permission for you to search through the books. They have stashes of books, like we do. When we leave the room, you cut out the blank pages in the books, like we did at home.”
I walk a few paces in silence. “Shouldn’t we just ask them for the paper? Maybe they will help—”
“Remember what Stephan said? Not a word of this to anyone.”
I reach out to hold her hand. “Yes, I remember.”
“Anna, how can I say this? They are my friends but it is difficult these days to know who to trust. Difficult to know who would help us and who would turn us in. We must have paper. And we must try to stay safe. Understand?”
I squeeze her hand tightly. I know exactly what she means.
The first home we arrive at has a sign on the door. It’s a notice stating that someone in the house is quarantined for lung disease. Sophia lifts her hand to knock, but changes her mind. As we walk away from the house, Sophia shakes her head. “Clever. They’re probably not sick at all.”
“But the sign.”
Sophia nearly smiles. “It’s a sign I wouldn’t mind posting on my front door, with so many German soldiers determined to live wherever they please.”
The Safest Lie Page 11