by Kathy Kacer
CHAPTER 7
Helen
Several days later, just as Helen was about to head into the dining hall, Sister Agnes stopped her in the hallway.
Helen’s heart froze. What now, she wondered. She had done all the mopping that the nun had ordered her to do. On top of that, her skirt and blouse were neat and wrinkle free, her bed had been made with military precision, her shoes were shiny, and all her homework had been completed and handed in on time. With what could the sister possibly find fault? Helen kept her stare even as Sister Agnes looked her up and down. Luckily, the nun seemed to approve of her appearance.
“I would like you and your brother to meet me at the front doors immediately after breakfast,” Sister Agnes began.
Helen exhaled the breath she had been holding. No punishment! But then she froze again. Perhaps this had something to do with Henry and his ongoing silence. Maybe a decision had been made to send her and her brother away. But Sister Agnes’s next words were more startling than ever.
“We will go shopping in town. I had hoped your brother would begin to talk before taking him out of the convent.” She sniffed a bit when she said that part. “But his silence may be beneficial for this kind of outing. Besides, I know that you are both in need of some personal clothing items.”
Helen’s mouth gaped open. “Um … yes … of course, Sister Agnes.”
The nun sniffed. “That is all. Don’t be late.” And with that, she turned and marched away.
“Thank you!” Helen called out to her quickly receding form. An outing to town! Helen had all but given up hope of being one of the lucky ones who got to leave the convent—to step outside the walls of this place that was a refuge but felt at times like a prison. This was the reward she had been waiting for. She rushed through breakfast, then grabbed Henry and arrived at the convent doors just as Sister Agnes was coming down the stairs.
The nun scowled at them both. “Walk behind me,” she instructed. “Do not say a word to anyone.” With that, she opened the doors and walked out. Helen and Henry followed close on her heels.
Helen breathed in deeply as they wound their way along the dusty road that led to town. Was it her imagination, or did the air smell different beyond the convent gates? It was somehow fresher and cleaner, and the sky looked so much bigger and bluer. A full-winged bird flew in sluggish circles high above her head, and bees hovered in clusters by the side of the road. The sun was playing hide-and-seek between the trees that towered on either side of them. There were moments when they walked in cool, deep shadows, and then, suddenly, the sun exploded in full force, wrapping them in its warmth. Helen let her head fall back and felt the mid-morning rays pour across her face.
It was true that they were in desperate need of some clothing. They had left Kronberg so quickly on that fateful night, and they hadn’t brought many things with them—just a small suitcase each. She had only a few skirts and blouses and had worn them so many times that her cuffs and hems were frayed and thinning. Sister Agnes had told her she could get one new blouse and skirt, and for Henry, a couple of pairs of trousers and a pair of shoes. Although her brother hadn’t said a word to her about needing new shoes, she could see that his had become so tight he could barely lace them. And she guessed that his toes must be pinched, because he limped along beside her, struggling to keep up with Sister Agnes striding up ahead. Every once in a while, she turned back to bark at them. “Stop dawdling and walk quicker.” Helen wanted to walk as slowly as she possibly could—didn’t want this part of the outing to end. But with a deep sigh, she grabbed Henry by the arm and dragged him forward. And then, they turned a corner and the town came into view.
Helen felt her breath immediately quicken and her chest constrict. A banner with the emblem of the Nazi army—the swastika—was draped down the length of a building. It rippled in lazy waves as a small breeze passed over it. Helen had an instant and terrifying memory of the night Papa had been taken. These same flags of red and black had adorned all the main buildings in her city. The pleasure of the walk from the convent to town was instantly forgotten. Helen felt Henry stiffen next to her. His eyes grew round with fear and he stopped in his tracks. She paused beside him and placed a reassuring arm on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, Henry. Just stay close to me and we’ll be fine.” Her words sounded more confident than she felt.
She had an overwhelming need to protect him. Should she hold his hand? He probably wouldn’t like that. He might even get angry at her. At another time, he might have shouted at her not to treat him like a baby. But Helen hadn’t heard the sound of Henry’s voice in so long. And now was not the time to risk drawing attention to themselves. She dropped her arm by her side and continued to walk after Sister Agnes. After another moment’s hesitation, Henry followed. They continued walking, heads down, eyes on the ground, until they finally reached the small clothing store at the far end of the road.
“Once we’re inside, I’ll give you exactly a half an hour to gather the things you need,” Sister Agnes said, pausing outside. “There is a clock on the wall of the store, so please watch it carefully. I also need some things for the convent, so I will meet up with you at the front door,” the nun added. Sister Agnes didn’t appear to be terribly bothered by the banner with the swastika on it. Perhaps she had seen it before on her many walks to town.
“Remember to stay together and speak to no one,” the nun added.
“Stay with me when we get inside, Henry,” Helen said. “I’m going to get my things first and then I’ll help you with yours.”
Henry frowned. She knew he didn’t want her hovering over him. And he probably didn’t want to stand around watching her go through girly clothing. But like it or not, there was no way she was going to let him loose in the shop. They needed to stay together.
“Well?” she asked.
Reluctantly, he nodded his head. Sister Agnes opened the door to allow the children to enter the store.
Helen gasped when she walked inside. Michelle was right. The department store was wonderful. The racks were filled with such lovely dresses and blouses the likes of which she had not seen in such a long time. A young girl walked past her, holding on to a woman’s hand. The girl wore a pale blue dress with a matching ribbon tied around her head. It reminded Helen of Michelle’s green ribbon. Helen felt a sudden pang in her heart. She and Maman had shopped in stores bigger than this one, spending hours digging through carousels of clothing until they found the perfect dress for a special occasion or the perfect gift for a friend’s birthday party. Those days seemed impossibly far away.
When Helen looked around, she realized that Sister Agnes had disappeared—probably to go and fetch the things for the convent. But Henry, too, seemed to have vanished. Why hadn’t he listened to her? she wondered with a stab of irritation. She wasn’t trying to boss him around; she was just trying to look out for him. That’s what an older sister did!
She looked around again. The store seemed safe enough. There were lots of other shoppers, mostly women and children, walking up and down the aisles. No one was paying attention to her. She would quickly find the things she needed and then go and search for Henry. With any luck, he would have found shoes on his own. That would probably make him feel good, she thought, being able to find the things he needed without her help.
Helen turned back to the shelves. In addition to the blouse and skirt, she also needed some underwear and stockings. She was sure that Sister Agnes would understand that those were necessary. And then there was a ribbon. She hoped she might find something like that. She found her personal items quickly and gathered them together in her arms. She even found a small hair clip. It wasn’t a ribbon like Michelle’s, but she knew it would be perfect for her short curls. She hoped that Sister Agnes would agree to let her have it. Now, where’s Henry? she wondered again. She began to walk over to the shoe section of the store, sighing longingly as she passed the pretty dresses once more.
>
She saw the soldiers as soon as she turned a corner.
CHAPTER 8
Helen
Three Nazi soldiers stood with their backs to Helen, blocking her way. She stopped in the middle of the aisle. Her heart began to race and she felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand straight up. She breathed in quick and shallow gulps, trying to get some air and calm herself. And then, slowly but surely, she began to back up, placing one foot behind the other, trying to creep away from the soldiers who were still turned away from her. If they didn’t see her, then everything would be fine, she told herself. Three more steps, and then two, and in another moment, she would be safe.
That was when Helen noticed that the soldiers were bent forward, stooped over as if they were talking to someone much smaller than they were. A cold pain gripped at her heart. There was only one person they might be speaking to. She inched forward and peered more closely. And sure enough, there was Henry, standing in front of the soldiers.
Her heart began to beat at a full gallop. Henry’s face was drained of color, as white as Maman’s had been the night she had left them at the convent. He clenched and unclenched his fists. His eyes bulged as they darted from soldier to soldier. His whole body was shaking.
The soldiers seemed to be in an animated conversation with him, though she could see that Henry had not opened his mouth. At first, Helen couldn’t hear anything that the soldiers were saying. The blood had rushed to her head and was pounding so loud that it blocked out any other sound. She dropped the items of clothing that she was carrying along with the hair clip. And with all the courage she could muster, she approached the group. Her legs were shaking so badly she thought she might fall down before she even reached them.
“Excuse me,” she began as she entered the circle of soldiers and felt herself being swallowed up. She willed herself not to stare at them. Instead, she looked straight at Henry.
“There you are,” she said, trying to keep her voice as even as possible. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you. It’s time to go. Come with me right now.”
Henry’s eyes continued to dart everywhere. He opened his mouth and then closed it shut. Helen was just about to take him by the arm and pull him along when one of the soldiers put his hand out to stop her.
“He is with you?” He was speaking in French, but with a terrible accent, the kind that Papa had when he’d tried to practice the few words of French that he knew. She and Henry had laughed at their father then. There was nothing funny about this situation.
Helen nodded at the soldier. “My brother.”
He bent his face close to Henry’s. His uniform was brown, the jacket held together with a thick black belt and shiny buckle. And he wore an armband with the same Nazi insignia that she had seen on the flag draped down the building in the central square. The red and black patch seemed to glow. She looked away, still trying to catch her breath.
“We wondered what he was doing here alone,” the soldier said. “But when we asked, he wouldn’t answer us.”
That’s when Helen looked up into the soldier’s face. “He’s very shy—barely says a word, even to me.” She tried to smile as she said this, hoping her lips didn’t tremble too much.
The soldier straightened and nodded. “Ah, shy. I understand,” he said. “I have a young son who is also shy.” Then he bent to Henry once more. “No need to be afraid, young man. What’s your name?”
Henry shrank even farther away from the soldier. Helen noticed that one or two customers passing by were slowing in curiosity. But she realized that most of the shoppers had disappeared from sight. They were giving Helen and Henry a wide berth, not wanting to be anywhere near Nazi soldiers who might be asking questions.
“Won’t you tell me your name?” the soldier asked again.
Henry was breathing loudly in and out through his nose, and his lips were trembling. Helen knew that she needed to jump in. With her stomach churning, she stepped in front of Henry, opened her mouth, and began, “His name is He—”
Just then, she felt a strong tug on her arm. She stopped and looked back at Henry, who was squeezing her with a force she didn’t know he possessed. The fear was still there in his eyes. But there was also something else—a warning. Helen knew instantly what he was trying to tell her. She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. Then she opened them, took a deep breath, and began to speak again.
“His name is Andre,” she said. “Andre Rochette. And I’m Claire.” She curtsied to the soldiers. “We really must go,” she said. She took Henry’s arm again and was about to walk out of the circle of soldiers with him when the soldier stepped in front of her.
“Where do the two of you live?” he asked. “Perhaps we could take you back to your home.”
“Thank you,” Helen replied. “But we live at the convent—very close by. We’re here with one of the sisters.” Where, oh where, was Sister Agnes? Helen stood on her toes to scan the store.
The soldier nodded understandingly. “And your parents?”
Helen bit her bottom lip. “Gone,” she replied. “A-a fire. My brother and I were the only ones pulled out alive.” She reached up and crossed herself after she said this, and then folded her hands together and bowed her head.
Was there enough emotion in her voice? Did she appear sad and mournful?
“Of course,” the soldier said quickly. “My sympathies.”
That was the exact moment that Sister Agnes appeared, rounding an aisle and barging up to Helen, Henry, and the trio of soldiers. Her face went pale as she sized up the situation.
“Claire. Andre. I’ve been searching the store for you,” she exclaimed.
The soldier snapped his heels together and bowed crisply. Then he took his cap off his head and placed it underneath his arm. “Not to worry, Sister,” he said. “We’ve been having a lovely chat with these two.”
Sister Agnes looked as if she was about to pass out. Her mouth hung open and her face began to twitch.
“We offered them a ride home, but the young girl explained that they live at the convent. Poor orphans,” he added in a compassionate whisper.
“Yes, well, thank you,” Sister Agnes stammered. “Come, children. We must leave. Now!” she added, as she turned to go.
Helen took Henry by the arm and was just about to follow when the soldier stopped her once more, this time with a hand on her shoulder.
“Be careful when you are out on your own,” he said. “There are some disgusting people passing through who may try to take advantage of you—or your shy younger brother.” Then he leaned forward once more and lowered his voice. “The Jews are everywhere, you know.”
Helen felt a shiver go down her spine and she shuddered. She could smell fish and stale cigarettes on his breath. She tried not to flinch. When she glanced at Henry again, she could see that his eyes had widened once more. She willed herself to smile at the soldier and curtsied again.
The soldier led them to the door. On the way out, Helen passed the young girl in the blue dress and matching ribbon she had seen earlier. The girl was standing hand in hand with her mother. Suddenly, the girl raised her arm straight in front of her in a Nazi salute. The soldier paused and then clicked his heels together and saluted back to her. Helen winced, and the blood drained from her face once more as she made eye contact with the young girl who stood with her arm outstretched.
Helen tightened her grip on Henry and followed Sister Agnes out the door.
CHAPTER 9
Henry
No one talked on the walk back to the convent. Helen shuffled along the road with her head down and that look on her face as if she’d seen a ghost. Sister Agnes was practically running ahead of them. And Henry was dragging his hurting feet, knowing he had to keep up with his sister and that mean nun who always yelled. The whole scene in the store played through his mind like the worst nightmare, the kind he’d had when he was just a little boy. Sometimes
he didn’t even know what had woken him in the middle of the night screaming. Maman would be the one to rush in and calm him down. Well, today, he was clear about what had caused the nightmare, though he wasn’t sure what part had been worse—the Nazi soldier talking to him, or that girl with her arm up in the air in that ugly salute.
They were the same kinds of soldiers who had taken Papa. Henry knew that. That’s what had made him so scared when they walked up to him in the first place. The one who had asked all the questions had bad breath, like he’d been eating the fish that the cook at the convent had prepared the other night. It had made Henry want to throw up. He had wanted to yell at the soldiers. He had wanted to jump at them and hit them and make them tell him where they had taken his father. But the sight of the soldiers had also scared him even more than having Maman leave him at the convent. He couldn’t move, and he couldn’t make himself speak. And then Helen had walked up, looking as scared as he felt. And now, the mean nun was probably going to punish both of them for disobeying her and talking with the soldiers in the first place. Not that they could have done anything about that. The soldiers had come up to him. He had just been minding his own business in the store, looking for new shoes so that he could stop wearing the ones he had on—the ones that squeezed his toes so badly, he couldn’t walk without limping. But the soldiers had appeared so fast, he hadn’t even had time to find the shoes. And now, he’d probably never get them.
Helen suddenly ran ahead to catch up with Sister Agnes. Henry struggled to keep up and get close enough to hear what his sister was saying. She was talking fast, as if she didn’t want the nun to interrupt her. And her hands were flying all around her head.
“I was watching him, Sister. I promise I was. And then I lost track of him. It was only for a minute. I didn’t think anything bad would happen in a minute. I figured he’d be fine and we’d get the things we needed and leave. But the soldiers just appeared out of nowhere.”