Hope's War

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Hope's War Page 11

by Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch


  The officer took another look at Ian's outfit and just smiled. "There are all sorts out there," he said. "You two should be getting home — it's a school night, after all."

  "We will," Kat promised.

  With that, the officers walked back to their car and drove off.

  Ian and Kat walked back down the street towards her house in silence. Kat was still shivering slightly, so Ian had insisted that she keep wearing the jacket even though the frigid air easily flowed through the open seams.

  "You must be frozen solid," she said. "Come in, and I'll get my mom to drive you home."

  But when they got right up to the front lawn, there was a sudden shuffling sound and a metallic clank. Kat saw a pair of running shoes and a dark jacket brush past her. Ian bolted after the figure. She heard what sounded like cloth ripping, someone falling and then a few choice curses.

  "He got away," said Ian, getting up and brushing snow away from his leather pants. "But at least I did a number on his jacket."

  "Did you recognize him?"

  "No. But he was taller than me. And he had dark hair."

  When they got all the way up to the house, Kat could see that he had been in the midst of spray bombing another swastika. So far, it looked like a giant black plus sign. There was also a plastic margarine dish. Ian nudged it with the edge of his boot. "It's filled with something sloshy," he said.

  "Probably the animal blood," sighed Kat.

  "Ick."

  "This guy must have seen the police car go by and figured he was safe for a while," said Kat, walking up the front steps. "Come in and get warm. I'll call the cops."

  "Sure," said Ian.

  Kat felt oddly detached about the hate incident. It was as if it wasn't real. The first time it had happened she had been horrified and afraid. Now she was numb. It also felt odd to her that the first time she had Ian into her house without Lisa was as a result of something like this. Her house was so tiny compared to his, but she figured the police might want to talk to him. And it wasn't until just now that she noticed all the clutter. Newspapers were still flipped open to pertinent pages and strewn out on the table. The sofa looked worn, and there were a couple of dirty mugs and dishes left sitting on the coffee table in the living room. Her mother usually picked things up just before going to bed, but tonight she hadn't.

  Ian seemed not to notice the mess and just followed Kat into the kitchen where she made the call. As she was on hold with the police, she heard a bedroom door open and close. A few moments later, her bathrobed grandfather, squinting from the kitchen light, stood in the doorway.

  "This is an odd time to be entertaining, zolota zhabka," said Danylo. Kat noticed that his eyes sparkled in recognition when he saw Ian.

  Just then, an officer came on the line. Danylo listened in alarm to Kat's report. "And my friend Ian and I actually interrupted the guy in the midst of doing it," she said.

  "We'll be right over."

  By the time Kat had hung up the phone, the whole household was awake. Orysia was dressed in a long pyjama top and she had thrown a terry cloth robe over it, but her feet were bare. Genya came down, heard what was happening, and went back upstairs to sleep.

  The same two policemen who had encountered Kat and Ian in the park were the ones who arrived at the door. Kat noticed their barely concealed scepticism as Ian described running after the culprit. After the interview, she and Ian led them outside and showed them the half-painted swastika and the margarine dish of blood. Inwardly, she was thankful that neither she nor Ian had touched anything with their hands. She could just see them accusing her or Ian of doing this! One of the officers gingerly placed the container of animal blood in an evidence bag, then put it on the floor in the passenger side of the patrol car. He then turned to Ian and said, "We'll give you a lift home, son." He opened the back door of the cruiser.

  As they pulled out of the driveway, Ian called out to Kat, "See you at school tomorrow, okay?"

  As they drove off, Kat realized with a start that she still had Ian's jacket over her shoulders.

  CHAPTER 22

  KAT'S HEART BEAT rapidly when she saw the school bus pull up at her stop the next morning. She noticed Michael sitting in one of the seats, but the space beside him was full. None of the other kids even glanced at her as she stepped in and walked down the aisle. This was actually normal — studied indifference. She was about to sit down in one of the empty seats near the front when she glanced at the back and saw that Ian and Lisa were there. She was angry at herself for feeling a twinge of jealousy. Kat saw Ian look up at her. He motioned with his eyes for her to come and sit with him and Lisa. She noticed that Lisa had also looked up and was gesturing encouragingly too. She wanted to be close to Ian because she knew he was her friend. Also, she had his leather jacket neatly folded in her knapsack. She gave them both a faint smile, then walked down to the back and sat down with them.

  It felt odd walking into art class that day. Kat expected her classmates to ogle her curiously, but that didn't happen. When she sat in her usual spot behind Michael, he turned about and gave Kat a self-conscious grin.

  "How are you holding up?" he asked.

  So he knew.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Michael said, "Nah, my Dad doesn't talk shop at home. I put two and two together when I read yesterday's paper."

  Kat nodded in acknowledgement. Beth, who had been doodling on a blank sheet of paper on her desk, looked up, a frown creasing her brow. "What are you guys talking about?"

  The comment surprised Kat. Didn't everyone here know what had happened to her grandfather? What was she supposed to say to Beth?

  Michael saved her by quickly replying, "Kat's grandfather needs some immigration papers filed, and my Dad's looking after it."

  "Oh," said Beth, not remotely interested. "And that was in the paper? Boy, this is a boring town."

  If only, thought Kat.

  Beth's lackadaisical attitude contrasted greatly with Mr. Harding's when he walked into class a few moments later. Kat noticed that he scanned the room, saw her sitting there, and immediately locked eyes with her. The stare made her blush, and so she looked down at her notebook.

  They were working on detailed pencil sketches of an object. Kat's object of choice was her left running shoe. It was an emotional relief to be able to concentrate on replicating every stitch, every fabric crease of her old Nike. It was sheer pleasure to be involved in an activity that involved the skill of her hands, but left her mind free to wander.

  "It's good to see you back at school, Kat," Mr. Harding said. He was standing right behind her.

  Kat was so startled that she nearly fell off her stool. She had been so engrossed with her work that she hadn't seen through the corner of her eye when Mr. Harding crept beside her.

  "Come see me after class, Kat," said Mr. Harding.

  When the bell rang at the end of the class, Kat lagged behind and watched as her classmates filed out. Mr. Harding was sitting at his desk, sorting through papers. Kat stood politely before him, waiting for him to look up. She hoped he wouldn't be too long; any moment now, students for the next period would start filing in.

  Mr. Harding looked up at her and smiled. "Thanks for staying," he said. "I wanted to talk to you alone for a moment." He shuffled some papers on his desk and then said, "I know about your grandfather's upcoming hearing."

  Kat nodded. She'd figured that one out.

  Mr. Harding propped his elbows up on his desk and held his hands together as if he were praying. "I want you to know that I don't hold it against you because of what your grandfather did," he said.

  Kat could feel her heart pound in her chest. She had done nothing wrong. And as far as she knew, neither had her grandfather. Yet Mr. Harding wasn't going to hold it against her? This was so confusing.

  "And I want you to know," continued Mr. Harding, "that if you fall behind in some of your assignments, don't worry. These are unusual circumstances."

  Kat nodded. He was being so nic
e, but it somehow didn't feel nice. She was afraid to say anything in case a sob escaped her throat.

  "Please realize that my door is open," said Mr. Harding. "If you start to run into difficulties with your school work, come to me before too much of it slips away. We'll work something out."

  Kat blurted out a "thank you," then swallowed back a rush of tears. She ran out of the room.

  Michael's locker was just a few doors down from Mr. Harding's class. As Kat rushed out of the room, she noticed out of the corner of her glasses that Michael had taken his blue winter coat from his locker and was regarding her with worry. She rushed past him without even acknowledging his presence and headed for the exit.

  CHAPTER 23

  WHEN SHE STEPPED off the bus at the end of her street, Kat noticed that there was a buzz of activity in the direction of her house. She clutched her books to her chest and walked down the sidewalk. A TV van was parked in front of the house, and another was idling across the street.

  The protester was in front of the house, marching with her sign. Kat slowly walked toward her house, her eyes cast down. Perhaps the woman wouldn't notice her if she darted through the neighbour's backyard and hopped the fence? No, Kat decided. I've done nothing wrong. I'll walk to my own house.

  She walked right past the vans and the protester and looked directly into the woman's face. What she saw was a pain so deep that it made Kat gasp. She quickly turned and ran down the driveway and flung herself through the back door.

  No sooner did she get in than she realized that the phone was ringing. Within seconds of her stepping in, there was someone knocking on the front door. Was it the protester? She picked the phone up first, but all she heard was a click. As soon as she put it back on its cradle, it began to ring again. She picked it up again, and this time a man's voice blasted obscenities at her. Kat quickly hung it up. It again started to ring. This time she ignored it.

  She put down her books and headed through the kitchen and into the living room to answer the front door. As she did so, she noticed that Genya's bedroom door was closed tightly. She assumed that her grandfather was in there. Had he tried to answer the phone too?

  Kat was drawn to the insistent rap at the door. She opened it and was surprised to see a television reporter decked out in a hot pink mini skirt and jacket and a full face of stage make-up. She shoved a microphone at Kat. "I'm speaking now with a family member of Nazi war criminal, Danylo Feschuk."

  Kat tried to close the front door, but it wouldn't budge. She looked down and saw that the woman had firmly wedged her foot with its hot pink pump between the door and the frame. Kat looked up and saw a camera man standing a few feet behind the reporter and realized with horror that she was probably part of a live action news report.

  "May I get your name, please," asked the reporter.

  "Kat, Kat Baliuk ..."

  "Danylo Feschuk is your grandfather?"

  "Yes."

  "What do you think about your grandfather and his crimes during the war?" asked the reporter.

  "I ... I ..."

  Just then, Kat felt a firm hand on her arm. She looked over her shoulder and saw her grandfather standing there, a look of deep pain in his eyes. "Kataryna, please get away from the door," he said.

  Kat stepped behind her grandfather just as a flurry of activity burst on her front lawn. Several cameras flashed and two more reporters crowded in behind the pink woman. Where had they all come from?

  "Please leave my granddaughter alone," said Danylo in a firm voice. "I would appreciate it if you would all go home."

  With that, he tried to shut the door, but the reporter still had her foot wedged in with determination.

  "Just one statement," said the woman.

  "My statement is that I am innocent. You people are too young to know what it was like. Now please go."

  Danylo gently pushed the woman away from the door and managed to close it. He quickly chained and double locked it. Kat pulled back a corner of the curtains on the front window and peered out to see if the reporters were going to leave. She was amazed to see that there were now two news vans parked out front. How had they got there so fast? They must have been on stake-out.

  The lone protester was still there too, staring angrily at Kat's peephole in the window.

  Kat was about to put the curtain down when she saw her mother's car turn down the street. Kat's first instinct was to call her on her cell phone and tell her to keep on going. But the phone was still ringing, and the reporters had already spotted her anyway. Kat watched as Orysia parked in the driveway and got out of the car. She was immediately swarmed by the horde of reporters.

  "No comment," Orysia shouted as she hurried up to the back door, reporters barely a step behind. Kat ran to the door and pulled her mother in, shutting the bolt behind her.

  Instinctively, Orysia walked to the ringing phone and picked it up. Her face went ashen. She left the phone off the hook.

  "How is it that all these reporters suddenly know about this?" asked Kat.

  "The hearing is the day after tomorrow," said her mother. "That's public information."

  The reporters stayed out in the front yard for several more hours, accosting Genya when she got home too.

  When Genya stepped inside, she noticed that the phone was off the hook and without thinking, put it back in its cradle. It rang almost instantly. When she picked it up, she was treated to an earful.

  "That's it," she said, hanging up hard on the caller, and then leaving the receiver off the cradle. "Mama, can I borrow your cell phone?"

  Orysia rooted around in her purse, then handed her daughter her cell phone. Genya made a few quick phone calls and then clicked it shut and handed it back to her mother. "We'll have an unlisted number by tomorrow morning. Also, I have informed the police that we have trespassers."

  Kat marvelled at her sister. So efficient.

  The story was aired on the six o'clock news on Global, CityTV and CBC. It was also aired every hour on the hour on a number of radio stations.

  The CBC news began with a full face view of her grandfather through the kitchen window from that very morning as he was making tea and toast. Given the angle, it had to have been taken with a long range lens from the neighbour's roof. Over this picture, the announcer said, "Proceedings to deport Nazi war criminal Danylo Feschuk will get under way in Toronto on Friday. The 78-year-old Mississauga grandfather has been accused of lying to immigration authorities about his Nazi past. Feschuk has been identified as one of the notorious Ukrainian police who were known to have committed atrocities in World War II Ukraine."

  The image then changed to a shot of her grandfather's house.

  "Here is the Mapleview home where the retired auto worker lived for the last two decades until the death of his wife this past summer. While he still owns this house, he is currently living in with his daughter and son-in-law on Devon Road."

  An image of Kat's house came into focus, complete with protester in front and reporters all around.

  "None of the family members would talk to the press about the serious charges against Mr. Feschuk...."

  Now a shot of Kat trying to shut the door on the pink reporter, and then a shot of her mother getting out of the car.

  "Neighbours describe Feschuk as a quiet and friendly man who wouldn't hurt a fly."

  An image flickered of a reporter talking to Mrs. Wentworth, who had lived beside her grandparents for as long as she could remember.

  "But David Green of the Centre for Human Tolerance has another view."

  A man in a business suit sat behind a desk with his hands folded in front of him. "The Canadian government shamefully let in Nazis in the 1950s while at the same time they were barring the immigration of Jews who had escaped the Holocaust. I am glad to see that the government is finally taking action to track down and prosecute the thousands of Nazi war criminals who are living in our midst."

  The last image Kat saw before the commercial break was David Green's eyes staring o
ut, seemingly meeting her own.

  CHAPTER 24

  IT WAS THURSDAY, January 10th. Danylo's hearing started the next day. Orysia had told her daughters that she did not want them to attend. "It's a school day," she said. "And neither of you can afford to lose a day."

  That was painfully true. In order to qualify for the tuition scholarship, Genya had to maintain an average in the 90s, yet with all the upheaval in her life, her marks had plummeted. She was floundering in Math with a bare A, and was only making Bs in her other courses. At the rate she was going, she wouldn't get into the university of her choice, let alone get a scholarship.

  For Kat, it was even worse. When her report card arrived in the mail the day before, she was shocked to discover that she had failed every subject but Art. And she had a sneaking feeling that the only reason she wasn't failing Art was because Mr. Harding had felt sorry for her.

  Kat decided that the time had come to take matters into her own hands.

  Dr. Bradley had an open door policy when it came to students. Her office had glass walls and was situated in front of the administration offices. Students passed by all day long and gazed in unconsciously, watching as their principal went from phone call to phone call and parent meeting to staff meeting to student meeting. Kat got to school early on the day before Danylo's trial. So early, in fact, that she beat Dr. Bradley, who liked to pride herself on her early-bird habits.

  Kat sat down in front of the glass door and placed her knapsack beside her. She pulled out a drinking box from her pocket and sipped on it patiently, waiting for the principal to arrive.

  Kat was so caught up in her thoughts that Dr. Bradley was upon her before she even noticed. "Come in," said Dr. Bradley, who was carrying a take-out cup of coffee in one hand and a bulging brief case in the other.

  Kat scrambled to her feet and offered to hold Dr. Bradley's coffee while the principal rooted through her coat pockets for the key to the office. "Success!" she said, pulling out a key laden chain, selecting one and opening the door with it.

 

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