Hope's War

by Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch

  Kat followed her into the office and set Dr. Bradley's coffee down on the desk.

  "Make yourself comfortable," said Dr. Bradley, motioning with her hand for Kat to sit at one of the two chairs positioned in front of her cluttered desk.

  Kat didn't take her coat off and didn't put down her knapsack. She perched on the edge of the chair furthest from the desk and hugged her knapsack to her chest.

  Dr. Bradley had removed her own coat by this time and was sitting in her wooden swivel chair on the other side of the desk. "You are a bundle of nerves," she said, taking in Kat's demeanour. "You've been through the loop, haven't you?"

  Kat nodded, but still didn't say anything. She was afraid that if she started, she would begin to cry. And where do you start with a problem like this, anyway?

  Dr. Bradley sensed Kat's difficulty, so she began the conversation with what little she knew about it. "I'd read the newspaper reports," said Dr. Bradley, "but I didn't realize Mr.Feschuk was your grandfather until I saw the television news last night."

  Kat just sat and nodded, clutching her knapsack to her chest.

  "Let's just see your transcripts," said Dr. Bradley. She took her desktop computer out of sleep mode and entered Kat's name into the system. "Whoa," said Dr. Bradley when Kat's current course standings appeared on the screen. "When you plunge, you plunge deep, girl."

  Kat's shoulders hunched in resignation.

  "The hearing starts tomorrow?" Dr. Bradley asked.

  "Yes," Kat managed weakly.

  "I think you should go. You would be a great moral support for your grandfather."

  "My mother doesn't want me to go," said Kat forlornly.

  Dr. Bradley arched her eyebrows. "She obviously hasn't seen your report card. You'd be better off to start fresh again next year than to try and salvage these marks."

  Kat nodded in agreement. "I haven't had the heart to show her yet, what with all that's been happening."

  "I can understand that," said Dr. Bradley. "Why don't I give your parents a call and we'll have a meeting?" suggested Dr. Bradley. "I think the best thing for you right now would be to attend your grandfather's hearing. You can't possibly concentrate on school work in your condition."

  "Will I lose my year?" asked Kat.

  "Most likely," said Dr. Bradley. "But I'll save you a spot for next year. You are a brilliant student and this is a bona fide family crisis."

  For the first time in a long time, Kat felt a sense of relief. Her hunched shoulders relaxed just a little bit, and she slowly let out the breath that she hadn't even realized she had been holding.

  Dr. Bradley got up from her chair and walked around to where Kat sat. She crouched down beside her and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. "It may not feel like it now," said Dr. Bradley, "but this too shall pass."

  Kat walked out of the school just as the early bus arrived. Michael was the first to step off, and he was concentrating on something so hard that he almost walked right into Kat. He did a double take when he recognized her. "Are you okay?"

  Kat explained that she was dropping some courses and would be attending the hearing.

  "I don't blame you," said Michael. "I'd do the same thing in your position. You're not dropping art class, though, are you?"

  "I wish I didn't have to," said Kat with resignation. "That's the only subject I'm not failing."

  "I figured as much," said Michael. "Mr. Harding asked me about the case once, then mentioned what a talented student you were."

  "Mr. Harding asked you about the case?" The thought gave Kat the creeps. Why was Mr. Harding so interested in this? She remembered her own conversation with him, and how uncomfortable it had made her feel.

  "I couldn't tell him anything even if I wanted to," said Michael. "And I don't want to."

  Kat nodded. It relieved her to know that.

  "I can take notes for you in art so that you don't get too far behind."

  "That would be great," said Kat. "Give me a call when you have a chance and we can go over stuff together."

  Michael shifted from one foot to the other and his face flushed pink. "I ... I don't have your phone number," he said. "It's unlisted."

  "But your father has it," said Kat.

  "Client privilege," said Michael.

  "Right," said Kat. "I forgot. Give me your hand."

  Michael stretched out his hand and she wrote her new phone number on his palm in ballpoint pen. "Now just don't wash your hand," she said, smiling.

  When Kat got home, it was midmorning and the reporters had again begun to accumulate. At least now they knew better than to trespass. Why didn't they just leave? What is it that they're trying to see? Maybe they thought they could catch her grandfather unearthing an old Nazi uniform and trying it on, she thought giddily. Didn't that happen in some movie?

  Danylo still hadn't come out of his room by lunchtime, and she knew he had eaten no breakfast. Neither had she, for that matter. There was a frozen batch of vushky with pidpenky in the freezer from Sviat Vecher,Kat took out a dozen of the mushroom-stuffed noodles and re-zipped the package. Then she got a Tupperware container of leftover borscht from the fridge. She warmed the soup and defrosted the noodles and combined them in a pot on the stove. When it was steaming hot, she tapped on her grandfather's door.

  "Leave me alone."

  In normal times, that's just what Kat would have done, but these were not normal times. She remembered how depressed her grandmother got when her cancer recurred. She'd do exactly the same thing: lock herself in the room and mope. Well, Kat didn't take it then, and she wasn't about to take it now. She tapped on the door again.

  "Go away, I said."

  "No," said Kat. "Either you open this door, or I do."

  "Don't be a pill," grumbled her grandfather.

  With that, Kat opened the door. Her grandfather was sitting on the edge of the bed, going through the items in her late grandmother's jewellery box. All sorts of homemade knick-knacks were spread across the comforter.

  "I made some soup," she said.

  "What kind, zolota zhabka?" asked her grandfather.

  This was a good sign, thought Kat. "Borscht."

  "With vushky?" he asked, his eyes lighting with interest.

  "Yes," said Kat. "With quite a few vushky."

  "Well, I wouldn't want it to go to waste," her grandfather considered. "Perhaps I'll help you eat it."

  Kat smiled to herself, thankful that she had been able to think of something her grandfather couldn't turn down.

  CHAPTER 25

  THE HEARING WAS being held in the Canada Life building in downtown Toronto and it started at 9 am sharp on January 11th. Kat and her mother and grandfather arrived forty-five minutes early and parked in the underground garage, then took the elevator to the fifth floor. As the elevator doors opened, Kat was dismayed to find that there were about a dozen people already waiting in the hallway outside the courtroom. Kat slipped one hand into her mother's and the other into her grandfather's, and then the three of them strode down the hallway with self-conscious determination to the huge double doors marked 5106. Kat let go of her mother's hand, then reached out to pull on the handle. The door was locked.

  She turned around and faced the people. She noticed that most had been staring at her grandfather, but they quickly looked away when they saw that she was looking at them.

  Danylo gripped her hand tightly, and when she looked at his face, she saw that his lips were a thin white line. She was afraid that he might collapse from the anxiety of the whole thing. She looked around to see if there was some place she could take him so he could sit down. There were three benches, but they were already filled. Guiding her grandfather by the elbow to the nearest bench, Kat looked down at the middle-aged man sitting closest to the end and asked, "Would you mind getting up so that my grandfather can sit?"

  The man stared at her incredulously. "You want me to give up my seat for him?I don't think so."

  A hush filled the hallway, and the onlooke
rs regarded Kat, Orysia and Danylo. A vaguely familiar man's voice piped up. "Please sit here."

  Kat looked gratefully over to where the voice came from, and was surprised to see Hung Nguyen, Lisa's father. Dr. Nguyen was already standing, and he motioned graciously to the bare spot on the bench that he had just vacated.

  Danylo sat down gratefully.

  "Thank you for coming," said Kat. She introduced Dr. Nguyen to her mother.

  "And there are two people that I would like you to meet," said Dr. Nguyen, gesturing towards an elderly Vietnamese couple sitting on the bench next to Danylo. "These are my parents. When I told them about this hearing, they insisted on coming."

  "That's wonderful, thank you," said Orysia. "But why are you so interested?"

  "We're naturalized Canadians too," he explained. "This deportation law could just as easily be applied to us."

  Orysia looked confused.

  "We escaped the Communists in Vietnam. They considered us traitors because we fought against them. I have heard of stories being fabricated for vengeance. The Canadian government could just as easily deport us if they took that evidence as truth."

  Just then, there was a clicking sound, and the huge double oak doors to the courtroom opened up from the inside. A woman in a blue suit stood there, keys in hand. "Come in," she said in a quiet voice.

  The people who had been waiting stretched their legs, gathered their things, and walked in briskly, wanting to get good seats. Kat and her family and the Nguyens waited behind.

  The blue-suited woman gestured towards Danylo. "I'll show you where to sit," she said, not unkindly.

  Kat surveyed the room as they walked in. It reminded her of church. There were two rows of chairs on the right, then an aisle, and then five rows of chairs on the left. Kat noticed that all of the people who had been waiting in the hallway had already seated themselves on the left side, and that the blue-suited woman was ushering Danylo, Orysia and herself to the front of the right side.

  Why were there only two rows on the right side, wondered Kat. Was there an assumption that the accused would have less supporters? In this case, it turned out to be true, and Kat was glad that the Nguyens had decided to attend.

  Kat turned her attention to the front of the courtroom. The judge's bench was on a platform that was raised two levels from the ground. Mounted behind him on a soft green cloth was the Canadian coat of arms, looking cold and majestic. Beside it was a Canadian flag on a gold-coloured flagpole with a gold maple leaf on top. Directly in front of the judge's bench and one level lower sat two women at a shared bench. One was dressed in a black robe, and the other wore street clothing. Both had their eyes cast down and were reviewing notes in front of them.

  A few feet in front and to the left and right of the women were two podiums with microphones. There was a wooden table attached to each podium, and then another wooden table behind. The tables were covered with stacks of books and bound notes and pens and paper. Kat recognized Mr. Vincent sitting at the table in front of her. He was wearing a black robe that made him look something like a priest. Beside him were two other lawyers: one a silver-haired woman, and the other, a man about the same age as Mr. Vincent. They too were wearing the antiquated black robes.

  Kat looked over towards the other long table. There were three black-robed lawyers sitting over there. Kat noticed one, a young woman, who was appraising Danylo with cold superiority. What does she know that I don't, wondered Kat. She gave her grandfather's hand a reassuring squeeze.

  Kat looked behind her and to the left to get a better look at the people who sat there. She saw the man who had refused to give up his seat to her grandfather. About ten unfamiliar people sat in the seats around him — elderly women with permed white hair and oversized eyeglasses, and men who were shrivelled and old. There was one familiar face: the lone protester.

  A woman entered the courtroom and sat beside the protester. She was not much older than Kat. Her dark brown hair was pulled away from her face and was fastened with a clip. She grabbed the older woman's hand and squeezed it, then looked up and met Kat's gaze.

  Kat stared back unflinching, then turned her attention to who was sitting on her grandfather's side. The Nguyens were directly behind her, Dr. Nguyen's mother tipped her head slightly in acknowledgement as Kat caught her eye. Kat's heart sank when she looked beyond the Nguyens and saw only empty seats behind. Were none of Danylo's friends coming to support him?

  But just then, the blue-suited woman ushered in some more people. Kat recognized three elderly couples from the church. A few steps behind them was a middle-aged blonde woman in a business suit. She was accompanied by a younger man who also wore a suit. Kat recognized them as the president and vice-president of the local Ukrainian Canadian Congress. She breathed a sigh of relief. Their presence would give her grandfather moral support. Odd, Kat noted, her glance darting from one side of the courtroom to the other. These men and women looked so much like the ones on the other side that they could all have been siblings. But it was more than an aisle that held them apart.

  "All rise," said a woman's voice.

  Kat rose with everyone else, then watched as a door opened up below the flag and a man in a black robe with a gold mande walked into the room. The antiquated court garb made Kat think of the Inquisition.

  "You may be seated," said the judge in a monotone voice as he took his place behind the raised bench. He perched a pair of black-framed reading glasses on the end of his nose and read from a paper in front of him.

  Kat's head swam as the judge began to speak. Much of it didn't make sense to her, but some was very familiar. Her grandfather was being accused of "obtaining Canadian citizenship by false representation" because he had "failed to divulge collaboration with German authorities" and that he had "participated in atrocities against the civilian population during the period 1941-1943 as an auxiliary policeman in German-occupied Ukraine."

  The judge then said that he would ask both the plaintiff and the defendant to state their positions. The plaintiff was asked to begin.

  Mrs. Caine, the young woman lawyer from across the aisle rose and addressed the judge.

  "Your honour, we will prove to this court that Danylo Feschuk, the man sitting opposite, voluntarily collaborated with the German army between 1941 and 1943 when he worked as an auxiliary police officer in the village of Orelets in the administrative province of Volhyn, which is in the north-west corner of present-day Ukraine. We will further prove to you that he committed atrocities on civilians during his time as an auxiliary police officer. Further, we will prove that he did not disclose these atrocities to immigration authorities when he applied to become a Canadian citizen. If he had done so, he would not have been granted citizenship. Mr. Feschuk deserves a much harsher penalty than mere revocation of citizenship, but unfortunately, this is the only avenue of redress open to us at this time."

  The young woman sat down, and then Mr. Vincent rose.

  "Your honour, the defence does not dispute the fact that Danylo Feschuk was an auxiliary police officer for the Germans between 1941 and 1943. The defence further states that Mr. Feschuk had no reason to hide his role as an auxiliary policeman, because citizenship would not have been denied him for that reason. In addition, there is no evidence that he committed atrocities. We will demonstrate that his role as an auxiliary police officer did not constitute collaboration with the Nazis. Indeed, we will show that while his superiors may have believed he was collaborating with them, he was in reality working with the resistance, as thousands of other auxiliary police throughout Volhyn were doing. Mr. Feschuk had nothing to hide from immigration authorities when he came to Canada, and therefore he had no reason to lie."

  The next hour or two was taken up with minutiae that Kat really couldn't follow. In her mind hung a single word: atrocities. Of what was her grandfather being accused? How would she still be able to love him if she found out that he had committed atrocities?

  Mercifully, a lunch break was called. As
Kat and her family slowly walked towards the double oak door in a daze, Mr. Vincent caught up with them. Kat noted that he had removed his black robe and was wearing a normal grey wool suit. "The cafeteria in the basement has decent food," he said. "And it's not too expensive." He motioned to them to follow him down the elevator. The supporters from the church and the Nguyens were close behind.

  Kat happened to get a spot in the cafeteria line-up just behind the young woman lawyer who presented the case against her grandfather. She had removed her black robe too, and Kat found her much less threatening in her cream coloured jacket and trousers. The woman grabbed a carton of milk and then a tossed salad from behind the Plexiglas door. "Stay clear of the noodle soup," she said to Kat pleasantly. "It's vile."

  Kat smiled back at her. How odd that this woman could be so nice. It must all be in a day's work for her to tear apart and impoverish families. Kat grabbed some red Jell-O and a carton of orange juice for herself. She didn't really feel like eating: she was just going through the motions.

  When she sat down across from her mother and beside her grandfather, she noticed that the Nguyens and the other supporters were all sitting within a hands-breadth of Danylo. Kat found that comforting.

  She looked across the table at her mother and saw dark circles under her eyes. Those hadn't been there six months ago. This case had certainly taken its toll on her. Kat hadn't really looked closely at her mother for some time, and so she noticed other changes too. She must have lost some weight. Her cheeks had a hollow appearance to them and there was a furrow of worry between her eyebrows. Her gaze met Kat's. There was something new there too, realized Kat. Her eyes used to have a look of soft contented kindness in them, but this was now replaced with a steel blue glint of determination. The change sent a shiver through Kat. It was as if this woman sitting across from her was no longer her mother, but some sort of warrior queen. As if she knew what her daughter was thinking, she suddenly winked, and that motherly softness fleetingly returned.