Hiding Edith (14 page)

Sarah lay face down, totally still, one arm covering her head. Finally, she looked over at Edith.

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

Cautiously, the girls crawled out from under the bed, shaking off the dust and fragments of glass. The room was a shambles. Mattresses, pillows, and clothing had been flung in all directions. Splintered shelves lay amid piles of glass and plaster. Edith and Sarah gingerly stepped around the debris.

A moment later, Madame Picot ran into the room. “Is everyone all right? Anybody hurt?” Her face and dress were covered in dust.

Seeing that except for a few bruises and small cuts, everyone was fine, she took a deep breath. “Well, that was quite an adventure. Just a few broken shelves and windows. Nothing that can’t be repaired.” Madame Picot spoke calmly, but Edith could see the slight trembling of her hands. “So, now we must clean up. Move the beds back into place,” she continued. “Carefully sweep up the glass. I want this room back in order immediately.”

Slowly but surely, the girls began to move in response to the director’s instructions. Several pushed the beds back into place and shook the glass fragments from blankets and pillows. Others gathered clothing and carefully picked up the larger pieces of glass. Edith reached for a broom and began to sweep. The smell of smoke and dust filled the room and burned her eyes. She moved close to the window for fresher air and looked outside. People were running with buckets and hoses to fight a fire in a nearby building. The ground outside her window was smoking, giving off a haze that made the graveyard look even more eerie than usual

It was comforting to put things back in their places. Cleaning up the mess was like wiping out the events of the day. By making the room tidy, you could pretend that nothing bad had happened. But you couldn’t really wipe out the war.

Over the next days and weeks, the bombings continued all around Ste-Foy-la-Grande, filling Edith with both hope and terror. The planes meant that the war might end soon, Hitler might be
defeated, and Edith’s life might return to normal. But at the same time, she was terrified that the bombs might kill her first.

Wouldn’t that be ironic, Edith thought wryly, to have come this far, only to be blown up by those coming to rescue you. She longed to scream up at the planes, “We’re Jewish girls hiding here. Don’t hurt us!” And after each attack, Edith could breathe easily once more. She could hope again that the war would soon be over. And that she would still be alive.

The bombers’ goal was to destroy the nearby railway bridges. Without the railway, soldiers, goods, and ammunition could not be moved efficiently and Hitler’s armies would be isolated, cut off from reinforcements and supplies.

As the bridges around Ste-Foy-la-Grande were regularly bombed, the danger for everyone in town increased. So, it was no surprise when the announcement came that the school was to close and that the girls would be moved once more.

It was Germaine who brought the news. “I’ll be moving you immediately,” she announced brusquely when she had gathered Edith, Sarah, Ida, and Suzanne together. Most of the other girls had already left the house for their farms and homes; the school was practically deserted. “We’ve located homes for each of you. Edith, you will come with me now. I’ll be back for the rest of you tomorrow.”

“Isn’t Sarah coming, too?” Edith blurted out. “Aren’t we staying together?”

Germaine shook her head. “Each family can take only one girl. We’re lucky to have found anyone willing to do that. You’ll have to say goodbye for now.” Germaine stood to end the meeting. “Pack quickly, Edith, and meet me at the front door. We don’t have much time, and I have many things to do.”

Left alone, Edith and Sarah sat silently, hands clutched tightly.

“Do you think we’ll see each other again?” Sarah finally asked in a voice so small that Edith had to lean forward to hear.

“Of course,” Edith replied, although both knew that the confidence in her voice was false. “You can’t give up, Sarah. We’ve come too far. You must stay strong.” Those were Mutti’s words. Now Edith was passing the same message on to Sarah.

“I’ll try to remember,” Sarah replied, and they hugged each other fiercely.

It was less than a two-hour walk to the farm on the outskirts of Ste-Foy-la-Grande. The farmhouse was nestled between two small hills next to a quick-flowing stream. There was a wooden barn next to the house and a large enclosed pasture. In it, four cows were drinking at a trough. As Edith and Germaine approached the house, Monsieur and Madame Merleau opened the door and invited their guests in.

“We know all about you,” Monsieur Merleau said, as they all sat down to a dinner of grilled fish, potatoes, and fresh bread. It was the kind of feast that Edith and Sarah had dreamed about. Edith took a slice of crusty bread, smothered it in jam, and shoved it quickly into her mouth.

“You poor child,” Madame Merleau said. “You are thinner than my scrawniest chicken. But I’ll put some fat on you.”

Madame Merleau had the kindest face Edith had seen in a long time. Her hands were rough and hard from years of farm work, but her eyes were gentle. “It’s a crime what’s happened to the Jews,” she added, pouring Edith a tall glass of milk. “Especially you children.”

“But we will not speak again about you being Jewish,” Monsieur Merleau said, in his deep soothing voice, “as it increases the risk to all of us. We are happy to have you here with us. We will keep your secret safe.”

“We are only doing what all decent people should do,” his wife added.

“You must call me Oncle Albert, and my wife Tante Marie,” Monsieur Merleau said. “You will meet your new cousin, our daughter, Marianne, and her fiance soon. We have told our neighbors that a niece may be coming to stay, so —”

Edith’s journey from Austria to Belgium and through France

“It’s enough, Albert,” Madame Merleau interrupted. “Look at the child. Her face is falling onto her plate. She needs sleep.”

“Yes, please, Madame … er … Tante Marie.” All the fear that Edith had held inside for so long seemed to seep away, leaving her worn out. And in the warmth of the Merleaus’ welcome she could barely keep her eyes open.

“Come, child. A good scrub, and then I’m putting you to bed.” Tante Marie looked sternly at her husband. “Any more explaining can wait until tomorrow. Now, Albert, please walk mademoiselle back to the road. We need you out of the kitchen.”

A large pot of water was heating on the stove. Tante Marie took Edith’s filthy clothes and dropped them into the woodstove, then scrubbed her from head to toe, washing away the grime and dirt. Edith dried herself in front of the stove, gratefully accepted a clean nightgown, and followed Tante Marie to a cozy bedroom at the back of the house. An elderly woman in a long, flowing dress, holding a young child, seemed to smile at Edith from a photograph. A chest of drawers stood against one wall of the room, a small bed along another.

Tante Marie picked up Edith’s suitcase. “I’m going to get rid of these clothes. I’ll give you some dresses that Marianne has outgrown. They’ll fit you fine. Nothing fancy, just simple and clean clothes.” She stroked Edith’s forehead. “I hope you will be happy here, my dear. Good night. Sleep well.”

But Edith lay awake a long time, watching the shadows grow longer and darker across the walls. Before Moissac, she had shared a
bedroom with Therese. Since then, Sarah had always been in the bed next to her. Edith suddenly felt very alone. She longed for the sound of someone else’s breathing beside her. For the first time in months, she wished she still had her doll, Sophie. Edith’s arms ached to wrap themselves around Sophie’s soft body, and to bury her face in the doll’s hair and clothing.

But there was something far worse than this sudden feeling of loneliness. There was a small hole in the window shutter across from Edith’s bed, through which moonlight trickled into the room. And in the darkness and solitude of this unfamiliar place, her mind began to race.
A soldier is going to come into the field, shoot through that hole, and the bullet will kill me,
Edith thought wildly. She shifted, first to the left, then to the right, but she was still directly in line with the hole. She was doomed no matter where she lay.

“Breathe,” Edith commanded herself, speaking out loud in the dark room. The sound of her voice almost echoed in the emptiness. “Breathe deeply.” She forced her body to relax, her shoulders to soften, and her breathing to return to normal. Then she thought of Mutti, as she had so many times when she was afraid. In her heart, she still believed that Mutti was safe. “I’m waiting for you, Mutti,” Edith whispered into the darkness. This is what always kept her going. The belief that she and Mutti would soon be reunited is what gave her strength. And that thought enabled her to close her eyes and sleep.

It didn’t take long for Edith to adjust to the farm routine. She awoke each day at dawn to milk the cows and release them into the pasture to graze. Then she cleaned out their stalls and headed in to help with breakfast. Edith attacked her tasks with energy and enthusiasm. The warm spring sun brought color to her cheeks, and she could feel her arms and legs becoming stronger.

True to her word, Tante Marie gradually fattened Edith up. As her stomach was able to tolerate more food, she was plied with meat and potatoes, and butter on her bread. Rationing was strict elsewhere, but not on the farm. Gone were the days of sneaking food scraps out of the garbage.

Marianne Merleau was a big girl with a wide bright smile and a thick braid that bounced and swayed down her back. It reminded Edith of Sarah’s beautiful hair before the lice. Marianne’s fiance, Martin, brought sweets for Edith whenever he visited — which was almost every day. He followed Marianne around like a puppy, beaming with pleasure at each smile she sent his way. Their obvious affection for each other made Edith blush and giggle.

One sunny day, when Edith had been at the farm for several weeks, she, Marianne, and Martin decided to go for a picnic in a field upstream of the house. They spread a blanket among wildflowers — red, purple, and yellow anemones, which Mutti so loved, daisies and white lilies. Bees circled lazily; their gentle buzzing mingled with the chirping and whistling of robins and sparrows.

Martin pulled out his clarinet and started to play. Edith lay back on the blanket and let the sun and the music seep into her body. Half asleep, she floated in time, memories and images drifting through her mind. One moment she was walking with Papa in Vienna, clutching her father’s arm on a day just like this one. The image faded, and Edith was standing on the steps of the house in Moissac. Mutti was walking away as Edith called desperately after her. Another moment passed. Now Edith was dancing joyfully in the yard of the school in Ste-Foy-la-Grande. Stars were sparkling in the sky as she wished Sarah a peaceful Sabbath. With the final image of her bedroom at the farm, Edith slept.

She dreamed she was alone with the bees droning lazily above her. The buzzing grew louder as more bees circled her head, then louder still. Edith opened her eyes and sat up with a start. That buzzing sound was all too familiar — airplanes! And they were coming closer.

She looked around wildly. They were in an open field. There was nowhere to take cover. “Bombers!” she shouted. “We have to hide.”

Marianne threw her arms around Edith, struggling to control her trembling. “Edith, it’s okay. You’re safe with us. They’re Allied planes. They won’t hurt us.”

Marianne was wrong. The Allies had bombed Ste-Foy-la-Grande. They had to run! But Marianne held Edith tightly. The roaring was deafening now; it pounded Edith’s brain and reverberated through her body. She buried her face in Marianne’s shoulder.

“Open your eyes, Edith!” Marianne shouted. “Look!”

Cautiously, Edith opened her eyes a crack. There were at least ten planes flying low in formation. Then she saw what Marianne was trying to show her.

Martin was jumping up and down, waving at the planes. As Edith watched, the lead plane dipped one wing, as if waving back. Edith raised her arms above her head and laughed. Now she knew she was safe.

She watched until the last plane disappeared over the horizon. Then she asked, “What day is it today? I want to remember this.”

Marianne thought a moment. “It’s June 6.”

Edith sank down once more onto the blanket. “Mutti’s birthday,” she said in amazement. Martin picked up his clarinet and played a silly rendition of “Happy Birthday.” This was a sign, thought Edith. The Allies are here, she sang over and over in her head. The war will soon be over. Mutti will come for me.

Edith didn’t even know it at the time, but June 6, 1944, marked an event far more important than Mutti’s birthday. On that day, more than a hundred thousand Allied ground troops in thousands of boats attacked along the coast of Normandy, in northwest France. The invasion took the German High Command by surprise, and Nazi forces across Europe began to retreat. World War II did not officially end until May 1945, but by September 1944, the war was over in France.