Karolina's Twins (2 page)

“She was my dear, dear friend. She saved my life, but in the end I could not save hers.” The memory made Lena pause. She blinked away a tear and brushed it aside with the back of her fingers. Finally, in a whispered tone she said, “I beg you to help me fulfill my promise. Please find Karolina's two little girls.”

Catherine reached for a box of tissues and set it on the desk. “Where did Karolina live?”

Lena lowered her eyes. “In Chrzanów, near me. Many times with me.”

Catherine again glanced at Liam, but he only shrugged.

“I suppose these twins were born during World War II? In Poland?”

Lena nodded.

“Lena, that's seventy years ago.”

“I know. That's how long I've carried this burden. And soon, like my husband used to say, my membership card in the human race is due to expire. Two years ago, a month or two before Adele died, cancer took my husband from me. I lost my two dearest friends within sixty days. After their deaths, life had one purpose for me: my promise to Karolina.

“Over the years, my husband was very good with his business and his investments. Just before he died, he said, ‘Lena, we have the money, keep your promise to Karolina. Put your soul to rest.' So, after a while I dove into it, made some inquiries, even flew back to Poland. But Chrzanów has changed. My inquiries went nowhere. I failed to generate any momentum. I really didn't know where to start. I finally came to the conclusion that if I were going to succeed in finding these girls, I would need professional help.”

“And you came to us because of Ben?”

“As I said, Ben, Adele and I were very close. Ben told me that if I was ever going to seek out these children, I should come to you and Liam. He said you were a good listener, and if anybody could do it, you could do it. He constantly raved about you, Catherine. How patient and understanding you were.”

“I'm honored, thank you. Ben was also very special to me.”

“Where was the last place these children were seen?” Liam said.

“I wish I could give you the precise location or even the name of a town, but I can't. I know the general region, at least the way it was in 1943, but it's probably too imprecise.”

Liam shook his head. “I have to be honest with you, Lena. I don't know if it's possible to help you. I'm pretty good at locating people, but I need a starting point.” He counted on his fingers, “One, we don't know their names. Two, we don't know where they live. Three, we don't know where they were last seen. Four, we don't know what they presently look like and we don't even know if they're still alive. I'm afraid you'd be throwing your savings away on a wild-goose chase.”

Lena remained unfazed. Her countenance was resolute and she pointed her chin. “We'll find them, I know we will. With your expert help.” She gave a sharp, definitive nod. “We'll find them.”

“Maybe it would help if you tell us a little bit about Karolina and why you're so invested in finding her children. Maybe after all these years they're doing just fine and don't need your assistance.”

“That's not the point. There's information they need to know and I need to tell them.”

Catherine picked up her pen. “Well, there's information I need to know as well before I can agree to get involved. I'm not going to accept your money if I don't have confidence that Liam and I can do something for you.”

“Understood and agreed.”

“All right, let's get started. Tell me about Karolina. Everything you remember.”

“You'll listen? Keep an open mind?”

Catherine smiled. “Yes, I will.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She took a sip of coffee, crossed her legs, smoothed her skirt and began. “I first met Karolina on the day she pushed my brother home from school.”

Catherine furrowed her brow. “Pushed him?”

“My brother was seven and needed a wheelchair. When Milosz was four, he was stricken with childhood polio. My father took him to a doctor in Kraków who attended to him night and day. Back in the thirties, Milosz was a miracle child—he beat the disease. But it left him with severely withered legs and an inability to walk. A disability, to be sure, but not one that ever minimized Milosz. He couldn't play outside with the other boys, so the Muses compensated him with gifts of music, art and poetry.”

“At age seven?”

“Absolutely. He could delight you with his talents—he played the violin. I'm sorry you never got the chance to hear him play. Or see his drawings. Or hear him recite his poetry. Even at seven years old.”

Lena smiled at the memory. “Milosz could infect you with his joie de vivre. Though physically hampered, he never considered himself unlucky and a smile never left his face. He had nothing but kind words to say. Everyone adored him. Simply said, he loved life.

“Anyway, because of Milosz's disability, someone had to take him to and from school every day. Usually that person was Magda—she was our live-in nanny and housekeeper. Really, she was much more. She was part of our family and a great influence in my young life. She would take Milosz to and from the elementary school in his wheelchair—which Milosz referred to as his ‘Maserati.'”

“Was the school far?” Catherine said. “I'm trying to get a sense of your town.”

“Maybe seven, eight blocks. Nothing was too far in Chrzanów. There was a central market square and the town blossomed out from there. Cars were rare in Chrzanów. My family didn't own a car, even though we were quite comfortable. Everybody walked. If you needed to go farther than a good walk, you took a horse and buggy. We had a carriage. It was a fancy buggy.

“In those days, Chrzanów had about twenty-five thousand residents. Forty percent of the town was Jewish and the remainder was Catholic. The immediate area around Chrzanów was hilly and thick with forests. Beyond the perimeter, the countryside was a patchwork of farms, lumber mills and mining operations, especially coal. Kraków, Poland's second largest city, was forty-five kilometers to the east.

“My mother's family owned a store on the edge of the main square that sold building materials and farm provisions. It had been in her family for years. My mother, Hannah Scheinman, worked in the store several days a week. My father, Jacob Scheinman, worked there as well. With both my parents working, Magda not only took care of the house, she took care of Milosz and me.

“The day I met Karolina, it was raining. Magda had gone out of town to visit her mother. My father was supposed to pick up Milosz, but he got tied up at the store and couldn't break away. He asked the school's headmistress to have someone help me bring Milosz home. Karolina was chosen.

“Our home was three blocks off the market square—a two-story, stone house with a gabled roof and a small attic. I mention the attic because it would soon become the centerpiece of my existence. When Karolina brought Milosz home, she hung around for a while. As young girls will do, we had a snack and gossiped away the afternoon. Soon my mother arrived and insisted that Karolina stay for dinner. I was twelve at the time. Milosz was seven. Karolina was thirteen.

“I had seen Karolina at school, but she was a year ahead of me. She was also very popular. Even then, as a young teen, she was exquisite and she grew more beautiful with each passing year. She was strong, athletic and vivacious. She had dark, curly hair and big expressive eyes. Coy, flirtatious, smart, bold and very sure of herself, the boys flocked to her.

“I didn't know at the time, but her confidence was a charade, an appearance that she wore like an overcoat. Inside she was unhappy and insecure. Her father, Mariusz Neuman was a withdrawn, severe man, always worried about his business. He had little patience for Karolina's gaiety. His business was struggling, especially in the 1930s. So, Karolina started spending a lot of time at our house.

“Karolina became an adjunct member of our family. We all loved her and she loved us, but I think she loved Milosz the most. She would sit and listen to him play even when he was just practicing his scales.” Lena shrugged. “Or perhaps it was my mother's kreplach soup. Anyway, Karolina practically lived at our house.”

“Was Karolina Jewish as well?”

Lena nodded. “At the time, Karolina and I attended Chrzanów's public school. Our new friendship opened a large social circle for me. She took me under her wing and brought me into the popular crowd. It was so easy being around Karolina. I grew to love the Chrzanów elementary school, but my time there came to an end in 1938, when I was ready for high school.

“Partly because I was a good student and partly because we were a privileged family, when I was fourteen my parents sent me to attend the Gymnasium in Kraków.”

“The gymnasium?” Liam said.

Lena smiled. “Although it was called the Gymnasium, it wasn't a gym, it was a private secondary school where gen-ed courses were taught in Polish, and Jewish studies were taught in Hebrew.

“I didn't want to go there. I wanted to stay in Chrzanów. That's where all my friends were. I wanted to go to high school with Karolina. I protested, but I never had a chance in that battle. My Jewish studies were compulsory and my parents were able to enroll me in a prestigious high school, so that's where I went.

“I'm sure you know, before the war, Poland had three million Jews, more than any other country in Europe. Ten percent of Poland's population was Jewish, and my parents were observant—they took their religion seriously. Anyway, I would travel to and from Kraków every day on the train. The Chrzanów station was six blocks from my house. However, thanks to the Germans, I only attended for the one year.”

“One year?”

Lena shrugged. “The war.”

“So was life comfortable in Chrzanów before the war?”

Lena tipped her head from side to side. “For
my
family, yes. But not for all. My parents' store was very profitable and served customers from the neighboring Silesian towns. And my father was a decorated war hero. He held the rank of captain—three stars—in the army of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. In World War I, he fought alongside German troops.”

“Alongside the Germans as a Jewish captain. How unusual,” Liam said.

“No, not unusual at all. No religious distinction was made during World War I. The Jews of Germany and the Austro-Hungarian Empire fought together in the armies of the Central Powers as enlisted men and as officers. One hundred thousand Jews fought in the German army, often holding high ranks, and twelve thousand lost their lives. The empire had always welcomed Jews, and Jewish society flourished. We were doctors, lawyers, judges, scientists. The same throughout Germany.

“After the First World War, my father enjoyed a certain status and prestige because of his rank and service. Everyone called him ‘The Captain.' I wouldn't say we were wealthy, but we were comfortable. Still, in the 1930s Poland suffered from the Depression, and Chrzanów's economy suffered. Our store continued to sell provisions to the farmers, but oftentimes on credit, which we knew would never be repaid.

“Karolina's family fared much worse during the Depression. Her father was a tailor. In the early 1930s his business did okay, probably because it was cheaper to have clothes repaired than to buy new ones. He was often so busy that Karolina would help him on Sundays and after school. She became a proficient seamstress as a teen. Come 1937, in the depth of the Depression, people had no money, even for repairs, and stopped going to the tailor. Karolina's father had to close his shop. He went off to Warsaw, where his brother had a butcher shop, only returning once a month. Karolina and her mother stayed behind.

“When her father left, Karolina's mother began to drink. Those times that I stopped by Karolina's, her mother was always in some state of inebriation. Her speech was slurred, her balance unsteady. It was an embarrassment to Karolina and because of that, I rarely visited.

“Karolina had a dog, a white French poodle with pink paws that she loved with all her heart. She got it when she was in the eighth grade. Karolina and I were coming home from school one day and we passed a yard where a boy was giving away puppies. ‘My mom won't let me keep them all,' he said, pointing to a box with nine little white dogs. ‘If you want one, you could have one.' At first, Karolina's father wouldn't let her keep it, but seeing her so disheartened, he relented, providing she took care of it and worked to buy the dog food.

“Because it was a French poodle, Karolina named her Madeleine. With her father and mother essentially in absentia, Madeleine was Karolina's anchor. In her almost daily visits to our home, Madeleine would tag along. At first my parents weren't thrilled, but Milosz loved that dog, and Madeleine loved Milosz. He would sit on the floor and play with Madeleine and giggle so hard it would make all of us laugh. Milosz even taught her tricks. So, Madeleine became another member of our family.

“My father had three brothers. One lived in Warsaw, one in Kraków and one in Berlin. They were all successful. My father traveled to Berlin quite often on business or to spend time with his oldest brother. He took me there twice. I don't remember much about Berlin except my Uncle Samuel had a very large house with a beautiful garden.

“I do remember in 1933 my father returned from Berlin to tell us that the Hitlerites were burning Jewish books in bonfires. I was only eight years old and I asked him, ‘Why would they burn Jewish books? If they didn't like them they didn't have to read them.' He told me that was a very good point.

“As Germany descended into abomination, he traveled less and less to Berlin, and only when absolutely necessary for business. Two years later, in December 1935, he told us that Uncle Samuel was moving to America. The Nuremberg Laws had stripped Jews of their professional licenses and my uncle was a respected pediatrician and a professor at the medical school. The Nuremberg Laws forbid him from treating anyone but Jewish children and prohibited him from teaching at the school. He wisely decided it was time to leave and he left for New York.