Karolina's Twins (6 page)

“The whole scene seemed to take an eternity, but in minutes they were all gone—the Germans, my mother, my father and Milosz.” Lena took an embroidered handkerchief from her purse and blotted her eyes.

“I'm so sorry,” Catherine said.

Lena nodded. ‘It was a long time ago, but still…”

“They were right below you, searching the closet, and they didn't see the attic door?” Liam said.

“Our attic was very small, not a real attic, just a space above the second floor, so small you couldn't stand erect. It didn't have a trapdoor, just a three-foot panel in the ceiling of my mother's closet. Just a piece of painted plywood you could push up and move aside. Unless you knew the opening was there, you wouldn't guess there was an attic. Certainly not one that could accommodate a person. And it was further hidden by my mother's hatboxes that sat on the top shelf, blocking the panel.”

“How did you get up there without a ladder?” Liam said.

“There were closet shelves that held her shoes and handbags. It was easy—hang onto the rod and climb up the shelves. I'd done it many times. For a child, it was a ladder to a secret hiding place.

“By nightfall my family had not returned and I suspected my father was right, they would not be coming back. Of course, I didn't know what had happened to them and I tried to keep a positive attitude. I think if I'd allowed myself to believe they'd been sent away or killed, I would have panicked. I held fast to the belief that we'd all be reunited soon. That was the only way I could keep it all together.

“I remember that first night alone. I curled up, but I couldn't sleep. I cried most of the night. I was so frightened of being left alone, frightened of the men who took my family, and frightened of an uncertain future. In the morning, I lay there listening to the silence. Eerie, for my house was never without sounds. Simple everyday sounds—footsteps in the hall, a pot on the stove, a shower running, Milosz practicing his scales, the creak of a door—the sounds of a house that was alive. But this day, except for the wind rattling the windows and a squirrel on the roof, the house was dead quiet.

“I was hungry and thirsty, but afraid to come down. I decided to wait until it was dark again. It was March and the sun didn't set until after six. By then I was starving and I had to use the bathroom. I quietly removed the attic panel and, in my bare feet, lowered myself to the closet floor.

“No lights had been left on and the house was pitch black. I walked down the stairs, my back against the staircase wall so I wouldn't be seen through the front window. I stopped first in the bathroom and then headed to the kitchen. The living room shades were up and I was scared that someone outside would see me, so I crawled through the room on my hands and knees.

“In the middle of the floor I came upon Milosz's Maserati. It was bent and broken, one of those bastards must have stomped on it. One of Milosz's shoes lay on the floor. That hit me like a punch in the stomach. They had yanked him out of the house with only one shoe. Poor little, gentle Milosz. I sat there and cried. Why would people do this?” She looked at Catherine. “Seventy years and I still don't have an answer.”

“No one does,” Catherine said.

“I wanted so badly to run out the door and catch up to my family, wherever they were. But…” Lena shrugged and shook her head. She wiped away a tear. “Finally, I crawled into the kitchen and found a piece of leftover chicken and some milk in the refrigerator. I sat on the floor and ate my dinner. Actually, I wolfed it all down because I was deathly afraid that someone would walk in at any minute. Then I packed some food and a jar filled with milk, put them in a bag and brought them up to the attic, like a squirrel hoarding acorns.

“There were no windows in my attic, but there was a tiny aperture, a split in the wood, maybe a half-inch, just below the very top. I could see the moon for a few minutes each night. With my eye up against the seam, I could see the stars. I talked to the stars. I asked them where my family was. I asked them when I should try to make my way to the Tarnowskis.” Lena sat back and smiled. “They never gave me very good advice.

“I ventured back down the next night and the nights after that. I grew bolder. I no longer crawled. I stopped caring whether anyone could hear the toilet flush, even though I'd only flush in the middle of the night.”

“You didn't go directly to the Tarnowskis?” Catherine said. “I thought you were instructed to go directly there.”

“I was, but I was more frightened of leaving than I was of staying put. Things were settling into a routine. I began to think that maybe I would be safer just living in the attic until the war was over and my parents came home.

“The attic became my little corner of the world. I decorated it. I brought up sheets, a pillow and a coverlet. Two dolls I had owned since I was five sat by my pillow. With a candle, I would read my favorite books. It's a funny thing—at first the loneliness is insufferable, but after a while, you find that your mind is very good company. Your thoughts become conversations. My solitary existence became manageable. Even enjoyable at times.”

“That didn't sound like a workable solution,” Catherine said. “Sooner or later you would have to come out.”

“Of course. But I was seventeen. And I missed Karolina. I thought about her a lot. What if she came by the house, how would I know? I certainly couldn't answer the door. I imagined the two of us getting together somehow and hiding from the Germans. I contrived scenarios. The two of us could run away, make it into the countryside. Find our way down to the mountains.” Lena shrugged. “I had a lot of time to think.”

“By the end of the week, I ran out of food. I had already run out of milk. I had water, I could do without milk. But food? That was another story. Other than a few cans of pickled preserves, there was nothing left in the house. I had devoured the contents of the refrigerator, the cupboards, the boxes of cereal and all the canned goods. There was no avoiding the obvious—I would have to leave for the Tarnowskis or go to the store.

“I conferred with the stars that night. The grocery stores were open only during the day and walking the streets in broad daylight was dangerous for me. What time would be best? Should I walk the streets when they were busy? Would I be invisible in a crowd? Or is it better when fewer people are on the street? Would there be less chance of recognition?

“I wondered, since the Nazis came for my family, have they come for others as well? What remains of the Jews in our neighborhood? Have they come for Karolina? Are the Germans watching my house? Patrolling? They had laughed when my father said I was in Lublin. Are they now looking for me? Am I better off abandoning my safe hiding place and making a mad dash for the Tarnowskis?

“I struggled with those questions all night and decided the devil you know is better than the devil you don't. I would stay and replenish the pantry. My father had given me money, so he must have intended it to be used. I weighed the options and decided the risk of a short walk was preferable to moving in with the Tarnowskis. I was comfortable in my little corner of the world. Just me and the stars. I could wait it out. Wait for my family to return, wait for something better to happen, wait for … I didn't know what. Putting off the decision seemed more agreeable than placing myself at the sufferance of total strangers.”

“I understand,” Catherine said. She looked at her watch and stood. “Lena, it's getting late. How are you feeling? Do you want to work this evening, or take a break for dinner?”

“I'm taking a long time, aren't I? You want to know about the two girls.”

“No, it's okay. A few years ago, our mutual friend chastised me for fixating on the ultimate question. We were sitting at the Chop House and—I'll never forget this—Ben said to Liam, ‘Why does she have to be in such a hurry? How can a person understand something when she's only interested in getting to the last paragraph?' I've come to appreciate the value of that admonishment. You can take all the time you want.”

“I am getting a little tired and I don't want to take up your evening. Do you suppose we could pick this up tomorrow?”

“Sure. I have a morning court call, but we can start at eleven.”

 

F
OUR

“S
O, WHAT DO YOU
think?” Catherine said to Liam, who pulled the car into the lot of Café Sorrento and handed the keys to the valet.

“I think I'm starving.”

“I mean about Lena, smart guy.”

Liam grinned. “I know what you mean. I think unless she comes up with some hard facts telling us who they are and where they lived, it will be impossible to locate these two girls. If they're still alive after seventy years.”

“She must have some basis for believing they're still alive. She wouldn't come in and use up her savings to locate her friend's children unless she had reason to believe we'd find them. There must be something else involved.”

“Like what?”

“I have no idea.”

“First things first,” Liam said as the waitress approached the table. “We'll both have the eggplant Parmesan and the house salads. Vinaigrette. And water is fine for both of us.”

“Liam!” Catherine protested. “I hate when you order for me. I'm a grown-up woman.”

“Okay, I'm sorry.”

“What would you like, ma'am?” the woman said with a smile, mocking Liam with her raised eyebrows.

Catherine sighed. “I'll have the eggplant Parmesan and a house salad.”

“With vinaigrette dressing?” the waitress said.

“That'll be fine.”

“Water okay?”

Catherine nodded, and the waitress left to fill the order.

“Why is Lena doing this, Liam? Why is she so driven to find these girls?”

“I'm sure she'll get there if you give her the time. Of course, you could always tell her to cut to the chase.”

“Very funny, and I'm not trying to rush her. I'm taking copious notes.”

“Good. You never know what piece of information will be important.”

“That, and because she deserves it. She's held this story in for seventy years. She's a survivor, Liam. Just like Ben. I'm not going to cut her short. Her narrative may never result in finding these people, but the telling may very well be a catharsis for her, and I'm going to give her that.”

Liam leaned over and kissed her. “That's my Cat. That's why I love you.”

They clinked their water glasses and Liam added, “I can't join you tomorrow. I have an appointment.”

Catherine sighed and closed her eyes. “Isn't that just like Liam. Bring a client to my office with a problem for
us
to work on and then leave it all to good ol' Cat.”

“Just tomorrow, Cat. I'll catch up with you.”

 

F
IVE

“I
DECIDED I'D GO
to the store first thing in the morning, when the fewest people would be out and about,” Lena said. “I didn't want someone to stop me and ask me where my mother and father were. You know, ‘We haven't seen them in the past couple weeks, how are they doing?' Or, ‘We heard the Germans came for your family. How come they didn't take you?'

“Even more frightening to me was the prospect that other Jewish families were rounded up and my presence would be reported to the Germans. Nevertheless, those were the risks I had to take if I was going to stay in my attic. I would go shopping first thing in the morning.

“The rain woke me up, like little pebbles dropping on my roof. A March chill had caused a fog to settle in and I could barely see across the street. What a lucky break! Rain meant fewer people on the sidewalks and my face would be hidden by an umbrella. I wore a knit hat pulled down around my ears and I yanked up the collar on my raincoat. I didn't know what to do about my armband. If they had rounded up all the Jews, then my armband was a dead giveaway. If not, if the Jews were still walking on the streets, it was a criminal offense not to wear the armband and I would be arrested. So, I ended up putting it on.

“Rossbaum's Grocery was at the corner of the square, just three blocks away, but I knew Mr. Rossbaum well, and I didn't want him to engage me in conversation. Not that I didn't trust him, he was a sweet old man, but he might gab to others. ‘I saw the Captain's daughter this morning. Didn't they take the Captain? How come they didn't take Lena?' Or ‘Where's your mother, Lena? Haven't seen her around. If your family's moved, why are you still here?' But in the end, it didn't matter, because Rossbaum's was closed. The store was dark.

“Four blocks farther and down the hill was a larger store, Olenski's, that my mother didn't like. She would tell me, ‘Olenski's is overpriced and Mr. Olenski is unfriendly, especially to Jews. Better you should shop at Rossbaum's.' So, I'd never been in Olenski's and he wouldn't know me, and that's where I headed.

“I took out our ration card. I had a coupon for bread, meat and incidentals. Another dilemma. What would Mr. Olenski say? How would he react to the Jewish girl who came into his store? He was behind the counter when I arrived, a tall, crusty man with wisps of white hair. When it was my turn, I handed my card to him and he looked me up and down.

“‘What do you want?' he said. I stuttered: some chicken, sausage, beets, bread, marmalade, beans, milk and a carton of eggs.

“‘Ha!' he said. ‘Are you kidding me? Do you know about rations? Do you see butter or milk on this card? Do you want me to go to jail?'

“I was nervous, shaking, turning my head around to see who else was listening. Then he wrinkled his forehead and said, ‘Why aren't you in school today?'

“I didn't want to answer that Jewish children were banned from the public schools. He probably didn't know. ‘I'm sick,' I said.