No One Must Know (12 page)

I pulled the elastic band off my ponytail, brushed my hair, and tied it up neatly. The gold cross at my neck gleamed brightly against my blouse. I traced its outline. The delicate edges were sharp against my fingers. Then I went to bed, hoping that sleep would quickly come.

I was running through a dark forest in a thunderstorm. The gigantic trees surrounding me bent and wept under the lashing of the wind. The only light came from great bolts of lightning in the sky. Each patch of brightness was accompanied by the deafening drumbeat of a celestial symphony. My hands and face were bleeding, scratched to pieces by the bushes that blocked my way and tore my thin dress to shreds. There was a great flash of fire in the sky, and then the vegetation around me burst into flames. Despite the torrential rain, the crackling flames rose up in every direction. Flames blocked the path ahead of me. Flames roared behind me. Flames consumed the trees to
my left and the bushes to my right. Even the heavens above burned bright red. Smoke filled my lungs and I began to cough. I stood rooted to the path as the flames came closer and closer, ready to devour my flesh. The sweat on my brow mingled with the rain beating down on my face. I looked around wildly for a means of escape, but there was nowhere to run. Suddenly, somebody was calling my name. I peered into the flames but could not see who it was. Then I woke up.

“Alexandra, wake up! Breakfast is ready,” Mom called from downstairs.

I sat up on the edge of my bed and shook my head to rid my brain of its cobwebs. Then I remembered. I remembered what Mom had told me the night before. I shivered and hugged myself.

“Hurry up, lazybones!”

Before heading downstairs, I brushed my teeth, pulled a comb through my hair, and threw on some jeans and an old blouse I rarely wore.

At the kitchen table, my parents and Jutka waited expectantly. Mom smiled nervously when I entered the room.

“So, darling, have you recovered from last night?” she asked in a wavering voice. Then, without waiting for a
reply, she said, “Eat your breakfast.” She gestured at a tall stack of waffles at the center of the table.

We were all silent as we attacked the food on our plates. I drank deeply from the steaming mug of cocoa that Mom had made for me. I wasn’t really hungry, but I forced down every morsel to avoid another argument with her. When I finally leaned back in my chair, I was uncomfortably full.

Dad spoke first. “Now comes the hard part,” he said. “Trying to answer your questions.”

“We don’t have much time to talk,” Mom said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Have you forgotten that we’re going to the Ladies’ Auxiliary luncheon today? It’s at Dr. Wolfe’s house this time. I promised Mary Wolfe that I’d be there, and we never–”

“Break a promise.” I finished her statement in a singsong voice.

“What about me?” Jutka asked.

“You’re coming with us, of course,” Mom said.

“If Jutka is going to be there, do I have to go?” Because only women were allowed at the auxiliary meetings, Dad could not take Mom. I was elected to go in his place, but I found the meetings excruciatingly boring.

A look of panic flitted across her features. It was gone
so quickly that I might have missed it if I didn’t know her so well.

“Of course you’ll come too,” she said, chewing on the cuticle of her left thumb.

“First, we must give Alex the opportunity to talk to us,” Dad said. “You still have lots of time.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “So what do you want to know, darling?”

“I feel so confused,” I told them. “We’re Jewish, not Catholic. How could you hide something so important from me?”

Dad patted my arm. “We know this must be a shock for you.”

“I’m sorry that my coming here has caused you so much pain,” Jutka whispered.

“Don’t be silly,” Dad said. “I always thought that Alexandra had the right to know the truth.”

Mom remained silent.

Dad turned to me. “I know it’s a lot to take in at once,” he said.

“Why did you have to tell me at all? What will my friends say? None of them is Jewish. I don’t even know any Jewish kids except Jacob, and we never talk about our religions!” Once I’d started yelling, I couldn’t stop. “It’s not fair! You grew up Jewish, but I know nothing about it. Being Catholic is all I know!”

Dad nodded his head. “I realize that,” he said. “We haven’t been fair to you. We’ve robbed you of something very important.”

Mom leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Forgive me, darling,” she said. “I wanted to keep you safe. That’s why I didn’t tell you about the past. And that’s also why I didn’t want you to see Jacob. I didn’t want your friends, especially a boyfriend, to be Jewish. I wanted to cut all ties with our old lives.”

I took a deep breath to calm down before speaking. “We live in Canada,” I began. “I feel awful that you suffered so much in the old country, but nobody is going to hurt you here.”

Mom shook her head sadly. “What happened to us can happen anywhere. We’re safe only if they don’t know who we are.”

“You’re wrong, Mom! It all happened a long time ago, far away, in another country. It has nothing to do with our lives here. It has nothing to do with me!”

“Don’t try reasoning with your mother on this issue. I’ve argued with her until I was blue in the face, but I couldn’t get her to budge,” Dad interjected. I could see by the high color in his face that he was angry. “I’m glad we had to tell you the truth. You’re a clever girl, and I know you’ll come to understand what we did and why.
For now, ask me anything. I’ll try to answer your questions as honestly as I can.”

“I don’t know what to ask, Dad. I don’t even know how Jewish people are different from Christians.”

“People are people, Alexandra,” he said. “We all worship the same God. But Christians believe in Jesus Christ, while we Jews are still awaiting our Messiah.”

“Not believe in Jesus! But, Dad, then you won’t be saved!”

He stopped my words with a wave of his hand. “See what we’ve done,” he said to Mom in a harsh voice I’d never heard him use before. He turned back to me with a sad smile. “Why don’t you to talk to Father Mike?” he suggested. “He’s a decent man. He’ll be able to help you.”

“No!” Mom cried. “She should tell nobody! No one must know!”

“Mom, I’m almost fourteen years old. You should let me decide for myself. I have to do what’s best for me, not what’s best for you.”

“Alexandra, I’m begging you not to tell anyone,” Mom pleaded wildly.

Through all this, Jutka had been silent, her head turning from one parent to the other as they spoke. “Agi,” she said now, “by denying who you are, you dishonor the memory of your papa and your mama, of all
your relatives who were murdered in Auschwitz for the sake of our religion.” She covered her face with her hands. “What happened to you, my Agi? You had the heart of a lion. You saved my life!”

“I just want Alexandra to be safe.”

Mom looked so wretched that I wanted to reassure her. “I’ll think over everything,” I told her. “And I promise that I won’t tell anybody before talking to you.” I turned back to Dad. “I do have one important question I’d like to ask now, though. Why did the Nazis hate you so? And not just the Nazis but other people too. You should have heard how Mrs. Cowan spoke to Jacob and what Olga said about Jewish people. What do people have against you?”

The silence around the table was fractured by Dad’s deep sigh. “My dear daughter, I don’t have an answer for you. I wish I did.”

The clock on the wall showed that it was nine o’clock. I stood up. “I’d better get ready. Molly will be here soon to pick me up for Sunday school.”

“I phoned her mother and told her that you wouldn’t be going today,” Mom said. “You need time by yourself to think things over.”

I looked at her gratefully.

“Enough serious talk for now,” Dad said. He walked over to the desk under the window and took a pad of
paper and a pencil from a drawer. “Jutka is determined to leave tomorrow. You have the luncheon today, so tomorrow morning is our only chance to show her our city. Let’s make a list of all the wonderful places we should take her.”

A
s we trooped out to Dad’s car to head to the Ladies’ Auxiliary luncheon, Mom pulled me aside. “You’ll stay close to me, won’t you, dear?” she whispered, grabbing my hand. Her own hand was clammy. “It’s important to your father that I go to this lunch. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll stay with you,” I told her. “You’ll be fine. You know all the ladies.”

“Thank you, dear,” she said, sliding into the back seat beside Jutka.

I sat beside Dad on the front seat. Mom looked smart in a brown tweed suit and matching hat and leather gloves. Jutka was wrapped in her black coat and had a
print dress underneath it. I had on my new dress and the navy coat I usually wore to church.

As we drove through the neighborhood, Jutka peered out of the window with interest. Naked trees stood guard on both sides of the road.

“It’s a pretty city,” she remarked. “So peaceful.”

“You’ll see more of it tomorrow,” Dad said.

Mom cleared her throat. “Jutka, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention anything about…um, you know. What I was telling Alexandra.”

“You mean you don’t want your friends to know who you are, Agi?” Jutka asked quietly.

Mom didn’t answer her.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Agi. Your secret is safe,” Jutka said.

“I won’t tell a soul either, Mom,” I added.

We all fell silent.

“We’re almost there,” Dad said finally. “Jutka, are you sure you can’t stay with us longer? It’s Alexandra’s birthday in a couple of weeks. She and her friend Jean always throw a big party. The house is full of young people. It’s a very happy time for us.”

“There’s nothing I’d like better, Jonah, but I can’t take more time off from my studies,” Jutka said.

“You should start planning your party right away,” Mom said to me. “The time is getting close.”

“I know, but Jean has been acting weird.”

“Did you girls have a fight?”

“Not exactly,” I said as Dad maneuvered the car into a parking spot in front of Dr. Wolfe’s house. “I don’t know what she wants to do. I’ll talk to her soon.”

The door was opened promptly by Mrs. Wolfe, a tall woman with a kind face. “So nice to see you,” she said.

“I brought an old friend with me, Mary,” Mom said. “I hope you don’t mind. This is Judit Weltner.”

Mrs. Wolfe extended a plump hand in Jutka’s direction. “How do you do? I’m Mary Wolfe. Welcome to my home.”

“Alexandra wanted to come with us too,” Mom said with a brittle laugh. “For some reason, she likes the meetings of the Ladies’ Auxiliary.”

Our hostess glanced in my direction. “The more the merrier,” she said.

Mom put her arm through mine as Mrs. Wolfe led us into a living room hazy with cigarette smoke. About two dozen elegantly dressed women were standing in small groups or were perched on the modern Danish furniture. Everybody was chattering and taking sips from sparkling crystal wineglasses. White-coated waiters were passing around tiny canapés.

“Agi, I have to check on something in the kitchen,”
Mrs. Wolfe said. “Would you mind introducing your friend to the ladies?”

As we approached a group of laughing women, Mom’s arm tightened in mine. But she swallowed hard and persevered. Only the vein throbbing in her temple showed how nervous she was.

“Hello,” she greeted the group. “Nice to see you all again. I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine, Miss Judit Weltner.”

Three pairs of eyes stared at us.

“How do you do?” said a fat woman after a moment of awkward silence. She wore a green dress, white gloves, and what looked like a dead bird on her head. “I’m Mrs. Phillips.”

Her eyes raked over Jutka. I could see that her scrutiny made Jutka uncomfortable.

“I’m Mrs. Wall,” said a blonde woman with a frosty smile. She pointed to the third member of their group. “This is Mrs. Bigelow.” Mrs. Bigelow did not deign to change her expression.

To occupy myself, I captured a slice of Velveeta as it floated past on a silver tray.

“It’s nice to meet you, ladies,” Jutka said with a shy smile.

“Ah, I can hear by your accent that you’re a”–Mrs. Wall groped for a word–“newcomer, like Mrs. Gal.”

I could sense Jutka tensing up. Mom stepped even closer to me.

Mrs. Wall took a pack of cigarettes and a match from her purse and offered them to her friends and then to Mom and Jutka. They both lit cigarettes and inhaled deeply. Mrs. Bigelow, who was also smoking, picked up a cut-crystal ashtray from the table.

“This is an ashtray,” she said to Jutka, pronouncing her words carefully, as if she were speaking to a backward child. “You have to put your ashes in it. Ashes go there, not floor.” She gestured to the ashtray and the floor, as if to reinforce her point.

Jutka blushed a fiery red and stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray that Mrs. Bigelow was holding in front of her nose.

“How–” she began.

“Jutka, don’t!” Mom whispered.

The color ran out of Jutka’s face. She was so pale that I was afraid she would faint.