I DON’T KNOW how long I stayed like that in the dresser, but hours must have passed before I heard the sound of the key in the lock and felt a rush of fresh air as the door opened. I tumbled out, head first into Mamma’s arms. She grabbed me and pulled me close. We hugged tightly while I sobbed with relief.
“There, there, my Gabilinka. It’s over. The soldiers are gone and you are safe.” Mamma rocked me in her arms, stroking my hair and face. I was drenched with sweat, and strands of wet hair clung to my face and neck. My sobs were loud and aching, and my relief at seeing Mamma was mixed with the agonizing memory of what I had just been through. Mamma kissed my forehead, whispering over and over, “You are safe. The soldiers are gone.” Even though her voice was soothing, I could tell from her trembling arms that she had been as terrified as I had been.
It was many minutes before my racing heart slowed and I could catch my breath. Pulling away from Mamma’s arms, I looked around the sitting room, realizing what a shambles the house was. Clothing and linen were scattered everywhere. Dishes from the kitchen cupboards were broken or lying in piles on the floor. Glasses were shattered. Plants were knocked over. Even the carpets had been pulled up. It looked as if a cyclone had hit the house. Nothing was in its place. Then, from under a pile of pillows, I heard a soft scratching and a muffled cry.
“Mashka, my poor baby,” I called, reaching under the pillows to retrieve the whimpering kitten. “The soldiers didn’t get you either!” I held the kitten close to my face while she purred, and her rough tongue brushed against my cheek, licking away the traces of sweat and tears. After many more minutes I was finally calm enough to listen to Mamma describe what had happened in the house while I was hiding.
The soldiers had marched up the path to the house only seconds after Mamma locked the door to the dresser. Pounding on the door, they demanded to know if any young girls lived in the house. Mamma calmly told them that, yes, she had a daughter, but that I was away, visiting relatives in the country. She knew even as she spoke that they didn’t believe her. They yelled that she was lying, and roughly pushed their way inside. The soldier who was in charge ordered the others to begin tearing apart the house, looking for me.
Mammas eyes closed as she described how they had ransacked every corner and every cupboard searching room by room. Furniture was shoved out of place and the contents of closets were strewn across the floor. The linen chest was overturned so that the hinges on the lid broke. The sugar bowl was smashed, and sugar crunched beneath their boots. The carpets were ripped up in case there was a trap door leading to a hiding place underneath the house. Lamps had been pushed over and pictures shifted out of place. The coffee table was overturned along with a bookshelf, scattering dozens of books across the sitting room floor. The soldiers’ search had been thorough and sweeping. How could they have overlooked the dresser?
“They searched such a long time, and they found nothing,” said Mamma. “And they were getting tired and impatient, and I thought they were about to give up, when suddenly your little kitten came running into the sitting room crying for you. She walked straight to the dresser and began scratching at the door. I thought I was going to faint.” Tears gathered in Mamma’s eyes at the memory of her terror. “One of the soldiers, a young one, noticed the kitten and headed for the dresser. It was as if he suddenly realized that it was there, and that it hadn’t been searched. I didn’t know what to do. I thought for sure they would find you.”
“How did you stop them?” I asked.
“Well, you won’t believe this, Gabilinka, but just then I remembered something I once saw in a movie. The character in the movie was trying to get people on the street to look at her, so they wouldn’t notice her friend stealing from a store. In the middle of the street she started yelling and yelling, and everyone ran towards her to see what was happening. I thought of this scene at the exact moment the soldier was walking towards the dresser, so I started yelling and wailing like a crazy woman. I fell to my knees, screaming that all my beautiful things were being destroyed. Oh, you should have seen me! What a performance I gave them! And best of all, I scared the kitten away from the dresser!”
I had to smile as Mamma described the scene. I pictured her on the floor, her hands thrashing in the air, her frantic shrieks cutting through the soldiers’ ears.
“And it worked! The soldier who was heading for the dresser was distracted and started towards me instead. I never knew I was such a good actress!” She tossed her head back and laughed. “They couldn’t think what to do with me. The soldier who was in charge threatened to beat me and told the young one to get me out of the living room. He dragged me into the kitchen, but I kept on yelling and screaming.
“Finally the one in charge appeared again, only this time he was holding my jewellery box. Remember when that letter came, saying that all Jews had to turn over their jewellery to the authorities? Well, I never told you, Gabi, but I didn’t hand mine in. I knew I was breaking the law, but I hid my treasures in a box under a loose floorboard in my room. When he came in with that box, I thought I was going to be arrested for sure. Instead, he said that because I had annoyed him with my screaming, he was going to take the box and everything in it, and there was nothing I could do about it.”
“Oh, Mamma!” I cried. “Not your jewellery! Not your wonderful pearls and everything!” Mamma’s jewellery had been passed down through several generations. Her gold bracelets and necklaces, and her sapphire earrings and her ruby brooch, were inherited from her mother and grandmother. Other favourite pieces of jewellery had been gifts from Papa. They had meant so much to her, and to me. And now they were all gone.
“Gabi, they are trinkets,” said Mamma, smiling. “They are meaningless next to our lives and your safety. Anyway, once the soldiers found the jewellery, they seemed to lose interest in searching. They went away shortly after that, leaving the house as you see it now. I waited a half-hour more before letting you out of the dresser, to make sure they wouldn’t come back.”
We hugged once more. It was a miracle that I hadn’t been discovered. It was a miracle that Mamma hadn’t been harmed. That was when I noticed her hand.
“Mamma, you’re bleeding!” I exclaimed, grabbing her by the wrist. “Did the soldiers hurt you?”
“No,” she assured me. “It was the key. When I locked you in the dresser, I had no time to hide the key. I was afraid that if I put it down, the soldiers might find it. And if I put it in my pocket, it might fall out. So I just kept it in my hand. I must have held it so tightly that it cut into my palm.”
I examined her hand closely. Indeed, on her palm there were deep red indentations tracing the outline of the key to the dresser, and cuts where the jagged edges had broken the skin. The bloody marks defined how fiercely she had protected me — how much she loved me.
“Someone must be watching over us,” she murmured.
“Yes,” I replied. “And I know who.”
I told Mamma about the feeling I had had that Papa was looking out for me while I hid in the dresser. I told her how I could almost see him, and smell his clothes and his shaving lotion. I described how terrified I had been when I first crawled into the dresser and the door had closed on me, and how my fears had begun to disappear when I felt Papa’s closeness. I told her it was as if Papa were in there with me. And I recited the poem I had heard whispered to me in the darkness of my hiding place.
Mamma listened carefully to everything I said. As I finished reciting Papa’s poem, she smiled.
“Yes, my darling, I believe you’re right. Papa is indeed watching over us. And I feel much better knowing he’s there.”