“FAMILIES WHO WERE LEAVING their homes and moving into the ghetto packed as much of their belongings as they could and loaded up a cart. But I was trying to sneak out of town after curfew and make it out to the Tarnowskis. I could only take what I could fit into a duffel—a few changes of clothes, a half dozen pictures of the family, and Milosz’s shoe.”
“Milosz’s shoe?” Catherine said.
Lena nodded. “That shoe was important to me. It belonged to Milosz, it was a part of him, it fit on his little foot. If I hugged the shoe, I was hugging Milosz. I was so afraid for him and I missed him so dearly. How was he getting along with only one shoe? I told myself that I’d keep it and return it to him when I caught up with the family. I prayed that we’d all be together soon.
“Before I left, I walked around my house for the very last time. I had lived in those rooms my entire life. I said good-bye my parents’ room, to Milosz’s room, to the living room, where every piece of furniture held a story. I could see the past—birthdays, holidays, my family sitting on the chairs, guests eating at the dining room table set with Mother’s fine china, men philosophizing on the problems of the world. How I longed for those days.
“I opened the door to my bedroom and walked around the room, touching all my things—my art, my books, my dolls, my desk, the notes I’d saved from friends. I laid on my bed for the last time, pulled the covers up over my head and bawled like a baby. Finally, I said good-bye to all my things and shut the door on my past.
“When I reached the front door, I bid farewell to all the memories that inhabited this wonderful house and they said good-bye to me. Dressed in my heavy coat and knit hat, carrying a small duffel, armband in my pocket, I left just after midnight.
“The Tarnowskis lived in the country on a dairy farm. I didn’t know how far I would have to walk, but I remembered my father giving me the address and telling me to follow Slaska Street. I’d only started up Podwamy when a black Mercedes rolled by with uniformed men in the front seat. I ducked behind a stone gate and waited until it had passed. At the next block, I saw it had stopped and the two Germans were laughing with other soldiers in front of a restaurant. Thank goodness they didn’t see me.
“I stayed in the shadows until I hit the square. Bright lights from the restaurants, bars and the gas streetlights lit the popular area like it was lunchtime. There were still pedestrians, even though it was now past midnight, but as you’d imagine, the after-curfew foot traffic consisted only of the Germans and their ladies. Occasionally, a passerby would say something to me, but I tried not to make eye contact and marched on.
“I was rather tall at seventeen and had grown into my woman’s shape. Even in my winter coat, I had a nice figure. Don’t think me immodest, but back then, I was very attractive. Since it was the early morning hours, many of the men on the street were coming out of taverns and most were intoxicated. Now and again, someone would make a pass at me. After all, what was a young woman doing walking the streets in the early morning hours unless she wanted to proposition a man, or had just left a romantic tryst? That would be the only acceptable excuse for breaking curfew. I kept my armband in my pocket, put my head down and plowed forward.
“I was almost at the edge of the square when a young German soldier walked out of a bar and almost knocked me over. ‘Well, hello, sweetie, where are you going?’ he slurred. I shook my head and kept walking. He pulled up alongside of me and continued to make overtures. ‘Wait, what’s the hurry?’ His gray uniform blouse was unbuttoned at the neck and he stumbled as he walked step for step with me.
“‘Hey, what’s wrong with me?’ he said with a slur. ‘Am I not as handsome as the one you were just with? Look at me. I’m a beautiful German boy of good rural stock and I’m lonesome tonight. Why don’t you have a drink with me?’ I continued to ignore him and tried to walk around him, but then he grew insistent. ‘Hey, don’t walk away from me. I’m a German fuckin’ soldier. It’s after curfew and you’re out and about. I could bring you in, you know.’ He grabbed at my arms and turned me around. He had a big smile on his face and wild drunken eyes. ‘C’mon, give me a little kiss and then I’ll go away.’
“‘No,’ I said firmly, and tried to pull myself out of his grip. ‘Leave me alone.’ But he was strong. He opened my coat and stuck his hands up my sweater. I pushed him back, and that only made him more determined. He thought the whole thing was funny. He started to kiss me all over my face, and his breath stank of alcohol. It turned my stomach and with that, I gagged, spun around and threw up on the sidewalk. ‘Aach,’ he said with a sickened look on his face. ‘You are disgusting.’ He shivered and quickly walked the other way.”
“You can throw up on demand?” Catherine said.
“He didn’t see me stick my finger down my throat. I just figured it might work.” Lena smiled. “And it did. For the next mile or so, I shook like a leaf. Thankfully, I didn’t see another person for the rest of the night.
“I reached the farmlands as the dawn was breaking. What a difference. The pastoral landscape lay in stark contrast to the apocalypse raging in Chrzanów. Rolling golden hills. Fields of sprouting wheat. Fruit orchards flowering in the April sun. Cattle grazing. It was nothing less than a table set with the bounty of Poland’s fertile farmland. And a few miles away, our entire town was starving.
“Farther down the country road, the Tarnowski farm came into view. I walked up their path. Chickens were pecking in the yard. That meant eggs, and I was so hungry. I knocked on the front door and Mrs. Tarnowski opened the door a crack. ‘Yes?’ she said, with an uneasy stare.
“‘I’m Lena. Captain Scheinman’s daughter.’
“‘Oh, child, come in quickly.’ She looked around to see if anyone else was in sight.
“‘No one followed me.’
“She eyed me up and down, tip-to-toe. I’m sure I looked like somebody who’d just walked twenty miles through the night. She took me by the elbow and led me into the kitchen, where she fixed a breakfast of eggs and biscuits. Food never tasted so good! I hadn’t enjoyed a hot breakfast since the day my family was taken. I told Mrs. Tarnowski what I’d been through and asked her if she knew anything about my family.
“‘No,’ she said. ‘I haven’t been into the city for a couple of months. It’s too dangerous. Willy goes in twice a week to deliver his milk and butter. He tells me that the Jewish families are being relocated one by one. I suppose that’s what has happened to your parents as well.’
“‘I think I should go to them.’
“Mrs. Tarnowski shrugged. ‘If that’s what you want, then that’s what you should do. But you just came out of the city. You must be tired. Why don’t you take a warm bath and I’ll make up a bed for you. I promised your father I would keep you until the war was over and I am not a woman who breaks a promise. Lord knows, it’s dangerous for me to hide a Jew, so if you are determined to go, I won’t stop you.’
“I laid in that warm bathwater pondering what the Lord knows and what he doesn’t know. I recalled my religious classes. The tenets of our faith. Our God is an all-knowing and all-powerful God. He knows everything that has been and that will be. Such a concept now seemed improbable. If that were true, why do Nazis inhabit the earth? Aren’t they like scorpions, like adders, like the bugs that caused the plague? They seemed to me to be all the same, with no purpose but to spread evil and cause harm. Why would a good and just God allow such evil to roam the earth, and if God can right the ship, why is he asleep at the wheel? Lying in the tub, I rejected my faith. Logic demanded it.
“I tried to clear my mind and think about happier times, about our peaceful life before the Germans invaded. Life in Chrzanów, life with my family, life with my friends. The bathwater seemed to draw all the tension from my body. I looked at myself lying in the tub. I had lost weight. It bothered me that my figure was losing its newfound curves.
“I worried about my family. Where were they? Were they just in another part of Chrzanów? Had they been sent away? Who was the trespasser in Karolina’s bed? Where was my friend living now? I dreamed about joining them all again. There I am, sitting at Shabbat dinner. I hear Milosz’s laughter. Mother’s soup is delicious. Our house is warm and bright. I can feel the joy and all the love. The next thing I know, Mrs. Tarnowski is tapping me on my shoulder. ‘Lena? Lena? Are you sleeping?’
“She handed me a towel and a clean robe. I helped her make up a bed in a small storage room that sat at the end of the second-floor hall. I asked her, ‘Does Mr. Tarnowski deliver to the section where the Jews live? When he comes home, can I ask him if he’s seen my family?’
“My question hit a nerve. She shook her head and punctuated the absurdity of such a question with a ‘Ha!’ ‘Deliver to the Jews? Certainly not. Does he want to get shot? You think the Jews get deliveries of butter and milk? It’s against the law. These days Jews are fortunate if they get a loaf of bread. Me, the farmer’s wife? I don’t get deliveries of butter and milk. The Nazis, they take it all. You come from the city, don’t you see what’s going on?’
“I nodded sadly.
“‘Willy delivers to the few customers he has left. The Nazis take ninety percent of what we produce. They come out here in their canvas trucks and raid my farm like a fox raids the henhouse. They don’t buy, they just take, and then they order Willy to deliver it all to them at their homes. I barely have a pat of butter left in my house. Child, they’ve taken over most of the Chrzanów factories—the lumber mill, the coal mine, the power plant, the bakery and, of course, the Shop. If your mother’s still in town, that’s probably where she is. Working at the Shop.’
“‘What shop?’ I asked.
“‘The Shop. The old garment factory on Rzeka Street. Now they’ve tripled the size, with ten times as many workers, all sewing uniforms and coats for the Germans. The Jewish women that are still in town are working there. They work for meager wages. But Poles work there as well, because they need a job. They get paid based on how many coats they make. Since the Germans came to town there are lots of jobs. The Germans brag they brought full employment. Ha! Willy says I might have to work there if he loses any more customers. But I won’t work for the Germans.’
“She looked around the little storeroom where she’d made my bed. ‘I used to keep my linens in here. It’s not very large, but it will do for you.’ She smiled weakly. I knew my presence made her uncomfortable and she was doing her best. All in all, I was warmed by the hospitality of this hardened farmwoman.
“‘Sometimes they come out here, the Nazis, you know, just to check on us. They want to make sure we’re not hoarding butter, even though we give them almost everything we have.’ She pressed her lips and stood defiant with her hands on her hips. ‘Sometimes they even help themselves to our chickens. If they come out here and they see you, you tell them you’re Lena Tarnowski. They won’t know the difference.’
“I thanked her and told her that I was grateful, but it was patently clear to me that not only was I an imposition, but a ticking time bomb for her family. I decided that I would have to move on when I got the chance. I would not hold her to her promise.
“I awoke from my nap to the sounds of Mr. and Mrs. Tarnowski engaged in an animated conversation. More like an argument. And I heard my name mentioned several times. They were startled when I walked into the kitchen.”
“What were they like, Lena?” Catherine asked. “The Tarnowskis?”
“Mrs. Tarnowski was sturdy. A strong farmer’s wife. A lifetime of summers had weathered her skin. Her hair was dark gray, but always neatly combed and frequently accented with a colorful bow. She wore housedresses that hung like draperies. Mr. Tarnowski was a bear. He had broad shoulders, big hands and stood well over six feet. No facial hair. He was always neatly shaven. They were a matched set. Good people.
“When I walked into the kitchen they immediately stopped talking and offered me a cup of milk. It was a little awkward because the three of us knew I was the topic of the morning. I sat down to drink my milk—fresh milk right out of the cow. There’s nothing like it.” Lena smiled and her eyes brightened. “I still like milk. I drink it every day. But farm-fresh milk is something entirely different. Have you ever had fresh milk on a farm?”
Catherine shook her head.
“It’s like drinking ice cream, only better. You should try it sometime. It’s good for expectant mothers.” She punctuated her imperative with a sharp nod.
Catherine blushed. “Who told you I’m expecting?”
Lena smiled and shrugged. “I don’t have to be told.”
Catherine quickly looked down at her midsection.
Lena laughed. “It’s not there, it’s in your face. And in that of your husband.”
“How could you possibly…?”
She raised her eyebrows. “My babcia always told me there’s a little Gypsy in our family.” She laughed again.
“Well, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t…”
Lena held up her index finger. “Mum’s the word.”
She chuckled softly and continued with her story. “Sitting around the kitchen table, I told the Tarnowskis, ‘Please don’t think me ungrateful, but it’s probably best for all if I go back into the city. I think it’s my place to rejoin my family. I’m sure they’ll be with the rest of the Jews somewhere.’
“Mr. Tarnowski shook his head. ‘Big mistake. You stay here. You’re safe here. The Jews of Chrzanów are not safe. It’s true that many have been forced to move into a small area, but the Germans are not done with them. They are enemies of the Germans and we are at war. They will not be permitted to run their little area without interference and abuse. The Jews have no protectors, not anywhere in Europe. They will live so long as the Germans have use for them. And then they will die. When the Jews are gone, the Catholic Poles will be next. The Germans speak of Lebensraum, their living space. They intend to expand, to clear out Poland for the German people. We do not kid ourselves. I make plans.’ He nodded his head.
“‘Shah! Enough,’ Mrs. Tarnowski said. ‘There’ll be no talk of the plans.’ Then she turned to me. ‘You may come with us when the time is right for us to leave. Until then, we do not speak of any plans.’
“I stayed with the Tarnowskis through the end of the month helping out with the chores whenever I could. I’d never lived on a farm and my ignorance of even the most fundamental farming techniques was a source of constant entertainment for Mr. and Mrs. Tarnowski. We had dinner every night at six and they were in bed by eight. I know they had a son, but he was never home and no mention was ever made of him at the dinner table or anywhere else. I respected those unspoken wishes and never brought it up.
“Finally, after a few weeks, my anxiety got the best of me and I told the Tarnowskis that I had to go back to Chrzanów and find my family. They cautioned me against it, but my need was stronger than my common sense. I would go into town the next morning with Mr. Tarnowski on his delivery route. It was a disastrous decision.”
Lena’s eyes filled with tears and she paused to take a sip of water. She seemed ready to say something but stopped and shook her head. “This is a good place for me to stop. Do you suppose we could take a break? Pick it up in a few days?”
“Anytime you’d like,” Catherine said. “Why don’t you call me whenever you’d like to resume?”