“COME IN QUICKLY,” Father Lensky’s voice called urgently from behind the door. The children entered into a small, crowded room and fell into Mama’s arms.
“Oh Gabi, Max, I’m so relieved we’re all here now,” said Mama, squeezing them tightly.
Max looked at Mama. “We saw soldiers, Aunt Judith,” he said. “But, it’s okay. We got past them.” Gabi nodded weakly in agreement.
“Yes,” said Father Lensky. “They’re known as the Hlinka guard. They are the army here in this part of Czechoslovakia. They are supporters of Adolf Hitler, just as bad as the Nazis and sometimes even worse. Our government acts like a puppet, while Hitler pulls the strings and tells us what to do.” Father Lensky spat these words out angrily, then took a deep breath and continued. “The Nazis have been sending soldiers into this area for some time. They say it is for our protection, but we know they are searching for Jews. That’s why we must be so cautious.”
“Gabi, do you remember Mr. and Mrs. Kos?” Mama interrupted, gesturing toward the elderly couple standing on the other side of the room. “They worked on our farm for so many years, long before any of these troubles began.”
“Gabi, my dear, we are so glad to have you in our home,” said Stephan Kos, reaching out to shake Gabi’s hand and then greeting Max. Mr. Kos’s hands were big and rough from years of working on the land. He was a strongly built man, but his manner was gentle and his face was round and soft. And despite his years, Gabi could not help but notice his full head of thick, dark hair. “Your father was a wonderful person,” continued Mr. Kos. “Always good to us, generous and kind. It’s our pleasure to help you now, just as he helped us so many times.”
After greeting Gabi and Max, Mr. Kos turned to introduce his wife. Maria Kos was a small woman with a plain and wrinkled face. Her eyes darted anxiously in all directions, as if she thought someone was watching her. She pulled her wool shawl up over her shoulders and moved closer to Gabi, inspecting her carefully. “You’re going to have to be very quiet while you’re here. No noise, no sounds. It’s dangerous having you here, you know.” She didn’t seem as welcoming as her husband or Father Lensky, thought Gabi.
“And this is our granddaughter Eva. She lives with us while her mother works in the city,” said Mr. Kos. Gabi turned to face the young girl standing in the shadows. Eva was about the same age as Gabi. Her cropped blond hair flew in all directions and her overalls were worn and torn, as if she were accustomed to playing hard. A look of inquisitiveness shone in Eva’s sparkling blue eyes. She gazed boldly over at Gabi, inspecting her curiously from head to toe.
“You’re Jewish, aren’t you?” Eva blurted out, moving her blond hair away from her blue eyes. For a moment Gabi froze. She eyed Eva warily. These days when someone asked your religion so bluntly, it usually meant they were out to harm you.
“Yes,” replied Gabi hesitantly. She still felt shaken from her encounter with the Hlinka soldiers.
“Good,” said Eva. “My grandfather says that we must help Jewish people. So I guess we will be helping you.” Gabi forced a smile and nodded, but still felt uneasy.
“I’m going to have to feed you,” continued Mrs. Kos, somewhat reluctantly. “So, you’d better come to the table and eat now. I don’t want you starving on me.” Gabi suddenly realized how hungry she was. It had been many hours since they had last eaten. She moved to the table with her family and looked around.
The Kos’s farmhouse was neat and clean, but tiny. The front room where they had entered served as family room, living room, dining room and kitchen all rolled into one. A comfortable sofa was pushed up against the wall at one end. Small, handmade doilies were scattered across the couch, hiding its worn arms and back. Lace curtains adorned the small window above the sofa. Ornaments, pictures, and other knick-knacks were displayed on rough wooden shelves around the room. A radio held a place of honor on one of those shelves. Radios provided valuable information about the progress of the war. Jews had been forbidden to own them for some time.
They sat down on the wooden benches surrounding the large wooden dining table in the center of the room. At the other end of the room, a deep basin held dishes next to the pump that Mrs. Kos used to bring in water from the well outside. The tub for bathing and washing clothes was hidden under the basin. Next to it, a giant stove glowed warmly, sputtering and crackling with the sound of wood burning from inside.
Mrs. Kos carried a large blackened soup pot from the stove to the table. With Mama’s help, she began to dish out bowls of soup while Mr. Kos sliced thick pieces of black bread. The soup had a heavenly aroma and Gabi hungrily gulped back spoonfuls. There were potatoes, beans, and chunks of onion and carrot, simmered into a thick broth. The bread was still warm from the oven. Gabi was just about to take a second piece when Mrs. Kos interrupted.
“You can see we don’t have much,” said Mrs. Kos. “It’s difficult these days to get food. Whatever we can, we grow and store for winter days like this. But things like sugar, flour, and salt are becoming more and more difficult to find.”
Gabi pulled her arm back guiltily, trying to ignore the hunger still rumbling in her stomach. How she longed for the meals her mother used to prepare before the war, on tables groaning from the weight of their feasts. By comparison, the Kos family had so little.
As the others finished eating, Father Lensky began to talk. “So far, the Nazis have not occupied our village. But now this area is becoming more important to them,” explained Father Lensky. “They are building a new road outside this village. Men from our village and the surrounding towns are being forced to work on the road. The men labor like animals, day and night. The Nazis plan to use the road to bring in troops and tanks to keep this area under Nazi rule. They are preparing for what we think will be a big battle against the Russians. If the Russians can beat the Nazis in Poland, it will only be a short time before they move into Czechoslovakia and push the Nazis out of here. I pray that we can hold out until the Russians arrive from the east.”
Father Lensky continued, “It is very dangerous for Mr. and Mrs. Kos to keep you hidden in their home. If they are discovered hiding a Jewish family, they will be arrested on the spot. And that’s if they are lucky. They could be killed for doing this.” Gabi’s eyes widened. She was beginning to realize just what the Kos family was risking by having them here. They were a poor family, but they had opened up their meager home to Gabi and her family at a time when so many others were not even willing to acknowledge Jews on the street. Maybe that’s why Mrs. Kos seemed so nervous.
“Father, please stop. You’re scaring the children,” interrupted Mr. Kos.
“I know the things that can happen and I’ll try not to be scared,” said Max, as Gabi reached over protectively to put her arm around his shoulder.
“Good,” responded Father Lensky. “You will need to be brave, but also very wise. I must speak frankly because you need to be aware of all the dangers. We are glad to have you here in our village. We are doing what decent people everywhere should do. But we also know the risks involved. And you must know them as well. For the most part, you will not be allowed to go outside, unless you are given permission. Is that understood?” Gabi, Mama, and Max all nodded solemnly. “In the daytime, you must be quiet and remain in hiding. These walls are thin and the road runs only a few feet away. Soldiers often pass by and could hear you. Even the neighbors must not know you are here. I would like to believe that the people of this town are all kindhearted. But these days it is hard to know what people might do out of fear. Anyone could report you to the authorities, and report Mr. and Mrs. Kos as well. So, that’s why we must be so careful. Perhaps we are being too cautious,” he said, noting the strained expression on Gabi’s face. “But we want to protect your lives and ours.”
“Tell them they must stay in the barn all the time, Stephan,” said Mrs. Kos. “Tell them they can’t come out during the day, not at all.”
Mr. Kos patted his wife’s arm. “During the day, neighbors drop by unexpectedly,” he said. “Not everyone would be happy to see a Jewish family in our midst. But at night, you can come out of hiding and join us here in the house.”
“We’ll have to make sure the curtains are drawn at night and we’ll keep the lights low, so no one can see you,” added Mrs. Kos.
“Now that you have finished eating, I must show you where you will be sleeping and spending most of your time,” said Mr. Kos. “Come. I’ll take you into the barn.”
Leading the way, Mr. Kos moved down a narrow hallway past one side of the room. He motioned the family to follow. Single file, they proceeded down the hall toward the back of the house.
Gabi walked by the Kos’s bedroom with its feather comforter and down-filled pillows piled on the big canopy bed. Past the bedroom at the end of the hallway hung a plain canvas curtain. As Mr. Kos pulled the curtain aside, Gabi and Max gasped as they realized the most amazing thing about this house. Beyond the curtain, the house turned into a barn. Suddenly, the wooden floors were covered with hay. The house and the barn were in fact one continuous space, broken up only by a simple drape hanging from the ceiling.
Gabi stepped into the barn and inhaled its familiar odor. It smelled sweet and damp at the same time, just like the barn at home. In fact, all the smells and sounds of the barn were familiar — chickens scratching in the hay for seeds, ducks cackling in a low harmony. Here and there, barn cats stretched lazily, purring with contentment as rays of sunlight streamed in through the holes in the ceiling and caught them in their beams. The cows were out grazing on the hillside and would return in the evening.
Gabi bent to scratch the head of a fat yellow cat as it pushed its big head up against her leg. How well fed you look, she thought enviously There must be plenty of mice and bugs around to keep this cat looking so healthy. Max coughed as dust and bits of dirt floated down from the ceiling and covered them all like fine snowflakes. He pulled his jacket tightly around his neck to protect himself from the wind that whistled in through the open slits and cracks in the wall. It was a small barn, just big enough to house Mr. Kos’s twenty cows. And now it would have to accommodate three new “guests” as well.
Mr. Kos pointed to a small ladder at the far end of the barn leading to a hayloft. “You’ll be staying up there,” he said and moved forward to climb the narrow steps. Gabi, Mama, and Max followed. At the top of the ladder were bales of hay, tightly wrapped, and piled in neat mounds. With little effort, Mr. Kos pushed one of the bales aside, revealing what looked like a narrow tunnel to the back of the hayloft.
Mr. Kos sounded apologetic and lowered his eyes as he spoke. “It’s terrible that you must hide in a barn with the animals, but we think it will be safe,” he said, motioning inside the tunnel. “We’ve packed together these bundles of hay to build your hiding place. You won’t be able to stand up in there, but there is space to stretch out and sleep. My wife has put blankets inside for you.”
“As long as we’re safe,” said Mama, simply. “That is what’s most important.”
“During the day, you should have enough light coming in from the holes in the walls of the barn,” continued Mr. Kos. “We can’t risk having a lantern in there. Neighbors might see the glow.”
So much thought had gone into preparing this place for them, thought Gabi. She was grateful and hoped they had thought of everything.
“I have one more thing to say, Mrs. Klein,” said Mr. Kos, turning to face Mama. “My wife is a good woman and in her heart she knows we are doing the right thing to have you here. But she has bad nerves. Don’t mistake her behavior for lack of caring.”
“You mustn’t apologize for your wife,” said Mama, simply. “We are all scared.” Mama stood up tall. “And please call me Judith. No more formalities, Stephan. We’re in this together.”
With that, Mama bent over to crawl into the hiding space, followed by Max and Gabi. Gabi grimaced as she bent to follow Max. She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut, as she flung herself through the tunnel. She prayed that no barn rat or creeping bug would bite her as she crawled through. The prickly hay pressed through the fabric of her skirt and into her knees.
When she emerged on the other side, Gabi took a deep breath and looked around. Bales of hay were stacked neatly, one on top of another, above her head and surrounding her on three sides of the hiding space. The fourth side was the outer wall of the barn. Light filtered in from slits in the barn wall. Gabi knew the light wouldn’t last long. Once night fell, they would not only be sealed up inside the barn, but they would be encased in darkness. How were the three of them ever going to be able to stay in this tiny space, without suffocating or going crazy? It was six feet wide, six feet long, and about four feet high. That was the total amount of space allotted to her family — enough to sit or lie down, but no room to stand. It was a straw cave, a fort made of hay, no bigger than one of her closets back at home.
“We’ll come to get you when it’s safe to come out for the evening,” called Mr. Kos from the other side of the tunnel. “I’ll try to check on you from time to time, if I can.” With that, Gabi heard the loose bale of hay being replaced and Mr. Kos descending the ladder on the other side.
Gabi, Mama, and Max stared silently at their new “home.”