Remember the Stars

by Carraine Oldham

  I read up to the part where I left off last night, and I let him know that’s as far as I got.

  He looks down at his watch, and I already miss him. I know he’s going to suggest it’s time for him to leave.

  “It’s tragic, isn’t it?” I whisper.

  “I don’t know much about the Holocaust, except for how horrific it was. This look behind the curtain, so to speak, is really gut-wrenching. It’s intriguing, though. Does any part of you feel guilty for reading this girl’s private words?”

  I give myself a moment to think about it. “No. For some reason, I think Estherly would like to know someone is reading her legacy.”

  “Do you think she’s still alive?”

  Sadness wraps its bony fingers around my heart, chilling it. “Probably not. She’d have to be in her mid-nineties. It’s possible, I guess. I wonder if I could find her or information about her online.”

  “You should probably get some sleep first,” Sam suggests. “It’s past 10:30. I should go home.”

  No! I scream in my mind. Don’t leave, Sam. Come up to my room with me and read the rest of Estherly’s diary until we’re both so exhausted, we’re forced to sleep in each other’s arms.

  Sam stands and I want to reach out for his arm and pull him into a soft kiss, but I know he’s way out of my league.

  “Thanks for dinner. That was really cool of you. And, thanks for letting me know about the diary. You’re right; we’ve stumbled upon quite the treasure here. Would you mind coming by this weekend and reading more of it to me?”

  His enthusiasm for Estherly’s story is such a turn on.

  “No, not at all.”

  “Great… well, I guess I’ll see you Saturday,” he says.

  Sam makes his way to the door, so I hop off the couch to escort him out.

  “Thanks again. This has been a great night.”

  I don’t know where I get the courage, but I reach out and rest the tips of my fingers on Sam’s arm. “It’s been wonderful. Until Saturday…”

  He nods, and then I’m left watching him run across my lawn, through the rain, and over to his place.

  Shutting the door, I lean against it and take in a deep breath.

  “You’ve got it bad, Mum,” Otis says, entwining himself around my legs.

  I glare at him. “And, what do you know about such things?” I inhale again and close my eyes. Otis is right, as usual. Sam and I have a connection. I feel it in my bones. “Thank you, Estherly,” I whisper, before walking around the downstairs, shutting off all the lights, and securing all the doors.

  Now in bed, I open Estherly’s diary, afraid about what I’ll read tonight. I’m so connected with this girl from the past that I fear if her diary stops, that means she’s dead, and my heart won’t be able to take it. Even so, I naturally assume she’s no longer with us. I pull my covers up to my chest, put my glasses on, and read.

  7 October 1941

  Everything is terrible. More and more students disappear daily. A boy I used to sit next to was gone last time I was in school. Families from our neighborhood have been deported to work camps and ghettos, or worse, they’ve been murdered. I think that Anika and I should stop attending school, but my parents are still holding out hope that we’ll survive this tragedy. I fear for my own family and my friends. I fear for Henry. How will our love survive this cold world?

  Chapter 4 – Estherly

  7 October 1941

  Mornings at my home used to be cheerful and busy. Although my family was pulled in every direction, getting ready for school or work, we would all gather around the table for the hearty breakfast my mother prepared. With full bellies, she would send us on our way to face what the new day had in store for us.

  Nowadays, mornings are very different. My mother still gets up and puts together a small meal for Anika and me, but the rest of the chairs around the table are vacant. Everything has changed since the SS soldiers took my father’s antique business away. All my family had worked for was burned to the ground; nothing was saved after the Nazis took the things that they wanted.

  Now, my father leaves once the curfew is lifted. He goes to the one Jewish store that still operates to get what little food he can. My brother, out of fear of my father going alone, accompanies him most days. Oma is busy in her garden, tending to the plants carefully so that we have fruits and vegetables to eat.

  Pulling myself from visions of the past and reflecting on how much times have changed, I call out, “Anika, hurry. We’re going to be late.” I stomp my foot and point to the front door, emphasizing that it’s time to go to school. She stuffs another piece of bread in her mouth, chews, and then opens it, revealing the mushed contents inside.

  “You’re horrible!” I say, trying not to giggle as I grab one of the curls at the back of her neck.

  She swats my hand away. “Ouch, Estherly!”

  I release her.

  Bouncing out of her chair, she runs over to the sink where our mother washes dishes, the wood floor creaking under her steps. Wrapping her arms around Mother’s waist, she gives her a squeeze, playing on Mother’s sympathies. Glancing over her shoulder, my mother scolds me for disciplining my little sister.

  Ignoring both, I focus on the sunlight making its way through the small kitchen window and shining on the white countertops. Our small yellow kitchen is decorated with flowers my sisters and I picked for our mother the day before.

  “Let’s go.” I make my way over to them and kiss Mother’s cheek.

  “Oh, Estherly, you worry too much,” Anika says, as she unwraps her arms from our mother and skips towards the front door. “We’ll make it on time.”

  It both saddens me and makes me happy, watching Anika hold onto her childish innocence. I wish I still had some of mine. My baby sister is somewhat oblivious to the horrors around her.

  My mother and I share a quick glance and smile at each other. I imagine Mother thinks the same thing I do: how adorable Anika is.

  “I love you, Mame. I will see you after school,” I say.

  “I love you, too, zeisele. Remember to come straight home from school.” A slight hint of fear sounds in my mother’s voice. Her tone pains me, and I try to control tears from forming in my eyes.

  I grab both lunch sacks off the counter and walk towards the front door. “Anika, come here,” I say. When she approaches, I double-check that the shirt and jacket she chose to wear bears the yellow star we’re required to have on when we’re out in public.

  Grabbing Anika’s hand, we head out the door and across our land. I miss the smell of the crisp, fall air. The rain mixed with the scent of dry leaves used to intoxicate me. Some days, I would twirl and dance through the tall weeds. Looking up at the sky, it’s now filled with smoke. There is a brown haze hiding the blue that tries to burst through. The heaviness of the sooty air catches in my throat and causes me to cough. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I try to warm them.

  “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I ask, as I give Anika a slight nudge.

  My little sister gives the question a long thought. “A doctor,” she says with a huge smile.

  I love her zest for life.

  She goes on to tell me all about what she wants to do in the future, down to how many children she wants. I wish I could be more like her, but these days, I tend to live in the moment. I am hopeful, but with things getting worse with each passing day, it’s hard for me to be optimistic.

  When we reach the town, it seems somber. Normally, the streets would be filled with people going from shop to shop, getting things they need on this side of our small town, but today, a few people pass Anika and me. Ashes from a nearby fire fall from the sky like snow. The scent of smoke gets stronger, and the soot falls onto my eyelashes.

  “I wonder what they are burning today,” I say to Anika, as she skips along by my side, keeping pace with me.

  “Could be anything,” she chirps.

  Turning the corner, I gasp. I turn to Anika and see her droppe
d jaw and wide eyes.

  The school, engulfed in flames, creaks and moans as if fighting to stand tall. Smoke pours out the windows and floats up to the sky, circling as if claiming its victim. The looks on the faces of some of my classmates are as sad as mine.

  “I want you to go home. Walk back with Ishmael and the others. I have to go find Mae,” I say as I push her towards the group of students heading in the direction of our home.

  “But, Estherly—”

  “Go, I will be ok, get home!”

  Turning from my sister, I head in the direction of Mae’s home, hoping I will meet her on the way. I pass by vandalized shops with broken windows and even burned structures. The word Jude painted on doors with the Star of David stares me in the face. What has this life become? What did we do to be treated this way? I’m almost halfway to Mae’s and there is still no sign of her.

  Making my way to Mae’s well-to-do neighborhood, I round the corner of her street. My feet seem cemented to the ground at the sound of yelling. Four SS vehicles line the curb outside of Mae’s home.

  Horror freezes my body. Seeing Mae struggle with one of the demanding men with her baby brother in her arms makes my heart ache. Mae’s mother is pushed down the porch steps, and she nearly stumbles.

  “Line up!” a Nazi shouts.

  I can’t make out every word being exchanged between Mae’s father and the tall soldier, who, by the looks of his decorated uniform, is no doubt the captain. Mae’s father tries to hand the man papers with wide, pained eyes. The captain snatches them from Mr. Stein and orders him back with the wave of his hand. Mae’s baby brother screams in her arms.

  “Quiet that child!” screams another soldier nearest Mae.

  Rocking her brother back and forth doesn’t stifle the baby’s cries.

  “Shut him up now! Or I’ll do it for you!” He leans into Mae, raising a pistol to the baby’s head. Mae places her hand over the child’s mouth to stop him from screaming, but the baby still whimpers.

  I’m frozen where I stand when the soldier knocks Mae in the face with the butt of the pistol. She twists her torso, protecting the baby. Falling, she lands on her back, cradling the baby to her chest. Mae cowers as the SS goes to hit her again. It’s as if everything goes in slow motion and I’m watching a picture show. It’s unbearable when Mae’s mother screams. Helpless, she sobs, looking at her children on the ground.

  I can’t take this. This has to stop!

  Mae lies on the street in obvious pain. I know Mae so well that I’m sure she doesn’t want to cry in front of these men or in front of her family. She’s stubborn and headstrong and cares so much for her family that she wouldn’t want them to see her in pain.

  The soldier barrels down on Mae again with his fist and then raises his hand again. In my peripheral vision, Mr. Stein races towards Mae. Fear grips my heart because I know this is the wrong move to make. Mae’s mother shouts at Mr. Stein to stop, but he keeps rushing to his children. His hand grips Mae’s coat, and I jump when the shot fires. I double over as Mr. Stein falls to the ground, still clutching Mae’s coat. Blood spatters Mae and her baby brother while Mrs. Stein falls to her knees. A crimson pool forms around Mr. Stein’s body.

  I take a step forwards because I have to help. I must do something, even if it means risking my life. A strong hand grasps my elbow, and I’m pulled back around the corner. For a moment I think, This is it. This is the moment I’ll die. Another SS must’ve seen me, and now I’ll die like Mae’s father. My body is twisted and pushed against the building. I look up into frightened, crystal-blue eyes. I almost don’t recognize Henry in his freshly pressed, Nazi soldier’s uniform. It reminds me of Mae commenting on how Henry was staring at me in the schoolyard. My heart aches for my friend when I think of her.

  “Turn around and go home, now.”

  Unable to speak, I shake my head. Tears flood my cheeks and with the pad of his thumb, Henry wipes them away. I sink into him, letting his strong arms devour me.

  “My dear Estherly, you need to go.”

  I pull myself away from his chest, seeing the marks my tears leave on his coat. Grabbing my hands, he leans in and puts his plush lips to mine. We linger for a moment before he panics and looks around to make sure no one has spotted us.

  “Go, my sweet,” he says as he gestures towards the sidewalk.

  “But—”

  “Go.” He gives me a gentle nudge. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” I say as I turn and walk down the street, willing my feet to move faster than they ever have.

  Passing by the school, small hotspots still burn. The once proud building is nothing but rubble now. Red, glowing embers speckle the debris while spirals of smoke seep from them.

  Making my way through the town, I’m rattled by the sound of what I think are SS trucks coming my way. Frightened, I run for home, praying I make it before I’m seen. Flinging open the front gate, I bolt towards the door and toss myself inside, slamming the door behind me. Breathless, I sink to my knees behind the door and sob.

  “Estherly, what’s happened?” My father drops the book he was reading and comes running.

  I can’t speak; my words choke me when I think of seeing Mr. Stein lying on the ground dead. My heart aches, thinking of Mae covered in his blood. My soul is crushed by the uncertainty of not knowing what happened to Mae and her family.

  I’m still unable to utter words. My father bends and wraps his arms around me. Mother comes down the stairs in a hurry with Anika trailing behind her.

  “What is it?” Mother whispers as she kneels near me and takes me under her arm.

  “I’m not sure, my dear,” my father says.

  Oma comes through the back door with her wicker basket. She sets it on the wooden kitchen table and rushes into the entryway to see what the commotion is all about.

  “He’s dead, they killed him,” is all I can mutter between sobs.

  My father scoops me up and carries me to the living room. Sitting me down on our brown, plush sofa, he covers me with my favorite quilt that my mother made for me when I was a child. The soft fabric warms and comforts me as my father adds more wood to the fire. The flames intertwine with one another, as if every movement is perfectly in sync. Normally, the crackling and fluidity of the flames calms me, but now I’m enraged like the fire that tore through my school.

  My mother hands me a cup of warm broth and sits down next to me. “Estherly, can you tell me what happened?” She puts her arm around my shoulder.

  I take a sip and try wrapping my mind around all the events of today, but I can’t find my way through the hopelessness that eats away at me.

  Footsteps come down the stairs; it’s Gavi. Looking at the expression on his dark-featured face, I sense his confusion. He stops at that bottom stair and holds the banister with long fingers. Then, he steps down and joins us in the living room.

  After my brother settles on the floor next to Anika, I describe what happened to the Steins. Recalling the devastating scene in my mind, I can’t help feelings of disappointment in Henry. Although I know his interference would surely have meant his demise, I still wish he could’ve saved Mae’s father’s life. I know there’s nothing I could’ve done myself, but I’m defeated. I’m useless.

  Grabbing one another’s hands, my family takes me from the memories of today. We bow our heads together and pray for Mae and her family. We pray for our people and what is to become of us. We pray for peace.

  Chapter 5 – Ferrin

  “Thank God, it’s Saturday,” I say, rubbing my hand over Otis’ back. “Because we stayed up way too late last night.” I couldn’t put Estherly’s diary down. Every time I thought that I could stop reading, some other horrible event happened to the poor girl. When I read that Mae’s father was shot, I lost it and bawled. Tears rained down my cheeks while I tried to keep them from landing on the brittle pages of the diary. By the time I got to the part where Estherly went home to her family, I was emotionally drained. I also had to take
time dealing with the shock of learning Estherly’s love was a Nazi soldier. How did I miss that from the first diary entry? How could something like that possibly happen? How could a Jewish girl love her enemy? I can’t wait to dive into more of their story and discover all these answers. I’m glad I read ahead of Sam because I’d hate to experience that range of emotions in front of him.

  Knowing I owe Sam a reading of the diary, I crawl out of bed and head for my bathroom to freshen up before I go over to his house. After brushing my teeth and my hair, I throw my locks up into a messy bun. It’s not one of those I-cleaned-the-house-and-my-hair-looks-like-a-rat’s-nest messy buns. It’s more like a, “Wow, Ferrin, you didn’t have to get dressed up to bring the diary by,” kind of bun. Plumping my lips, I apply gloss. “Sure, Sam, sure. I wake up like this,” I say to the mirror.

  I breathe into the palm of my hand, checking my breath for freshness. Not the best it’s ever smelled. I don’t want to knock Sam out, so I do a deeper cleaning.

  Walking back into the bedroom, I get dressed with my eyes on the diary and my thoughts on Estherly.

  Even though throughout my life I’ve seen horrific photographs of the Holocaust and read historical accounts of it, reading about the moment when Mae’s father was shot really shook me to my core. And to think of Estherly witnessing it at seventeen years old causes the blood in my veins to turn cold.

  Grabbing the diary and making my way over to Sam’s, my muscles tense. Standing in front of Sam’s door, I raise my hand, but fear stops me from knocking. I suck in a deep breath and remember two nights ago, when Sam spent most of the night at my house, reading Estherly’s diary. I try to summon the connection I felt between us and to evoke the courage I need to go through with my plan of crashing Sam’s Saturday morning… and hopefully his afternoon, too.