Remember the Stars

by Carraine Oldham

  “If you have no use for it, I’d love to have it. Edgar and I found it at a garage sale. It doesn’t work, but it would mean a lot to see it again.”

  “I can bring it by whenever you’re ready for it.”

  I look at Sam and smile. My adoration for him grows each time we’re together.

  Miriam takes a good forty minutes looking through the photos, pointing out family members she recognizes, and having me read her short passages from the first diary, before we say our goodbyes. Unfortunately, she was unable to identify the rest of the Krauss family in the photos.

  Back at Sam’s house, I make sure he’s ready to dive into research mode before grabbing his laptop and setting it up on his dining room table. My enthusiasm builds in my chest when I flip the lid open and start it up. Sam sits in the chair next to me and scoots close.

  “It’s not much to go on.”

  “It’s so much more than what we had when we woke up this morning,” I say.

  “True.”

  “She gave us the location, Oren’s middle and last name, and we know that Oren worked at some type of base.” I pause for a moment, trying to get my emotions in check. I know I’m becoming overly excited, but I can’t seem to push it down and think with a level head. “We could have Estherly’s address in seconds.”

  The laptop flickers on and my fingers start moving. I bring up Google and type in Oren Jonathan Rose, Chesapeake, VA. The White Pages returns two hundred thirty-seven results, and none match Oren’s name exactly. I scroll down the page and the results don’t make sense at all. A little spark of light in my heart fades when I keep looking down the page, finding names that don’t come close to Oren’s at all. I change my tactics and erase Oren’s name, replacing it with Estherly Rose, Chesapeake, VA.

  “Damn it,” I grumble.

  “Why don’t you try Facebook again, this time with Estherly Rose and Oren Rose?”

  “I still can’t believe that Estherly and Henry didn’t grow old together.”

  “I’m honestly surprised that Estherly lived through the Holocaust. Millions of Jews perished during those times.”

  “I know… but I can’t stop thinking about Henry. Their love was so strong. I’m blown away that Estherly married another man.”

  “I wonder if any of that story is in the diary we’ll start tonight?” Sam asks.

  “The next diary is so small, compared to the one we finished. I know it can’t contain all Estherly’s story,” I say, as my fingers keep moving.

  For over an hour, I search Facebook as Sam suggested and find nothing. I then try all social media outlets, Ancestry.com, and go back to Google.

  Frustrated, I lean back in the chair, lace my fingers together, and rest my hands on the back of my head. Letting out cheeks full of air, I look at Sam for comfort.

  “It seems like every time we make a little headway, we’re back to square one,” he says.

  “I need to find her. I need to find Estherly. It’s not a desire anymore. It’s a need. I must know what happened to her.”

  Sam nods, seemingly understanding me, but I’m not sure anyone could understand. Maybe I’ve completely gone off the deep end, but the need to find Estherly keeps driving my life and decisions I’m making.

  “I give up for now,” Sam says, to my disappointment. “Why don’t we break for lunch and resume with the next diary?”

  “I can make us some sandwiches. I have all the stuff to make great ones,” I say, wondering if Sam wants a break from research and me.

  “I actually have to run by a job site. My guys had some issues this morning that I’ve probably let slide for too long.”

  Something in Sam’s tone tells me that I’ve worn out my welcome for today. Not wanting to push him away, I rise from the chair and walk to the living room, where I grab my purse.

  “Are you sure you want me to come by tonight?” I ask.

  “Oh, yeah. Of course. I’m excited to move on to the next diary.”

  “Why don’t you come to my place tonight? That way I won’t bother you before you’re ready,” I say, walking to the front door.

  “You don’t bother me, ever.”

  I smile, not knowing what else to do. Awkward feelings cause me to want to bolt out the door and spring across the yard to my home.

  “Well, still, why don’t you stop by when you’re ready to get started with reading?”

  “Sounds good. Maybe I can grab us something for dinner, or we could prepare something at your place?”

  “Whatever,” I reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Sam walks past me, opens the screen door, and steps out, holding it open. I lower my gaze to the floor and slip past him.

  “I’ll catch you later,” he calls out from behind me as I walk across his front yard.

  “See ya!” I wave without turning around to face him.

  Humiliation festers in my gut when I turn to see if Sam is watching me make my way up my front steps and I don’t find him there.

  Damn it, Ferrin. You’re doing it again. You can’t keep reading into every word and move Sam makes! I scold myself as I turn the key in my door and open it. Thankfully, my main man, Otis, is right there greeting me with a meow and a rub against my leg.

  “Am I going crazy, Otie, or is there something between me and Sam?”

  “Why are you asking me? Doolally, that’s what you are.”

  “Oh, come on.” As I encourage my cat to make believe answer me, I realize I must be crazy.

  “The boy likes you,” Otis says, rubbing against my leg again. “Now, Mum, you’ve neglected my brushing. Need to get that sorted straight away.”

  Several hours go by before there’s a knock at my door. When I open it, I find Sam holding up bags.

  “Chinese?” he asks.

  I open the screen door and let him in. “Sounds good,” I say, noticing my tone is somber.

  “How was your day?” Sam asks, as he sets the bags down on the coffee table.

  “Not much to tell. I researched for a few hours and found about eighteen addresses that may or may not be Estherly’s. I still feel like I’ve hit a dead end… and I’ve made a decision. Follow me to the kitchen, and I’ll grab us utensils,” I say, as I turn into the hallway.

  “You’ve made a decision? I’ve got to hear this.”

  In the kitchen, I open the silverware drawer. “Chopsticks or a fork?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at Sam.

  “Chopsticks are cool with me. Don’t keep me in suspense. What’s this decision you’ve made?”

  Grabbing the chopsticks and plates, I turn and face Sam, handing them to him. I look him dead in the eyes so hopefully there’s no confusion about how serious I am.

  “I’m going to Chesapeake.”

  Sam gives a little shake of the head and his eyebrows crease as he studies me.

  “I’m serious. I’ve already booked my flight. I’m calling in to work Monday morning and claiming I have a very bad virus. Should work since I already called in last week.”

  “You’re going to Chesapeake, Virginia, to look for Estherly?” Sam asks, slowing his words.

  Handing him his chopsticks, I nod and walk away.

  He calls behind me, “Are you sure you want to do this and go alone?”

  “I’m positive. I’ve got almost eighteen addresses that are promising, and I’m going to knock on each and every door.”

  “And what if none of them is Estherly’s home? What if she’s gone already?”

  “Then, I come home and know that I tried my best.”

  Sam shakes his head again. “You never cease to amaze me with your dedication to this,” he says.

  “I could sit here all day on that damn computer, searching and searching. But, I truly think the best way to get results is to go to the last place Estherly lived that’s known to us. Who knows? Maybe I’m following a trail of breadcrumbs that will grow stale or maybe, just maybe, I’ll find her or find answers to where she is.”

  Sam picks up a carto
n of Chow Mein and sticks the wooden chopsticks into it, pinching noodles between them. “Help yourself to whatever looks good,” he says before shoving food into his mouth.

  I grab the sweet 'n’ sour pork, and for a second, I doubt my choice. Am I making the right decision in going to Virginia? Who knows? Time will tell.

  Sam and I eat in silence. I contemplate if I’ve made the right choice.

  Sam takes a place in the easy chair near the loveseat in my living room, and I fold myself onto the couch. I grab for the second diary and worry when I notice how slim it is. It’s dirtier than the one we finished last night, so I brush it off with the sleeve of my shirt. The edges are worn, and when I open it, the paper is fine and brittle. Taking care, I flip to the first page with Estherly’s now familiar handwriting.

  18 June 1942

  One year living in the ghetto has been insufferable. Death and disease run rampant throughout Łódź. The bugs and rodents outnumber the people living here. It is a life I never could have imagined for me and my family.

  When we arrived, we were moved into a two-bedroom apartment shared with two other families. It is crowded, to say the least. Thankfully, I’m still with my mother, my father, Oma, and Anika. That’s more than many can say. I’ve heard horror stories of families like ours being ripped apart, stories of mothers being torn from their young and never knowing what became of them. My mother, Oma, and I work in a factory each day, sewing soldier uniforms. It is a thankless job, but at least a meal of soup is served to us at lunch. My father works handing out rations of food under the close eye of the soldiers keeping order in the ghetto. This leaves Anika home but fortunately the young mom we share the apartment with, Gisse Roffman, looks out for her while we are, gone.

  The only good things in life are that we are together and Henry is here. He was transferred four months after we arrived at the ghetto. It was so hard to live without him. Now, each Thursday, I can’t wait to meet him in an abandoned apartment he found close to the cemetery in our ghetto. It is my saving grace while living in such horrible conditions. Last time we met, he gave me this diary and pencils. I must hide them in the floorboard of our apartment because being caught with such items would surely mean death…

  Chapter 14 – Estherly

  18 June 1942

  The sun beats down on me, causing sweat to pool on my forehead as I walk with Oma and our mother. Work was long and hard as usual, but I’m grateful that tonight I will see Henry. The heat of the day exacerbates the smell of the ghetto. Vomit catches in my throat as the pungent scent of urine and death fill my nose.

  “I will never get used to this smell,” Oma says, placing her fingers on her nose.

  “Me, neither.” I say.

  Glancing across the street, a small boy lies in the gutter, lifeless. Frozen in time, his frightened eyes and mouth are wide open. His frame, so frail, looks like crumpled bones as dirty water trickles past him. His legs fold onto one another looking like nothing more than a skeleton. Thinking about his fate, my heart saddens. I wonder if his family is still alive and what they must be going through. No doubt this poor child starved to death. I almost wish in that moment that the boy had no family so they would not have to feel the guilt I know his death must bring upon them. I should be used to seeing the death around me, but I’m not.

  “That poor child,” Oma gasps.

  “It looks as though he suffered horribly,” I say, turning away from the sight.

  “Girls, let’s get home. I want to make sure Anika is okay,” my mother says.

  She grasps our arms and moves us along through the overcrowded street. The ghetto is full of people trying to get home or hanging out on the streets because they have no place to go. Beggars search for handouts from those gathering in this area.

  My feet ache from standing all day at the factory, and my legs tire with every step as we near our block. Relieved we are almost home, I pick up the pace a bit, thinking of how good it will feel when I get my shoes off.

  “You three! Stop now!” a voice booms from behind us.

  Stopping immediately in our tracks, we wait for the person behind the voice to instruct us on our next move.

  “Turn around!” the voice instructs.

  Without hesitation we turn to face him.

  Four young soldiers stand before us.

  “Where are you going?” asks the same voice, as he sends a smirk to his fellow soldier.

  Looking to the man on my right, I’m surprised when met with familiar eyes. Henry takes a deep breath and clasps his hands at his sides. Everything in me wants to run into his arms, my safe place, but I do not dare move.

  “We are going home,” Oma says.

  “And where is your home?” The soldier snickers.

  “There.” My mother points to our building.

  “Show me your identification cards!” the other soldier demands.

  Grabbing my card from my pocket, I hold it out. My hand wobbles as it extends towards Henry. He reaches for the paper and grazes the side of my hand with his finger. His touch sends goosebumps all over my body. Shaking myself out of the stolen moment, I glance towards the other three men, hoping they did not see. They are too busy staring at Oma’s legs to notice; this both angers and relieves me.

  “You.” The soldier points to my mother. “You can go, but we are not done with the two girls.” He shoots a look to his fellow soldiers and they all laugh, all but Henry.

  My mother looks at Oma and then at me. Worry sinks into the lines on her face. I give her a reassuring look, telling her that she should go. The soldier hands back her identification card, and my mother turns and walks away, the sound of her footfalls lost in all the noise from the street as she makes her way to our apartment building.

  My gut turns and fear overcomes me. I look back at Henry for reassurance but see uncertainty in his eyes. His jaw is clenched, and his hands are tightened into fists. One of the soldiers circles Oma and me like a lion hunting its prey.

  “Pretty little Jewish girls, aren’t they?” one says, as he nudges Henry in the arm. Henry’s face reddens with anger.

  “Pretty for filthy Jews,” the man circling us says.

  He stops in front of Oma, places his hand to her neck, and moves her head, yanking it from side to side. He lets her go and walks around us again. Stopping behind me, he moves in close to me. His hot, foul breath hits my neck and ear. My eyes fall to the ground, then dart back up to Henry. I’m frozen with fear as the soldier puts a hand on my waist and moves it up towards my bosom. Henry takes a step forwards, then stops as the soldier behind me moves away. The soldier comes back around front, stopping in front of Oma once more.

  “What should we do with this trash?” he asks his fellow soldiers.

  “I can only think of one thing they would be good for,” the man to my left says.

  Horrified, I grab my sister’s hand. The action makes them laugh in delight, no doubt satisfied they are scaring us.

  “They are not worth our time, let’s go,” Henry says.

  The words sting a bit in my heart, even though I know Henry is using them to protect me and Oma. “Besides, we have work that we need to do,” he continues.

  “You’re right, no need to waste our time with these girls,” the soldier in front of Oma says. “There are plenty of other women around who are not Jewish scums that I would rather spend my time with, anyway,” he says, as he turns and walks away from us.

  Henry hands me back my identification card, and the pained look in his eyes causes tears to form in mine.

  “Go home now,” Henry says, handing Oma her card. We turn and head down the street to our apartment. When we arrive, Oma rushes into the building. Before I make my way through the door, I turn and look down the street and see Henry still standing alone, watching me.

  I step through the door and find my mother in the hall, hugging Oma. Rushing over, I throw my arms around them both. We break from our hug and go into our apartment, the three of us knowing all too well th
at the scenario could’ve gone a lot worse.

  Sneaking out of an apartment full of people is not easy. But, each Thursday I’ve managed to do so in order to meet Henry.

  I take off my shoes so they don’t make noise as I creep down the streets, making my way to the abandoned apartment that Henry and I frequent. I’m grateful that there is less patrolling on Thursdays because most of the soldiers are at a meeting. Luckily, he is one of the soldiers placed on assignment to the ghetto on those nights so we can at least have one night together. The air feels warm on my skin as I slink around, making sure I’m not spotted by anyone. The apartment is five blocks away from mine, but tonight it seems like it’s a million miles away. After what happened today, I’m eager to see Henry. Earlier, I could tell from the expression on his face that he was frightened and angry. I was very grateful that the other soldiers listened to him and left Oma and me alone because if they didn’t, I fear he would have put up a fight.

  Making my way around the corner to the abandoned apartment, two voices speak, and I stop midstride. Fearful of being seen, I slip back and hide in the darkness of the night.

  When the voices are gone, I sneak out and make my way up the stone stairs and through the door of the building. The building is empty but full of dirt and rubble. It smells of old wood. Dust tickles my nose. I head up one flight of stairs, walk down the hall, and enter the abandoned apartment.

  “Estherly, you made it. I’m so happy to see you.”

  He rushes to me and throws his arms around the small of my back, pulling me into him. All my fears fall away once I’m in his arms. Placing his lips on mine, our passion consumes me. Pulling apart, we stare into each other’s eyes, speaking so many words without a single sound. My love for Henry has grown deeper than I ever thought it could. Standing here, looking into his eyes, my heart bursts. He picks me up in one swoop and carries me over to the blanket he laid out on the floor. Laying me down, we continue with our kiss. His lips trace up my neck and behind my ear.