“What will we do?”
“I don’t know, my love. I honestly do not know. The baby can stay with you, and I’ll do my best to take care of you both. I wish there were a way I could get you out of here, but then you’d be in hiding which seems as dangerous. If you’re caught outside the ghetto, they’ll murder you both.”
He places his hand on my belly, and I lay mine against it.
“We’re having a baby,” he whispers.
“We are,” I say, pulling him into a kiss. Tears slide down my cheeks as our kiss ends. I look up to Henry and see droplets pool in the corners of his eyes, and I throw my arms around his neck, hugging his body to mine.
After a long time spent in each other’s arms, he says, “We have to go,” while breaking from our entanglement.
“I don’t want to leave you,” I say.
Getting to his feet, he extends a hand, and I reluctantly take it as he pulls me up from the floor. “I don’t want to leave, either, but we must go.”
“Let’s stay a little while longer.”
“We can’t. The meeting will be over soon, and then all the other men will be back to patrol.”
Fear strikes in my chest thinking of what could happen to me if I’m caught outside my apartment after curfew. Taking a deep breath, I pull Henry into one last kiss, then turn to leave.
“Wait, Estherly. I forgot. I have something for you.”
Stopping my stride, I turn back around.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
Holding out his hand, a silver chain dangles from his fingertip, catching in the moonlight. Attached is a round locket. I walk closer, my heart soaring with love, and take the necklace in my hands. I study its intricate detail. Tiny stars engrave the oval locket with a moon gracing the front. I run my fingers over the top, and my heart swells with love.
“Remember the stars,” I whisper.
“Remember the stars,” he says, smiling. “Look inside.”
I open the locket and see his picture on one side, and one of me that I gave him long before we arrived in Łódź. I pull him to me and place my lips to his.
“Thank you!”
Parting, he says, “This is nothing compared to the gift you’re giving me.”
I know he means the baby, and my cheeks heat from his words.
“You must keep this hidden, but when we can’t be together, you can pull it out and look at it and know that I, too, am thinking of you.”
Although life is uncertain, the things I can count on is Henry, his love for me and now, his love for our unborn child.
With Henry’s money, I was able to buy enough food to last a week from one of the nicer stores in the ghetto. A sense of pride falls over me as I set the small wooden table that we share with the two other families in our two-bedroom apartment. I used my resources and made a meal that will feed not only my family, but the Roffmans and the Kaplans as well. Although food is scarce in the ghetto, my family made a pact when we arrived here that we would never watch our neighbors starve, if we could help it.
Setting the table, my mouth waters as the aroma of dinner wafts in from the nearby kitchen. Placing the last fork on the table, I head back to the kitchen to stir the stew bubbling on the stove. Dipping a wooden spoon in the pot, I bring it to my lips and blow on the contents. The warm, hearty broth is rich and savory. Grabbing the pot with two rags, I take it out to the table and set it down.
“Dinner is ready, everyone,” I call.
“It smells so good,” Anika says, as she prances over and takes a seat.
The rest of my family sits, along with Gisse, who places her baby daughter, Illa, near her in a basket by her feet. The Kaplans, Yoel and Roza, sit quietly with their eight-year-old son, Asher.
“Thank you very much for allowing us to join you,” Gisse says, licking her bottom lip.
I’ve noticed her weight loss over the past few weeks, and I worry for her and her baby. If I have it my way, I’ll never see her lying in the street, dead, like so many others. If I had the means, I’d feed every starving person in the ghetto.
“Estherly, you’ve done well, my child,” my father says, looking into my eyes with sunken-in ones. “Where did you get the money for this food?”
I hate lying to my father, but if they knew I was in love with a Nazi — a word I hate using to describe Henry — and that he was providing for us, they would refuse to eat. Malnutrition already plagues each of my family members, so I lie. “I found money in the street, Papa.”
“Estherly!” my mother scolds.
“I know, Mame, I did look around to see if anyone seemed to be missing it, and no one did, so I picked it up.”
“At least we’re eating,” Oma chimes in. “Don’t get on her case. I waited in line for soup yesterday in the hot sun for over an hour and walked away with nothing. I’m starving.”
“Does that mean Estherly is a thief, Mame?” Anika asks, her innocence bringing a smile to my face.
“No, my dear.” My mother eyeballs me.
“Let us pray,” says my father, bending his head and covering his eyes with his palms. He sings a prayer in a whisper, and it takes me back in time. Closing my eyes, I allow myself to return to our little farmhouse. With my hands covering my eyes, I imagine we are gathered around the table in our yellow kitchen.
A banging on the door interrupts our prayer, and we each scurry across the apartment, hiding objects we’re not allowed to have. I grab my diary and rush over to the loose floorboard where I usually keep it, the locket Henry gave me, and items I smuggled into the ghetto. Pulling the floor up, I shove the book inside, then put the board back in place.
Yoel takes his time going to the door and announcing he’s approaching. He looks at us to make sure it’s safe to answer before he opens it. All of us nod simultaneously. When he opens the door, three soldiers bust in.
“Oma Krauss?” one of them yells.
I freeze where I’m standing. What would they want with my sister?
Oma’s eyes widen as she looks at my parents and then at Anika and me.
“Oma Krauss? Which one of you is Oma Krauss?” another man asks.
Oma takes two steps forwards and hesitates, raising her hand. Gisse huddles in the corner with the basket containing her daughter, and the Kaplan family moves off towards the small living area.
Anika hurries over and grabs onto Oma’s hip.
“I’m Oma Krauss.” My sister’s strength shines through as she raises her eyes and looks a soldier in his.
“You’re coming with us,” the soldier says.
“Have I done something wrong?” Oma asks.
“What does it matter? You’ll do as we say. Now, come along!” yells another of the men.
Two of the soldiers walk up to Oma, and each one grabs one of her shoulders.
I can’t move. I want to run to my sister and pull her out of their grasp, but my feet won’t budge. This can’t be happening again.
As the soldiers tug on Oma, my mother begs them not to take her. My father cradles my mother and covers her mouth to stifle her cries. Every movement happens in slow motion. Anika holds tight onto Oma’s waist and screams.
“Shut up!” one of the Nazis yells. He pulls on Anika’s arm, which only causes her to holler louder.
I take a step forwards, but I’m cemented to the ground when the soldier points his pistol at Anika’s forehead and fires. Her little body falls to the ground, which frees the soldiers to remove Oma. Oma yells as they lead her out of the apartment. My mother falls to the floor, and my father rushes to Anika’s lifeless body.
My feet won’t listen when I tell them to move. My mind is lost in unbelievable agony. As I stand there, tears stream down my face, yet I’m afraid to let out screams of terror. A pool of blood forms around my baby sister’s head. Blood flows across the wood floor until it reaches the tips of my toes. I stare down into Anika’s beautiful, vacant eyes as my body shivers. My knees buckle under me and I land hard. Reaching out, I grab her lit
tle hand. From across the room, my mother crawls on all fours and takes Anika’s tiny body into her arms. Behind me, the Kaplan family praying and Gisse wailing.
My father, weeping, pries Anika from my mother’s arms. He cradles her and kisses her cheek with trembling lips. With the little strength I have to move, I make my way to my mother and take her into my arms. Father and Yoel leave the apartment with Anika, and only for the briefest moment do I wonder where they’re taking her. Now, my only concern is comforting my mother.
Lifting my mother by her hand, I help her off the ground and take her to the kitchen. Roza follows us, muttering words I can’t make out. Roza grabs rags, and I follow her with my gaze as she covers the puddle of blood on the floor. Wetting a wash rag, I place it on my mother’s face, sopping up some of her tears. We stare at each other, wordless, crying. I can’t accept the fact that my sister’s remaining time on this earth was ripped away. I can’t accept that Anika is gone. In a flash, my whole entire world has collapsed.
Chapter 17 – Ferrin
As I walk along the tree-lined street of Chesapeake, Virginia, it’s hard to keep my tears at bay when I think of little Anika. How could anyone shoot an innocent child right in the head, ending all her potential in life? My heart breaks for Estherly and her family. After all this time reading Estherly’s diary and fantasizing about finding her, in the back of my mind, I thought I’d at least end up finding Anika. Having lost loved ones in the past, Estherly’s pain resonates deep in my soul.
Turning the corner, I break from gloomy thoughts and pull the paper with the addresses on it from my pocket and cross off yet another dead end. I’ve got four more houses to stop at before I run out of luck. Checking the map app on my phone, I realize that the next two houses on the list are only a couple blocks over. Needing some more time to clear my head, I take a deep breath of fresh Southern air and make my way to 735 Blum Street.
Most of the folks who answered their doors earlier were friendly enough. Only one woman shoved the door in my face and yelled, “not interested.” I was finally able to let her allow me to plead my case. I sure was glad when she didn’t turn out to be Estherly.
Fresh blooms from the trees above scent the light breeze that blows through my hair. I imagine what life would be like here for Estherly, and I hope it was far better for her than the life I’m aware of. I can’t imagine anything worse than what she went through in Europe.
After all the Krauss family suffered, losing Anika had to be the most devastating. Thinking of her again, a tear trickles down my cheek. I hurry to wipe it away when my cellphone rings in my pocket. Pulling it out, I look at the screen, see that it’s Sam, and answer right away.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” I say in a somber tone.
“You okay after last night?”
“I cried all morning.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he says.
“It’s okay. I’m the one who took off. Neither of us could’ve known how horrible last night’s diary entry would be.”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m headed to address number fifteen.”
“I take it that means you haven’t had any luck locating Estherly or her family.”
“Nothing,” I say. “Not one clue. No one has heard of her. There’s one house that I’ll have to go back to because no one answered.”
“How’d it go with calling in sick to work this morning?”
“Roger gave me a hard time and told me that I wasn’t able to come back to work until I got a doctor’s note. Which he made to sound like a threat, but I only view as an extended vacation.” I giggle.
“When do you think you’ll be done?”
“Around three. Unless I find someone that knows about Estherly.”
“Want to meet on the phone at five?” he asks. “Will that give you enough time to grab dinner?” Once again, Sam’s words make me feel as though something else, besides friendship, is going on between us.
“Yeah, that’ll work. Did you start the research on Oma yet?” I round another corner and glance up at the address on the front of a house. I figure out my destination is on my left and only a few houses up the block.
“I wasn’t able to find Oma’s name on the same site you found Gavi’s history, but I did find Anika’s death record from the Łódź hospital website. They were worn and a little hard to read, but basically told the same story we read from Estherly’s diary; an eleven-year-old little girl died of a gunshot wound to the head. It seems Simon and their roommate, Yoel, brought her to the hospital when they left the apartment. Anika was pronounced dead on arrival. The records lacked any details other than that.”
“Thank you for trying. I wish we knew why they took Oma. I wish I could understand why anyone would ever hurt a child like that—shooting her in the head for doing nothing more than crying.”
“It’s unthinkable, but the sad truth is, Jewish children were murdered all the time in the Holocaust, for no reason at all, other than being Jewish.”
“It breaks my heart,” I say, as I approach the next house on my list. “I’m here. This house is beautiful. The streets I’ve been on today all have gorgeous old homes. It’s really quite a lovely little place. I’m happy Estherly had a life here. I hope it was a lot happier one.”
“I’m sure she did. I’ll let you get to it. And Ferrin?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful, and good luck.”
“Thanks,” I say, before ending the call.
I walk up seven white steps flanked by four white pillars of the colonial-looking home and take a deep breath before knocking on the door. Footsteps sound from inside, and my heart flops with anticipation.
A young man with short, dark hair opens the door, and at first, I’m struck by how handsome he is.
“Hello…” I say, planting a giant smile on my face.
“Hi, can I help you?”
“I was wondering… umm, is there a woman living here named Estherly Krauss or Estherly Rose?”
The man shakes his head, and that crushing feeling of defeat creeps over me for the fifteenth time today.
“Would you happen to know if she ever lived here?”
“Nope, sorry, ma’am. I’ve never heard of her.”
“What about Oren Rose? Oren Jonathan Rose?”
The man squishes his eyebrows together like he’s thinking. “Nah. I don’t recognize either of their names. I’m really sorry. We just bought this place.”
I nod, accepting my fate. I’ve managed to land myself into a wild goose chase.
“Anything else I can help you with?” he asks, staring at me like I’m a nut job.
“No. Thank you for your time.”
“Sure thing. Have a nice one,” the man calls out, as I walk back down his stairs.
“You, too.”
I take the pen from my pocket and cross out address number fifteen.
Following the directions from the map on my phone, I head south on Cherry Blossom Road. until I make a left onto Aberdeen Lane. Here I come, house number sixteen. Let’s see how much let-down you’ll have for me. I make it to the grand house and stare up at all the details on its frame. It’s a charming Victorian-style home, complete with a wrap-around porch. I tell myself what a fool I am for coming to Virginia under my breath as I walk up the wide and tall staircase.
The door to the house is open, but it seems as if no one is home. I’m all for trusting one’s neighbors, but this seems like it’s going a bit too far. I raise my hand and knock on the wooden screen. There’s no sound from inside the house, so I knock one more time.
Finally, a beautiful woman in her twenties with curly dark hair answers the door.
“Hello. My name is Ferrin Frazier,” I say, in my most polite voice. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m searching for a woman named Estherly Krauss. Would you happen to know her?”
When the screen door opens, I know I’m getting my hopes up.
“How do you kn
ow my great-grandmother?” the young lady asks, and my heart drops to my feet.
I open my mouth and try forming words, but only babble comes out. Composing myself, I pull Estherly’s diary from my bag and offer it to the woman.
“I believe this belongs to her. Is your great grandmother also known as Estherly Rose?”
Taking the diary, she only stares at me. She flips the cover open and goes through a couple pages before bringing her gaze to mine. “How did you get this?”
“My neighbor in Seattle had boxes in his attic that belonged to a late family member of your great grandmother’s.”
“Wow,” she says. She brings her eyes up from the book and places them on me. “You came here to return this?”
I clear my throat. “Well, I came here because I was hoping I could meet Estherly or some of the others mentioned in these pages.”
The young woman opens the screen door wider and motions for me to come in. When I step inside, I’m in awe of all the woodwork in the interior. It reminds me of the design of my home, and I find myself staring at it longer than appropriate. The décor is old-fashioned and doesn’t seem to suit the tastes of a twenty-something. A musty scent reminds me of how my grandmother’s house used to smell.
“Can you wait here a moment?”
“Of course. I’m really sorry I’ve disturbed you.”
“Oh, no, you’re fine. I was reading. Give me a minute, and I’ll get back with you. You can have a seat if you like.” She motions to a floral loveseat.
She walks down a hallway, and my heart pounds in my chest. Estherly is her great grandmother! I disco-style freak out and dance across the stranger’s living room floor. Estherly is her great grandmother!
“Miss, what did you say your name was again?” the woman calls from the hall.
“Ferrin Frazier. I’m here from Seattle,” I offer.
The young woman talks to someone, but I can’t make out the words. In my heart, I know this is the right place. I know Estherly is here. After reading her life and burrowing myself inside it, now that the moment is here, I don’t know what I’ll say to her.
Remember the Stars Page 13
