“Nazi pig!” they yell, as they bash in his skull.
I take a step back. I’m horrified when rage and anger lurk in the men’s eyes. The fury that has built up in them from the way we’re treated comes out with each blow. I’m helpless as Henry cowers with each hit from the men. Words catch in my throat as I try to scream for them to stop. I want to run and throw myself in front of him to save him, but to do so would mean risking my life, and our child’s. My body jolts with each blow Henry suffers, and it’s all I can do to keep standing and not crumble to the ground myself.
The sound of gunfire scatters the men and they run away in different directions. Fear grips my heart as I look at him lying on the ground in a crumpled heap. I gasp at the sight of all the blood he lies in. Motionless on his side, his back faces me. A gush of blood flows from a gash on the top of his skull.
“Henry,” I say, in a whisper as I step nearer. Dropping to my knees, I fear what in my heart I already know. Refusing to believe it, I shake his lifeless body as if trying to wake him from sleep. Pain strikes deep in my chest and uncontrollable wails escape from my core. Grabbing his head, I turn him towards me and see the once vibrant blue eyes, that were full of life, dull and vacant.
“Oh, Henry!” I cry, as I take his battered head and place it in my lap. Raking my fingers through his bloodied hair, I whisper words of love.
People race past me, oblivious to the pain I suffer. A lump forms in my throat as I repeat Henry’s name and the words “I love you.”
Feeling the warmth of his skin makes it hard for me to believe he’s gone.
A voice calls my name from behind, but I don’t turn. There’s a tug on my elbow, but I shake it away.
“Estherly, what are you doing?” This time, I recognize my father’s voice. He helps me to my feet, and I fall into his arms.
“I…I—”
My father pushes me from his embrace and puts his finger to my lips. “You don’t have to explain, my sweet girl. I understand,” he says.
“I can’t leave him like this, Papa,” I say.
“There is nothing you can do for him now, dear,” he says, as he pushes me back towards our apartment. I fight and scream to stay with Henry, but my father overpowers me and forces me through the door.
Once inside our apartment, my mother rushes to my side.
“Estherly, what happened?” she asks, looking at the fresh blood covering me.
I catch her eyes and follow her gaze to my hands and dress. I’m sickened with anguish at the thought of Henry’s blood on me. Rushing to the sink, I turn the water on and place my hands under it. Red swirls around the sink and down the drain. As I watch it disappear, I’m still in disbelief that it’s Henry’s blood and that he’s gone.
After drying my hands on the sides of my blood-soaked dress, I run to one of the bedrooms to my suitcase where I keep my clothes and grab a clean one. Ripping the soiled one off, I use it to wipe down my stomach and thighs, where Henry’s head rested. Once cleaned, I put the new dress on. Sobbing, I fall to the floor as my parents both come through the doorway. They both kneel and put their arms around me, but not even their embrace can soothe my agony.
“They’re coming!” Gisse screams, from the living area.
Breaking away from my parents, I jump to my feet and grab my coat. Putting it on, my parents look at me with puzzled expressions.
“Estherly, it’s hot,” my father says.
“I know, but if we are being forced to leave, I’m taking my valuables,” I say, with tears still streaming down my face. Going to the loose floorboard, I pull it up and take out my diary, the locket Henry gave me, photographs, and four sharp pencils. Stuffing them into my pockets, I put the board back in place and walk over to my parents. Taking them both in my arms, we say a prayer as the pounding on our door signifies the Nazis are here to take us. Flinging open the front door, three soldiers burst into the living area, demanding that we go out to the sidewalk and await further instructions. We go quietly and without a fight because there’s no use in resisting, and we saw what happened to Anika. Reaching the sidewalk, we gather with a large group of other Jewish families awaiting our fate.
“Stay where you are!” yells a large soldier, waving a gun at the crowd of people.
I nearly gasp when Henry lies still in the place where I left him. Everything in me wants to run to him and lie down next to his still body. My eyes sting as tears fall down my cheeks.
“Who is responsible for this?” the soldier screams, as he points his gun towards Henry’s body.
The crowd remains silent, and no one makes a single move. I look at the ground, avoiding eye contact with the soldiers as they walk back and forth in front of us, waiting for an answer. Bringing my eyes up, I stare at Henry and feel my heart crush under the massive weight of grief. I’m unable to control the tears that pour from my eyes. I look to my left and gasp when two of the men that bludgeoned Henry to death stand near me. Taking a slight step forwards, revealing their identities to the soldiers is the first thought that crosses my mind. But, when I look closer at their faces, I not only see but feel the terror in their gazes. Terror I understand. I wonder how I can care for and loathe these two individuals all at the same time. I know in my heart they thought they were saving me from Henry. Taking that slight step backwards, I situate myself back in line unnoticed.
My breath hitches in my throat, and the world around me spins. A hand takes mine, and I look to my side and see my mother staring back at me with sympathetic eyes. I’m not sure when my father was able to explain about Henry, but looking into my mother’s kind yet terrified eyes, I know she understands. The sun beats down on my body as the sounds of the soldiers yelling echoes around me. No one comes forwards, claiming the murder of my beloved, which only infuriates his fellow soldiers.
Pointing, they choose people from the crowd and pick them out of the lines. I wait for them to select me, and I greet my death with open arms. How can I survive without Henry?
They pass by, and I almost want to give a reaction so they’ll pull me from the crowd and end my misery, but I can’t allow myself to hurt my parents. I’m relieved when they don’t choose my mother or father. We all know what happens when you’re picked out of a crowd this way, and I brace myself, waiting for the fire of the guns. It happens in an instant, and now the street is littered with the bodies of those they pulled from the crowd. Another soldier runs around the corner, reaching the others. I tilt my head, trying to hear what they speak of, but can’t make anything out. A decision seems to be made when they holler at us to move.
Now that they’ve made an example of some of us, they march us down the street by shoving us with their weapons and screaming.
The streets are now deserted as soldiers herd us out the gates of the ghetto. I’m in a group of at least one hundred Jews. Centered between my parents, I hold both of their hands. Gisse walks ahead of me, holding Illa tight in her arms. I look around and don’t see any sign of Yoel, Roza, or Asher. The heat of the day beats down with such force, my head is woozy, and I wobble a bit on my feet. Sweat trickles down my back as I struggle to keep pace with my parents. I don’t dare remove my coat with my treasures tucked deep inside my hidden pockets. So far, wearing a coat in summer has gone unnoticed. Warmth dries the tears on my cheeks, and I squeeze my parents’ hands. I assume that we’re being marched to the trains, where we’ll be taken to work camps, but I wish I could speak to my father and gather his ideas about what’s going on. Bile rises in my throat as the soldiers don’t let up and keep us walking at a brisk pace. We walk past a crowd of locals, and they shout at us, “filthy Jews!” Anger grows in my chest, and it takes all I have not to lash back at them. How dare they treat us this way simply because we are Jewish!
My mind flashes to a memory of dancing with Henry in the barn back in Berlin. I’d give anything to go back in time and have him in my arms once again, but I’m no fool. I know that happier times have blown away like leaves in the wind.
Suddenly, the soldiers halt our stride and yell for us to turn left. We come to an empty field. In the middle of the overgrown land, there’s a massive ditch. Ahead of us are scuffles. Women cry and men shout. Letting go of my mother and father’s hands, I lean to the side and try to get a peek over hundreds of heads. At first, I wonder what type of work they could possibly have us doing in a giant empty field, and then men, women, and children are forced to strip down to nothing. Horror strikes as I realize the ditch is meant to be a mass grave. Panicking, I search around me for a way to escape, but with so many soldiers holding automatic weapons standing around us, there’s no way I’d make it through.
“Mame,” I say, new tears staining my cheeks.
My mother wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight. From behind me, my father takes hold of me as well, while my mother and I cry together.
“You there, break apart and take off your clothes,” shouts an angry soldier.
Not knowing what else to do, we follow instructions. I’m too distraught to worry about being naked in front of so many.
“Bring your clothes with you!” screams another man, shoving a pistol in my side.
Resting my dress, undergarments, and my coat on my arm, I walk when I’m pressed forwards, along with my parents, towards the ditch. Part of me is glad this is the end. At least now I won’t have to live without Anika, Henry, Oma, Mae, and Gavi. Looking to my mother, humiliation steals hope from her eyes as she uses her clothes to cover her breasts. My father, proud as ever, stands tall and links his arm with my mother’s. When we near the embankment, we’re instructed to place our clothes onto a pile where those before us have left theirs. People shout in front of me, and those ahead are forced to run towards the ditch. My body quakes with the rapid fire of machine guns as half of our group falls dead into the chasm.
A jab in my side from a weapon thrusts me forwards, and now I’m running alongside my parents, stealing petrified glances with them. I mouth, I love you, to both of them because I know it’ll be the last time I’ll get to tell them. We’re forced into the ditch, crawling over corpses, until we’re told to hold still. After looking up at the soldiers in the firing squad lined at the top of the pit, I close my eyes and await my fate.
“Estherly, I love you,” my mother says, and her voice is a sweet song, taking away some of my fear.
At least I’ll die by their sides, I think, right before shots start firing.
I’m knocked down and feel heaviness upon me. The firing ceases, a commotion goes on above, and feet beat the ground. The sounds trail away, and I’m left wondering if this is what death sounds like. I’m unable to catch my breath and gasp for air when everything goes black.
The cricket songs of night awaken me. Why am I alive? With an obstructed view, I can barely make out the gleaming stars in the sky. Their shimmers bring Henry to mind and it shatters my heart. I’m crippled when I realize I’m pinned by stiff bodies. Pushing, I lift them off me, and the air cools my bare skin. The bright, glowing moon shines above, lighting the pit. I whip my head around, searching for Nazis or people from the town and find the field eerily empty. Anxiety races through my veins. Turning, I’m mortified and crushed when I realize the bodies I pushed off me are my parents’. Falling onto them, I wrap my arms around them and hold them tight as I cry restrained screams. Even in their deaths, they’ve kept me safe. Letting go, I take their hands and place them over each other’s. Brushing dirt from each of their faces, my cheeks soak with more tears. Whispering their names, I caress their cold skin and pray for them.
Survival instincts kick in and outweigh grief while I crawl from the pit. I search for the pile where we were told to leave our clothes. I know I must cover my body as soon as possible and flee this area before I’m caught.
Looking around, I find the heap of clothes and search for my things by the radiance of the moon. As I toss other’s garments aside, I choose a pair of pants and tug them on. They’re too big, but my only concern is covering myself. I grab a blouse and pull it over my head, searching the field around me. Relief overwhelms me when I spot my coat. Picking it up, I put it on. I check the pockets, and I’m comforted when I find my cherished goods still safe inside. Knowing I’ll need more warmth, even though it’s summer, I grab various items, shoving them in the pockets. Picking up a pair of shoes, I try them on. They’re not mine, nor do they fit, so I reach for another pair, all the while keeping watch around me. My heart is going to beat out of my chest from anxiety. I ice over at a noise off to the side of me. In the shadows, I make out figures and know my luck has run out.
I curl up into the clothes, trying to hide. Whispers come from all around me, and I await my death, but again, it doesn’t come. Instead, I find myself staring into dark eyes. A tall brunette woman with a narrow nose and a broad forehead puts her finger to her lips. I know from the looks of her that she’s not a Nazi. She’s one of us.
“Do you speak German?” she asks.
Nodding, I take her hand, and she pulls me from the heap, then goes about, taking items from the pile. I follow her lead and search for more clothing. The woman takes hold of my arm with one hand and signals for me to follow her with the other. We race across the field. Behind me, others scuffle through weeds. I wonder if these people also lived through the firing pit or if they’re escapees from the ghetto that I’ve heard rumors of.
I pant as we rush through a grove of thick trees, and a sense of horror still lingers, along with the heartache of losing my parents and Henry.
We run for so long that I lose track of any sense of time, and I’m exhausted. My feet ache in the shoes I chose from the pile, and I think they may be bleeding.
“Can we stop?” I ask, in a huff.
“Shh, keep running,” the woman whispers. “It’s not safe yet.”
In the distance, I spot a shack hidden within tall trees. As we make our way forwards, I listen to the sounds of the others traipsing through the dark forest. Twigs crack, and an earthy smell rises from the forest floor. We finally make it to the shack. Someone opens the door, and we run through it. Only moonlight through windowpanes illuminates the small cabin. Inside, I find dirty faces staring back at me. There are blankets on the ground and three other people. Behind me, three men and one other woman, besides the one who helped me, come into the shack.
“Who the hell is she?” asks a man, resting on the floor.
“I found her by the trench,” says the woman I followed here.
“Thank you,” I say, before anyone else can speak.
“We don’t need another mouth to feed,” says the same man who questioned who I am.
The woman I followed turns to me. “What’s your name?” she asks in a low tone.
“Estherly,” I respond, mimicking her whisper.
“I’m Klara Dentz. Were you in Łódź?”
“Yes,” I say.
“You’re lucky. You probably survived because there was an uprising in the ghetto and all the soldiers in the firing squad headed back, otherwise they would’ve kept shooting till they knew everyone was dead.”
I wonder if her statement is true. Am I lucky? I’ve lost all those I love, and now I’m alone in the world. All I have is my little one, the only thing besides the locket and the stars that I have left of my sweet Henry.
Thinking of my unborn child, my hands rush to my belly, and I worry what impact all this stress will have on it. Looking down, I whisper to my baby, “It’ll be okay.”
“Are you with child?” Klara asks.
I nod.
“She can’t stay here,” calls out a woman in the corner whose features I can’t make out.
Another couple speaks in what I now recognize as Polish. They seem to fire questions back and forth at each other that are laced with confusion.
“We can’t send her back out there. She’s a young girl. I won’t turn her away,” Klara scolds. “You’ll stay here with us, but you must contribute, and you must do as we say at all times. The soldiers patrol the woods often,
and you’re no safer here than you were in the ghetto. You need to be on the lookout at all times. This is my husband, Oskar,” she motions towards one of the men who came in the door behind us. He’s taller than her by a few inches, has a dark receding hairline, wide set, dark eyes, and a pointed nose. “As long as you do as we say and do not get us into trouble, we will help protect you.”
Klara walks to one corner of the room and brings a blanket back with her. “This is for you. I can share with Oskar tonight and we can see about finding you another. It may be summer, but it gets cold in the forest at night. You’ll rest with us over there,” she points to the middle of the room. “If we say move, you move, and you do so fast.” Walking to the back of the room, Klara waves for me to follow her. She takes my hand into hers. “I can’t assume I know what you’ve been through, but by the looks of you, it’s awful. You must try not to cry and try not to make a sound over a hush while we’re here. Do you understand?”
Overwhelmed with emotions, all I can do is nod.
“Rest now,” she points to the floor.
The glares of those around me burn, but I try to ignore them as I take a place on the ground. Klara sits next to me and Oskar joins her. With the weight of the day and tear-filled eyes, I drift off to sleep.
Chapter 19 – Ferrin
Sitting on the edge of my hotel room bed, I take in a deep breath and let it out. When I woke up this morning, I had a sinking feeling over what I read in Estherly’s diary. Part of me knew something had to have happened to Henry, but I never imagined it would be as horrible as it was. Before I learned his fate, a doubt crossed my mind, and I’d wondered if maybe he left Estherly because she was pregnant. I curse myself for thinking he’d ever do such a thing to the woman he loved.
A tear falls from one of my eyes for Henry, and then another for Estherly’s parents and Estherly. Reading the entry in the diary last night, Sam and I were on the edges of our seats. We stayed on the phone well past one in the morning, talking about what we’d read and wondering how my visit with Oma would go today.
Remember the Stars Page 15
