“There, there, little one,” I whisper, as the kicking continues.
My heart flutters thinking of the tiny life growing inside me, a life Henry and I made together. Twinges of pain stab at my heart thinking of Henry and his fate.
“Estherly,” a whisper comes from behind me.
I turn.
Klara stands with her hands on her hips. Her turned-down mouth and narrowed eyes suggest she is less than happy to find me soaking. “You were sent out to fill the bucket, not play.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. It looked so inviting,” I say, sloshing my way out of the creek, I slide my shoes back on and walk towards the full bucket. I reach down for it, and Klara stops me. Without a word, she picks up the water pail. We head back to the shack. Once inside, Klara sets the pail down so that we and the rest of the group can fill cups.
I’ve spent the past eight months in hiding with the same people, and yet most of them still make me uncomfortable. I know from how unfriendly they are that I’m unwanted and so is my unborn baby. More than once, I’ve heard snide remarks. Sometimes, they’re not even kind enough to bother speaking behind my back and they say cruel things directly to me. I do my best to keep to myself and thank God each day for Klara and Oskar. Keeping with my chores and always obeying what they say, I’m fortunate enough to be in their good graces.
Life in the forest is risky. We always have to be on the watch for Nazis. It took me many months before I could sleep through the night. Every day is a struggle. Finding food is difficult. Seeking secure shelter is a challenge when we feel unsafe in the shack. We constantly live in fear. Two months ago, we lost a member of our party when we were ambushed after stealing food and supplies from a nearby farm. My life has become a never-ending battle for survival. I do everything I can to make it through each day and protect my baby.
Pain surges throughout my body, waking me from sleep. Wetness pools between my thighs, and I know the moment I’ve both dreaded and anxiously awaited is here. Leaning over, I shake Klara. When she wakes, eyes wide and on guard, I know she thinks the Nazis have come.
“The baby is coming,” I whisper.
Without a word, Klara wakes Oskar, and then gets up from the floor. We’ve had so many conversations about what we would do when the baby came that each of us knows exactly what move to make as though we’re a perfectly choreographed dance team. Oskar’s job is to keep watch while Klara takes me into the forest. Not speaking, I take Oskar’s hand as he helps pull me from the ground.
A contraction hits hard, and it takes all I can not to make a sound and wake the others. In the corner of the room, Ezra keeps post while glaring at me. Klara grabs me by the waist and ushers me out the door, followed by Oskar.
Walking towards the thick of the forest, Oskar stays behind to keep a look-out for possible danger. Another contraction stabs at my abdomen and back, nearly knocking me to the ground.
“Keep moving, honey,” Klara says, in a hushed tone.
“I can’t. It hurts too much,” I say, trying not to scream from the pain that fills my body.
“A little bit farther, Estherly. You can do this.”
Grabbing my arm, she urges me forwards. I take a few steps but the pressure to push overcomes me and I stop and lower myself to the ground. Lying on my back, I look up through the trees and see the glittering flicker of stars. This is it, Henry, our baby is coming. I think, as another contraction strikes. Kneeling by my side Klara takes my hand.
“I know it’s difficult, but you have to keep as quiet as possible.”
“I’ll try,” I say, focusing my eyes on our stars above.
The pain subsides for a few minutes, and I look up at Klara, who stares down at me with a comforting smile.
“Thank you for taking care of us.”
Never one to openly accept gratitude with more than a “you’re welcome,” Klara only continues smiling. With her hand, she brushes a stray hair off my forehead. Worry wrinkles the skin around her eyes, and guilt swells in my chest for risking her life by being a part of this.
“I’m sorry I’m putting the group in danger.”
“You’re worth the risk.” She grins. “You’re like a daughter to me and Oskar.”
I grab her hand and squeeze as pain ravages my body. Although I do wish my mother were here for the birth of my child, I’m overcome with gratitude that I have Klara and I’m not alone.
Klara releases my hand and makes her way between my legs to check the progress of labor. Another contraction hits, stronger this time, and I throw one hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. This process repeats for what seems like an endless amount of time. The sun rises and eventually sets again, all while I try to focus on Henry and our baby instead of the agony of birth.
After a while, Oskar peeks around a tree and asks if we’re doing okay. Klara waves him away with a smile, and even through the pain, I appreciate their obvious adoration for each other.
A strong contraction ripples through my body. I grab at the dirt around me, hoping it will distract me from some of the pain. A new wave of torment surges through me, my head goes foggy, and I can’t control my breathing.
“Deep, slow breaths,” Klara soothes. “It won’t be long now. Breathe with me.”
For a few minutes, I’m able to keep my breaths steady with hers, but it doesn’t take long for me to bite down on my hand to avoid wailing with pain. When I think it couldn’t get any worse, my insides feel as though they explode.
After checking my progress again, Klara says, “The baby’s ready to come. I want you to push as hard as you can now.”
Klara lifts my torso by pulling my arms, and I grunt as sweat pools and drips down my forehead. I push. I push and hold in the cries of pain I wish I could let out. It seems like my efforts are worthless. The baby simply won’t come.
“Keep pushing, dear,” Klara says. “I know it’s hard but keep pushing. The baby’s almost here.”
Finally, after several more pushes, my child leaves my body, and I wait for it to cry.
“Estherly, it’s a boy!” Klara says, with tear filled eyes, placing my son on my chest. Large, beautiful, blue eyes resembling his father’s stare back at me. Wrapping my arms around his tiny body, I hold him close to my chest. He does not cry but makes soft cooing noises that melt my heart instantly.
“He’s perfect,” I say, placing a kiss on the top of his head.
“He sure is and look at all that hair!”
“He is so beautiful,” I say, as tears stream down my face.
Never have I felt a love so pure in all my life, until this moment. Using blankets she had grabbed before we left the shack, Klara helps me fold him into them. After I lie with him in my arms for a while, Klara takes the baby from me so I’m able to stand up, and we head back towards the shack. Oskar meets us halfway and smiles when he sees the little bundle in Klara’s arms. Stopping at the creek, we wash the baby with rags that we warm using our body heat, and I’m able to clean myself as well.
Tracing my finger over tiny lips makes my heart swell with love. For the past four days, I have been in complete adoration of my son. He reminds me so much of Henry, but he has my lips and nose. I almost forget about the terrible world around me when I look into his big, blue eyes. His small fingers wrap around my pinky as an argument from across the room startles me.
“Either you tell her, or I will,” says Ezra. He leans into Klara and Oskar, jabbing at Oskar’s chest. I glimpse a sheen of sweat on Ezra’s reddened forehead as he growls with anger.
“You will do no such thing!” Klara scolds.
Ezra glances over at me, his fist clenched and eyes cold. At that moment, I understand that the argument is about me. I wonder if he’s upset because I haven’t been pulling my weight since the baby was born. I tug my son closer to my chest and kiss the top of his head, taking in the sweet smell of him. Klara and Oskar walk over to me and sit down. Smiling at the baby, Klara brushes his cheek with the backs of her fingers.
“Estherly, we need to talk to you,” she says, as she takes my free hand in hers.
I look towards Oskar, and his eyes focus on the ground. I get the sense that he’s afraid to look at me.
“I will do better. I know I haven’t been doing my part, but I will do more,” I say.
“It’s not about that, honey, it’s about the baby,” Klara says.
The words pierce my heart. My baby, what does she mean, my baby? I hold my child tighter as I prepare for what she has to say.
“He’s not safe here anymore. The others feel that he’s a danger because he cries. They feel that it could cause us to get captured or worse, killed,” Klara says, with tear-filled eyes.
“I will keep him quiet. I’ll try my best,” I say, as wetness makes its way down my cheeks.
“Estherly, no, you don’t understand. He isn’t safe. The others will kill him,” Oskar says.
I gasp as the words leave his mouth. I shake my head in disbelief as fear strikes deep in my soul.
“They wouldn’t,” I say, through sobs. It’s unbelievable that one of my own people would hurt an innocent baby. After all we’ve seen and all we’ve suffered, how could they?
“In desperate times like we’re in, people are capable of anything. The rest of the group feels having a baby around is too risky. Their main concern is not getting caught. They will do what they feel needs to be done to survive,” Klara says.
“I won’t let anyone hurt him. I will die before I let someone do harm to my baby,” I say, clenching my teeth, my anger boiling.
“They won’t hesitate to kill you, and then they will kill him. You can’t win, Estherly,” Oskar says.
“Monsters! You’re all as bad as the Nazis!” I say, lowering my head to my son’s. I clench him tight as sadness overcomes me.
Klara places her hand on my knee. “Honey, listen to me. I know of a couple that can help you. They helped Oskar and me get our son and daughter out of Poland and save them from this awful life. I’ve told you about them before. If you take your baby to them, they can help you, too. They will get him out of here where he’ll be safe,” Klara says.
“No, I will never give him up! I’ll leave with him and try to make it on my own,” I say. As I attempt to get to my feet, Klara and Oskar pull me down.
“You will never survive on your own out there. We barely make it as a group. Taking the baby to the Kubis family will give him a chance. Not only will it save the baby from our group, but it will keep him out of danger from the Nazis. You know how difficult life is. Why not make your child’s life easier? I know it’s hard, but if you don’t do this, the result will be death for both of you. My sweet girl, part of being a mother is sacrificing for your children. Your job is to protect this boy at all costs, even if that means letting him go. Allow me to give you the address for the Kubises. Then you decide. Life or death. Hand me your diary and a pencil so I can write their information down for you,” Klara says.
In a daze, I hand her what she asks for. She writes the names Aneta and Sebastian Kubis and an address.
“It’s not far from here,” Oskar whispers. “You should be able to make it there and back in under an hour. We can walk you to the edge of the field and wait for you there.”
“No, I won’t give him up. I can take care of us on my own.”
Rising off the floor, I hold my son in one hand and gather my things with the other. I receive stares from the group as tears stream from my eyes.
“You will never make it by yourself, Estherly,” Oskar scolds.
“Please, think of your son!” Klara pleads.
“I am, and I’m what’s best for him. He needs me and I need him. He’s part of Henry. I can’t let him go like he means nothing. My baby is everything. He’s what keeps me breathing. I will not give him away.” I turn from them and head towards the door. Ezra opens it, and I glide by him, giving him a look of disgust.
Walking through the forest, my heart pounds with every step. I have no idea how far I am from the shack, but determination and adrenaline keep me moving. The cold stings my face as I snuggle my son close to my body, trying to keep him warm. The sun slinks down lower and lower, and I realize I need to find shelter. My baby fusses, and I need to feed him. I spot a tree and make my way to it. Sliding down the trunk, I use it to support my back as I sit and nurse my son. I can do this. I must do this. Beautiful, big eyes stare up at me as I stroke his tiny cheek and forehead. Listening to his cooing sounds melts my heart. In awe of my son, I forget for one moment about the predicament I’m in. Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the tree, allowing my son to finish feeding.
The crunching of leaves wakes me, and panic sets in when male voices call to each other. It’s my language, and I know — it’s Nazi soldiers. Looking down, my baby rests peacefully in my arms. With careful movements, I position his head so that I can cover my breast.
The footfall comes closer, and I know I must move quickly. I wonder how I’ll get away without them hearing. After a moment of quick thought, I tuck my child close to my chest and get on my knees. With my free hand, I brush the leaves from my path as I crawl. Dirt and rocks dig into my skin as I move as fast as I can without making too much noise. I’m only a few feet away from the tree and know this plan won’t work. Frantically, I scour the area for a hiding place. As if sent by God, I see it. Ten to twelve feet away is a drainage cylinder leading under a dirt wall. Taking a chance, I bolt for it. The men shout behind me, and I think they’ve heard me. Squeezing into the drain, I crawl deeper in, shredding the skin on my knees. The sound of soldiers running past the drain stuns me into place.
“I heard it over here!” calls a man.
Panic threatens to stop my heart when light fills the hole we’re tucked into. Scooting further inside, I escape the light and let out a slow, deep, quiet breath. I wait for an endless moment before they walk away, but they stay near enough that I can still hear them. My child stirs, and I know he’s about to cry. Doing the unthinkable, I place my hand over his tiny mouth. Under my palm, he hollers. Tears soak my cheeks as I listen to him struggling to breathe. Lifting my hand, I let him take a quick breath before placing it back over his face. Internally, I scream. What choice do I have? If I let him cry, they’ll surely find us. If I keep him silent, I’ll kill him. My fear of death isn’t stronger than my love for my baby. I lift my hand and resign to accepting whatever fate God has for us. As if a miracle from the heavens, I only hear soft sighs. I want to burst out with cries of joy, but know we need to keep quiet.
Hours pass and my body cramps as we stay secured in the drain.
When day breaks, it’s painful crawling out. Sticking my head out of the opening, I listen and hear nothing. My legs almost give way when I step out of the drain. In the morning light, I press my lips to my boy’s face, letting them linger there, inhaling his sweet scent. Running my nose over his hair, I say a prayer of thanks for keeping us safe but know what I must do.
Returning to the shack, I push open the door. The immediate scowls come as no shock, but I ignore them, stiffen my shoulders, and walk directly to Klara and Oskar. Leaping to her feet, Klara takes me and my child into her arms, and Oskar follows.
“I’ll take him to the Kubises,” I mutter.
“I know how hard this is on you. I had to make the same choice for my little ones, but you’re doing the right thing,” Klara whispers.
“It’s the best thing for him,” Oskar echoes.
My heart breaks as their words sink in. I know they’re right. I know I can’t make it on my own. All I have is my baby, and now I have to let him go. He’s all I have left of Henry, in the flesh. I must give him a chance at a better life, I think.
My breath catches in my throat as I slink down the narrow street. The slick, cold pavement stings my feet with each step I take. Removing my shoes was necessary to remain inconspicuous as I make my way to my destination. The soft tap of my shoes was enough to draw attention to me, so tying them around my neck was my only choic
e. The aroma of wood burning from chimneys in the homes I pass fills the air. I imagine the families inside — cozy in their beds, their children tucked into blankets, sleeping the night away while dreaming — as I walk the streets barefoot, clinging to my baby.
Under my coat, snuggled to my bosom, I’m grateful he sleeps. I worry the chilled air may wake him and he will cry, but the need to press on keeps me at a steady pace.
Lights ahead stop me dead in my tracks. Tires crackle over the wet road, coming closer, and I panic. Clouds move from the moon, revealing glimmering light. As if mocking me, I’m put under a spotlight. This is it, we’re dead. My knees give way, and I crash down on the hard, cold cement. I was a fool to think I could do this.
My baby stirs in my arms and brings me back to reality. This is all for him. He is worth this. He is everything. Holding him tight, I spring to my feet and run. Darkness engulfs us as I slip into an alley between two houses. I spot parked cars on my left. Ducking behind one of them, keeps us hidden. The threat from earlier passes by without noticing us. I memorized the address that Klara wrote down and went over the directions to the Kubis home a dozen times before I left. Knowing how close I am urges me to continue my mission. Dipping in and out of alleys, I read the numbers displayed on the homes. Approaching the address, I make my way up the steps while glancing around, making sure no one is near. With a trembling hand, I knock on the door, then turn around to look behind me. Footsteps from inside the home come towards the door, and my heart sinks.
A tall woman, with her blonde curls pinned up, answers the door. She smooths down her perfectly pressed, button-down, black dress. An air of sophistication emanates from her. She takes one look at me cradling my son and wearing filthy rags. Sticking her head out the door, she scans the street, then pulls me inside.
The woman asks something in a foreign language, presumably in Polish.
“Do you speak German?” I ask.
Remember the Stars Page 17
