Remember the Stars

by Carraine Oldham

“I do,” she says in German. “Most of us have had to learn the language since the occupation.” She smiles with brilliant white teeth.

  I run my tongue over my teeth. They’re gritty and filthy, causing even more shame.

  “I asked what your name is, sweet girl,” she says.

  My words stumble from my lips. “Estherly.”

  “You’re all wet from the rain. Let’s get you near the fire and warm you both up. Sebastian!” she calls.

  An equally tall man comes into the room, in well-to-do clothing. Suddenly, I’m reminded that there was a time when my family was well-dressed, and embarrassment consumes me as I look down at the dirty rags I’m wearing. The woman places a hand on my back and escorts me to a blazing fire.

  “Are you hungry or thirsty?” Sebastian asks.

  I nod, unable to control the rumbling in my stomach.

  Sebastian leaves the room, and the woman ushers me onto a sofa and takes a seat near me. “My name is Aneta Kubis.”

  I smile, thankful I’ve come to the right house.

  “How old is your little one?”

  “He’s only four days old.”

  “I understand why you’re here, and I assure you that Sebastian and I can help you. We don’t have much time, though. It’s not safe for you in the city.”

  Looking down at my baby boy, tears stream from my eyes.

  Sebastian walks back into the room and places a loaf of bread and a cup on the table.

  “I can hold the baby for you while you eat,” Aneta says. “Is it a boy or girl?”

  “Boy,” I say, not handing the baby over. I can’t let him go yet.

  “It’s okay, dear heart,” says Aneta. “He’ll be fine. You need to eat while you can.”

  “We can give you some goods to take back with you as well,” says Sebastian. “Have some bread.”

  Glancing at each of them, I hold tight to my little one as kindness radiates from each of their eyes. I kiss the baby on the cheek and hand him over to Aneta, and then grab the bread and the cup, which is filled with milk.

  Cradling my son, Aneta coos. “He’s precious. What’s his name?”

  “I call him Meir, because it means one who gives light, and he’s the sole light in my life. He’s my little star.”

  Aneta nods. “What a remarkable name.”

  Sebastian leaves the room again and returns with a book. Opening it, he writes inside. I peek at what he scribbles and see Meir’s name.”

  “What is his last name?” Sebastian asks. “We keep this record so that when the war ends you can find your child.”

  “Faust,” I say, giving him his father’s surname.

  I finish the bread and milk and stare at Meir in Aneta’s arms.

  “Let me quickly explain how this works,” Sebastian says. “Tomorrow, our connection will relocate the baby to London. Only Aneta and our partner will know where Meir will be taken. He will go to a loving family. We can assure you of that. He will be safe. When the war is over, come back here to this house, and we will give you instructions on how to find him.”

  “I know this is difficult,” says Aneta, handing Meir back to me. “We’ve helped many families. All the children we’ve helped flee are safe and well taken care of.”

  “Klara and Oskar told me how to find you. Are their children okay?”

  “I remember them,” says Sebastian. “Yes, my dear, their son and daughter are well and being cared for in the English countryside, safe from the war.”

  “This area is heavily patrolled after curfew. We must hurry,” Aneta says with a sense of urgency in her tone.

  Looking down at big blue eyes, every part of my heart shatters. For a moment, I think of running out the front door and hiding with Meir in the forest again. Then, all sorts of terrible scenarios play out in my mind, and I know I have to let him go. I pull him close to me and kiss him over and over as tears stream down my face. With shaking hands, I give my baby back to Aneta. In my mind, I tell myself we’ll see each other again, but it doesn’t keep my soul from being crushed.

  “You must be very careful getting back to where you’re hiding,” Sebastian says. “Take the alleyways when you can and stick to the shadows.” He extends a hand to me, but I can’t force my body to move.

  “It’ll be okay, dear. We will take care of him tonight, and I promise he will be in good hands on his journey,” Aneta says, rising from the couch with Meir in her arms.

  The love she already has for my son is written in her expression, and it comforts me. Sebastian walks away and comes back with a bag. I look inside when he hands it to me and see potatoes and bread, enough to feed our group for a week.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have more. We had another visitor last night who took most of our supplies,” he says.

  Sebastian and Aneta walk me to the foyer.

  “Is there anything else we can help with? Do you need fresh undergarments or socks? Perhaps a new pair of shoes?” Aneta asks.

  I nod. “That would all be wonderful.”

  Aneta looks at Sebastian, and he’s up the stairs in seconds flat. He returns with the clothing and a pair of shoes wrapped in them, and then puts them in the bag with the food.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “You’re welcome,” they say, in unison.

  Sebastian’s hand grabs the doorknob, and my feet freeze. “Wait,” I say. From around my neck, I pull off the locket Henry gave me, and I place it on Meir’s tummy. “Please make sure this stays with him. Please tell whoever takes him to let him know that I love him with my whole heart. I did this for him.”

  “You’re selfless,” Aneta says.

  “You’re doing the right thing,” Sebastian echoes.

  Bending over him, I give Meir one last kiss before I dart from the door and down the stairs.

  I run to the nearest dark alley and collapse, sobbing. Guilt overwhelms me as I question if I’ve done the right thing. My chest aches with a physical pain like I’ve never felt before, and I crouch into a corner and cry. My mind tells me that I’ve done the best thing I can do for Meir, but my heart can’t accept it.

  Chapter 21 – Ferrin

  Walking into Oma’s home, I’m overwhelmed with feelings of welcoming, warmth, and love. Jam packed with people, there’s barely room to move through the living room. Helene takes my hand and leads me through the crowd, introducing me to her family members as we pass them by.

  “I want you to meet my great-grandmother’s children first. You’ll have a chance to talk with everyone before you leave.”

  In the corner of the room, I spot Oma sitting in a wheelchair, her gray hair pulled back in a beautiful braid and a grin stretched from ear-to-ear, observing all the goings-on. I wave, and she waves back, her smile growing larger. Next to her, in a row, sit three women in their sixties or seventies, all with dark hair and eyebrows, each with Estherly’s round, dark eyes. Immediately, I know these are Estherly’s girls.

  “Bubbe, this is Ferrin,” Helene says, as we approach the women.

  Standing, one of them offers her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Anika. You can call me Ani. I’m Estherly’s oldest daughter.”

  Tears build in my eyes as I shake her hand and pull her in for a hug. “I’m sorry. I’m a hugger,” I say.

  “You’re going to fit right in with our family,” says Ani.

  “Your mom named you after her sister,” I say, as a tear trickles down my cheek.

  Letting go of me, Ani nods. “I rarely go by Anika, but yes, I’m named after my aunt. Let me introduce you to my sisters,” she says, turning back to the other women.

  The other two women stand and take steps nearing me. “Hello, Ferrin, I’m Kate. Thank you for bringing my mother’s diaries home to us.”

  “You’re very welcome,” I say, as I throw my arms around her. “Thank you all for having me here.”

  Releasing her, I turn to the last woman, waiting for our introduction.

  “I’m Lila, Estherly’s youngest daughter. As m
y sister said, thank you so much for bringing my mom’s diaries back. It’s a little miracle that you found them.”

  “Let the girl sit,” Oma says, which causes all of us to laugh.

  Walking over, I bend and take her into my arms. “Hi. How are you today?”

  “Still old.” She laughs. “I’m excited for you to meet everyone.” She motions to an empty chair next to her. “You sit here. I saved this seat for you. Now, tell me, what did you learn about my shvester’s story?”

  “That means ‘sister,’” Helene says.

  “You’ll have to excuse us,” Kate says. “We do use a lot of Yiddish.”

  “I love it. I don’t know much about the language so it’s beautiful hearing it,” I say.

  “Bubbe means grandmother,” Helene says. “That’s what I call my grandma.”

  “I was wondering about that,” I reply.

  Helene points. “Do you see the woman over there by the piano?”

  I turn and find who she’s speaking of. “I do.”

  “That’s my mother, Charlotte, and standing next to her with the salt-and-pepper hair, that’s my father, Charles.”

  “You look a lot like your mother,” I say.

  “We all look like either Mame or Auntie Oma,” says Kate.

  “You’re all stunning,” I say, meaning every word. Each of them has porcelain skin, and while each of Estherly’s daughters has graying hair, except Lila, they do resemble Estherly and Oma to a T.

  “You girls back off. I want to know what Ferrin learned from reading your mother’s diary,” Oma says.

  I catch an eyeroll accompanied by a smile from Kate.

  “Well, I read about Estherly giving birth and having to give Meir up. I must’ve cried for an hour straight. Sam is probably so tired of me.”

  “I wouldn’t think so, dear,” Oma says. “He keeps coming back for more, which tells me he either has feelings for you or he’s fascinated with Estherly’s story.”

  Feeling flush, I pass Oma’s words off. If Sam had a thing for me, he would’ve made a move by now, I think. “What happened to Meir?” I ask, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

  “Mame never found him,” says Ani, and my heart breaks.

  I’m rendered speechless thinking that Estherly never found her son.

  “She and Daddy searched for him their whole lives,” Kate says.

  “We have, too,” Lila says.

  “We’ve tried searching for any record of the Kubis family, but they were killed by the Nazis because they were helping the Jews,” Helene says. “We also searched for the people that took Meir when great-grandma had to give him away but were unsuccessful in finding out who they were.

  Oma takes a deep breath and blows it out. The sorrow laces her tone. My heart echoes her sadness. Feeling some of her pain, I take Oma’s hand into mine.

  “I’m so sorry Estherly never found Meir. That truly breaks my heart.” I look at Helene and Estherly’s daughters. “It must be awful knowing he’s out there somewhere.”

  Ani lowers her eyes to the floor. “I wish we could’ve found him before Mame passed. It was her one dream.”

  “You don’t happen to have any information about him, do you?” asks Lila.

  “I’m sorry. I wish I did. I’ve only recently learned about him. I honestly thought one of you was Henry’s child.”

  Oma squeezes my hand, and, in this moment, I vow to myself that I will do all I can to gather more information about Meir for them. I know I probably can’t give them any more answers than they’ve already found, but I will try my hardest.

  “Where did you end in Mame’s story?” asks Kate.

  “The last diary entry we read ended with your mother taking Meir to the Kubises and returning to the other escapees.”

  “Now you see why I wanted you to read it, rather than hearing it from my lips. Estherly’s story has a greater impact when you hear it from her,” Oma says.

  I nod, agreeing. “It was very powerful and will leave a lasting impression on me.”

  From a table near Oma’s wheelchair, Helene pulls a pile of photographs. “Auntie Oma wanted us to share these with you.”

  Everyone leans in as I take the stack of images from Helene and go through them.

  “This is Mame with me the day I was born,” Ani says, pointing to a photograph of Estherly in a hospital bed, holding a tiny baby. “She’s so overjoyed, yet I’ve always seen a sadness in her eyes because I know my birth made her think of my brother.”

  “I think each of our births reminded her of Meir,” Kate speaks up.

  I flip to the next photo.

  “That’s me,” says Kate. “I was the best-looking baby out of all three of us,” she jokes.

  “No,” Lila says. “Look at the next photograph, and you be the judge. I was the most adorable baby.”

  All three of the sisters laugh.

  Oma shakes her head with a smirk on her face. “You were all hideous compared to my Leah.”

  Everyone busts out laughing, and it helps relieve some of the tension in the air over Meir.

  “Was Estherly able to get a photo of Meir?” I ask. “It all went so fast in the diary, I wondered if anything was left out.”

  “It was extremely dangerous for Estherly to venture out of the forest; hell, it was dangerous for her to be alive. The story she tells in the diary is exactly how it happened. She wasn’t one for leaving out too many details,” Oma says.

  “I still can’t believe they forced her to give him up,” I say.

  “Times were very different then. Everything we did was based on surviving. Of course, my heart was ripped to shreds for what my sister endured, but I understand why they made her do it. If Meir had cried when soldiers were near, they would’ve been found and murdered,” Oma says.

  “I commend Estherly for her decision. A lot of women couldn’t have done what she did. It must’ve taken so much strength for her to let him go,” I say.

  “Giving up Meir changed my sister forever. There wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t mourn him,” Oma says.

  “Daddy and mom searched for him for so long, but you have to understand the resources weren’t there like they are now,” Lila says, as if trying to convince me of Estherly and Oren’s intentions.

  I shake my head, wishing there were a way to help this family.

  “Even with the resources of today, we can’t locate him,” Helene says. “The Kubises, who were killed, left no records of what happened to the children they rescued.”

  The group of women fall silent as if each is lost in the sorrow of Meir’s circumstances.

  “We’re being rude,” Lila says, interrupting the moment. “Ferrin, aren’t you hungry? We’ve prepared some delicious food for you. Most are my mom’s and Auntie Oma’s recipes.”

  I salivate at her words.

  “Come,” says Ani. “Let’s get some meat on those bones.”

  I laugh and pinch more than an inch of belly fat. Standing, I follow Ani to a table filled with food. Looking down on it, the aroma causes my mouth to water.

  “Have you eaten Jewish food before?” Ani asks.

  “I haven’t,” I reply. “It looks and smells wonderful.”

  From the end of the table, Ani motions for me to grab a plate. “My husband, Jack, prepared this side dish. He’s the family chef. It was my Mame’s secret recipe. She gave it to him right before she left us. She made him promise not to tell anyone what her secret ingredient was until it was his time to leave this world. He hasn’t even told me. Can you imagine that?” she asks.

  I smile. “It looks so good.”

  “They are to die for. They’re called latkes. Do you like potatoes?”

  “I do,” I say.

  “They are like potato pancakes, except fried in lots of oil. They actually have an interesting backstory.”

  Grabbing one and placing it on my plate, I look at Ani, awaiting the tale that comes along with this yummy-looking food.

  “B
ack in 164 BCE, after the Jews won a rebellion against their Syrian rulers, their holy temple was desecrated. They only had a little olive oil left for lighting the menorah. Somehow, a miracle if you will, the candles stayed lit for eight days. So, to honor that, we deep-fry everything.”

  “That’s fascinating,” I say, looking at the little cakes sitting on my plate.

  “You can eat them with applesauce, sour cream, or sometimes cranberry sauce, which we don’t have out,” Ani says.

  “I think I’ll try them with both, if that’s okay.”

  “You help yourself to anything you like. You’re our guest. I bet we could get someone to go to the store and get cranberry sauce if you’d like to try them that way.”

  “Thank you so much, but I don’t want to put anyone out.”

  “We’ll get one of the younger kids to go if you need anything. Perhaps Helene’s brother Brandon. Now here.” She points to round, doughy balls floating in a broth with parsley and carrots. “This is matzoh ball soup. I’m sure you’ve heard of it before.”

  “Yes, I have, and I’ve always wanted to try it.”

  “Grab a bowl and eat as much as you like, but I warn you, once you try them, you’re going to be addicted.”

  Doing as she says, I grab an exquisite china bowl and fill it with the soup. Once the bowl is full, Ani calls Helene over and she takes it to a table for me.

  “This beautiful bread is called challah. Helene woke up early this morning to bake it for you. This is Auntie Oma’s recipe, which she learned how to make from my grandmother, Ruth. Before they were deported to the ghetto, Bubbe Ruth would set Mame and Auntie Oma down in the kitchen and make them learn how to prepare this each Saturday. This is also highly addictive. It’s crispy on the outside and fluffy inside. I like it with butter but dipping it in the soup is also tasty.”

  “What’s this?” I ask, pointing to what looks similar to a quiche.

  “This is a little sweet but served as a side dish also. It’s noodles, sour cream, cream cheese, eggs, cinnamon, and almonds. It’s called kugel. You can make it with potatoes, and then it’s like a giant tater tot, but this one is what we call sweet kugel. This is my recipe. My mame taught me how to make it, but I added the almonds and sometimes raisins, and she didn’t particularly care for that. I left raisins out of this one in case you didn’t like them. Trust me, it’s sweet enough without them.”