Forced Journey

by Rosemary Zibart

But she suddenly stopped short. “I know where we can go! It will be perfect.”

  Excited, she began to run, and he followed. Five minutes later, she pointed to a stone building ahead. “Look at that, Werner. Isn’t it wunderbar?”

  He gazed, stunned. “It’s a castle, a real castle like in Germany, only smaller.” The castle had stone towers and little arched windows. How incredible to see such a thing in the middle of New York City!

  “Let’s go in,” exclaimed Anika. They rushed up the steps to a wooden door and pulled hard but it didn’t budge. Werner walked all around the building, peering in every window and checking each latch. Everything was locked tight. He looked at Anika. “Sorry.”

  She slumped down on the steps, pouting.

  Now he didn’t dare mention going to Second Avenue. Not when Anika’s idea of a wonderful place was a castle! He gazed away from the building over a low stone wall. Below was a lake; its water glimmered softly. In the distance, thousands of lights glittered from tall buildings ringing the park. The lights shone like a distant fairyland, friendly and cheerful. Then the shrill sound of a police car sounded. He shuddered. Were the police looking for them?

  Werner sat down next to Anika. “Come on, let’s not be unhappy. We could play another game like, like…‘hide and seek’.”

  She pressed her lips together in a sour frown. “That’s too dumm, Werner – playing ‘hide and seek’ when we’re really hiding and someone is really searching for us.”

  But a moment later, she stood up and the two started walking, not in any particular direction, just walking. As the night closed around them, they entered a thicket of small trees and bushes. A branch scratched Werner’s face, another caught on his shirt. They stumbled over logs and rocks. The path forked again and again, and he chose whichever way seemed right.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” Anika asked; she was trembling slightly.

  He shrugged. “We’re not lost, I promise.” But at that moment he stepped into a stream; the water quickly soaked his socks. The air was becoming chilly. He could barely hear noises from the city. It seemed as if they were the only live things in the park.

  Anika finally stopped. “I won’t go further.”

  “Okay,” he said. The two sat down, then crawled close to a bush and lay down, side by side. Werner put his arm under Anika’s head to form a pillow. A few mosquitoes whined overhead.

  “Mein Gott, Werner, look at the dancing lights!” she exclaimed. “Gluhwurmchen – lightening bugs! I’ve heard of them but never seen them.”

  He nodded, also marveling. “They’re wonderful.” He, too, was enchanted by the tiny bright gleams, turning on and off, on and off. It seemed like a magic show created just for them.

  “What will we do tomorrow?” Anika whispered, her eyelids drooping.

  Werner didn’t answer. He didn’t know. He turned his head and looked at Anika. Her eyes were closed, her thin body still, her breathing soft. And he murmured softly to her, “You are very brave, Prinzessin, to sleep here on the ground and not complain a bit.”

  He lay awake longer, shifting to get comfortable amid a few sharp stones and sticks. Yet the earth beneath also felt solid and comforting. He knew there were miles and miles of dirt and rock stretching all the way to the other side of the earth. All the way to Germany. What time was it there now? What were Father and Bettina doing at that moment? When would he see them? Would they come as planned? Everything now seemed so topsy-turvy. Yet they must come, they must!

  Werner’s eyes were nearly shut when he heard a loud scratching noise close by. Turning his head, he stared into the dark. Only a few feet away, three furry animals with pointy noses and thick striped tails were digging in the earth. For an instant, the little creatures stopped their digging and gazed at him with shiny red eyes, then scampered off.

  Above, the white circle of the moon drifted lazily between tree branches. How remarkable, he thought, to be here with Anika in this completely strange place…yet to feel as peaceful as he had felt in a very long time.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  That’s how he found them. Two kids in grimy clothes curled up under a bush in Central Park. His name was Amos Todd.

  As soon as Werner opened his eyes and saw an old colored man peering down, he scrambled to his feet.

  “Well, well, well,” the old man muttered. “I guess I seen a lot worse than you two.” He leaned on the rake he was holding.

  Anika began to stir also. “Wer ist das?” she murmured, then her eyes widened. She looked frightened, and Werner knew why. Most Germans feared black people. Werner had also been afraid of them until he had made friends with Alf, the gentle giant. Anika had probably never encountered a person like Alf. For her, any colored people were still strange and scary. Werner wanted her to feel differently. He shook the dirt and sticks from his clothes and reached for her hand. “Come on, Anika. Time to get up.”

  She stood up, still staring shyly at the old man.

  “You kids hungry?” he asked in a friendly voice.

  “Oh, yes,” Anika exclaimed.

  Werner smiled, knowing hunger bests any emotion.

  “Come with me.” The colored man gestured and walked slowly. The two followed.

  Werner hoped a full stomach might help him think, as his friend Sam often suggested. It was still early, but soon people would start crowding into the park, including policemen. The Furstburners might also appear.

  Werner’s brain was already working. What would he and Anika do today? Where would they hide?

  “My name’s Amos Todd,” said the old man. “Here’s where I work.” He pointed to an old gardening shed. A denim jacket hung on a hook inside the shed. From the pocket, he removed several sandwiches and handed them to the two kids.

  Just baloney and yellow cheese glued together with mustard between slices of white bread. But food had never tasted so great! Anika and Werner gobbled down the sandwiches. He figured their breakfast had been Mr. Todd’s lunch, but the old man didn’t seem to mind.

  “What’s y’alls names?” asked Mr. Todd.

  They both spoke at once. Werner stammered, “I’m David and this is Elena” while Anika said, “He’s Frank and I’m Sadie.”

  Mr. Todd’s mouth twitched. “That’s okay. You don’t need to tell me your right names if you don’t feel like it.”

  Something about his easy acceptance of them made Werner feel trusting. “Look, Mr. Todd, you know this park better than we do. And we uh…we need some help. Can you show us where to hide?”

  The old man didn’t seem a bit surprised, as if runaway people often crossed his path. “There’s a couple a’ places in this park you might stay hid for a while.” He scratched one of his big ears. “Depends on how hard they’re looking for you.”

  Werner glanced at Anika. Her face was smirched with dirt, her hair uncombed, her blouse torn. How different she looked from the elegant girl he’d met on the ship.

  “I don’t know how hard they’re looking,” he said, “but we don’t want to get caught.”

  “Uh huh,” Mr. Todd slowly nodded. “So, boy, can you use a shovel?”

  Werner hesitated a second. He’d never held a shovel in his life. “Sure, I can.”

  “How ’bout you?” He looked kindly at Anika. “Can you stay a bit on your own?”

  Anika pressed closer to Werner, but spoke calmly. “Ja, I can.”

  “Just for a few hours, sweetie,” Mr. Todd added, “while your brother here helps me.”

  Leaving Anika at the shed, Werner followed Mr. Todd to where he was working.

  That day Werner learned all about digging a ditch. He learned what hard work it is, lifting one shovelful of dirt after another, then another and another. Until he lost count. The shovel’s wooden handle was old and splintery; his palms were soon sore and blistered. The air grew steamy, and his clothes clung to h
im from sweat. And still the two kept digging.

  They worked steadily until the shovel grew so heavy that Werner didn’t think he could lift another pile of dirt.

  “Time for us to go see your sister,” said Mr. Todd, pulling the shovel from the boy’s aching hands.

  Anika looked much happier than when they’d left her. She had been exploring the shed. “Look what I found!” she exclaimed. She pointed to a corner under the roof where a sparrow had built a nest. The nest was lined with soft feathers and filled with broken shells.

  “Those little birds left a while back,” said Mr. Todd, “but the same pair come every spring. Or they seem like the same pair.” He glanced at Werner slumped on top of a bag of fertilizer. “Now you two stay here while I fetch us some food.” He took off down a nearby path.

  “Oh, Werner, this could be our little home,” Anika exclaimed.

  He smiled. In just a few hours, Anika had become a real hausfrau, a tidy homemaker. “For just for a little while. Just ’til Father comes.”

  “Your father? Have you heard from him?” Werner asked.

  “At first, I heard every week. He wrote that he traveled from Germany to Holland and then to France. Since then, I’ve heard nothing.” Anika’s voice faded, then perked up. “I know he will get here. Any day, he’ll come.”

  Mr. Todd returned with several brightly colored boxes of Cracker Jacks and handed them to the kids. Soon both had sticky fingers.

  Later, when Mr. Todd and Werner returned to the ditch, the old man said, “A policeman asked if I’d seen a girl and a boy together in the park. They sounded like you two.” He plunged the shovel deep into the soft earth, then asked, “You murder anybody?”

  “No, sir, we didn’t,” Werner replied. “I promise.”

  Mr. Todd spoke no more for a while; then he muttered, “Y’all gonna come home with me tonight. That’s what y’all gonna do.”

  At his words, something in Werner’s chest lightened. It was like Esther always said, some people find a way to help, any way they can. The old man didn’t know them at all and yet he was willing to take them home and keep them safe.

  Werner tried to grip the shovel again but his palms were too sore. He gasped out loud in pain. Mr. Todd pulled a ragged red bandanna from his pocket. “Wrap the handle in that, son. It won’t hurt you so bad.”

  Late in the afternoon, Werner told him their real names and how they got to the park. Mr. Todd listened without speaking. During the day, hundreds of people had passed, but none seemed to see them. They were just two fellows, young and old, working on a ditch.

  When they returned to Anika hours later, she was curled up asleep on the pile of burlap bags. Her hands were gripped tight in little fists, like she’d been fighting something in her sleep. When Werner touched her, she sat up, and looked around surprised. Then a little frown puckered her forehead. “What will we do now, Werner?”

  “Don’t worry.” He touched her hand. Whatever was ahead, it beat another night in the park.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Amos Todd knew many paths through the park that were far from the main trails and curious policemen. In a few minutes, they stood on a wide avenue waiting for the Number 41 bus. Climbing on, Mr. Todd handed the driver a few nickels.

  Werner wasn’t sure where the bus was going. But he figured it was not going back downtown; it was heading toward a strange new part of the city. He stared intently out the window. Soon the streets began looking different. People weren’t so dressed up. Cars weren’t so new and shiny. More and more Negroes climbed aboard. Soon, from one end to the other, the bus was jammed with dark faces.

  Gradually, everyone on the bus began acting like they knew one another. They talked and joked and laughed and shared food. Werner glanced at Anika, who was squeezed next to him on the seat. Her eyes were big, her body stiff.

  When the bus stopped at 125th Street, Mr. Todd climbed off and the two kids followed. Their faces were the only white ones on the street.

  “Where are we?” murmured Anika in a tight voice.

  Mr. Todd smiled. “They call this Harlem.”

  After a few blocks, they entered a dignified old building. Inside, the rooms were simple but clean and pleasant. Still, Werner wondered what Anika thought – she was used to a revolving glass door, marble lobby and doorman.

  In the rooms, a thin black woman, much younger than Mr. Todd, was carefully folding a pile of freshly ironed laundry into a basket.

  “That’s my niece Bessie, who looks after me,” said Mr. Todd, turning to the woman. “Look who I brung home.”

  Bessie was clearly surprised at the sight of the two children. But she gave them a warm look. “I bet y’all are hungry? I got some tasty things on the stove ready for supper.” She quickly laid out several extra dishes on the table; they were heavy white plates, scratched and nicked.

  That night Werner and Anika feasted on creamy mashed potatoes, fried chicken livers and golden biscuits. They both ate six flakey biscuits, slathering each one with butter. There was pie for dessert, a slice of sweet luscious peach pie. Werner hadn’t eaten so well in months, not since Esther fell ill. He was glad Anika also seemed to enjoy the hearty meal.

  Afterward, Bessie wiped her hands on her apron. “Why, you hungry little birds,” she said. “Ain’t nothing I like better than feeding hungry people.”

  Mr. Todd pushed back his chair and slowly rolled a cigarette from tobacco in a little sack in his lap. While Bessie cleaned up the tiny kitchen, he went to the open window and smoked his cigarette.

  The only picture on the wall was a flimsy cardboard picture of a man with long, light brown hair and blue eyes. He was dressed in a pale yellow robe and around his head floated soft pink and blue clouds. The man’s heart had been cut out of his chest and stuck in front of him. It was a huge red heart ringed with sharp thorns.

  Anika stared at the picture. “Was ist das?”

  “That’s Jesus,” said Werner, who’d seen similar pictures in books and paintings. He didn’t know much about Jesus except that he was a Jew. His father had told him years ago when they were passing a statue of Jesus in front of a German church.

  “You mean he’s Jewish like you and me?” Werner had paused, surprised.

  His father nodded, then muttered, “Don’t stop here, Werner! Don’t you see it’s dangerous?”

  Werner had glanced at the German families coming out of church at that moment. As usual, he and his father had been hurrying past, their heads low, trying not to be noticed. Even so, a few faces had turned towards them with scorn.

  Now Anika gazed intently at the picture of Jesus. “What’s wrong with his heart?”

  Werner shrugged, but Bessie overheard her question.

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with His heart, honey,” she said. “Jesus puts His blessed heart out there like that so we’ll know what to do with our hearts. Those thorns digging in, that’s the meanness and selfishness in the world. He feels the pain we got, the pain we all got.”

  Anika turned from the picture and looked straight at Bessie. “He knows everybody’s pain?”

  “Yes, honey, He do, He sure do.” Bessie was mending a hole in her uncle’s shirt. “Your pain and mine, too.” Her head was bent low over her sewing.

  Anika gazed at Jesus another moment; she was blinking back tears.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Anika soon fell asleep on a dumpy sofa in the center of the room. Werner stood by the window a short while, gazing out on the street. Along the sidewalk, people were sitting in chairs, talking, laughing, and listening to the radio. He couldn’t pick out their dark faces or arms, but their white shirts and light-colored dresses seemed to float in the night. Further down the block, a tall fellow stood on a corner, playing a trumpet. His horn glinted in the light of a streetlamp above.

  Every muscle aching, Werner stretched out on a heavy quil
t on the floor. Being in Harlem made him realize that he’d been living in a tiny part of New York. The city was filled with dozens of different worlds. The tough streets of his neighborhood…Anika’s world of sleek limousines and perfumed ladies…and now another world of music, food, talk and laughter, as hardworking people stole a little enjoyment for themselves.

  It seemed only moments had passed when he felt Mr. Todd’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He jerked upright, smelling coffee. Bessie was pouring some from a pot into several mugs. Anika was still curled up, fast asleep on the sofa.

  “You wanna work with me again, son?” said Amos Todd in a low voice.

  Werner’s body still ached from the day before. His hands were so blistered you could hardly see the skin. He thought of the police and those nasty Furstburners searching everywhere for him. Wouldn’t it be dangerous to go back? Wouldn’t it be nicer to stay here all day in this pleasant home?

  But Werner didn’t want to sit around eating somebody’s food without doing anything. “I’ll go,” he replied.

  “Come git yourself some coffee and biscuits,” Bessie called softly. She poured lots of cream in his cup of coffee and set down a plate with warm biscuits and a pile of scrambled eggs.

  Werner and Mr. Todd were nearly out the door when Anika woke up. Startled, she called out, “Where are you going?”

  “Don’t worry, honey,” Bessie sat down on the sofa and put an arm around the slender girl. “Us’n will have a fine time today.”

  Anika’s big eyes were the last thing that Werner glimpsed before the door closed. He guessed she was still a little frightened. Spending a day with Bessie, however, might turn her around. That’s how it was – you meet one person and they change how you see the world.

  Soon he and Mr. Todd were riding the same bus as the day before, now heading toward the park. Digging on the ditch seemed easier today, as if Werner had grown bigger and stronger overnight. His palms were still sore, but the skin over the blisters had begun to harden. It seemed he could toss more shovelfuls of dirt onto the pile each hour. The ditch gradually grew longer. At midday, Mr. Todd pulled out several sandwiches, and they drank water from a hose. Werner glanced around often, but so far he hadn’t seen any policemen searching for Anika and him.