Sarah and Solomon

by Roberta Kagan

  “Keep running.” Ewa said breathlessly. “Don’t look back.”

  Then by some wonderful miracle they reached the trees. But just as they were about to enter the protection of the forest, Dyta stepped on a large tree root that was protruding from the ground. She turned her ankle and fell. With two hands she gripped her right foot, wincing in pain. Ewa pulled her to her feet.

  “Get up. Get up! We can’t stop now. We’re almost free.”

  Dyta forced herself to run. She ran with a limp, but she ran. They entered the trees and kept going until finally, the thick forest closed around them.

  “Keep running,” Ewa said.

  “I can’t,” Dyta said. “The pain is so terrible.”

  “You must,” Ewa said as she pulled Dyta by the hand. “They will hunt us. Make no mistake. So we have to get as far away from them as we can . . .”

  Chapter 58

  By nightfall, Ewa and Dyta had put miles between themselves and the poor marching women. They were cold and hungry. But they were free.

  “What do we do now?” Dyta asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know where we are. I have no idea how far we are from the group of partisans that I was living with.”

  “Well, we have to find a way to get our hands on some clothes and blankets if we are going to survive.” Dyta sat down and rubbed her swollen ankle.

  “Let’s try to find a farmhouse, and see if we can get into the barn after dark,” Ewa said. “Perhaps we can even find some food.”

  They walked along the edge of the forest until it had grown very dark. Then they began to search for shelter. All of the barns they passed were heavily secured, but after several hours they came upon a tool shed that had been left unlocked. Ewa opened the door. There was no light inside, but if they left the door open they were able to see, not clearly, but at least a little from the light the full moon provided.

  A man’s jacket hung from a hook on the wall. There was a pile of horse blankets folded neatly on the dirt floor. And there was a gun on a shelf with a small box of ammunition beside it. When they walked farther inside, they found a cow hide drying and two large knives.

  “Look at all this,” Ewa said.

  “We can use all of it,” Dyta said.

  Ewa nodded and began to wrap the gun and knives in the cow hide. But when she looked up, her heart stopped. She gasped as she saw a tall figure, the shadow of a man, blocking the doorway. He’d entered the shed quietly and he was watching them. There was no way out. Ewa glanced over at Dyta.

  “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” he asked.

  “We are . . .” Ewa tried to come up with a story of some sort, but she was so tired and hungry that she couldn’t think. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We are thieves.” Then she began to cry.

  “I’ll have to inform the authorities,” he said, but he stood staring at them, unmoving.

  “The truth is we are escaping from a work camp. We are partisans, Polish freedom fighters, who love our native country as much as you do,” Dyta said, speaking as quickly as she could. “If you bring the police into this, the Nazis will kill us. We were stealing from you because we are cold and hungry. We are not thieves . . .”

  “I see,” he said, sighing and rubbed his chin with his fingertips. “I see . . .”

  “I’m sorry. Please, please don’t involve the authorities,” Ewa said.

  “Come on, follow me,” he said.

  The women stood motionless in the darkness of the shed. Ewa wondered if she should grab Dyta’s hand and try to run. But then the man said in a calm and gentle voice, “My name is Tytus. Come inside. Perhaps I can find you something to eat.”

  It was too dark to see Dyta’s eyes, but something in this man’s mannerism made Ewa feel that she could trust him. After all, it was cold, so very cold, and she was tired and hungry, and desperate. Her feet ached, and she could no longer feel her little toe on her left foot. He told us his name. That means he’s not a stranger any longer. His name is Tytus. He is Polish; he speaks our language, and his voice is soft and gentle. I am trusting my instincts, she thought, but if I have made the wrong decision, it will probably cost Dyta and me our lives. Should we be running away? Is this a trap? Dyta was limping beside Ewa. Ewa reached out and took Dyta’s hand. Neither of them said a word.

  Once inside the farmhouse, Tytus took some logs and began to build a fire in the fireplace. After the fire was burning softly, he cut slices of bread, carrots, and cucumbers, which he placed on a plate. “Sorry, I don’t cook much. I’m here alone since my wife’s sister took ill, and she went to stay with her in Warsaw.”

  “Thank you,” Dyta said, grabbing the food and stuffing it into her mouth. Ewa was eating so fast that she choked and began coughing.

  “Slow down. Slow down. There’s no hurry,” Tytus said. “If you eat that fast, the food will come right back up.” Then he waited a minute until Ewa stopped coughing and continued, “Tell me your names.”

  “I’m Dyta, and this is Sylwia,” Dyta said.

  “It’s nice to meet you. It gets lonely out here. My wife has been gone for over six months, and unless I go into town I don’t see a living soul.”

  “Did you bake this bread?” Dyta asked.

  “I did!” he said, smiling proudly.

  “It’s pretty good.”

  “Ehh, perhaps a little doughy, I think, but I’m getting better at it,” he said. “However, I would love some hot soup to go with it, but I never get around to preparing any. Like I said, I don’t cook much.”

  “I’d be happy to make soup for you,” Dyta offered.

  “That would be lovely.” He smiled then asked, “Now tell me all about this escape. What happened? What exactly are you escaping?”

  And so they told him everything—and he listened.

  Chapter 59

  “You can stay here with me,” Tytus offered.

  “Are you sure?” Ewa asked. “You could be endangering your own life.”

  “Only if you’ll make soup,” he said, winking at Dyta.

  “It’s not funny. If you are caught, you would face a terrible fate.”

  “I’m not worried. At least you’re not Jews. You’re Poles, just like me.”

  “You’re a strange man,” Dyta said.

  “I suppose,” he said, “but I am willing to take the risk. So now that you have finished eating, follow me; I have an extra room. You can stay there.”

  Ewa and Dyta looked at each other.

  “Well, come on, then,” he said, and they followed him. He carried a kerosene lamp.

  When Tytus opened the door, moonlight beamed through the window. The room was small, but it was cheery. There were flowered curtains and a matching quilt on the small bed.

  “Look, a real pillow.” Ewa gasped. “Do you know how long it’s been since I laid my head on a real pillow?”

  “Yes, me too,” Dyta said.

  “Do you like it?” Tytus asked.

  “Oh yes,” both women agreed.

  “Well, good, then. Tomorrow we can draw some water from the well and boil it so you two can have a bath.”

  “A bath.” Dyta sighed.

  “Sleep well,” Tytus said, smiling, and then he left, softly closing the door behind him.

  Immediately, Ewa stood up to check the door. She was so used to being imprisoned that she wanted to be sure he had not locked them in. The door opened easily. Ewa turned to look at Dyta. Dyta smiled. “We are free to go,” she said.

  “Free!” Ewa said, and a single tear ran down her cheek.

  Both women sat on the edge of the bed and took off their shoes and socks. Ewa found that her little toe had fallen off. She gagged when she saw it. Then she glanced over at Dyta.

  “I lost my little toes too,” Dyta said.

  “It makes me want to vomit.” Ewa gagged

  “Me too,” Dyta said, “but what can we do? At least we are alive. Our bellies are full; we are warm, and for now we are safe. What more could
we ask for?”

  “Yes, that’s true. Besides, little toes don’t serve much purpose anyway, do they?” Ewa said, and they both laughed with relief.

  Chapter 60

  The next day Tytus explained that he needed to go into town to purchase a few things.

  Dyta made herself at home almost immediately, but Ewa was not so quick to trust the situation. She was concerned that Tytus had gone into town in order to turn them in so he could collect reward money. She discussed her fears with Dyta. It was logical. After all, they were escapees. However, the idea of going out into the cold again without food or shelter seemed a daunting task. And when Ewa suggested it, Dyta said that she was so comfortable in the warm house that she would rather risk her life than leave. Ewa considered leaving the farm on her own, but when she looked out the window at the snow-covered landscape, knowing she had no place to go and no one to turn to, she decided to take her chances and trust Tytus.

  With Tytus out of the house, the women found it easy to prepare and take a bath. Ewa went first. They boiled the water so it was warm when she stepped in. She felt the warmth climb up her body and soothe her all the way through. She stayed in the water until it had grown so cold that she was no longer comfortable. Then Ewa and Dyta boiled water for a bath for Dyta.

  Once they were clean, Dyta kept her promise to Tytus. She remembered the bin where Tytus had gotten the vegetables the previous night. She reached in and brought out some carrots, some potatoes, and some onions which she cut. Then she began to boil water to make a soup. Meanwhile, Ewa found a bin of flour, and she baked a fresh loaf of bread.

  “I wish I had something clean to wear,” Dyta said.

  “Yes, and clean, fresh undergarments,” Ewa said, knowing they were only fantasizing.

  “If you could have a dress of any color, what color would you choose?”

  Ewa thought for a moment then she said, “Me? Blue, I think. How about you?”

  “Red, definitely red.”

  Both women laughed.

  “And, of course, since we are dreaming, I would like to wear real silk stockings and high-heel pumps.”

  Dyta got up and stirred the soup pot. “It would be lovely, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Ewa smiled.

  “And suppose we were getting ready to go to a party . . . and for fun, just suppose that Tytus was my boyfriend.” Dyta smiled.

  “For goodness' sake, Dyta, he's married. Don’t start thinking of him in that way. You’ll only get your heart broken.”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the arms of a man around me. And he’s so kind and so generous.”

  “Do you really find him handsome?” Ewa asked.

  “I didn’t say handsome.” Dyta laughed. “I don’t suppose he is the best-looking man I’ve ever seen, but he is a man . . . and like I said . . . it’s been years.”

  “I understand,” Ewa said.

  It was late afternoon when Tytus returned. Ewa breathed a sigh of relief when he rode up in his horse-drawn wagon alone. She checked to see if he was being followed, but there was no one following him. And it appeared that he had been honest. Tytus had gone into town for supplies. He came into the house and said hello to the women. Then he went back to the wagon, and one by one he carried two huge sacks of flour into the kitchen. Then he went back outside one more time and got another sack from the back of the wagon, which he poured into a wooden barrel that stood on the kitchen floor.

  “I got some flour and some sugar,” Tytus said as he removed his coat and shook off the cold.

  “How did you ever get sugar?’ Dyta asked.

  “I made a few good trades in town.” Tytus winked.

  “Sugar?” Ewa said. A pang of fear shot through her. Had he somehow traded them for a sack of sugar?

  “What’s wrong?” Tytus asked. Then he sighed. “You think I betrayed you to get the sugar, don’t you?”

  Ewa shrugged.

  “I didn’t. I wouldn’t. You are fellow Poles. We share a common enemy.”

  Ewa looked into his eyes. She remembered Gunther saying something very similar, and hearing Tytus express the same convictions comforted her. She wanted to trust him, and so she decided that she would. “May I taste it, please?”

  “The sugar?”

  “Yes, it’s been a very long time since I’ve tasted sugar,” Ewa said.

  “Sure,” Tytus answered.

  Ewa dipped her pinky finger into the sugar and then put it into her mouth. It felt as if her senses had exploded with ecstasy.

  “May I taste it too?” Dyta asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I can’t believe you were able to get your hands on all of this,” Dyta said.

  “Well, you know what they say . . . a smart farmer never starves. No matter how bad things get, a farmer won’t starve.”

  “Would you like me to bake a cake?” Dyta asked.

  “I would love it.” Tytus winked at Dyta and smiled as he added some logs onto the fire. Then he continued, “I was thinking . . . Please don’t take offence, but those uniforms are filthy and worn. Besides, they are uniforms. Should the Nazis come here looking for you, I don’t want them to see those things. They are a dead giveaway. My wife left some clothes. I would like to give each of you a housedress to wear. They aren’t fancy things, but at least you’ll find that they’re clean. And once you change your clothes I suggest that we burn those uniforms.”

  “Oh!!! Oh!!!” Dyta said breathlessly. “I was daydreaming about how good it would feel to have clean things to wear.”

  “Well”—he smiled—“why don’t you come with me, and you can choose something.”

  “Don’t you think your wife would be angry that you have given her clothes away?” Ewa asked.

  For a moment Tytus was silent. Ewa could feel that she’d made him uncomfortable, and she was suddenly sorry she’d asked.

  But then Tytus cleared his throat. “My wife is a good Christian woman. She would want to help two women in need.”

  I don’t believe him for a second, Ewa thought. What woman would want two young women in her home alone with her husband and wearing her clothes? Something is very wrong here.

  Once Ewa and Dyta settled into their new home, they came to realize that the house was in need of a deep cleaning. On the surface it appeared to be well kept up, but there was a lot of dust and dirt behind the furniture. Both women were grateful to have a place to stay, and they immediately set out to make themselves useful by cleaning the house and preparing meals.

  Chapter 61

  Paris, February 1945

  There was a loud and intrusive knock on the door to the priest's living quarters before dawn one Wednesday morning on a frigid February day. The old father got out of bed. His body ached with arthritis, but he wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and opened the door.

  “Are you Father Dupaul?”

  “Of course! You know who I am, Jacques. How are you? And you, Pierre. You have grown a great deal since I last saw you.” The old father smiled, recognizing two former alter boys from his church.

  “We are police officers now, with the French police,” Jacques said firmly. “And we have been sent by the Germans to make sure that you are not harboring any Jewish children.”

  “It has come to our attention that you are hiding Jews here.” Pierre cleared his throat and coughed self-consciously.

  “I see,” Father Dupaul said, nodding. “Why don’t you boys come on in? It’s far too cold outside to stand in the doorway. You can both sit down, and I’ll put on a pot of tea. Wouldn’t that be nice? I would love to hear about your families. By the way, Pierre, how is your mother feeling? I haven’t seen her since I visited your home after your father passed.”

  “She’s doing all right. She gets lonely sometimes,” Pierre said, swallowing hard. He lost the authoritative tone of voice that he’d had only moments earlier.

  Jacques sat up very straight. “Father, this is very serious. I realize we are old friends.
And that’s why I am here because we are old friends. I must let you know that if you have any Jewish children living in the church orphanage, you must get rid of them quickly. Your life could depend upon it. I suggest you turn them in to me right now.”

  The old priest laughed. “Jacques,” he said, shaking his head. “Jews? I don’t know anything about all of this mad hatred of Jews. All I know is that I only have God’s children here in this house. However, you have known me all of your life. So from what you know of me, did you think you were going to come here and scare me with Nazi threats? You should know that I work for a much bigger boss than Adolf Hitler.” He let out a small laugh then continued, “You see, boys, I work for God,” he said, pouring each of the boys a cup of hot tea. “Now, why don’t we just enjoy this tea together, and you can tell me all about your families. How is your sister’s new baby, Jacques? He’s such a handsome little boy. Just like you were at his age. You see, Jacques, I still remember . . .”

  Chapter 62

  End of February 1945

  Two weeks later in the wee hours of the morning, a group of five young, robust Gestapo officers came to the church. They kicked the door, breaking the stained glass as they entered. Then one of them pulled out his pistol and shot the statue of Jesus that stood above the pulpit. They seemed to know exactly where the priest's sleeping quarters was located, and they headed directly there. Once they arrived, one of the Nazis urinated on the floor outside the door to the priest's sleeping room. The others laughed, then one of them yelled as he pounded on the door, “Open up, right now, old man. I know you are in there, you swine. You are hiding Jews somewhere in this church, which makes you an enemy of the Reich. Open.”