Cinderella's Dress

by Shonna Slayton

  She pulled off the other glove and tucked it into her pocket while she scanned the sidewalk looking for her necklace.

  “Well? How did it go? I had my ear pressed against the door, but I couldn’t hear a darn thing.” Mom walked briskly to the bus stop.

  Kate quickened her steps to keep up, eyes focused on every piece of litter. “I wasn’t what they wanted.” Not in a million years, not when they had girls like Miss Sadie Luanne Young from Barnard College who looked and moved like Judy Garland. She could probably sing like her, too.

  “Why not? You’re perfect for film.” Mom grabbed Kate’s chin. “Look at your skin. Not a blemish on it.”

  Kate pulled away. “Do I have to go back to school?”

  “Of course.”

  The bus arrived, and her mother handed her a nickel and waved good-bye. With no will to climb to the top deck, Kate collapsed onto the first open seat. The man in front of her opened a newspaper. The headline read: Surprise Attack Nets Mile Gains in Central Italy.

  Finally, some good news! With Dad in Italy, she’d take any gains for the Allies.

  On impulse, Kate pulled the cord to ring the next stop. She got off the bus and took another one going in the opposite direction—home. Maybe Babcia’s amber necklace fell off in the hallway and was sitting there right now waiting for her.

  Chapter Two

  Despite searching every dingy corner of the apartment building, from the street entrance to her bedroom, Kate didn’t find her necklace. Later that night, she was brooding over how to tell Mom when there was a soft knock from the hallway.

  “Was that the door?” asked her brother, Floyd. He was sitting at the kitchen table poring over the latest troop movements reported in the paper while she was washing the dishes.

  Another knock, this one a little louder.

  “Who could it be at this time of night?” asked Mom.

  Kate and Floyd exchanged worried glances. Unexpected knocks during wartime often meant telegrams bearing unwanted news.

  Would there be news of Dad? Everyone looked expectantly at Kate.

  “Aren’t you going to get it?” asked Floyd. “Probably Josie, anyway.”

  Kate sighed. “Why do I always have to get the door?” It wouldn’t be Josie, because her older sister was visiting. If it was a telegram, she didn’t want to be the one to get the news first. She flung open the door with more force than she meant to.

  In the hallway stood a very old, very tired-looking couple. The wind created by the door seemed enough to knock the thin pair over. The bearded, gray-haired man held a felt fedora in hand, his wispy hair falling gently back into place. He took a protective step in front of the woman and a banged-up steamer trunk at their feet.

  The frail woman leaned around the man and smiled. A red kerchief tied back her white hair, and she wore a full, though terribly faded, dirndl peasant skirt. “Hello, dziecko,” she said in a quiet voice. “Is your mama home?”

  That accent! It was like hearing Grandmother’s voice after all these years. Kate smiled warmly and stepped out of the way as Mom came up behind her.

  “How may I help you?” she asked.

  The man’s eyes crinkled, making him look hopeful. “We looking for Katja Petrov.” His voice was deep and crackly.

  “My mama? And you are?”

  Their shoulders relaxed and the woman let out a tiny sigh. “We came a long way,” she said. “Adalbert and Elsie Oberlin. From Poland. Your great-uncle and -aunt.”

  Mom let out a gasp, and she covered her mouth with her hand. At the same time, Elsie came forward in greeting, kissing one cheek, then the other, and back to the first.

  Poland. No wonder they looked like they hadn’t seen a meal in months. Life magazine had a spread showing the harsh conditions in the country where the war started. The images had burned into Kate when she saw them.

  Adalbert took Mother’s hand and kissed it.

  Then Floyd reached out, pushing Kate behind him, and firmly shook Adalbert’s hand. “How did you get here?” he asked, sounding astonished. “Not across the Atlantic…”

  “A ship leaves from India.” Adalbert glanced down the hallway. “We landed in the California, and then went to the refugee camp in Mexico. May we come in?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Mom opened the door wide to allow the couple through. She wrung her hands. There was no light in her polite smile. In fact, her expression looked as hard as the manikins in the windows of Harmon-Craig department store.

  As they labored to bring in the awkward trunk, Floyd stepped forward to help, but the man stood in his way, as if protecting the trunk. “Is fine. I bring it.”

  Curiosity piqued, Kate focused her attention on the steamer trunk. It was built of ancient wood bound by two leather straps. A faded coat of arms was painted on the lid. The same coat of arms that was on the box for her missing amber necklace. The background was a red shield divided into three areas. One with a white eagle, another a horseman, and the third a crown. The white eagle was from Poland’s crest. She recognized it from the one she recently pasted into her scrapbook of Polish things.

  What did they have in the trunk? Valuables they smuggled out of the country? Artwork? Silverware? She checked her imagination before it got carried away. Her dad’s job protecting the art in Europe made her unusually suspicious. Elsie caught her staring at the trunk and had such a peculiar expression on her face that Kate bent down to scratch an imaginary itch on her leg.

  Elsie held her hands to her head. “Long journey we traveled.” She looked at the couch with longing in her eyes. “May I?”

  Mom spread wide her hands. “Yes, of course.”

  Adalbert made his way over to the window. “Elsie must talk to sister. We look for Katja Petrov. Is she at this place?”

  Kate’s heart dipped. Obviously, Mother never got hold of the Polish side of the family or they would have known about her long illness. When Mom didn’t answer, Kate said, “Babcia died two years ago.”

  The couple’s eyes met. Her expression was plain, like the news was not that surprising to her, and yet she seemed to be communicating something to him. “We arrived too late. How she died, please?”

  “Cancer. She was sick for a long time.”

  A flicker of pain crossed Elsie’s face. She rose, greeting Kate the same way she did Mom, with three kisses. She blinked rapidly as if to keep her tears in check. “My sister’s wnuczka? The eyes look same as Katja.”

  Aunt Elsie pronounced VNOOCH-kah, granddaughter, exactly like Babcia. The ache in Kate’s heart she hadn’t felt in months returned.

  “The time is late,” Adalbert said. “Where is there the hotel nearby?” He slipped aside the lace curtain and peered down to the street.

  “We don’t have a large apartment, but Uncle and Aunt are welcome to stay.” Mom lapsed into the formal Polish that Grandmother had tried to teach them all. She looked around, like she was lost. “Uncle and Aunt may have Kate’s room.”

  Finally, something Kate could do for the war effort that cost her. Helping refugees who were also your relatives may be a small thing, but it was something.

  “Nie, nie. I am fine tailor. I find jobs and the home.”

  “The department store where I work may have an opening. You can come with me tomorrow. And if not there, you could check the Garment District,” Mom said.

  “My room’s this way.” Kate led them toward the bedroom. “You, I mean, Uncle and Aunt can bring the trunk in here.”

  Adalbert followed with the awkward trunk and set it to rest against the wall near the dresser. He started to leave the room, but Elsie tilted her head toward the window. He frowned but did as Elsie had silently prompted. She looked anxiously on while he peered out the lace curtains, like he had done in the living room only moments ago.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Kate.

  “We followed,” said Elsie simply.

  Adalbert cut her short. “No one followed. Everyone we leave behind. Sometimes, Elsie forgets we safe
now.”

  “We never safe. The Burgosovs never give up.” She turned to Kate. “Remember these words I spoke.”

  Who were the Burgosovs? It wasn’t a Polish word she was familiar with. Maybe they were a secret police force. Before she could ask, Mom came in the room with fresh sheets.

  Elsie said the word for thank-you in Polish. It sounded like jen-ku-je. Her face changed, lit up, like she hadn’t been talking about someone following them.

  Mom and Adalbert returned to the living room, leaving Kate alone with Elsie. She was looking through the items on Kate’s dresser. Her jewelry box, a round bowl filled with Babcia’s elaborately decorated pisanki Easter eggs, and a handful of paper stars. On the wall above hung an intricate paper cutout Babcia had made of a pair of girls dancing around a large flower.

  “Who did you say was—” Kate started to ask when Elsie sniffled.

  “I missed my sister. I am too late.” She pulled a handkerchief out from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes.

  “I’m sure she would have wanted to see you, I mean, Aunt, too.” Kate would never get used to the formal language. Her aunt and uncle would just have to get used to American ways, quickly.

  Elsie shook her head. “Is best this way. Is my doing.” She tucked the handkerchief away and returned to the items on the dresser. “Did Katja make pisanki?” Elsie examined the delicate eggs, her fingers hesitating over the blue one. “Our mama was best in village. Katja was good.” She selected the egg decorated with an elaborate cross, its bright red, green, and yellow colors standing out against the black background.

  “She taught me, but I don’t have the patience to work at it as long as she did.”

  “Katja patient. Not like me. Always rushing forward made trouble.”

  While Elsie looked through Babcia’s things, Kate changed the sheets on the bed.

  “You keep being Polish?” Elsie asked. “My sister teach Polish ways?”

  Kate smoothed the bedspread, recalling Babcia doing this very thing every morning. “She started teaching me the language before she got sick, but I’m afraid I don’t remember much.”

  “Oh. I teach you Polish. You are young and learn fast.”

  “I’d like that.” Kate looked up from the bed and smiled.

  A glimmer from the floor underneath the door caught her attention. The necklace. How did it get there? Kate picked it up and held it to the light.

  Elsie gave a cry and stepped forward, uncomfortably close. “You have amber necklace!” She reached out as if to grab the pendant but stopped, leaving her hand hovering over it like it was a hot stove and she was afraid to touch it.

  “Babcia always wore it,” Kate whispered. Even now she could picture her grandmother staring into the flecked honey amber in the morning sunlight when she thought Kate was still sleeping. It was then that Kate imagined Babcia was thinking of her homeland.

  “Ha!” said Elsie in a hard outburst. “In Poland she not leave everything behind. My sister is clever.” She paced around the room, letting loose a string of whispered Polish words.

  The only word Kate recognized was siostrzany, sister.

  Elsie’s gaze darted to the necklace, and instinctively, Kate wrapped her fingers around the pendant.

  Elsie mimicked the motion. “We say amber is Baltic gold. This sun-shape necklace is special, made in Gdansk, where amber washes up from Baltic Sea. Is very, very old. I thought it disappear forever.”

  “She said it has been in the family for centuries.”

  “Tak.” Her voice was tight. “Katja gave it to you. I surprised to find it in America.”

  Kate began to feel defensive. “Babcia said it was part of my heritage,” Kate murmured, almost to herself. She traced the smooth amber between her fingers. As it warmed, the faint pine scent tickled her nose.

  Elsie stood near the trunk. “What you see on this wood?” she asked.

  Startled at the change in topic, Kate looked where Elsie pointed to the crest on the steamer trunk.

  “I see you look when we come in,” said Elsie.

  “Oh, I wasn’t trying to be nosy. I recognized our family crest on there. With the eagle and the horseman and the crown…” Kate let her voice trail off as she tried to decipher the look on Elsie’s face.

  “You see crest?” she asked, an unusual edge to her voice.

  “The one on the lid?” Of course she could see it.

  “Is faint, most people not see,” Elsie said. She looked past Kate to Adalbert, standing in the doorway. Her eyes narrowed questioningly at him. “But is not our family crest. Is royal crest. Why you say is our family crest?”

  “I’ve seen it before.” On the amber necklace case, but Kate didn’t want to tell Elsie that. “You must be tired,” she said, searching for an excuse to leave the cramped space. The air was beginning to fill with the untold secrets of sisters. She fastened the heirloom around her neck in case Elsie had a mind to pick it up and add it to their trunk. “Good night,” she said.

  “I’m hittin’ the hay, too,” Floyd called out. “’Night, all. Have fun sleeping on the couch, kiddo.” He tossed a round pillow at Kate.

  “You can sleep in my room, if you’d like,” said Mom. She waggled her finger. “But no squirming.”

  The couch looked about as comfortable as a bus-stop bench, so she eagerly took her mom up on the offer. Kate flopped onto the edge of the bed and watched Mom unclasp her dangly gold earrings and set them on her dresser.

  “What do you know about the Oberlins?”

  Mom slapped her watch down beside her earrings with a clack against the wood. “I know all I want to know about them. We have a few relatives in Poland and other countries in Europe, but not a one of them did a thing to help my mother and father when they needed it most.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My parents were poorer than poor. Father scraped together everything he had to come to America for a new beginning. He had no family. But my mother’s family? They had some kind of treasure, but no one was sharing. Babcia mentioned it once, and then she refused to talk about it again.”

  A treasure? Kate’s thoughts jumped to the necklace and then naturally hopped to the mysterious trunk. Did the Oberlins bring the treasure with them?

  Mom went to her closet and pulled out a dress for the next day. “Well, as my mother would say, hunger will lead a fox out of the forest. The treasure must be gone if they’re showing up on our doorstep poorer than two church mice. I don’t know how they’ve survived as long as they have in the war. At their age?” She pulled her nightgown out of the dresser drawer. “And don’t you get overly friendly with them. Elsie is not your grandmother.”

  Kate started to protest when Mother held up her hand.

  “I saw you all wide-eyed over her. Don’t get attached. Elsie is known for being, well, different.”

  While Mom was in the bathroom, Kate padded over to Floyd’s bedroom and knocked softly. Fighter airplane posters plastered the door from top to bottom. If Floyd had his way, he’d be flying one of those at the end of his training. And if he knew what was good for him, he better be the best flying ace out there.

  “Babcia had a rift with the Oberlins,” Kate whispered as soon as he opened the door. “Over a family treasure or something.”

  “So?” he asked, stifling a yawn.

  “Don’t you want to know what it was about?”

  “Got nothin’ to do with me.”

  He would care if it had something to do with an airplane. “Well, don’t you think it’s strange how they escaped the war? They could be spies.”

  Floyd raised his eyebrows. “You and Josie see too many movies.”

  She dropped her chin so Floyd couldn’t read her face and see that he guessed right about the movies. She tried a different approach.

  “Did you notice how possessive they are with that trunk? They won’t let anyone near it.”

  “Don’t be silly. They’ve come from Poland. Probably everything they owned was taken from the
m. It’s only natural to hold on to what they’ve got now. What I’d be suspicious of is how they got to New York in the first place. America is pretty much closed to refugees.”

  “What are you taking about? America—Statue of Liberty? We always take people in.”

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t you read the papers? We’re an isolationist country. It’s why we took so long to enter the war. And we have quotas on how many people can come here. People are trying to get the government to agree to temporary havens for refugees, but so far they haven’t set any up. We’re in a war, Kate. It’s time to grow up. Why don’t you go to bed?” Floyd closed his door.

  Kate pressed her forehead against the cool doorframe. Of course she didn’t really think the Oberlins were spies, but she wanted Floyd to know that she thought about the war, too. Even if she didn’t know about things like refugees, she thought about the war.

  To the Allen troops:

  Wish you could see the sunrise I’m looking at right now. Sure is beautiful country. I want to take you here when this is over. I got your last two letters but they arrived out of order.

  Floyd, if you could see what I have seen, you would not be so eager to join up. Or maybe you would be. There is a great need for justice here.

  Katydid, a good amount of brushes”have been tucked away, but some have been lost. We hope to find them later. It would be a shame to lose so many. I look forward to telling you all about it in person one day. Sorry I am speaking in so many generalities. They’ve been censoring our mail pretty heavily lately, and I want my note to get through to you.

  And Deborah? I miss you every second I am gone. I am working on a surprise for you. An idea that Babcia put into my head a few years ago.

  Love,

  Dad

  Chapter Three

  Tuesday night, all the store models crammed into the back of Women’s Wear to get powdered and painted, hair curled and set. Kate’s own hair was already swept up into a stylish victory roll: one short roll curled back on the left and a taller, swirly one on the right.