Karolina's Twins

by Ronald H. Balson

  “In her den, the room where my father and I watched basketball games, where he read at night and listened to his music, she’s got maps of Europe spread out all over the place. There must be twenty history books on the war in Poland. My father never read a single one of them. They’re all hers. There are dozens of printouts of Polish train schedules from the 1940s. Seriously? I mean, what the hell? It’s all she cares about. She’s trapped in a lost decade. Whatever you think my motives are, I’m only concerned about my mother. I have no interest in seeing your wife go to jail in some misguided effort to protect the attorney-client privilege. I’m willing to call the whole thing off.”

  “In exchange for what?”

  “Not much, really. I’m not asking Catherine to withdraw. Let her do her thing. Let her charge her fees, make her money. I understand she’s got a small office and my mother is a big-time client for her. I get it. No problem.”

  Liam stood. “Well, thank you very much, Arthur. I’ll tell Catherine you’re dismissing your petition.”

  Arthur held up his finger. “Not quite so fast. I said I wouldn’t stop Catherine from representing my mother. But only under certain conditions. Just between you and me, right? I want to know exactly what’s going on, what she’s telling Catherine and what they’re going to do. I want to be kept in the loop. That way I can make sure that nothing bad is going to happen to her. You get me? I only care about my mother. You don’t even have to tell my mother or Catherine that we made this arrangement. Just let me know, from time to time, what’s going on. What has she done, what has she learned. That’s all. And I’ll take your word for it. We don’t even need to put it in writing.”

  “You didn’t really expect me to accept that offer, did you, Arthur? I mean, you didn’t drive all the way over here with Gonzo to make that stupid offer. Go behind my wife’s back and violate the attorney-client privilege? What’s really on your mind?”

  Arthur chuckled. “You’re a tough guy, Liam. But okay. I’ll tell you what worries me. I think someone in the old country is trying to run a number on my mother. Rip her off. There’s something going on back there in Poland or Germany. I mean, why would she all of a sudden pick this up now at age eighty-nine? She could have searched for Karolina’s babies for sixty years. Now all of a sudden she’s compelled to find them? When they’re probably dead, if they ever existed?”

  “I suppose she’d say it’s none of your business.”

  “She probably would. But I’m not going to let some con artist in Poland grab all my father’s money. Ain’t gonna happen. Look, you’re the great investigator. Have you found any evidence that Karolina Neuman ever lived or died? What proof did you uncover in all your sleuthing that someone named Karolina Neuman ever gave birth to any children? Did you come across any birth certificates? Any little Neumans? You know, if you had them and showed them to the judge, this case would be over.”

  “I can’t tell you anything about my work in this case. You know that.”

  Arthur nodded. “Okay, so you answered my question. Just what I figured. Let me tell you, I’m a man of considerable means. I can get things done. As you may have imagined, I’ve had my people researching this Karolina and they’ve all come up with nothing. Nothing at all. So if all my money can’t produce a shred of evidence, then the evidence doesn’t exist. And that’s a fact. So here’s the deal: you keep me in the loop, provide me with a day-by-day rundown on what my mother’s doing and who she’s talking to and I’ll back off. Otherwise, I’ll crush you and your wife like a bug. Depend on it.”

  “Oh, stop with childish threats.”

  Arthur stood. “Thanks for the coffee, Liam. Think about what I said. You want to keep your wife out of jail? Play ball. Let me know by Sunday night, give me the thumbs-up and we’ll all be BFFs. Otherwise?…” He stamped his foot on the floor like he was crushing out a cigarette.

  “Gosh, I thought we were already BFFs. I guess I’ll just have to unfriend you. Get the fuck out of my office.”

  Arthur stopped at the door. “Think about it, funny man. It’s your wife.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  “HE SOUNDS DESPERATE TO me,” Catherine said, holding her phone to her ear and rocking back in her desk chair. “I still can’t figure out why he’s so passionate about stopping Lena from finding these girls.”

  “It’s the inheritance. What else could it be? I’m sure he believes that she changed her will to cut him out of part of her estate and share it with Karolina’s daughters, if they’re still alive, or if not, then maybe their descendants. If Lena can’t find the twins, then it all goes to Arthur.”

  “It makes sense. Lena’s due here in a few minutes. I have one more day before the hearing to learn the whole story. Lena and I are on a parallel course. In her story, she has one more day to figure out how to save the babies, and I have one more day to figure out how to stay out of jail. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “See you at home.”

  Just then, Gladys poked her head in the doorway and announced that Lena had arrived.

  “Well, we have a lot of ground to cover today,” Catherine said. “So let’s roll up our sleeves and get to work.”

  Lena smiled. She sat proud and tall, a silver turtleneck sweater complemented by a strand of cultured pearls. “Muriel, Karolina and I had mutually decided to make a run for it, to escape from Chrzanów in advance of the transports that were due to take place in a couple of days. We bundled up the babies, each of us took a duffel, we packed whatever food and milk we could carry, and in the middle of that April night, we ventured out to find a savior.

  “From my night excursions, I knew which streets were the darkest, which houses were vacant and which route was the safest. We skirted around the square and headed east across the railroad tracks and through the field. Our goal was the rural road and the Tarnowski farm. I wasn’t sure that the colonel had been truthful or accurate when he told me about the Tarnowskis. Maybe they were still there. Maybe a new family was there, another kind family of farmers that would want to save the babies. Maybe the Tarnowskis’ son had returned.

  “The night was warm and stars were out, and fortune favored us with a new moon. We stayed out of sight and reached a wooded area on the outskirts of Chrzanów. We traveled a kilometer or two through the woods, but in the dark found passage too precarious. Twigs, fallen trees, and uneven ground made travel with the infants too dangerous. We had to get back to the road.

  “The Tarnowski farm was ten kilometers out Slaska Street, a long way to carry the twins. We hadn’t even made it halfway when the night began to give way to predawn glows. There was a grove of ash trees off to the left and we decided to make camp there for a few hours to rest and feed the babies. The early April foliage was thin and poor cover for us, so we had to go deep into the woods to be hidden from the road.

  “I remember the three of us, sitting on our duffels, so proud we had made it out of Chrzanów without detection and confident that we could actually escape the fate of the transports. When the babies had finished, they fell asleep and off we marched again. Back to the road and out into the country.

  “The midmorning sun was bright and we followed the road through rolling fields of nascent wheat. The washed-out, bleached-out remnants of winter were slowly being replaced by the greens, yellows and golds that would once again color the land. Stands of budding trees were responding to spring’s rejuvenation.

  “‘Stop!’ Muriel suddenly said. ‘There’s a car coming.’

  “Sure enough, in the distance there was a black sedan. We hustled into the field and laid down in the winter grass. The occupants of the car, not expecting to see anyone in the fields, kept right on going until they were out of sight. We smiled at each other and resumed our trek. This was almost too easy. Soon the Tarnowski farm came into view.

  “There was a car in the drive and that was a bad sign. I knew that the Tarnowskis didn’t own a car. I knew that the Nazis had confiscated every car owned by a Chrzanów resident. If there wa
s a car, it probably meant there were Germans inside. We decided to keep on going. The next farmhouse was several kilometers away and it was just past sundown when we approached. There were no cars, no wagons and no lights on in the farmhouse. If we were lucky, it was abandoned. Who knew how long we could stay there?

  “As we walked up the drive, a woman stuck her head out of the farmhouse door. ‘What are you doing here? This is my property.’

  “‘We don’t mean any harm, ma’am. We’re just walking up the road. We thought maybe we could get some water, or spend the night in your barn? We’d be gone in the morning.’

  “‘Just keep on walkin’. You got no business here. We don’t want no trouble, so you just turn around and get yourself off the property.’

  “‘Yes, ma’am. We don’t want any trouble either. Sorry to have bothered you.’

  “By this time we had traveled twenty kilometers carrying duffels and two babies. We were bushed. But we had to keep walking. The sun had set and it was getting cool. We saw a farm in the distance and headed toward it with the hope that we’d find a place to sleep.

  “It was dark when we reached the farmhouse. There were lights on in the windows. There were no cars, no signs of Germans. ‘Should we knock on the door?’ Karolina asked.

  “‘I vote to head straight for the barn,’ Muriel said. ‘Maybe they won’t find us till morning and by then we will have rested and the babies will have been fed. Besides, it’s getting cold and the barn will be warm.’

  “I agreed. We quietly opened the barn door. There was a swayback brown horse in a stall. Lots of hay. A great place to sleep. Karolina fed the babies, sang them a lullaby and we all slept—how should I say this—like babies. Except Rachel and Leah would only sleep for a few hours. Then they’d wake up and cry for their breakfast.

  “At sunrise, the barn door opened and an old man—blue overalls, flannel shirt, wiry white hair and a carbine in his hand—walked forward and said, ‘What are you all doing in my barn?’

  “‘Resting,’ I said. ‘We have two little babies and we’re trying to stay alive.’

  “‘Running from them Nazis?’

  “‘Yes, sir, we are.’

  “‘They’re all over this territory, you best be careful. They catch you, they’ll kill you.’

  “‘Yes, sir. We know.’

  “‘You all stay here and I’ll fetch you some breakfast. Then you have to be on your way.’

  “‘Thank you, sir. God bless you, sir.’

  “He and his wife brought us a tray with scrambled eggs, cheese and three glasses of milk. She was a plump lady with a flowered housedress and a big smile. ‘Let me see those babies,’ she said. ‘I heard them all night long.’ Karolina handed Leah to her, and the woman rocked her in her arms. ‘My lord, she’s so sweet. Just like my Eva.’

  “‘We’d love to have you stay,’ the farmer said, ‘but they come by all the time and they’ll kill us if we harbor you.’

  “‘We understand, and thank you for the generous breakfast. We’ll be on our way.’

  “They packed us a little more food and off we went. Once again, keeping out of sight as much as we could. Two or three kilometers farther and we came upon another farmhouse. There were chickens in the yard and a milk cow in the pasture. A middle-age woman, thin, with unkempt rust-colored hair, was tilling a vegetable garden. She beckoned us over.

  “‘Where you headed?’

  “‘We’re not sure. Away from Chrzanów is all we know.’

  “‘Well, you’re about to hit the village of Olkusz. There’s not much there.’

  “‘Germans?’

  “The woman shook her head. Not many. Some, though. You folks look tired. Been walking long?’

  “‘Yes. All the way from Chrzanów,’ Karolina said.

  “‘Did you have breakfast?’

  “‘We did, thank you. Your kind neighbors down the road let us sleep in their barn and fed us this morning.’

  “‘Must have been the Kloskys. Well, come on in and rest your feet and have a glass of fresh milk.’

  “She brought us into her kitchen, took out a pitcher of milk and some cookies and said, ‘I have to run an errand. You folks make yourself at home. I’ll be back shortly.’

  “She climbed into her wagon, gave the horse a nudge and off she went. We sat in the kitchen and shared a little milk, so grateful for the hospitality. About fifteen minutes later, a canvas-covered truck rolled into her drive and four soldiers got out, weapons drawn. They ran up into the house and yelled, ‘Herauskommen, herauskommen.’ Karolina began to cry.

  “As the Nazis walked us out of the farmhouse, the woman flashed a wicked, broken-tooth smile at us. ‘You get back to where you belong. You stay the hell away from my house.’ Then she yelled at the soldiers. ‘Don’t forget to pick up the Kloskys. They helped to hide these runaways.’

  “We sat in the back of the truck, so dejected, so sorry we’d trusted that woman. Karolina sat on one side holding Rachel, I sat on the other side holding Leah. Muriel sat next to an expressionless Nazi soldier, automatic weapon in his hand. He stared straight ahead with no emotion. He could have been made of plastic. As we rolled past the Kloskys, we saw a German truck in their driveway. Their generosity had condemned them.

  “In one hour, the truck had covered our two-day walk and took us directly back to Chrzanów, where the remaining Jews were being gathered in the town square. All of them were dressed in their best clothes, with one suitcase, ready for transport to the lovely work camp the Germans had promised.

  “The square was a vista of chaos; a thousand or more families standing with their belongings—suitcases or bundled up sheets—many wearing two or more layers of clothes. People holding on to their children, their suitcases and boxes, and several carrying their belongings bundled up in a sheet, like a peddler with his bag. There were also a dozen weaponized soldiers, some with growling, barking dogs, prodding people with batons and rifles. There were SS men in long wool trench coats, and the ice-cold Gestapo, in their leather coats, were overseeing the whole affair.

  “A megaphone blasted, ‘Line up in groups of five. Check the lists for your name. Those of you on the first train will stand on the far south end of the square. Those of you on the second train will stand on the north end of the square. This is the final Chrzanów resettlement. You are all being sent to new work camps. Much nicer and cleaner than the filthy ghetto where you live. All will be given the opportunity to work and earn your freedom. Everyone who works will be well fed and taken care of in clean, healthy surroundings. Check the lists, find your names and line up.’ The message was repeated over and over.

  “We walked over to the board and searched for our names. My name was on the list for the second train. I looked at the north end and I recognized many of the other women as workers in the Shop. My train was obviously going to another textile plant. But Karolina and Muriel were on the list for the first train. I looked to the south end, to the other group, and saw a large number of older people, children, and those who looked weak and unhealthy. I knew instantly that the first train would be going to Auschwitz.

  “I started to panic. How could my friends be on the first train? They were young and healthy. How could they be going to Auschwitz? We looked at each other and I started to cry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  “The Nazis were starting to prod the people in the first line. Megaphones were ordering those on the first train to move forward. A long train with several redbrick-colored boxcars had pulled into the station. I ran over to my friends.

  “‘This has to be a mistake,’ I said.

  “Muriel smiled a gentle but sad smile. She knew what was going on. ‘We’re both on the list for the first train. You go stand with your group. Don’t worry about us, we’ll be okay.’

  “‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘Major Fahlstein was supposed to put you on the other list. You need to tell someone. You’re supposed to go to the north end. You’re not supposed to be on this train.’


  “Karolina hugged me. ‘We gave it a damn good try, didn’t we, Lena? I actually thought we were going to make it. And we almost did.’ She looked wistful and smiled. ‘You know, sitting in that woman’s kitchen, the three of us with our babies, I thought to myself, how lucky can a girl get? I’ve found the two best friends anyone ever had and we’re all going to survive this nightmare. We’re going to be all right. That feeling, Lena, that feeling of freedom, if only for just a day, was worth it. It lifted my heart. Thank you, Lena. Thank you for everything.’ She kissed me. ‘You need to go now. They’re going to be boarding us.’

  “I was filled with panic. There had to be something I could do. I looked around the square. There, standing in the middle, heads above the others, was Colonel Müller. ‘Stay here,’ I shouted. ‘Stay here and hang on to those babies. Don’t move yet.’ I dashed over to the colonel.

  “He pretended he didn’t know me. He grabbed me by the arm and said, ‘Where do you belong, young woman?’

  “‘On the north end.’

  “‘I’ll walk you there and make sure you get in the right line.’

  “As we walked out of earshot of the other soldiers, he said, ‘You are such a troublemaker, little hitchhiker. Make sure you get in the line on the north end of the square. It’s going to Gross-Rosen. The other line goes to Auschwitz.’

  “I could barely hold it together. ‘Karolina and Muriel. They’re standing over there. It’s a mistake. Their names are on the wrong list. You have to get them. Please. Put them on the list for the second train.’

  “‘I can’t do that. The lists are final.’