When the Heart Sings

by Liz Tolsma

  Farmer Majewski turned around but pointed ahead of them. “See that?”

  A cluster of buildings rose from the undulating hills, silhouetted against the horizon. Most were sturdy brick. Several smokestacks rose from factories, dwarfing the buildings below them.

  “There’s Śpiewka. We should be there soon.”

  Helena bit her lip. She hadn’t said two words since they’d left. Natia stretched across the cart and squeezed her sister’s fragile hand. “Think how exciting this will be and how much you’ll have to tell your friends when we go home.”

  “Will you stay with me?”

  “I won’t let go of you. I promise. And Tata will be with us too.”

  Zygmunt, every inch a boy, sat forward in the cart. “Look at that. What a huge town.”

  Teodor whistled. “It must be three times the size of ours. Maybe more.”

  “That’s about right.” Farmer Majewski nodded.

  “Wow.” Zygmunt widened his eyes until they almost popped from his head. “It’s like a city.”

  Tata laughed again. “Nowhere near the size of Kraków or Warsaw.”

  “I’ve never seen anything so big. Can we stay here?”

  Natia relaxed against Teodor, who drew her close. “And miss out on riding on the train?”

  “Never.”

  “Sit down.” Natia caught Zygmunt by the hem of his brown tweed jacket and pulled him to the seat beside her, a light-colored curl falling over his eye. She pushed it back. “You’ll fall out of the cart and miss the entire adventure.”

  Śpiewka filled up more of the horizon as they approached. Several other wagons shared the road with them. A horn sounded, and a green canvas-covered German transport truck whipped by. Then another came, and another, followed by a Nazi in a dark uniform on a motorcycle. All the while, Zygmunt knelt in the wagon bed and leaned over, taking in the sights.

  Her palms damp, Natia held fast to her brother. They entered the town, crowded with homes, businesses, hotels, and taverns. The tang of vinegar and cabbage floated on the air. Before too long, Pan Majewski reined the horse to a halt in front of the red-brick train station.

  Zygmunt scrambled from the cart first, hopping from foot to foot. Teodor climbed down and helped Natia and the rest of the family disembark. In keeping with her promise, Natia clung to Helena.

  Teodor passed the farmer a few złoty. “Dziękuję Ci for taking us. We appreciate it.”

  The farmer returned the money. “It’s the least I could do. Your family has done mine many kindnesses over the years.”

  Tata clapped Pan Majewski on the back. “God go with you.”

  “And with you.”

  Natia kissed the man on his wrinkled, whiskery cheek. “God bless you.”

  “And you.” Within a heartbeat, Pan Majewski climbed into the seat and disappeared down the road.

  Zygmunt skipped ahead of the group while Helena matched Natia’s steps as they made their way toward the tracks.

  People crowded the tiny station and spilled onto the cobblestone street. The sweetness of ladies’ perfume mingled with the sourness of unwashed farmers. German soldiers patrolled the area with rifles over their shoulders and dogs straining on leashes.

  “You there.” One with dark eyes and a downturned mouth hollered at them. “Papers.”

  The group stopped and produced what the man demanded. Natia pressed against Teodor.

  The Nazi stared at the triangular patch on their coats. “Get in the station. Schnell, schnell. There isn’t time to waste.”

  A train whistle bellowed. Teodor jumped, and Natia sucked in a breath. He squeezed her shoulder.

  “I’ve never seen so many people in one place at a time.” The chaos of voices filled her head. Women and children cried. Men shouted. Their captors yelled louder. Schnell was the only word she could decipher. Hurry.

  To what? An uncertain fate?

  “This is great.” Zygmunt attempted to wriggle through the crowd, but Tata caught him by the collar.

  “You need to stay with us.”

  Natia reached into her small bag and withdrew four squares of fabric. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I made each of you a gift.” She presented her husband, father, and siblings with handkerchiefs embroidered around the edges, each with their initials in one corner.

  Zygmunt stuffed his into his pocket. “I don’t see why I need a fancy handkerchief. I can use my sleeve.”

  Natia tsked. “May our tears of sadness soon be turned to tears of joy.”

  The others folded their gifts and tucked them away.

  “Dzięki, Natia.” Helena sniffled.

  The crowd surged forward. Every farmer and villager from fifty kilometers in each direction must be here. Their small group had no choice but to shuffle along. Their only other option was to be trampled.

  The train hissed. Up ahead, the Nazis herded their prisoners into large, windowless boxcars. Natia’s heart slammed against her ribs. Her steps faltered.

  Dear Lord, this couldn’t be.

  They wouldn’t ride to the camp in a passenger car.

  Instead, they would travel to their destiny crammed into a cattle car.

  Like animals.

  Teodor held to Natia as if she would disappear if her fingers slipped from his grasp. The crowd in the train station pressed forward, carrying them, Filip, and the children as a wave carried a grain of sand. Their fellow Poles pressed in on every side until taking a breath was almost impossible.

  He stared at her profile, her high cheekbones, her long, thin face, her dark-brown hair that fell in soft waves and bounced on her shoulders when she walked. Something deep inside drove him to memorize the shape of her nose, the curve of her mouth, the tilt of her head. He painted a picture of her, one to hold close to his heart in case the worst happened.

  Nie, he had promised to take care of her. To not let anything separate them. That’s the vow he needed to concentrate on. He couldn’t let her down. Couldn’t bear a repeat of what happened to Mama.

  Their German captors shouted at the throng, forcing more and more of his fellow countrymen into the already-stuffed cattle car. With a rattle and a bang, they shut and bolted the door, then worked to fill another car.

  That clanging reverberated in Teodor’s head. His breaths came in short, irregular gasps. Beside him, Natia trembled. “What are they doing to us? Cows and pigs travel better than this.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let you go. We’ll be fine.” Saying the words was one thing. Believing them was quite another.

  “How will any of us survive?” She gazed at her family.

  That was the point. The Nazis didn’t want them to live. They wouldn’t rest until they wiped every Pole off the face of the earth. Jew or Christian.

  But didn’t the Lord promise to save a remnant? Tak, that was of Israel, but surely he would spare some of the Polish people. And maybe, just maybe, Teodor and Natia and her family would be among them. “I’ll take care of you. All of you.” And he would. No matter what it took.

  Already, just here on the platform, the odor of unwashed bodies pressed together threatened to bring up his small breakfast. What would it be like on the train?

  They inched forward, and Helena whimpered. “What is going to happen to us?”

  Natia smoothed back the girl’s dark, curly hair. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine as long as we stay together. Isn’t that right, Tata?”

  Her father nodded but pinched his mouth shut. He couldn’t lie to his daughters.

  “We’ll have an adventure.” Zygmunt bounced on his toes. “I just wish I could see the train.”

  Better that he was too short.

  “Teodor?” Natia leaned against him.

  He gazed at the top of her head, her black-and-red embroidered scarf around her shoulders. “Yes, moje slońce?”

  “I love you.”

  “And I love you.”

  With a soft touch to his lips, she hushed him. She nestled into him, her small body
against his. Her heart pounded against his chest. His answered the irregular beat.

  Life without her would be gray, silent, and meaningless.

  His Natia. His love. His life.

  And then, much too soon, they reached the edge of the platform. The crowd jostled and pushed against them. A soldier rammed through, right between Natia and Helena. His wife lost hold of her sister. “Helena. Nie! Come back!”

  “Natia! Natia!” Helena’s cries answered, but Teodor couldn’t spy any of them.

  “Tata! Helena! Zygmunt!” Each name expelled as a tortured shriek from his wife’s lips.

  “We’ll see you there.” At her father’s shouted reassurance, she relaxed.

  The soldier shoved Teodor and Natia forward. No steps made boarding easy for her. An armed soldier stood next to the door. “Schnell, schnell.”

  Teodor lifted her by the waist as the crowd crushed against them. Someone inside grabbed her and pulled her into the mass. He hopped up behind her, straining to keep her in sight. She had already lost her family. She would not lose him. He wound his way among their fellow passengers until he stood beside her.

  Person upon person squeezed inside until Teodor couldn’t move his arms. Men. Women. Small children. And the Germans forced in even more. Oh, for just a lungful of fresh air.

  The soldiers shut the door and extinguished the light. Only a sliver of brightness eked through the cracks around the door. He rubbed his thumb over the back of Natia’s warm hand. “How are you doing?”

  “Nauseous. And worried about my family.”

  The temperature inside rose until sweat rolled down Teodor’s back. “Think about something else, and your upset stomach will pass.”

  With a creak the train groaned forward. On the other side of the car, a woman screeched. “Let me out. I can’t take this. Get me off!” Her screaming filled Teodor’s ears.

  Natia nestled against him. “What should I think about?” She almost had to shriek herself to be heard over the hysterical woman.

  “Remember last summer, when we took a picnic by the creek?”

  “The sun played on the water. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect.”

  “And the delicious cookies you made. How you sang to me. Sweeter than any of the birds in the trees.”

  “A day when we forgot our troubles. A good memory.”

  “One to relish.” He stroked her hand with his thumb.

  The kilometers clacked away under the train’s metal wheels, the car swaying in time to their rhythm. The occupants quieted, their voices low. Even the panicked lady’s tone softened, though she murmured under her breath. The tang of urine filled the air. In the back, someone retched. The stench worsened until Teodor gagged. His stomach heaved, but he bit back the foul bile.

  The train rumbled under their feet, each turn of the wheel taking them farther from the home they loved. He strove to hang on to that memory he had shared with Natia, but already it faded like a winter’s sunset. How could he think of something beautiful when all around him was ugly?

  And then, in the suffering and confusion that surrounded them, a song broke through the quiet din. Sung by not just any voice.

  His Natia’s sweet soprano.

  God, my Lord, my strength,

  My place of hiding, and confiding,

  In all needs by night and day;

  Though foes surround me,

  And Satan mark his prey,

  God shall have his way.

  Her voice, though weak, carried a force behind it. Like a soft tap on the shoulder, but one that demanded attention. As the haunting melody wound its way through the packed car and over their heads, their fellow occupants quieted until only the crazy woman’s mumblings remained.

  Christ in me, and I am freed

  For living and forgiving,

  Heart of flesh for lifeless stone,

  Now bold to serve him,

  Now cheered his love to own,

  Never more alone.

  Even the mad lady stilled by the end of the verse. As Natia sang the last one, more and more voices joined the chorus until the words of the Polish warrior hymn echoed off the metal walls, rose above the train, beyond the sky, as a prayer to heaven.

  Up, weak knees and spirit bowed in sorrow!

  No tomorrow shall arise to beat you down;

  God goes before you and angels all around;

  On your head a crown.

  As the last notes of the song died away, a reverent quiet filled the space. They traveled several kilometers, the steady click of the metal wheels against the steel tracks fading into the background.

  Teodor held his breath. If he exhaled, the moment might pass. Instead, the words and melody of the hymn he’d sung a hundred times penetrated to his very marrow. A song for him to carry deep within no matter what lay in front of him.

  And then, a child wailed. Like a dropped mirror, the holiness of that place in time shattered. The din of voices resumed.

  “Watch out for that one. Watch out for her.” The insane woman’s screams sliced through whatever peace may have pervaded the train car.

  Natia stiffened. “Is she talking about me?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “What does she mean?”

  “Don’t pay attention to her. She’s out of her mind.”

  “Everyone here is out of their minds. Everyone in the world, maybe.” Her voice trembled.

  He chuckled, more to bolster her than from humor. “Nie, you heard how the people sang with you. There is sanity left. Maybe not much, but a little.”

  “Mama always crooned that hymn as she worked in the kitchen or in the fields. Always it was her expression of joy. Even when she was dying, the cancer ravaging her body, she croaked out the words. I sang it with her, over and over, until she couldn’t sing anymore. That’s when her song became mine.” Natia sighed and relaxed against him.

  “Go to sleep, my love.” He kissed the top of her head. Perspiration dampened her silky hair. The mass of bodies warmed the air, but not that hot. Her brow shouldn’t singe his lips when he kissed her.

  Something was wrong.

  She shivered.

  Very wrong.

  Eons later, and the train still moved toward their unknown destination. A few voices rose and fell, but most of the boxcar’s occupants allowed their conversations to die. With each passing moment, the pungent stench of human waste increased until Teodor’s eyes watered. His dry tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  For many long hours, the train chugged and snaked its way through the Polish countryside. At least, Teodor assumed they were still in Poland. He’d heard stories about trains racing across the land. His friend in Warsaw, who had ridden in one, wrote and told him that the trees and farm fields whipped past the window, so fast the trains moved.

  But this one creaked along, in no hurry to reach its destination. In one way that was good. The unknowns of the labor camp ate away at his middle. How would they be treated? If the Nazis’ prior actions were any indication, not well. From the way they stuffed the passengers on this train, they had no intentions of kindness.

  Yet another part of him wanted to shout at the engineer to push harder. He willed the wheels to turn faster. Natia slumped against him. If not for the crush of people, she might have slid to the ground. He supported her the best he could.

  She was ill. Weak from childbirth. All the standing took its toll. They needed to get off this train, somewhere she could put her feet up and rest, lie down and regain her strength.

  What if it was childbed fever?

  Nie. He shut the possibility from his mind. The babka had been careful to keep the bedroom clean. She’d washed her hands more than once. Women didn’t die from that anymore. Natia couldn’t have the fever. Just couldn’t.

  Someone in the back passed around dippers full of water. By the time they reached Teodor near the front, they were empty. At last, one came to them about a quarter full. “Natia, wake up, moje slońce. Here’s some water. You
need to have a drink.”

  She stirred and peered at him with glassy eyes. “What?”

  “Water. Sip and see how good it tastes.” He put the dipper to his mouth but didn’t drink. She needed it much more. With a smile, he nodded. “Refreshing.”

  Like a little bird, she opened her mouth. With great care not to spill a single drop, he trickled some down her throat. She swallowed. “Tak, that is good.”

  “That’s it. Keep drinking.” He poured more of the precious liquid over her tongue. Little by little, she drank.

  “Save some for the rest of us. You can’t have it all.”

  Teodor turned to locate the source of the deep voice.

  “I haven’t had any yet. And I’m bigger than anyone.”

  Teodor didn’t have any trouble picking out the man from the crowd. He towered over everyone by at least a head. With his broad shoulders and ample stomach, he took up enough room for three people. “My wife is ill. She has a fever.”

  The crowd leaned away from them. He grabbed Natia under her arm and strained to keep her upright. Some of the water sloshed over the side of the dipper.

  “We don’t want any diseases.” The burly man’s voice bounced off the car’s steel walls.

  “She doesn’t have a disease. She just gave birth to a child. Can’t you see she’s ill?”

  If there were more room, the hulk of a man might have pushed his way through the crowd, picking up those in his path and throwing them to the side. “You don’t know she doesn’t have something else. And where is the baby? You’re lying.”

  A man behind Teodor grabbed him by the collar.

  The dipper slipped from his hand, wedging between him and his wife, the water splashing on his shoe. He clung to Natia with one hand. “I’m not.”

  The man behind him twisted the neck of Teodor’s shirt, lessening his ability to breathe. He gasped.

  “I don’t see a child. You’re spreading disease.”

  “Lech, stop it. Let go of that man.” A woman’s call rang from the back.

  The world dimmed.

  Teodor fisted his free hand. With all his strength, he swung and connected with Lech’s left temple.