by Liz Tolsma
Which of these trains would carry her to a safe location, one away from Erich and away from the bombing she’d heard about? Bremen wasn’t safe, but was any German city?
Dresden? Munich? Cologne? Where should she go?
She licked her lips. Whichever train they called next would be the one she would board as long as it headed west. She would trust the decision to God. He knew much better than she did where she belonged.
“Frau Fromm, is that you? I can’t believe I found you.”
The voice struck a chord of familiarity, but Elfriede couldn’t place it. She turned, searching for a face she recognized but didn’t find any. Wait a minute. That red hair. Elfriede bit her lip. There was only one person she knew with hair that color.
Erich’s secretary from Poland. How had she gotten here? How had she found her?
And where was Erich? She had to run. Now. She hadn’t come this far for him to capture her.
Elfriede spun around and around. No sight of him. If she couldn’t see him, perhaps he couldn’t see her. There had to be a way out. But how? Where?
Here came Fräulein Wurtz. Erich had to be right behind her.
Though her legs shook, she pushed forward, her pulse racing. “Excuse me, excuse me, I have to get through. Please let me through. Out of my way, please. I’m in a hurry.” Her voice rose in pitch, but the crowd refused to part. She was trapped. As soon as the woman reached her, Elfriede would be as good as dead. Even if Erich wasn’t with her, she must know that Elfriede helped hide a Jewish child.
Just as a sliver of light shone in between the two people in front of her, Fräulein Wurtz grabbed her by the arm. “Where are you going? Didn’t you hear me?”
Dizziness washed over Elfriede. “I’m sorry, but I must leave. I’m going to miss my train.” She wrenched out of the woman’s grasp and glanced over her shoulder. Any moment she would spy Erich staring at her with his icy blue gaze.
With everything inside of her, she pushed against the crowd in front of her. Fräulein Wurtz grabbed her again. Elfriede struggled against her. The woman’s hair hung in disheveled knots around her pale face, dark half-moons under her green eyes. Her lips, devoid of their usual red coloring, were bruised and swollen.
A gasp escaped Elfriede before she could check it, and she stopped struggling. “What happened?” Had Erich done this to her?
“The Russians overtook us before we got away. They . . . Well, I just can’t say. It’s the most awful thing that ever happened to me. Unspeakable. But I fled before they killed me. Or maybe they didn’t want to. Maybe those soldiers just wanted to torture me.”
“Hurry. Before Erich catches us.” Elfriede turned to go.
“Your husband—”
Fräulein Wurtz’s quiet words stopped Elfriede in her steps.
“He’s not coming.”
“I don’t understand.”
Fräulein Wurtz worried the hem on the sleeve of the light wool coat she wore over her tattered green dress. “He had been away from the factory for a long time. I had no idea where he’d gone. When he returned, his face was redder than I had ever seen it. He slammed his office door shut. I heard him smashing everything.”
She wiped her dirty cheek. “All of the sudden, the Soviets were there. They marched right into the office without a word and grabbed your husband.”
Elfriede’s knees trembled. “Is he . . .?”
“They took the officers outside. I heard shots.”
Numbness spread upward from Elfriede’s toes until she didn’t feel anything. And that was wrong, wasn’t it? When your husband died, weren’t you supposed to be sad? Maybe angry? But not this. “Danke. I appreciate you giving me the news. Will you be okay?”
“Someday, maybe.”
Fräulein Wurtz didn’t say anything about Dominik. She must not know. And the numbness that enveloped Elfriede gave way to a spreading warmth.
At last Fräulein Wurtz released her grip on Elfriede. “I have to catch my train. I was going to try to find you once things settled down to let you know. I can’t believe I ran into you here.”
“God’s providence. Take care of yourself. I’ll pray for you.”
With that, Fräulein Wurtz melted into the crowd until Elfriede lost sight of her. She found a bench and sat down, rubbing her midsection. “Did you hear that, little one?” She whispered so only she and her child could hear the words. “We will be safe now. We can go home in peace. I don’t know yet what I will tell you about your earthly Vater, but I will tell you that you have a heavenly Vater who loves you very much. He is watching out for us and taking care of us.”
And right there, in the middle of the busy train station, Elfriede found her joy. She laughed.
Dominik snuggled against Natia and whimpered as the donkey plodded along the road. Her throat burned from so much singing to keep the little boy happy. Even her tunes no longer kept him from complaining.
The trip wore on all of them. Dark bags hung from underneath Teodor’s eyes. Her stomach growled and grumbled. With Dominik on her hip, she knelt next to her husband. “Teodor, there’s a farm ahead. Dominik needs some milk, and we all need something in our stomachs.”
He stroked her cheek. “You have been so good and uncomplaining.”
“After all we’ve been through, this isn’t anything to whine about. But with each turn of the wheel, I get more anxious for home.”
Teodor nodded. “Won’t it feel good to be in Piosenka again, warm and snug and secure?”
She sighed. When would that be a reality?
Teodor guided the donkey and cart into the farmyard. Before he climbed down to ask for provisions, a woman stepped outside and waved her apron at them. “Get out of here. We’ve had enough beggars. There is no food here.”
Natia pointed to Dominik. “Just a little milk for the baby.”
“Nie. Nothing for any of you. Leave now, or I will call my husband, and then there will be trouble. Go on.”
Teodor took up the reins once more and pulled back into the lane. “Don’t worry, moje slońce. There will be another farm with kinder owners.”
She leaned against him and closed her eyes. Just to sleep in a soft bed once more would be glorious.
Next thing she knew, Teodor was shaking her. “Look.” He pointed to a little town on the horizon. “Do you know what that is?”
“I have no idea.” She shifted Dominik who had fallen asleep in her lap.
“Look hard and remember.”
She squinted, but none of the buildings, not even the church steeple, triggered a memory.
Wait a minute. That steeple, painted white with an onion dome just below the cross. She had seen it before. But where?
She gasped and trembled. “This is Śpiewka, where we left from on the train.”
“We’re almost home.”
“Did you hear that, Dominik? You’ll soon be there. And we’ll see Zygmunt too.” She kissed the top of the slumbering child’s head. He stirred but didn’t awaken.
As they drew closer, a tune built in her chest. Despite the rawness of her throat, she allowed the melody to pour from her lips.
God, my Lord, my strength,
My place of hiding, and confiding,
In all needs by night and day.
Dominik blinked his eyes open, and Teodor joined the song.
Though foes surround me,
And Satan mark his prey,
God shall have his way.
By the time they reached the town, Teodor and Natia sang the last verse together with Dominik’s off-pitch cooing.
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.
The final notes of the song drifted away on the breeze. Tomorrow would never beat them down again. Life would have challenges, that was sure. But together with the Lord, she and Teodor would face them.
Dominik patted her c
heek. “Mama?”
“Mama is happy.” Out of the darkest, hardest time of her life had come a new strength and the greatest joy of all. Could a heart burst with happiness?
The journey between the town and their little farm, only several kilometers, was the longest part of the trip. More and more, she recognized their surroundings. A farmhouse with a familiar red-painted door. A grove of trees. A little stream flowing despite the cold, a gaggle of geese still playing in the water.
The cart ascended a small hill. Natia grabbed tight to Teodor’s hand, because on the other side of the ridge lay her heart and soul.
He turned to her. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, her windpipe almost closed off.
They crested the hill, and there before them lay their farm. The whitewashed exterior of their house gleamed in the sunlight, the steep-pitched thatched roof in good repair. Whatever Germans had lived here had taken care of the place. Another blessing.
“Dominik, see this? This is your new house. Your home, where we are going to live together as a family.”
The little boy stared at the house, then back to Natia. “House?”
“Tak, Dominik.” Teodor gestured wide. “Our house and our barn and our land.”
“Hurry up, Teodor, I can’t wait any longer.”
He urged the donkey forward. Never had an animal plodded so. She caught sight of the home she’d grown up in and the land beyond it. Tata and Helena would never return here. That piece of her would always be missing. But they lived in a far, far better place. In a palace of gold. She whispered into the breeze, “I love you Tata, Mama, Helena. We’ll always remember you.”
A lifetime passed, and then they finally pulled up their drive.
Home. They were home.
Teodor swung Dominik to the ground and helped Natia down. Zygmunt raced from the house and into her arms. “Natia, I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I promised we’d be together. And you’ll stay with us for always.”
“I’m so glad you’re home.”
“And I’m so happy to be here.”
At last.
Every muscle in her body relaxed, and she released Zygmunt, then turned to Teodor. “There is one thing I want to do before I go inside.”
“We’ll come with you.” He and Natia each took hold of one of Dominik’s hands, Zygmunt following behind, and the group made their way to the top of the hill where three little crosses still stood.
Natia released her grip on Dominik and dropped to her knees, tracing each of the names. “Beata, Szymon, Andrzej. I promised I would come back, and I have. These long years, I have missed you. My heart has been here.” She touched her lips and then each cross.
The pain, once raw and fresh, was now scarred and aching. “I prayed that God would spare each of you, and in his way, he did. You did not experience hunger or pain or fear. For that, I am grateful.
“But I never stopped loving you.” She pulled Dominik close to her side. “This is your new brother. I wish you could have known him, that you could have grown up together. I can see you splashing in the brook and chasing each other around the fields.
“No matter how much I love him, that doesn’t mean I love you less.” She drew in a ragged breath and swiped at the cascade of tears. “Every one of you has a place in my heart, my children, my loves.”
Teodor knelt beside her and wrapped her in an embrace. “They know.”
“I will take all my love for them and shower it on Dominik.”
“You are a wonderful mother. I love you more than anything.”
“Sing, Mama.” Dominik squirmed between Natia and Teodor.
Śpij maleczko moja mała, czas na ciebie już. Ja cię będę kołysała, a ty oczka zmruż. Luli luli luli luli luli luli lu Luli luli luli luli, a ty oczka zmruż.
The song for her children. The song her heart sang. The song of joy the Lord had given her.
When I sat at my computer and wrote the first words of this book, I never realized what an emotional ride it would be for me or how personal it would become. As Natia and Elfriede struggled with infertility and pregnancy loss, it ripped open raw spots in my heart I believed long healed over. But I’m grateful for this journey and to be able to share a bit of my heart with each of you.
I, too, suffered through years of infertility. I, too, suffered pregnancy loss. Often, I felt alone. Like no one understood. Like God would never grant me what I wanted most. The things that Natia and Elfriede experience and feel are the same things I experienced and felt.
For those of you going through similar experiences, please know you aren’t alone. God is still with you. And he will see you through the pain. If you need someone to talk to who understands, please contact me at www.liztolsma.com.
Out of that dark time in my life, he brought me the joy of adoption, three children I love more than I ever thought possible. He gave me more than I ever dreamed and has blessed me beyond my wildest imagination. Today, though the pain is still real, I can say I’m grateful for those difficult times because my greatest joys came from them.
And the book wouldn’t have come to fruition without the contributions of so many people. It wouldn’t be the same without my own beloved children: Brian, Alyssa, and Jonalyn. How I longed and prayed for each of you. What was God’s purpose in not granting me biological children? So I would have each of you to love.
Brian, you are a fine young man who, like Teodor, would do anything for his country. I love you for that. Thank you for making me a mother. You will never know what a great gift you have been to me.
Alyssa, I love you with my heart and soul. Your kind, gentle spirit is an inspiration to me. Thank you for all you do for me when I’m busy and under deadline. I’m so proud of the beautiful woman you have become. I can’t believe you are mine. As you prepare to embark on life outside of the nest, may God go with you. I’ll miss you.
Jonalyn, you will never understand the words in this book, yet you understand more about the human spirit and the will to survive than I ever will. Thank you for your patience with me and for just being you.
And to my husband, the father of these children the Lord blessed us with. Thank you for being such a leader in our home and such a man of God. Thank you for putting up with me when life gets crazy. I love you more than words can say, moje serce.
Thank you to the Pencildancers—Diana, Jen, and Angie—for cheering me on and keeping me on task. If I didn’t have to report to you each Monday, I’m not sure this book would have ever gotten written. You are the best!
Many thanks to my amazing agent, Tamela Hancock Murray. Can you believe this is book number eleven for me? Without you, I would have never made it to one. Thank you for all you do for me.
I can’t begin to thank the team at Gilead Publishing enough. I love working with you guys! Becky, Jordan, Dan, and Katelyn—you make a great team. Thank you for making me feel part of the family. And thank you for all the hard work you do on my behalf. You are great blessings in my life.
Thank you to my amazing editor, Julee Schwarzburg. I can’t say enough about the hard work you put into each book. Without your thoughtful suggestions and your gentle teaching, these stories wouldn’t come to life the way they do. There is no one I would rather work with.
A special thanks to Dawn Cahill and Stephenie Hovland for help with finding the source of the hymn that appears throughout the book. You can see what an integral part of the story it became.
Dziękuję Ci to Maja Litwajtis for help with the Polish words in this book. It was fun working with you and sharing some of the Easter traditions our families have in common. Thank you to Pegg Thomas for putting us in touch with each other.
And thank you to all my readers. Over the years, I’ve enjoyed getting to know many of you. Thank you for taking these journeys with me. Sometimes the stories aren’t the easiest to read, but they are necessary to tell. Thank you for your loyalty, for your wonderful reviews, and for your encouragement to keep writin
g!
As the Germans fled Poland, the Soviets flooded the country. Life was not easy for those who survived the war. As Communism sought to wipe away the memory of the Germans, so much of the history from WWII in that part of the world has been lost. I spoke to a Polish woman who ran a local deli, and she confirmed that she was taught nothing about the war in school. It was something the people never spoke about.
Because of this, the exact number of Polenlagers (Polish labor camps) is unknown. Sources I consulted varied widely, from forty to four hundred. What is sure is that many Poles lost their lives during the occupation. Three million Polish Jews perished. Three million Polish Christians did also. I wrote this book to bring their story to light.
I took information I found on several different camps and rolled them into the one. Likewise, the town of Pieśń Nabożna is a compilation of several Polish towns near the Czech border.
The Germans did institute a policy of resettlement of Poles. Many Germans were displaced in places like Ukraine and had nowhere to live. The Nazis stole homes and farms from the Poles, gave them to these Germans, and sent the rightful owners away to prison camps.
I read an account of a couple of Polish women who served inside a German officer’s home. They hid several Jews in the basement of this home, literally under the German’s nose. This became the inspiration for Dominik’s arrival. By the way, the Nazi never discovered the secret in his home.
You might wonder why Teodor’s last name is Palinski and Natia’s is Palinska. In Slavik languages such as Polish, Czech, and Russian, there are male and female endings of names. Palinski is the male version; Palinska is the female version. The set of rules is complicated, but that’s the short answer.
Though I strive to make the history as accurate as possible, I am only human. My apologies for any historical errors contained within.
Liz Tolsma’s specialty is historical fiction—from WWII to prairie romance. Her debut novel was a finalist for the 2014 Selah and Carol Award. She prides herself in excellent storytelling, presenting accurate historical details, and creating persevering characters.
