Sarah came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Excuse me, Esther; I’m preparing a special supper for you.”
“You’re excused. Go back to the kitchen and my son and I will chat.”
“Mama!” Richard yelled.
“You don’t want the food to burn, dear,” Esther said.
Sarah escaped to the warm kitchen. She grabbed a lemon from a bowl, cut it in half, and squeezed it in her hand over a water pitcher, while thinking: I’ll never be good enough for my mother-in-law. How am I going to make this work? She looked upward and prayed, “God, give me strength and patience.”
After supper they rested in the parlor and listened to the shortwave receiver. As they tuned in to an American station, Bob Hope sang, “Thanks for the Memories.” Sarah bit her lip when she heard: “News update: The Nazi’s burned synagogues and ransacked Jewish businesses today, November 9, 1938.” Sarah shuddered. Richard shut the receiver off and drew her close.
“I brought something to display,” Esther said. She dug in her bag, pulled out a picture, and placed it on the coffee table. “I brought our family portrait from your wedding.”
Excuse me, “I’m tired,” Sarah said and hurried from the room.
“Goodnight, Mom,” Richard said and rushed after Sarah.
Keeping her voice low so Esther won’t hear she said, “Richard, can you believe it? I’ll never forget. We were about to have our wedding picture taken and your mom asked me to get something from her purse. Then she convinced the photographer to flash the picture without me, and told me I was tardy. I wish you’d never given her the picture.”
“Honey, I’m sorry, I can’t change her. She isn’t well enough to be alone. Let’s talk about America instead,” Richard suggested. “Esther will live with my sister, Mary, once we’re in America.”
“That’s a relief,” Sarah said. “I can picture America now, a place where I don’t have to be afraid of who I am.”
“Yes, a land where freedom exists. Sarah I’m tired…let’s go to sleep,” he said.
Tuesday morning Richard took forever to get ready for work.
“Richard, what’s wrong?” Sarah asked. “You should have left an hour ago.”
“The Nazi’s set fire to the shoe factory yesterday and arrested Seth, the owner. I’m unemployed.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? How can we get to America now? I’m going to be sick,” she said and ran for the bathroom. Richard followed her.
“Honey … you all right? You’ve been so upset; I didn’t want to tell you.” He handed her a towel and noticed Esther heading towards them. “I have to leave. I don’t want mama to know.”
Esther peeked in the bathroom and said, “Richard, shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Sarah’s sick.”
“Go, Richard, I’ll watch over her.” Esther patted Sarah on the back, “Let it go honey, you’ll feel better when it’s gone. I’ll make you some hot water with lemon juice — it fixes everything.”
Later in the day, Sarah and Esther rested at the kitchen table, while they snacked on grapes. Hearing the front door slam, Sarah hurried to greet her husband. He was breathing hard. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine Sarah; I need to catch my breath. I think I ran up the steps too fast. How are you, honey? Feeling better?”
“I’m just a little tired.”
After a light supper of gefilte fish and bread they retired to the parlor.
The next morning announced itself with a rumbling thunderstorm. Sarah not only heard it, but felt her stomach accompanying the storm. She ran from the bed and vomited.
As she lost the last of her supper, Esther banged on the bathroom door. Sarah clutched her stomach and opened the door. The old woman loomed above her, hands on her hips. “You done yet, I can’t hold it so long.”
She lay back in bed and snuggled next to Richard. In the morning, she reached for him and found only a clump of blankets. Sarah glanced at the clock: 12:30. She ambled out to the kitchen where Esther sat at the wooden table knitting.
“It’s about time you joined the living,” Esther said.
“I’m not in the mood. . .oh! Forget it.”
“Did you have your flow this month?”
Sarah’s water glass slipped from her hand and smashed on the wooden floor.
Esther shouted, “I did not think so…you’re pregnant, Sarah. I’m gonna be a grandmother!”
Sarah dropped into the nearest chair, her mouth hung open. “I’ve been so occupied with the possibility of war…I lost track. It’s been two months, Esther. What am I going to do?”
Esther squeezed her hand, “You don’t have to do anything. The baby will come…let’s see…July. Don’t worry, I’ll be here to direct you.”
“Esther, excuse me, I need a moment.”
Sarah paced in her bedroom. “God, how can I handle all this?” After facing the truth, she placed her hand on her stomach and thanked God for His gift, a child. The afternoon passed by while Esther and Sarah cleaned the apartment.
Richard entered the kitchen and kissed Sarah. “What smells wonderful?”
“Wiener schnitzel.”
“Mama said you have good news for me.”
“I wanted to tell you when I’m ready,” she said, throwing a dish towel on the table.
“Come Sarah, let’s have it.”
“I’m pregnant.”
He dragged his fingers through his hair and gawked at her.
“Richard, say something?” She twisted the hem of her apron.
“I can’t believe it! A baby?” He placed his hand on her stomach and looked into her brown eyes and said, “You made me a happy man.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Sarah, I love you, and God will help us find a way. I may have a new position. Head shoe designer by Friday.”
Esther banged on the kitchen door and said, “Aren’t we gonna celebrate this occasion together?”
“We’ll be there in a minute, Mama,” Richard answered.
Cold meat and bread was placed on the coffee table for dinner. Sarah reached into the pantry and grabbed their last bag of figs to celebrate. They spent the evening discussing the child to come.
Wednesday morning the bell rang and rang. “Richard, unwind it …it’s piercing my ears.” She reached past her husband and snatched up the alarm. “Richard, wake up!” He didn’t respond. She touched his face. It was ice cold. Sarah listened for a heart beat. She screamed and pleaded, “Richard…You can’t leave me!” Her body convulsed while tears cascaded down her cheeks.
Esther burst in the door. “What’s wrong? You screamed loud enough to wake the dead.”
“He’s dead…Richard’s dead? Oh! God, help me!”
Pushing Sarah away, Esther shook her son and hollered, “Get up, Richard. I’m telling you – you should get up! I’ll call the doctor and he’ll make him better.” She left the room.
Sarah sat in the bed beside her husband’s still body. She wept rocking back and forth.
Esther walked into the bedroom. “There are no doctors.” She knelt beside the bed, touched his hand, and wailed, “My son…my son.”
Sarah placed her trembling hand on Esther’s back and said, “I’ll call the Rabbi.”
She sunk into the settee waiting for the Rabbi. I’m all alone now.
The Rabbi arrived with men who prepared her husband’s body for burial.
“We need to bury him, Sarah,” the Rabbi said.
“How am I going to live without him?” Sarah asked sobbing.
The Rabbi placed his hand on her shoulder and said, “God will provide. It’s time ladies, follow behind us.”
The heaviness weighed on Sarah’s soul as she trudged through the mud laden streets. Reaching the cemetery she cried as she watched the men lower her husband’s wooden casket into the ground. After the ceremony, she picked up a rock and set it on his grave and said, “Tell me why Richard?” and left.
One week after Richard’s heart
attack, Sarah sat in the parlor wringing a handkerchief. I’m stuck in Austria…my child won’t know freedom. What will become of us? A knock on the door startled her. Opening the door, she found an envelope with her name on it. She tore it open and read. “Meet me at the bakery, noon tomorrow. I’m an associate of your husband-Joshua.” Sarah’s hand shook. Esther stood behind her. “What is it?”
“A note…read it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, I’m sure of one thing,” Esther said, “We need to leave for the outdoor market if we plan on eating.”
Sarah stepped around the broken glass from the Jewish businesses. She buried her clenched fists in her pockets as she passed one propaganda poster after another plastered on the brick buildings.
She reached for a potato from a market stand. A Nazi solider blocked her reach and stood ogling her. Her cheek twitched and she said, “Excuse me.” He didn’t move. Esther stood in front of Sarah like a bear protecting her cub. “Show some respect. You can see by our clothes we’re grieving,” she said.
The Nazi’s eyebrow cocked upward, and he moved aside. “Let it be known, we Germans show respect.”
At home again, she faced Esther and said, “Thank you for helping me. I thought you didn’t like me.”
“Oh! No, dear, I love you. I just didn’t want to share my son. He’s all I had after my husband died. But don’t worry, Sarah, I’m taking care of you now.
The next day, Sarah, sat across from Esther at the kitchen table sipping a cup of tea. “Esther, I don’t know how, but we're going to America. My baby’s going to know freedom. I’ve decided to meet the man who left the note.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“Yes, if he’s a Nazi, he would have already bashed the door in and dragged us off.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“I’d rather go alone; it would be faster…if I have to run.”
Sarah wore Esther’s coat and hat, hoping to escape being noticed by the Germans. She paused in front of the bakery and tried to blend in. Then she heard a man’s voice. “Gruss dich, Sarah.” She started to turn around, but the man said, “Don’t! Keep looking in the window. I promised your husband if something ever happened to him, I would personally hand you this. “Go, Sarah,” he said and moved away. She stuffed the envelope inside her coat and rushed home.
Once inside the house, she locked the door and ripped open the envelope. Her fingers trembled. She stared unbelieving at its contents. Then she whispered, “Richard, thank you. I wish you could come with us.”
Sarah hurried to Esther’s bedroom. “Esther, I have wonderful news.” She found her lying on the floor. Rushing to her side, she knelt on the floor beside her.
“I think it’s a stroke. My right leg and arm are so numb.”
Sarah helped her into a sitting position. “How can I help?”
“Get my medicine from my purse.” She gulped her pill and said, “Tell me the news.”
“Esther, look… three tickets and a map to cross the border. We’re going to America.”
“I don’t think I’m going, but you must for the baby.”
“I’m not leaving you behind. I’ll find a way.”
A few days later Sarah said, “Esther, we need to leave for Hungary tonight. The Nazi’s started arresting Jews.”
“I can’t. I’m dragging my left leg. I’ll slow you down.”
“Esther, look at me, you’re going to lean on me. We’re making this journey together. My child needs a grandmother.”
Sarah left the room to begin packing.
At dusk she said, “Esther, it’s now or never. We can do this.” Tying two strips of material, she tied one around Esther’s right thigh and one around her left thigh. Then she wrapped the other strip around their calves. “Let’s practice walking in the apartment. I’ll step forward and your right leg will follow mine.”
“Your idea works,” she said.
“Esther, we need to hurry.”
They hobbled down the apartment steps together, and slid into an alley avoiding the Nazi’s.
As they entered the forest, branches from tall spruce trees reached out and obstructed their path. Each step crunched from fallen pinecones and leaves. A relentless headwind pushed against them.
“Sarah, it’s dark. Light the torch.”
“I will, Esther, but I’ll keep it low to the ground. We don’t want the Nazi’s finding us.”
“I must rest. We’ve walked for hours.”
“All right … but only for a short time. We have to cross east into the border to Hungary before morning. Let’s sit against this tree.”
A cool mist swirled along the forest floor as they rested. They huddled close together for warmth.
Sarah closed her eyes and prayed, God, please help us. Falling asleep under the starry sky, she awoke to a sound of a twig breaking. Goose bumps covered her entire body. She held her breath. Something was moving near to them while Esther snored on in oblivion.
It fell over their legs.
Sarah tried to get up, but her leg was still tied to Esther’s. A lantern was lit, and a man squatted in front of them and said, “Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.”
Esther awoke and swung at him, punching him in the jaw, “Run, Sarah, Run!”
“Esther, what have you done?”
The large man with dark hair put his hat back on and rubbed his reddened cheek. “You throw a good punch, ma’am,” he said.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” She asked.
“First things first, my name is Isaac, and I’m on my way to Hungary.”
“Nice to meet you, Isaac, but we need to get moving, Esther,” Sarah said.
“Where are you headed?” Isaac asked.
“Hungary. And then to America,” Sarah replied while rubbing her hands together.
“I envy you both, America. May we travel together?” Isaac inquired.
“If you wish,” Sarah said.
They set off with the two women still bound together.
After a while, Isaac said, “Ladies, may I help?” He handed a large sturdy stick to Esther, and said “Lean on me.” Sarah untied the strips. Several hours passed and the pale light of the sunrise began to envelop the forest. They left the barren woods behind and walked through fields of trampled wheat.
“Shh, Nazis, get down!” Sarah whispered.
“I can’t believe it….we’re only fifty feet from the border,” Isaac said.
“We have to run for it?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t see another choice,” Isaac answered.
“Are you serious?” Esther whined.
Isaac picked up Esther as if she was a sack of potatoes and plunged ahead. Sarah ran to keep up with them.
“Jews!” A Nazi shouted and charged after them.
Breathless, they crossed the border into Hungary as a shot rang out.
“Sarah tumbled forward and screamed, “I’m shot!”
Isaac bent down and lifted her in his arms. Esther followed using her stick and dragging her leg.
He set Sarah down on the dried grass. Blood soaked through her coat at her upper arm. Esther hobbled to Sarah and removed her jacket. Isaac tore the sleeve of her dress to find the source of the bleeding. Sarah lay still on the ground.
Esther wailed. “Help her! She’s pregnant.”
It’s only a flesh wound, Esther. Sarah’s will be fine.” He ripped a piece of his shirt off to tie around her wound. “We’re across. We’re safe now.”
Sarah leaned against him.
“Thank you, Isaac,” she said. Isaac stood and looked around.
“Look, Sarah,” he said. “The airport is just ahead … your ticket to America.
She smiled through the pain. “Isaac, are you ready for an adventure?
“An adventure?”
“Yes, I have an extra ticket to America.”
Debra A. Varsanyi is a graduate of the
Institute of Children’s Literature and attended writing classes at Elizabethtown College and Harrisburg Area Community College. She actively participates in workshops at the Cleve J. Fredricksen Library. Debra and her husband, Gabe, reside in Pennsylvania with their dog, Tebah.
CREATURE OF HABIT
By
Don Helin
The growl of a truck engine and the rumble of mufflers split the early-morning air. My sweaty hands slipped on the shovel as I struggled to fill in the hole. I patted the dirt level and smoothed it out.
A door slammed. I broke for the edge of the woods and threw myself under a white pine. Too late I realized I’d left the shovel laying on the ground.
The sun peeked above the tree line, gray shadows stretching toward me like fingers of a hand. Jake stalked around the corner of the trailer, not fifteen feet from where I hid. Staring first at the shovel, then the patch of dirt, he picked up the shovel and stomped on the dirt with his work boots.
I didn’t dare breathe, sure he’d walk over to the tree line and see me. My mouth ran dry and sweat stung my eyes.
Jake leaned the shovel against the trailer and started around toward the front, glancing back once more. The door to his trailer banged shut, shattering the silence. A great horned owl hooted its final morning call.
I sucked in air and did a low crawl deeper into the woods. Multiflora rose thorns ripped at my bare arms and legs as I stood and ran.
Later that day at our local coffee shop, John Williamson, a Pennsylvania State Trooper and fellow veteran, entered and poured a cup.
He pulled off his hat, hitched up his pistol belt, and sat. “How ya been, Percy?”
“Been better. Something’s bothering me.”
He poured sugar into his coffee. “Can I help?”
“Maybe. You know, I’m a creature of habit. That’s what caused this whole mess.”
“You are that.” He laughed. “What mess?”
“Well, every morning I drag my raggedy-assed body out of bed and go for a jog. If I didn't, this six-foot frame wouldn’t stay at 190 very long.”
He tapped his gut. “No kidding.”
I leaned forward. “About three months ago, a young couple moved into a trailer at the turn-around of my run. Over the next month, I watched them haul away all kinds of paint cans, batteries, a stack of tires, barrels, and you know, assorted junk. They even painted the trailer and got rid of a beat-up Ford Mustang on blocks."
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