Yet, not as loud as the synchronous marching of boots and a whistle howling through the air…
“We should go,” Luka says, taking my hand and promptly standing up from the bench.
“I want to stay here with you,” I tell him, foolishly. If I stay here, I can be sure he hasn’t been taken away.
“No, you don’t. Trust me, please,” he says.
“What about tomorrow?” I ask. How long do I have before I come to find him, and he’s gone?
“What about for as long as possible?” he replies, squeezing my hand a little tighter. “It’s against the law. You, not being Jewish and me, a Jew—it’s not allowed. We could both face severe punishment, not only me. I need you to understand that.”
“I’m well versed with the laws,” I tell him, glancing away as rejection starts to prickle at my skin.
“But,” he says, nudging my chin so I look up at him, “if I don’t tell the soldiers about us, and you don’t tell them…”
“We aren’t letting them win,” I finish his sentence, staring up into his eyes, knowing that whether they find out or not, our seconds are still running out. They’re sending all the men away. Like he said, it’s just a matter of when… One thing is certain, the Germans don’t give up.
“So…” he says, swallowing hard, peering off into the distance between the tree branches. “I can call you mine?”
Despite the fear and the clomping boots growing louder, heat rushes through my face. I want to forget the threat hanging over our heads, even if only for a moment. One simple moment.
“For as long as we’re breathing and the sun is in the sky,” I say, repeating his words from earlier. We can enjoy this spark, racing hearts, flutters, and the strong desire to be together. Anything could happen tomorrow, so today is important.
I reach into the basket of my bike and take out the other brown paper bag. “Fresh bread and some fruit. And not because I’m sure you’re hungry. It’s payment for the songs of hope—your words that play on repeat in my head that have given me reason to believe there will always be a tomorrow.”
I pray tomorrow will come. It’s all any of us can do now.
SEVEN
LUKA
July 1940
Warsaw, Poland
Tomorrow.The day after that, and then a couple more dozen days after that, too—there she was, here she is—appearing in the crowd like the North Star. She’s held true to her promise, one I would never hold her accountable to.
Today, I see her on her bicycle before I’ve even taken my hat off and set it beside me. There’s no crowd, just us.
“What are you doing here so early today? Shouldn’t you be at your family’s store?”
“I told my father I had to leave. I had to come warn you. They’re coming this way.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my heart racing, my breaths short.
“The Germans. There’s a lot of them. It’s hard to tell what’s happening, but there’s a convoy of trucks heading in this direction. They stopped a couple of streets down, but they’ll be here soon, I’m sure.”
“Trucks?” I understand what she’s describing. There’s no reason for me to be asking. That’s how the soldiers arrived when they came to take Father, Grandfather, and many other men away, too.
“I didn’t receive a letter. It seems that’s what they do before taking people away. They give them a short warning, but I still don’t want to be here when they arrive.” I glance around. “What direction were they coming from?”
Ella points south. “There’s a place we can go. We’ll make our way behind their convoy so we’re not in their path. Come on.”
Without another thought, I follow Ella through the square and down several side streets. She shoves her bike behind a row of metal rubbish bins and grabs my hand, continuing to lead me to wherever we’re going.
We hobble over a short iron gate and into a small park with a cluster of sky-scraping oaks, then dart through the center of the trees, stopping halfway through. “Climb,” she commands.
My eyes travel upward into the rich cluster of green leaves, hoping there are enough branches within reach. People are walking along the exterior paths, passing along as if nothing is out of the ordinary. I reach for the lowest limb and pull myself up, anchoring on a thick, sturdy branch, then reach down to help Ella up along with me. She’s nimble and quick, making the act of climbing trees seem no more difficult than playing hopscotch.
