“And while I agree that the Jewish people need our help, I do not want you joining the resistance. I’m sorry. I can’t let you. You’re my little girl.”
“I’m nineteen. I’m not a little girl, I’m a woman. And Iwillhelp those affected most by the invasion of our city.”
NINE
LUKA
September 1940
Warsaw, Poland
My hand trembles as I pull the curtain back from the window, peeking outside as I do each morning when I wake up. A flicker of dread stirs inside of me, fearing I might find myself in the world alone without another person in sight. That’s what the German soldiers want us to feel. Today could be the day they come for me and send me to wherever they sent Father four months ago. We haven’t heard a word from him or Grandfather since then, leaving my mind to conjure the worst possible thoughts when I’m alone or trying to fall asleep. I miss them terribly and would do anything to find out that they’re all right, wherever they are.
The sight of people wandering aimlessly reassures me I’m not the only one left here, but their heads are bowed, hands clasped behind their backs, stares clinging to the pavement beneath their feet.
The act of waiting for them to pull the trigger takes every bit of control out of my life, but I must put on a brave face forMother and Grandmother. Mama, especially. Her mental state has been out of sorts, almost as if she’s living in a child’s state of mind sometimes.
My body tenses as I peer around outside. I search in every direction, but thankfully find others walking around as usual, conducting their daily business. All is fine for the moment, I suppose.
“Luka, someone is knocking on the door,” Grandmother shouts.
I grab my table-side clock, curious who would be at the door before seven in the morning. Pulling on a pair of trousers and grabbing a shirt from my closet, I button it on the way to the door.
“Who is it?” I ask, unlocking the door and opening it enough to see out into the dimly lit corridor.
Those sparkling blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and long dark lashes are peering up at me again and my shoulders fall with relief to see her in one piece after the state of mind she left in last night.
I open the door wider and usher her inside. “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced,” she says.
“Don’t be. Never. Is everything all right?” She doesn’t look worse for wear. In fact, her eyes are smiling.
She hands me her satchel. “Go on, look inside,” she says, biting on her lip in mischief.
“Ella,” I say, before opening the bag. “What have you done?” I separate the two canvas flaps, finding multiple paper-wrapped goods nearly piled up to the rim of the bag.
I turn toward the kitchen without taking my eyes off the wrapped goods, wondering what might be inside, while trying to avoid thinking about what she did to acquire everything within. I stop in front of the countertop and gently slide everything out of the bag. I smell baked bread. There’s a round bundle I rest my hand on first, a warmth seeping through the paper.
“Why are you breathing so hard?” Ella asks.
“I’m not,” I lie, swallowing back a breath.
“Ella, it’s so nice to see you back,” Mama says, pulling her robe taut. “What is it that I’m smelling? I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Good morning, Madame Dulski. I hope I’m not disturbing you,” I greet Luka’s mother.
I unwrap the bundle I believe to be bread, finding the most perfect loaf, lightly covered in flour.
“Is that fresh bread?” Mama utters in disbelief.
“I made it for you. Sawdust free. All natural.”
Mama’s chin quivers as I unwrap the next item, finding a slim block of cheese.
Ella reaches out for a square shaped bundle. “This one should be kept cold.” I unwrap it—a stack of six hamburger patties. We haven’t had meat in over a year. “And this one, too.” She lifts another square shaped package. “It’s margarine.”
I open the last of the packages, finding a cloth bundle of legumes. My face fills with heat and my nose burns. Tears fill my eyes, and I tilt my head up toward the ceiling, embarrassed, grateful, joyful, and worried. I sniffle and take in a full breath then tighten my arms around Ella, pulling her in tightly.
“How did you manage this, sweetheart?” Madame Dulski asks.
