“We’ll stay in Poland for the time being,” Jakob adds, “at least until the baby arrives.”
A sponsorship to America. The idea settles in Nechuma’s heart like a lead weight. If it were up to her, she would spend every last hour she had on this earth with her children at arm’s reach. But she can’t argue with Jakob. It would be foolish of him not to accept help from Bella’s uncle. Without a sponsorship, an American visa is nearly impossible to come by.
Jakob goes on to explain that no ships are allowed to sail from Europe to the States at the moment, but that restrictions are due to be lifted soon. “Apparently there are passenger ships leaving from Bremerhaven,” he says, leaning over the map and pointing to a city in northwest Germany. “Our thought, once the baby is born,” he says, “is to make our temporary home a Displaced Persons camp here, in Stuttgart. From there we should have a better chance of securing visas.”
Halina stares at Jakob from across the table, her mouth puckered in disgust. She is appalled by the idea of her brother moving to Germany. “Aren’t there DP camps in Poland?” she snaps. “Wouldn’t you be better off here?” She shakes her head vehemently, her green eyes challenging his. “I’d rather slit my throat than set foot into the belly of evil.”
Halina’s tone is sharp, but though it might have bothered Jakob before, it doesn’t now. It’s become her job, he realizes, to protect the family—she’s just watching out for him. He meets her stare with a look of understanding, agreeing that the idea of a move to Germany is unnerving. “Trust me, Halina, it won’t be easy. But if it means we are one step closer to a new life in the States, then we’re ready to do what it takes. At this point, I think it’s safe to say we’ll have been through worse.”
The room is quiet for a moment before Halina speaks up again. “All right, then,” she declares. “Jakob, you and Bella have reason to stay. But we don’t. I think we’ve all agreed on that. My vote is we go to Italy. To Genek and Selim. From there, we can decide together, as a family, where to go next.” She looks to her parents.
Nechuma and Sol exchange a glance. “I only wish we had some idea of whether Addy . . .” Nechuma says, stopping to correct her choice of words, “of where Addy is.” The others grow silent, lost in their own fears. But Nechuma nods. “Italy.”
“We mustn’t forget that Mussolini was Hitler’s ally during the war,” Sol says. “I suggest we find a route with as few civilian checkpoints as possible.”
And so the decision is made: for Jakob and Bella to make their way in a few months from ?ód? to Stuttgart and eventually, hopefully, to America, and for the others to travel to Italy.
As the family leans over the map, Adam traces his finger from ?ód? southwest to Italy, listing the cities in between where he’s confident there would be Red Cross offices: Katowice, Vienna, Salzburg, Innsbruck. He omits Kraków, for he’s certain his wife would be better off never returning to anywhere within a fifty-kilometer radius of the Montelupich Prison. The route would require crossing through Czechoslovakia and Austria. They agree that it’s their only good option.
“I will write to Terza, Franka, and Salek to let them know of our plans,” Halina says, thinking aloud. “I will ask the Joint if they can help pay for their travel, so that they can meet us in Italy. And I’ll talk to the girls at the Red Cross—perhaps they can help us plan a route, or tell us of other Red Cross locations we might not know about along the way. We’ll need vodka and cigarettes. For the checkpoints.”
Nechuma looks at Sol, envisioning the journey. To get to Italy won’t be easy. But if they can make it, she’ll be reunited with her firstborn. And Felicia will have a father! Her mood lightens at the thought. At the start of the war, she had no idea if she and Sol would live to see the end of it, if her children would live to see the end of it, if they would ever come together again, as a cohesive whole. The day the Germans marched into Radom, her world was torn to shreds. She’d watched from then on as every basic truth of the life she once knew—her home, her family, her safety—was thrown to the wind. Now, those fragments of her past have begun to drift back down to earth, and for the first time in over half a decade she has allowed herself to believe that, with time and patience, she might just be able to stitch together a semblance of what was. It will never be the same—she’s wise enough to understand that. But they are here, and for the most part, together, which has begun to feel like something of a miracle.
Of course, she can’t help but fixate on the missing pieces, on Moshe and the family that Sol has lost and on Adam’s relatives, who are still unaccounted for—and especially on the gaping hole that belongs to her middle son. What has become of her Addy? Nechuma’s spirit plummets as she grapples with the mystery, the likelihood that she may never know—and the reality that her world, her tapestry, will never be complete without him.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Halina
Austrian Alps ~ July 1945
Through a clearing in the trees, Halina can see nothing but steel-blue sky. It’s past eight in the evening, yet still light enough to read a book, if she had one. Her parents, Mila, and Felicia are asleep, their sweat-caked bodies strewn across the campsite, heads propped on purses and the small leather satchels holding what’s left of their belongings. Listening to the drone of a woodpecker on the trunk of a nearby aspen, Halina sighs. It’ll be another hour before it’s dark—another two hours, she knows, before she will surrender to sleep. She might as well take advantage of the last bit of light, she decides, retrieving a handkerchief from the inside zipper pocket of her purse. She unfolds it and arranges her remaining cigarettes into a row on the ground in front of her, counting them. There are twelve. Enough, she hopes, to bribe the guards at the next checkpoint.
Meet in Bari, Genek wrote in their last correspondence. Despite the heavy restrictions on civilian travel, Halina, Nechuma, Sol, Mila, and Felicia didn’t waste much time in leaving ?ód?. Adam had stayed behind. “You go,” he told Halina. “I’ll stay, earn us some savings.” He’d found a steady job at a local cinema. “I’ll meet you in Italy when you’re settled,” he said. Halina didn’t argue with him. A few weeks before, Adam had found, through the International Tracing Service, the names of his parents, siblings, and nephew on a list of those confirmed dead. There was no other information, just their nine names, inked onto a page amid hundreds of others. Adam was devastated—and the fact that he’d been given no explanation of how or when they’d died was driving him mad. Halina knew it wasn’t the job he was staying for. He needed answers.