Last Twilight in Paris

14. Helaine

14

Helaine

Paris, 1943

It was an unusually difficult day at the store. The elevator was broken and so the workers had to carry the pieces up from the loading dock, the women using cumbersome baskets that caused them to scrape their knees, the men wobbling precariously under pieces of furniture. Maxim seemed to watch more closely than usual, shouting angrily when people worked slowly. Helaine kept her eyes low and struggled to keep up.

Helaine had been assigned to a group of women sorting cookware that had recently arrived. She lifted a pot and felt the inside. It was still sticky from a recent meal. She imagined the person, a mother making porridge for her children’s breakfast. A day like any other, until the knock had come that was to change everything.

Beside Helaine, Miriam was sorting cutlery and silverware. The women had grown close in the time since Helaine came to the store. Miriam had taken Helaine under her wing, treating her as she would a daughter. And though Miriam was nothing like Maman, Helaine looked to her as a mother figure and was glad to have her there. Miriam had been a scion of the Jewish community in Le Marais before the war. She knew everyone. Though it had not stopped the Germans from arresting her, it gave her an elevated status among the prisoners of Lévitan. And because she accepted Helaine, the other prisoners did as well.

Helaine watched Miriam slip a silver ladle from one of the boxes into the waistband of her skirt. Helaine was surprised. She had not seen anyone steal from the line since Ruthie had been transferred.

But Miriam’s eyes met Helaine’s, unrepentant and unafraid. For the resistance , she mouthed. Then she coughed, face reddening. Miriam’s cough had grown ominously worse over time in a way that suggested more than flu or some other passing illness. Yet she still refused to seek medical help.

“But if you are caught,” Helaine said, “they will send you back.”

Back. That was the word that haunted the prisoners’ days. Though the prisoners enjoyed the relative liberty of the department store, they might be hauled away to Drancy without notice, either to fill a convoy or as punishment for some minor transgression. Each prisoner worked zealously to avoid that fate. There were a series of unwritten rules: Keep your head low. Do nothing to draw attention. And whatever you do, do not get sick. Anyone who was ill for more than three days was immediately sent to the larger camp. It was a one-way trip. Once someone went to Drancy, they never returned to the department store but were slated for deportation to the camps in the east.

As Helaine worked, her thoughts turned to Gabriel. She wondered, as she so often did, where he was and whether he had any idea what had become of her. Sometimes it felt like they had been apart longer than they had been together. Helaine loved Gabriel more strongly than ever, but sometimes in her darkest moments, she worried that they might never be reunited.

The previous night, as she lay awake on her hard cot, she heard the furtive steps of a man sneaking to the women’s side of the dormitory, followed by the rhythmic sound of sex. Love flourished even here—or at least the need for warmth and companionship. Seeing the couplings that formed so casually among already-married prisoners, Helaine worried about Gabriel. Who was he with, and might he seek warmth on those long, lonely nights? Thinking of her father’s infidelities, Helaine could not help but be afraid that Gabriel would be unfaithful to her as well. Gabriel had loved her in a wholly devoted way, or at least he had, before he’d gone away. She could only hope the bond they had shared and the life they had built would be strong enough to sustain them through the war.

Helaine tried to concentrate on the pile of cookware before her. But out of the corner of her eye, a flash of silver caught her attention. She turned to see Miriam lifting a silver tea set, tray and pot. It was grander than any of the other pieces they’d unloaded, and despite the rough transport getting here, it still shone. Helaine froze. She was struck not only by the elegance of the set. She recognized it as her own family’s tea set, the one that had sat in the china cabinet.

“Can I see that?” she asked. Miriam passed it to her, and Helaine took it. The set was too ornate to be mistaken. The embossed leaves on the handle had been custom-made for her grandmother’s wedding. It was so valuable that Helaine didn’t even know how it had made it to sorting without some German picking it off.

Helaine’s heart leaped into her throat. “This belonged to my parents.” She reached over into the box Miriam had been sorting, curious what else from their home might be found. She could not keep any of it, of course, but she wanted to touch it, as if finding a piece of the past would bring her family closer to her.

She found nothing else. Their tea set was here, though, and that could mean only one thing. “My mother must have been taken.”

“Perhaps it is a mistake,” Miriam said, trying to offer Helaine comfort. But there was no conviction in her voice. “This could be a similar tea set.” Helaine shook her head. The engraved initials on the bottom of the tray left no doubt. Her mind raced as she searched for another explanation. She hoped in vain that only their belongings and not her mother herself had been taken.

Helaine stood and walked from the sorting floor to the administrative office for the department store. Here, the overseer kept the Wohnungsbefund , the book listing all of the homes that had been emptied and their contents. She had to get in there and check if her parents’ home was listed. But doing so could cost Helaine her life.

The office was empty, so she crept in and opened the ledger, which sat on the desk. She was amazed by the pages and pages of neatly written rows detailing the theft of various objects. Perfect evidence if someday after the war the Germans were to stand trial for this. Helaine scarcely dared to dream of such things.

“What are you doing?” A harsh voice startled Helaine. It was Maxim, the overseer. Except for the night she’d secretly carried the silver to the loading dock, Helaine had managed to avoid him since coming to Lévitan. But now she was alone with him in the small office. He stood between her and the door, blocking her escape.

She froze. “Nothing.”

He came closer, looming above her. “Don’t lie. Why were you snooping around my office?” She could smell his breath, a foul mixture of cigarettes and rotting teeth.

Helaine swallowed. “I found my family’s tea set among the boxes. I wanted to see if their house was listed as having been liquidated. If my mother has been taken.”

Helaine braced herself for Maxim to deliver his sentence for her actions. “Did you find them?” he asked, sounding more curious now than angry.

“I didn’t have the chance to look before you came in,” Helaine confessed. “Can you check for me?” Helaine hated having to ask Maxim for anything at all, but she had no choice. “Please.”

Maxim did not answer right away but leered at Helaine, clearly enjoying his power over her. He walked closer and leaned in so his face was just inches from hers. Helaine willed herself not to move, terrified of what he might do next. He stared at her for what felt like forever, seeming to breathe her in. Then he took the register, opening it slowly. “Her name?”

“Annette Weil.”

He scanned the register. “I don’t see her listed.”

Helaine dared to hope. “Perhaps just the tea set was taken.” Helaine heard how implausible the words sounded as she spoke them. Still, she desperately wanted to believe her mother might remain free.

Maxim shook his head. “If a person’s belongings are here, then they’ve been arrested and their home liquidated.” He spoke bluntly, not mincing words. “The records probably have not been updated yet.”

The pit in Helaine’s stomach grew. Her father might have been away on business, but Maman would certainly have been home when the Germans came. Helaine had to get to her mother. “Taken where?” she asked, dreading the answer she knew would come even as she asked.

“Drancy.”

Helaine’s heart screamed. The notion of her mother withstanding the horrors of the camp was unbearable. “Tell me how I can get to see my mother. Please.”

Maxim set down the ledger, laughed harshly at Helaine’s plea. “You can’t. It’s impossible.”

But Helaine would not be dissuaded. “I know people leave here on passes sometimes for the doctor and such.”

“Yes, but this is different. To go to Drancy would mean death for you. You would not come back.”

“My mother can’t possibly stay in Drancy. She won’t last. Can she be brought here as a worker?” Helaine’s voice trailed off at the end. Without special skills or connections, there was no way to make that happen.

Maxim shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. Only those with the official designation are eligible.” Sadness engulfed Helaine. She could not save her mother.

He took a step closer to her. “But I could help you check on her, send word.” He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead with his filthy finger. It took everything Helaine had not to slap him. He was asking her to do the unthinkable simply to send word to Maman. But it was the only hope she had, a lifeline, and for a moment, Helaine considered it.

Miriam appeared then in the doorway to the office. “Helaine!” she said with mock harshness. “Where did you go? You are needed on the sorting line.” She stepped into the office and reached around Maxim. Then she grabbed Helaine’s arm and pulled her away out of ear shot. “What on earth were you doing in Maxim’s office? I told you never to go in there. If I hadn’t come just then…”

“I know. But I needed to find out more about what happened to my mother.” Tears filled her eyes. “Maxim said she’s likely been sent to Drancy. I have to go to her.”

“You can’t possibly,” Miriam chided.

“But I cannot just leave her.”

“If you go to see her, you will not be allowed to leave. You must understand, Drancy is a transit camp. Thousands of Jews pass through there, but no one stays long. There’s a very good chance to think she has already been sent east, or will be soon.”

Helaine’s mind reeled back to the day she had seen her mother at the market. Maman was gone now, likely forever. She thought of the moment they embraced, tried to conjure the smell of her. It was almost as if they had known then it was the last time that they would be together.

“But my mother, she’s not strong enough to endure the camps.” Maman was a grand lady who had always been sheltered and surrounded by comfort. She was simply unprepared for such a life.

Miriam put her arm around Helaine and stroked her back lovingly. “This war has forced all of us to face circumstances we did not expect and find strength we did not know we had.”

“I have to do something. Maxim said I could send a letter.”

Miriam shook her head. “Maxim is a liar. You must never trust or rely on him. The prisoners at Drancy cannot receive regular mail like we do here.” She paused, thinking. “Still, you could try to reach her. Sometimes the truck drivers can be bribed to deliver packages or messages for a price.” Miriam looked back into the office to make sure Maxim was gone, then walked in and snatched a piece of paper and a stub of pencil. “Write your mother a letter and I will do my best to get it delivered.”

That night after the others had gone to sleep, Helaine carried the paper and pencil over to the windowsill. Her heart broke as she imagined her mother in a place a thousand times worse than this. What could she say to give her hope?

Dearest Maman,

I know you have been taken. I’m in the department store Lévitan and things are not so bad here. Be strong and I will come for you if I can. I am sorry for everything.

Love,

Your Laina

Helaine finished writing, then set down the pencil sadly. Her mother had loved her more unconditionally than anyone, except perhaps Gabriel, ever had. Why had they wasted so much foolish time on anger? They never should have stayed apart when they could have been together.

Helaine fell into a deep depression after that. She had no family left except for Gabriel and she had to find him.

One day, as she passed by the hall during Sunday visiting, Helaine spied a familiar face at the counter, checking in. “Isa?” she said with disbelief. Despite the fact that they had not parted well, Helaine was overjoyed to see her friend.

“You’re here!” Isa threw her arms around Helaine, then pulled back to look at her. “Are you all right?”

Helaine considered the question. Nothing about Lévitan was all right, not the heavy labor nor the limited food. She knew she looked far worse than when Isa had last seen her. But she could not complain aloud. “I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I had not seen you in the neighborhood and I became worried. I had no idea you were arrested.” No, of course not, Helaine thought. Because she had been taken from the police station and not her home, no one would have seen. It was as if she had simply disappeared. “But it took me a bit to realize you were gone, and even longer to figure out where.”

“So how did you find me?”

“I went to the police station and asked. They told me nothing, of course. But a contact of my father’s who formerly served as arts’ minister in the prewar government made inquiries.” Helaine was touched that her friend had gone to such lengths to find her.

“Here, I brought you this.” Isa pulled out a small cloth bag, then looked around surreptitiously.

“It’s all right. We are allowed to receive parcels.” Helaine had seen other prisoners receive small packages of food and toiletries from visitors. The guards and Maxim were willing to look the other way as long as they were given a share of anything useful.

Helaine took the bag and opened it. Inside was some food, bread and cheese. “I gathered what I could,” Isa explained. “And I brought you something else.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a small, familiar leather book.

“My journal!”

“Yes, when I went to your apartment looking for you, the door was unlocked.” Helaine did not know if she had forgotten to lock the door accidentally or whether the Germans or someone else had been inside since it was vacant. “I hope you don’t mind. I saw your journal and I remembered how you loved to write in it. I thought you might be glad to have it.”

“I am.” Helaine held the journal in both hands and pressed it against her chest, savoring the connection to her past and the outside world.

“How can I help?” Isa asked.

“You want to help now?” Despite Helaine’s happiness at seeing Isa and her gratitude for Isa’s offer, she could not forget that her friend had turned her back on her, and the painful memories sprang up now. “You kicked me out of the garden, went along with their rules.”

“I know. I didn’t help you before and I’m sorry. I was afraid. Only, I see now that no one is safe. But I’m here now and I will do whatever I can. Tell me what you need.”

Helaine thought of all the assistance she needed. Isa could not get her out. She could not help Helaine find or free her mother. But perhaps she might be able to get word to Gabriel. “I need to find Gabriel.”

“Yes, of course. But how?”

“Gabriel is supposed to be on tour. Only I found out he isn’t touring with the symphony, so I don’t know with whom or where he has gone. Please use your father’s connections to find him and tell him where I am.”

“I will try,” Isa promised. Then she paused and her forehead crinkled with consternation. “But there’s one thing. There are rumors about Gabriel.”

“Rumors?” Helaine stiffened, fearing Isa would say she had heard Gabriel had been with another woman.

“Yes, that he is working with the Germans.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Helaine scoffed. She recalled how Gabriel had run off to his secret resistance meetings, refused to play the works of German composers, even if it meant not playing at all. There was no way Gabriel was a collaborator.

“Helaine, he went to Germany to play music for them.”

“I know, and I know how that must look. He was forced to go. He had no choice.” Gabriel would never in a million years conspire with the Germans; of that Helaine was certain. But the questions, not just about where he was but what he was doing, bubbled up. Helaine needed to find him. She needed to know that he was safe and she needed answers. “Please, you must try to reach him for me.”

“I will do my best. I have to go now. Stay safe and I will be in touch soon.”

Helaine felt an immediate pang of regret at parting from her friend, the only person she still had contact with beyond the walls of the department store. “Thank you.”

Isa squeezed Helaine’s hand and then she was gone.

Helaine returned to the dormitory, which was empty at midday. She paged through the journal, rereading. Each entry was not just a story. They read now like a precious chronicle of all that she had lost. A tear fell from her eye, dropping to the page and staining it. She closed the journal, overwhelmed with sadness.

Then she opened the front cover once more and added Gabriel’s surname after her own. Helaine Weil Lemarque. It made her somehow feel more connected to him, more whole. But she couldn’t leave the journal out, in case someone found or confiscated it. She pried back the piece of drywall where she had hidden the necklace, digging at it to widen the space enough for the journal, and tucked it away, out of sight.