The Family Behind the Walls

34. Jordanna

THIRTY-FOUR

JORDANNA

JANUARY 6TH, 1945 – SOUTHERN POLAND

There’s been a change and I cannot say for sure what it is, but the nuns appear concerned and are held up in private conversations throughout the day. I believe they have a radio upstairs that they take turns listening to. I’ve heard the simmer of static from the cold basement. I wish I could hear whatever news is being broadcast.

Sister Josephine returned downstairs just a bit ago and since then the four nuns have been moving furniture around, blockading the steps that lead upstairs.

Without drawing too much attention to myself, I coax Lilli closer to the door and take a seat on the floor to entertain her with some guessing games. Alfie is staring at me from his cot with a questioning look on his face, and for a moment, I can still see the boy he once was—the one who would tease me until I’d blush, usually without trying too hard. The months since we’ve been living beneath this church have changed us—individually and together. Life is nothing but a question mark dangling above our heads. The playfulness between us feels like something I experienced in another lifetime. Now, everything is static, serious, and uncertain. We’re waiting to find out what happens next, if hope is even something we can reach for.

I’m sure he’s wondering why the nuns seem to be securing the only form of entry too.

I sweep my forefinger along my ear and with a subtle twist of my head, I take a quick glimpse at the quiet conversation a few steps behind me.

“They want the Germans to leave, not us,” Sister Margret says to Sister Josephine.

“They don’t know we’re not German. They will be looking everywhere, high and low, wooded areas and cities,” Sister Patricia says.

“Very well, but suppose they do find us? We will tell them we’re Polish, as we are, and we are taking care of orphaned children, which we are,” another says.

“They’ve already liberated one of the labor camps. They aren’t here to hurt us,” Sister Josephine says, the one who found the three of us in the first place. “However, with the number of Germans fleeing Poland, any one of them could easily seek refuge here, in what appears to be an abandoned church. We don’t know who is hostile or who is just afraid of the Soviets.”

“What about the overhead attacks?” the younger of the four sisters asks. “I’m unsure of how much longer we’ll be able to keep these children safe here.”

“And where do you suggest we go, Sister Katherine?” Sister Josephine asks.

Sister Katherine doesn’t appear to have an answer. It’s as if I’ve woken up every single morning without the comfort of safety and yet, we’re still here counting our blessings, scared to death that our luck will soon run out.

“Well, are you going to tell me what game we’re playing?” Lilli asks.

I peer at her for a long moment, noticing a change I hadn’t noticed before. The shape of her face has become more oval and less round and she’s taller, even sitting up. Maybe it’s her hair that’s grown out just enough to touch the base of her ears, but she sounds older too. She is older. So am I. It’s been just over a year since we left Hamburg, but I could easily be convinced it’s been five. She’s nine going on ten now. I didn’t know there was such a dramatic change in a child between those ages. I also wish she were still eight so I could protect her more easily but she’s becoming more curious about the future by the day, and also, why we’re living the way we are. It’s been sweet watching her take more involvement with the younger children here. They all seem to cling to her.

I’m distracted from the conversation between the nuns, staring at Lilli who’s staring back at me with big eyes.

Alfie makes his way over and takes a seat between us, forming a small circle. “I know the look on your face,” he says in a whisper. He’s mastered his ability to whisper at the same volume I whisper. I don’t know how he’s been able to work it out, but I’m glad he has. We have very little privacy here except for a few makeshift walls separating toilets and changing areas.

How will the sisters take out the buckets of waste if they’ve barricaded us inside? One of them goes to the nearest town once every couple of weeks to find non-perishable food too. I don’t ask many questions of how they do what they do because I’m too grateful for whatever they have been doing to keep us safe.

Alfie rests his hands on the ground beside his legs and I rest my left hand on his, repeating some of what I’ve overheard from the nuns through finger taps.

He lifts his hand out from beneath mine and places it on top, responding through taps, which means he doesn’t want there to be any chance of anyone hearing what he has to say, including Lilli who stares at our hands as if she can read the taps. She might be able to. I wouldn’t put it past her.

“I don’t know if we’re safe here anymore. If other Jews have been liberated, they must have been sent somewhere safe, right?”

We both know there would be no way to find wherever this place or places might be. We hardly made it far enough to find water when Sister Josephine first found us.

Alfie turns his attention toward the nuns, staring up at them from his seat on the ground. “Pardon me, but do you have a radio upstairs?” My eyes bulge upon hearing his question and I’m thankful my back is toward the nuns so they can’t see my reaction.

Sister Josephine begins to sign her answer to Alfie. I see her hands waving around from the corner of my eye. She’s been teaching him sign language since we arrived here. I’ve sat alongside him for each lesson so I can learn too, though between the two of us, the Morse code taps are still what we rely on most since it’s the only way to have a private conversation.

“I might be able to repair it,” Alfie says.

The radio is broken?

I turn to face them as they share a look between themselves. “Even when the radio works, we can only pick up German signals,” Sister Josephine replies out loud and through sign language.

Alfie doesn’t respond but shifts his stare toward the cement floor between us, his eyes unblinking. He straightens his posture but keeps his hands flat on the ground. Suddenly startled, he begins to sign to Sister Josephine. “There are heavy vehicles nearby. I can feel the rumbling underground. It’s not the train.”

“Children, children, listen up,” Sister Josephine announces. “Remember our game of hide and seek? Well, it’s time to see how good we’ve all gotten. Everyone, follow me,” she says. We’ve practiced this so many times and each time has been a false alarm. Maybe not this time, perhaps. The far left wall has boxed crates stacked up to the ceiling, lining the wall from one side to the other, each row moved in just enough so the top row is flush to the wall but there is enough space for us to move behind the wall of crates. It’s the only way to hide down here.

Alfie pulls Lilli up to her feet and urges me along to walk in front of him. He ushers the older children in first then the smaller ones, then Lilli, me, and him before the nuns close us in.

With our backs against the exterior wall of the church, I can feel the rumbling. Alfie takes my hand and begins to tap out his words. “Don’t worry. We’ve been through worse.”

A knock on the front door of the church forces gasps out of each of us. Lilli rests her head against my arm and loops her arms around my elbow. Alfie squeezes my hand tighter as someone makes their way inside the church. They must have gotten through the meager lock.

My heart pounds. I can hardly take in a full breath. The familiar sensation of cold sweat returns and I know I can’t let my body take me down right now. There’s no space to do so.

Alfie wraps his arm around my waist, holding me tightly. “Focus on me,” he taps out against the palm of my hand.

I can’t see him. It’s completely dark within this slim open row of space. He slips his hand out of mine and finds my cheek.

Footsteps thud against stairs. More than one set of footsteps. They might be going up to the attic or down toward us. It’s too soon to know.

Alfie’s hand moves to my opposite cheek, turning my face in his direction but I’m not certain of what he wants me to see.

A warm sensation presses against my lips. My heart beats even harder, faster, and for very different reasons than a minute ago. His hand is still on my cheek and his lips are on mine, soft, familiar, though this has never happened between us before. I could melt into the wall, forget about the imminent danger. “I love you,” he whispers against my lips.

I press my hand against his. “I love you,” I mouth back, my lips brushing against his with the words I hope he clearly understands.

Is this a goodbye? Does he know what’s about to happen? Can he sense that too? All of his other senses have been on high alert since losing his hearing and I feel as if he knows things before me. He knows we haven’t had a chance to experience a true goodbye to anyone we love. Instead, only moments of it’s-too-late .

A body is pounding against the door that leads down here to the basement, pushing their way through the makeshift barricade—a barricade that will tell them someone is down here.