Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
CURRENT DAY
Gliwice, Poland
The lieutenant turns his back on me—us—the same way Herr Drexel did when his decision of my future needed no added thought.
“The prisoner remains where he is,” the lieutenant tells the younger soldier. “Under guard watch. No exceptions.”
Christoph takes a step toward the lieutenant and soldier. “What about the proof? The documentation.”
The lieutenant pauses but doesn’t turn to face us. He doesn’t respond for a long moment, as if he’s considering the question—or so I desperately want to believe.
When the soles of his boots squelch, pivoting toward us, his cold stare locks onto Christoph’s.
“If you are so determined to prove this man’s identity,” he speaks slowly, each word clear and harsh, “you may retrieve whatever papers you believe will vindicate him. We will not kill him in the meantime.”
For a moment, hope inflates my chest and allows me a deeper breath.
“However, understand this,” the lieutenant continues. “As I said…these prisoners are scheduled for transport in seven days.”
“And if I don’t return in time?” Christoph asks. It’s the middle of February, the dead of winter, and I doubt transportation isn’t the only challenge.
The lieutenant sighs a heavy breath, filled with annoyance. “He will be transported east with the rest of the prisoners or removed from the column entirely.”
“Removed,” Christoph repeats, the word quiet, but loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Executed,” the lieutenant says, no inflection, no expression, casual. “If he is deemed a threat…or not needed for the move.”
The lieutenant looks at me now, just for a blink of a second.
“Seven days.” He repeats the deadline—the looming mark of fate. “After that, we will deal with him based on what he appears to be. A German prisoner.”
“I’ll return before then,” Christoph says.
The lieutenant lifts his chin, glints at me, and grits his jaw. “The woman stays.” It was never a possibility for me to leave. We’ve stayed behind the Soviets for a reason. They’ve yet to take down Germany, and I’m still a Jew.
Christoph closes his eyes for a moment as if just coming to terms with what he must do—leave me behind. “With him?”
“No.” The answer is quick, and final. “She will remain here. In this building. Separate from the prisoners.”
I open my mouth before I realize I have nothing to say. I wouldn’t have agreed to leave Noah here anyway. If the Soviets move him, I will follow. I’d rather stay a hostage in this building until Christoph returns—or until I must make that choice.
“Since you are attached to the man,” the lieutenant says, staring down at me. “That makes you either innocent or as dangerous as he is. All to be decided.”
I press my hand to my chest, knowing I’ve never had a choice in the matter, or allowed an opinion. I’m meant to stay here. But if Christoph can’t prove Noah’s identity, they will consider me an accomplice to what they believe to be a German prisoner.
The lieutenant clears his throat, gives the younger soldier a quick nod and walks off. “Keep her where we can see her.” His words float behind him his shadow.
“You will stay in the infirmary room. Keep the sick girl quiet,” the younger soldier tells me, pointing to the room Avi’s in. “That boy too. I don’t have time to deal with you three.”
Christoph takes my arm and pulls me to the side of the hall as if it would give us a moment of privacy, but we are always under watchful eyes and that soldier will hear every word.
“I won’t take any longer than I have to,” he whispers.
“Do you truly think you can make it back here in time? They’ll kill—”
“I know how long it took me to get here and what I had to do, and I wouldn’t be leaving you here if I didn’t think I could get back promptly,” he says.
“Celina, I never should have let it come to this.” He wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my shoulder.
I don’t embrace him in return. I… can’t.
“I will be back this time. I promise. I know Noah’s life depends on me now. ”
I don’t respond. I might regret that, but I know he regrets making promises. His footsteps continue to echo after he turns the corner for the front door. I stare at the vacant space he walked through, debating all decisions versus the lack of choices.
“Inside,” the younger soldier tells me, pointing to the infirmary room.
I don’t argue. There’s no point.
Avi is still awake, pale, grasping the wool blanket draped over her. Her eyes are wide, unblinking, but staring straight at me as I make my way back to her side.
Elias is leaning against the wall by her head on the other side. “He’s gone?” he asks quietly.
“Why?” Avi asks. “Why did he leave us here?”
“The same reason Celina has led us to follow the Soviet column,” Elias mutters. “Her husband is apparently here among the German soldiers. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it, Celina?”
My heart pounds with both anger and resentment, but at the same time I know I need to understand his perspective.
I have been acting like a person with a head injury—I am a person with a head injury.
One who easily could be imagining things that aren’t there.
But Elias doesn’t know me. And I am right.
“You think you saw Noah again?” Avi asks, her voice croaking.
“I did see him. First, at the train depot. A man aiding the Soviets told me where they were moving next. I knew he would be here in a week’s time, and he is. Christoph and I both saw him outside earlier.”
“How can you think Christoph will make it to Amsterdam and back here within a week?” Elias demands.
“Even after being locked up for the last year and a half, I know there’s very little transportation available, never mind the difficulty of crossing country borders.
The only thing that has changed since our liberation is the path the Soviets are taking to push out the SS.
It’s just an exchange of power. We are still at war. ”
“A week?” Avi asks. “We have to wait here a week with them?”
“You don’t have to wait here with me.” I don’t think. It isn’t the two of them the Soviets are holding for questioning, it’s me. “But you also need to continue the penicillin treatment they’re giving you. You can’t go anywhere right now.”
“If I could take the penicillin and run, I’d be tempted,” Avi grumbles.
“Elias, you don’t have to stay, either. You’ve helped us more than I could ever thank you for.” Despite his anger toward me, I know we’ve all leaned on each other for support since we set off on our own path.
Elias’s subtle gaze falls over Avi. “I’m not leaving you two to fend for yourselves, but I don’t want to be a prisoner anymore, Celina. You must understand.”
“I do. I don’t want to stay here any longer than you do, but if you knew someone you love was mixed in with a gang of prisoners, would you leave them behind?”
“Why did you think he was dead until now?” Avi asks. “Or until you saw him at the train depot.”
I blink for a long second, only hearing the gunshot echo within my mind.
Then the image of a body in a pool of blood.
“He was spotted by the SS during a roundup in Amsterdam. We didn’t even have bands on our arms because we had—different papers…
but it didn’t matter. Noah made me slip into a narrow alley, without him.
” I look down at my flat, almost concave stomach, and press my hand in the center.
“I was pregnant with our baby girl. He was protecting us.”
Avi’s bottom lip falls and her brows furrow. “Celina—” she exhales.
“I heard a gunshot. Ran back to the corner rather than running away like he told me to. I saw a man, dead in a pool of blood on the street. Same white shirt. Same color hair. I was certain it was him. With my heart shattered into a million pieces, I forced myself to go the other way, and I’ve regretted it since. ”
“Why would you regret that? He was trying to save you?” Elias asks.
“Our baby was never meant to be. She died a couple of months later, before birth. I thought maybe I was supposed to try and save him. All I know was, something altered our lives, and what we thought was meant to be. We were supposed to be parents, together, not one of us alone. So, nature corrected itself,” as Frau Drexel kindly put it—as if loss is a gift rather than a life-sentence of grief.
“I’ve been left wondering if everything following that roundup was a punishment to me for giving up on him that day. In return, our baby gave up on me.”
The silence that follows my explanation only confirms the sensibility of my thoughts. How could I think otherwise? I knew I couldn’t live without him, so what was the purpose in leaving his side when he needed me most?
“You’re wrong,” Avi says. “You did everything you were supposed to do. And if you had given birth to your daughter, then been identified as a Jew, you both would have been killed at once. The world wasn’t ready for her yet, and in turn, she saved your life.”
A gunshot fires outside, rattling the window and my rib cage. I turn and yank the drape to the side, then peek out. The view leads directly to the prisoner yard, and a line of Soviets pointing their rifles at German soldiers’ heads.