When the Heart Sings Read online

Pawel chuckled, though light exploded behind his eyes. “My head’s too hard. But they didn’t hurt you?”

  The child shook his head. “I hid in the alley until the man came to help you. I–I was scared you would go away and leave me like Tata and Helena did.”

  “We’re going to be fine. I promised your sister. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

  From the street below came shouts and gunshots. Pawel, though his legs shook, stood, shuffled to the window, and drew aside the blackout curtain. Fires turned the night sky blood red. Tension sucked the oxygen from the air. The uprising was just about out of steam. Would the young men like his rescuer even survive what was to come next?

  Pawel leaned against the windowpane, the coolness of the glass welcome relief against his warm skin.

  The young man returned, his breathing rapid. “We have to leave. Right now. I think we’ve been found out.”

  A week. Seven days had passed since Teodor turned his back on all he loved and signed that paper. And still, Fromm held Natia and him as captives. His slaves.

  Fire burned in Teodor’s chest. He had done it for nothing. In the end, he hadn’t saved himself. He hadn’t saved Natia. And he certainly hadn’t saved his country.

  What more could he have done?

  A Bible verse he had memorized as a child sprang to mind: “Give us help from trouble: for vain is the help of man.” And how true. He was helpless. He couldn’t protect his family.

  Shoulders slumped, he sat on one of the long benches in the room that served as the dining hall, though it lacked tables. Why did you need a place to set your bowl when that’s all you had to eat? If possible, the thin, watery gruel had become even thinner and more watery. The mealy potatoes that had once appeared no longer floated in the liquid. Little conversation swirled in the room. The men didn’t have the energy to speak. All they had to live on were their dreams and the rumors that floated in from the Eastern front.

  Just as Teodor dropped his spoon into his empty bowl, Fromm marched into the room. This was the man he had been foolish enough to believe would grant him his freedom. Instead, he had stolen what little Teodor had left.

  He clenched his fists as he rose from the bench and stomped in Fromm’s direction. Teodor came toe to toe with the man, even though he had to peer up to stare into his cold blue eyes. “You made me a promise.” Teodor’s words were little more than a hiss.

  Fromm smirked. “I’ve never met more gullible people in my life. You came here thinking you could best me. But you were wrong, weren’t you?”

  Teodor crossed his arms and ground his teeth.

  “Weren’t you?”

  Teodor tightened every muscle in his body so he wouldn’t rain punches on the man like he itched to.

  “All along, I held the trump card. I have your wife. And for her, I made you dance like a circus dog. In the end, I came out the victor. Like always.”

  “I have a paper.”

  “You foolish, foolish toad.” Fromm leaned over Teodor and forced him to take two steps backward. “Fromm giveth and Fromm taketh away.”

  “What about my wife? At least honor that part of our agreement. Show yourself to be a man of honor.”

  “I have more honor in a single strand of hair than you have in your entire body. You quivering, sniveling pig. You will never, never have your wife back. That is one vow I will keep.” Fromm spun and strode from the room, his chin high and his shoulders back.

  Teodor deflated. He covered his face and rubbed his temples. Fromm was right. He had won. Teodor never stood a chance against such a powerful and evil man. And once again, he had failed someone dearer to him than his own life. He thumped onto the nearest bench.

  Without a word spoken, the men in the room filed past Teodor. Each glared at him on the way out. They had heard the conversation and figured out what Teodor had done. How long until they spewed their wrath on him?

  Once the room emptied, Jerzy came and sat beside him. “Don’t let him get to you. We tried our best. Fromm may have scored, but deep inside I believe we will be the eventual winners.”

  Teodor may have believed that at one time, but he didn’t any longer. As long as Fromm held Natia, he had the upper hand.

  And there was nothing Teodor could do about it.

  The bunk creaked under Teodor as he lay down after yet another long shift. He scrubbed his face. He had no way to protect his wife, to keep her safe from that monster she shared a home with.

  “Hey, Palinski, I heard something interesting.” Lech, once beefy but now scrawny with a long red beard, approached Teodor’s bunk.

  Teodor swallowed hard and worked to keep his hands from trembling. “You know how word spreads. If every rumor proved to be true, we would have been home years ago.”

  “But this one I heard myself.” Lech straightened himself to his full height, cleared his throat, and spoke in a much-too-loud voice. “I hear you signed the Volksdeutsche paper. That you turned traitor.”

  Teodor sprang from the bed, hands fisted. “You heard wrong.”

  “There’s no use denying it. We all know it.”

  “No one is more patriotic than me.” Teodor struggled to keep the warble from his voice. His gut clenched, loosened, and clenched again. He might be sick.

  Umph. Pain radiated throughout his midsection. Lech had punched him. Teodor sputtered and staggered backward. “What was that for?”

  “For selling your soul to the devil. May you be very happy spending eternity with him.”

  Teodor righted himself, but Lech landed another quick punch to his gut. Before he could straighten, a horde of men descended on him, raining blows.

  He fell to the floor. He deserved this. And more. He’d prostituted himself to Fromm and to Germany. For what? Nothing. He sat here. Helpless. Natia remained under that despot’s roof.

  God, why? Why have you forsaken me?

  “Be still, and know that I am God.”

  The voice wasn’t audible, but it was clear.

  “Be still, and know that I am God.”

  The punches and kicks continued. His fighting, his striving, had been for naught. Who could help him? Not himself. Not Jerzy or Fromm. Only God.

  He just needed to be still and let God do his work.

  So much energy wasted.

  If he had trusted God, he never would have signed the paper. If only he had realized that sooner.

  What was done was done. He couldn’t go back and redo the past.

  Lord, I’m going to see you in a few minutes. I could not take care of my mother. I cannot take care of Natia. I never have been able to. Into your hands I commit her. And myself.

  Zygmunt clung to Pawel as the two of them followed the young man through the maze of tunnels and sewers underneath Warsaw. At the pace the man set, Pawel’s head swam and the pounding pain in his temples matched the pounding of their feet.

  Beside him, Zygmunt panted, young and weak from lack of food. “I can’t go anymore.”

  Their rescuer didn’t take the time to turn around. “We can’t stop. The Nazis were in the neighborhood, searching the houses. When they find what I was hiding . . .”

  “That’s enough.” Zygmunt didn’t need to hear more. “We’ll do our best to keep up.” Pawel panted, shaky from the blow to his head. “Where are we going?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Pawel didn’t expect any other answer. They had followed the man for what must have been hours.

  “My feet are wet. And it smells,” Zygmunt cried.

  The sewers weren’t pretty places. The poor kid. His nightmare never ended. “We have to stop. Surely they couldn’t have followed us this far.”

  “Do you want to take that chance?”

  The protest died on Pawel’s tongue.

  “We’re almost there. Just a little farther.”

  The cold darkness of the tunnel seeped deep into Pawel’s bones. Zygmunt must be miserable. He had no fat for insulation. For just a moment, Pawel stopped. “Climb on my ba
ck. I’ll carry you.”

  Zygmunt wiped away his tears and scrambled onto Pawel. Though his arms burned and legs trembled after a short while, Pawel plodded onward.

  When his legs refused to go one step farther, their leader stopped in front of a small door in the brick wall. “This is the place. We’re on the edge of the city now, away from the trouble. You and the child will be safe.”

  Late Fall 1944

  Up in the chilly and dingy attic room, Natia rocked Dominik as he slept. A very hot, very sick Dominik. He barked a cough, his chest rattling. His breaths were short and shallow. The lullaby died on her lips. How could she sing when her heart broke?

  She stretched her aching back but didn’t stop rocking. Dominik might awaken if she did. The best thing for him now was sleep, the only thing left to her after she’d tried everything to break the fever. Even with caring for Helena and Zygmunt’s illnesses, Natia hadn’t encountered this before.

  He’d gotten sick so fast. He went down for his nap healthy and woke up ill. What should she do? If Mama were here, she could guide Natia. But she wasn’t. Her turn to be the mother had come, and she couldn’t do it. Sure, she had managed to keep Zygmunt and Helena clean, fed, and going to school, but they were both healthy children. Never more than a cold or slight upset stomach.

  Nothing like this. Not a fever that burned the back of her hands when she touched Dominik’s forehead.

  And Elfriede was out shopping. With so little food available, she had to get up early and stand in line with the other housewives to purchase enough for them to eat. Even though she was German, it didn’t matter. They all had to make sacrifices for the great cause.

  Natia was alone.

  She stared at the phone on the wall, the black box a mystery to her. They never had money for such luxuries. Though she had watched Elfriede use the contraption, she had never done so herself. She trembled as she lifted the receiver from its hook.

  The operator answered and put Natia through to Dr. Bosco. But his extension rang and rang. Now what?

  Dominik stirred, then opened his dark, glassy eyes, let out a weak whimper, and snuggled his burning little body against her.

  She paced the floor with this dear child she loved as much, maybe even more, than her own sweet babies on the hill. If God stole him from her, it would steal the very breath from her body.

  Because someone could only stand so much loss in life. Natia had reached her limit.

  The front door clicked open and shut. Elfriede, home from her shopping trip at last. Natia laid Dominik on the mattress. In her haste to get down the stairs, she stumbled on the last step and caught herself on the banister. She almost tumbled into Elfriede’s arms. “You have to get the doctor.”

  Elfriede unwrapped the blue scarf from around her neck. “I don’t understand. You talk fast.”

  Natia pulled in a few deep breaths. “Get the doctor. Dominik is sick.”

  The small smile that had played on Elfriede’s lips disappeared. “He not sick before.”

  “I know. Please, go find Dr. Bosco. I tried to call him, but he didn’t answer.”

  Elfriede wrapped her scarf around herself again and turned away as Pani Rzeźnikowa rounded the corner from the living room. Natia’s head spun. Perhaps she was getting sick.

  The older woman patted Natia’s arm. Nie, her appearance had to be more than a vision.

  Pani Rzeźnikowa shook her gray head. “Oh my dear, let’s see what we can do.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Pani Fromm invited me for tea as thanks for some beef I got her.”

  Natia stepped into her embrace and sobbed, wetting Pani Rzeźnikowa’s blue dress. “I’m so scared. I don’t even know what medicine to give him because I can’t read the labels. At home, the medicines were lined up so I knew what they were. Here, they are nothing but a jumble. What a terrible mother I am. God knew that so he took away my babies.”

  With her siblings, she’d had her father’s help. But on her own, she was useless. At long last, she had the answer to the question why God kept her from being a mother.

  Because she wasn’t capable of being one.

  Pani Rzeźnikowa allowed Natia to cry herself out. When nothing more than hiccups remained, she handed Natia a clean handkerchief. “Let’s see how Dominik is. I’ll put the water on to boil and be right up.”

  Within minutes Pani Rzeźnikowa climbed the stairs and bent over the mattress, feeling for fever with a gentle, experienced touch, much as Natia’s mother had always done. “Poor little thing. Have you tried cold compresses?”

  Natia nodded.

  “That’s good. His body is fighting the illness, so fever isn’t an all-bad thing. How about cold syrup?”

  “I don’t know which bottle is which.”

  “You can always ask for help. There is no shame in that.”

  “I couldn’t take him out in the rain. And Dr. Bosco never answered the phone. If I even called right. I’ve never used one before.”

  Pani Rzeźnikowa stood and smoothed Natia’s hair. “You’re doing well, especially under the circumstances.”

  “I’m not.” She sat hard on the mattress and covered her face. She had no more tears. She’d spent them all.

  The stuffing crunched as Pani Rzeźnikowa sat beside her. “Don’t trouble yourself so. Mothering is hard. But you’re managing. Your strength and resilience amaze me.”

  “I am the opposite of strong and resilient.”

  “God is giving you the daily grace to carry you through, just as he is giving it to me.”

  Natia peered at her friend. “You once told me that these circumstances are part of God’s plan. How is that?”

  “We don’t always understand the Lord’s ways. Sometimes we don’t like what he is doing in our lives. Understanding what his plan is can be difficult and frightening. We wonder how a loving God can allow such awful things to happen. Questions come to our minds about his goodness and care for us.”

  “There is no joy or light in my life. How can God still be good? How can he be doing good things for me in this situation? When he rips my children from me?”

  “Our problem lies not with God but with our perception of him.” Pani Rzeźnikowa smiled and stroked Natia’s cheek. Such a motherly gesture that Natia’s heart ached. If only Mama had lived longer. “We look at our circumstances and see things as not good. But we don’t see the picture clearly, as the Lord does. He knows what’s going on. Things happen just the way he has planned they will. We aren’t to find our joy and contentment in people or in our circumstances, but in him.”

  Natia stood and turned a circle in the room. “The world is so dark and silent right now. There is no joy. There are no songs to sing.”

  “Don’t look to the things of this world to bring you joy. Only the Lord can give you a heart that is truly happy and at peace.”

  “Do you have it? The joy, I mean?”

  “I’m not perfect. Like all people, I struggle. I miss Karol and wish he were with me. But this life and its troubles are temporary. In the end, if I rest in God, he’ll bring me everlasting joy. And nothing can compare to that.”

  Natia stared out the window. On the quiet street below, two dark figures hustled through the drizzle in their direction. Elfriede was back with Dr. Bosco. “I’m scared. And lonely.”

  Pani Rzeźnikowa came up behind her and squeezed her shoulders. “All the more reason to rely on him.”

  Had she been trusting in the wrong people and in the wrong things? How wonderful to possess everlasting joy. That no matter your outward circumstances, your heart could be happy. What was the verse Mama repeated as she lay dying? “Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fulness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore.”

  But how did one get that joy? “It’s not easy.”

  “Nie, it’s not.”

  Natia scooped Dominik from the bed and carried him downstairs. “You’ll be fine now, little one. The doctor is here. He’l
l make you better.”

  Dr. Bosco entered the home, shook out his wet coat, and handed it to Pani Rzeźnikowa, then took Dominik from Natia’s arms. “Now, little man, what has been going on?”

  Natia related Dominik’s symptoms, and Dr. Bosco examined him. “Croup. That’s why the cough resembles a bark. Some sugar and coal syrup. Do you have that, Pani Fromm?”

  “I do.”

  “Good, here’s how you administer it.” He gave Natia the instructions as Elfriede went for the medicine.

  Dr. Bosco and Pani Rzeźnikowa soon went their separate ways. Natia soaked a washcloth and went upstairs to Dominik. After stripping him down, she washed him in cool water to bring down the fever and sang to him, every song in her repertoire. He slept off and on, and she made several trips down the stairs and back up with cool cloths.

  In between nursing Dominik, Natia put last night’s leftover soup into a pot on the stove to heat.

  “How is he doing?” Elfriede sat at the kitchen table, penning a letter.

  “I think his fever is coming down.”

  “I help?”

  “Just watch the soup. I’m going to feed him some the next time he wakes.”

  “I pray. Dominik will be fine.”

  Neither of them could bear to lose this child.

  Natia returned upstairs to a whimpering boy. She picked him up and patted his back. “Do you need to be changed? Then I’ll wash you down again and get you some warm soup. How does that sound?”

  He nodded, and she laid him on the mattress to change him. Voices came from downstairs. Pan Fromm had returned home.

  Just as she had Dominik’s diaper off, the stair treads creaked. Where was the clean nappie? She couldn’t find where she’d put it. The footsteps approached.

  As she flung the blanket over Dominik, Pan Fromm entered the room. She could barely make out his words over the pounding of her heart. “My wife is not to be cooking dinner. That is your job. Get downstairs and get to work. This child has become too much of a distraction.” He turned on his heel, then slammed the door behind him.

  Natia released her pent-up breath. That was close. Much too close. The noose was tightening.