Martha took her godson in her arms. He didn’t make a sound. As she walked down the path, she bent her head, breathing in the scent of his hair. She whispered his name, stroking the soft skin of his cheek. He gazed up at her, his eyes impossibly wise, as if he could see beyond this moment, this place, to a future she couldn’t even contemplate.
CHAPTER 19
Kitty could hear people singing in the boxcars on either side of her. She wasn’t surprised that they sounded so happy. She thought that the countryside they had passed through on the journey was the most beautiful she had ever seen. Although winter was not far away, the trees in the valleys were still cloaked in red and gold. Jewel-colored pheasants darted across the fields as horse-drawn plows made slow, dark lines through the pale stubble left behind by the harvest. Once, when the train had stopped early in the morning, she’d seen a hare, just yards away, its nose twitching as it sniffed the air. She’d pulled out her sketchbook in a bid to capture it before it darted off across the fields. Charlie had seen it, too. He’d brought half a loaf for their breakfast, and they’d eaten it together, sitting on the cinder path between the tracks.
The town of Ostrava was the last one on the Czech side, before the train crossed the border into Poland. There was a last flurry of trading at the station. Cigarettes were swapped for finger-licking pastries and bottles of plum brandy.
Then the train began the final few miles of its journey east. The first village inside Poland was called Zebrzydowice. As they approached, the DPs began singing the Polish national anthem, which Kitty recognized because her mother used to hum it sometimes in the workshop—usually when she was tackling a particularly tricky piece of sewing.
Soldiers boarded the train when it stopped. They weren’t checking papers—that would come when they reached the bigger town of Dziedzice. But they climbed into each car and took a good look at the people inside. Kitty noticed the hammer-and-sickle badge on the cap of the man who came into her car. It was the first time she had encountered a Russian soldier.
Once the train began to move again, the singing resumed. The DPs were in high spirits now, some of them, no doubt, fueled by the Czech brandy. By the time they reached the final stop, people were leaning out of the open doors, waving the homemade flags they’d brought all the way from Bavaria.
As the DPs began to unload their belongings to transfer to the train to Warsaw, Charlie took photographs. Kitty saw Stefan shouldering a bundle belonging to one of the elderly women who had helped run the sewing class. She hadn’t seen much of him on the journey. He hadn’t sat outside or stood around on the tracks with the other men, who seemed to take every possible opportunity to get out for a smoke.
She saw Charlie walking over to him, preparing to get a shot. But Stefan waved him away. Head down, he sped up as he made for the Warsaw train, the old lady trailing in his wake.
When all the goodbyes had been said, Kitty went to buy a bottle of Polish vodka. This had been Martha’s suggestion—to bring back to the camp something that would prove that she had entered the country and come back without any problem. On a board outside the shop, the prices of various items were written in chalk. Kitty spent a few minutes studying them, trying to remember how many zlotys Charlie had said you could get for one American dollar. She began to jot a few of the prices down in her notebook, figuring it would be useful for the people back at the camp to know how much things would cost if they decided to go back. Then she had a better idea: she could get Charlie to take a photo of the board.
Out of the corner of her eye, she became aware of someone watching her. It was a man in uniform. He wore the high-topped boots of the Russian military she had seen at the border. As she stood there, he began to move closer. She caught sight of the pistol holster strapped around his waist.
“What you do?” The question was delivered in English, which surprised her. The tone of his voice echoed the mean look in his eyes.
“Nothing.” She groped in her bag for the vodka she had bought. “Just shopping.” She pulled out the bottle.
His fingers went to the handle of his pistol. “You come with me!”
Kitty froze. What had she done? Was it possible that buying alcohol was illegal here? In desperation, she tried speaking to him in Polish. “Jestem z ONZ.” I’m with the United Nations. She pointed to the patch on her cap.
His hand was still on the pistol. “You come—now!”
“It’s okay, bud, she’s with me.” Suddenly Charlie was beside her. He put his arm around her waist. The soldier scowled at them, his hand clenching on the handle of the gun. Then he glanced at the train and gave a sharp, dismissive nod.