Decade: late 1930s – 1940s

HOME AT LAST

by Tunnel Writer

December 30, 1939

Jacob Wells allowed the letter he was reading to drop from his hands to his desk. He fell into his chair with a thud, placed his shaking hands over his face, and tried to control his emotions.

Calm yourself. Don’t hyperventilate, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing his breathing.

“Father? What is it?” Mary asked in alarm as she walked over and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

Jacob’s voice trembled and cracked as he tried to speak. He cleared his throat and took several shaky breaths.  He looked into Mary’s worried eyes and whispered as he tried to hold the tears back, “Hitler has taken over Poland. Charles has written to me. The family is in trouble…” Jacob swallowed a sob as he started thinking about his Jewish college roommate and his best friend.

Mary gasped as she, too, fell into a nearby chair. “OH, NO! How can we help?” she whispered as tears filled her own eyes. She clearly remembered how easygoing and friendly Charles was when he visited during a business trip shortly before his marriage. Father’s voice pulled her out of her memory.

“He is trying to get papers for the family to come to America. It looks bleak, but there’s a possibility.”

Mary stood suddenly. “Of course, there’s plenty of room here for all of them. I’ll get the guest chambers ready.”

“Mary, it will take time. Peter, Lou, and Sebastian will be arriving in an hour to discuss how to sponsor the family and get them here. To bring people here from Eastern Europe, they have to have family or friends willing to sponsor them. The government wants to make sure the refugees will be financially taken care of.  If we can prove that, it will be easier to get them out, bring them to safety.”

February 1940

“But I don’t want to leave you,” Twelve-year-old Catherine sobbed as she clung to her father.

“You have to, Cathy. Once you get to America, you’ll be safe,” Charles reassured her. “You’re lucky, Squirt. I wish I could go with you. It would be so amazing to take this journey with you.” Her 16-year-old brother sighed as he ruffled her hair.

Catherine looked up at his 5-foot-9-inch frame and gave him a sad smile. “After the war, you’ll have to come to New York to get me. Promise you will come? After the war?” she asked anxiously.

“Of course. The second this stupid war is over, Momma, Pop and I will be on the first ship to fetch you.”

Catherine gave her brother a long hug.

“Look after my dolls for me, Jakey,” she said as she pulled back.

Jacob made a face that made Catherine giggle. “I’m not going to babysit your dolls. I have a reputation to protect,” he said as he stood a bit taller.

“Please, Jacob?” Catherine pouted.

“I’ll throw them in the trash.” He winked at her while trying to look tough.

She placed her hands on her hips and tried unsuccessfully to look mad. “JACOB PETER SEBASTIAN CHANDLER, I’ll hate you forever.”

Jacob laughed as he picked up his little sister. She squealed as he spun her around. He made sure her feet were firmly planted on the ground before letting her go.

“Shhh. Don’t draw attention,” Charles sternly whispered to them as he smiled and nodded to the frowning people passing by.

“Dirty Jews. Good thing Hitler will take care of this problem,” one woman grumbled as she frowned at the family.

Charles pulled his family further away from the groups of people huddling on the platform. He looked around to make sure they weren’t noticed. Then he discreetly and swiftly removed the yellow star off Catherine’s coat.

“My star! I could be arrested or shot for not wearing the star,” Catherine hissed in fear as her father quickly placed the star in his own pocket.

“You aren’t going to need it. You will be free,” he whispered in her ear. He then smiled sadly at her.

“I’m gonna miss you, Squirt,” Jacob said with a watery smile as he pulled her into a hug.

Catherine jumped at the sound of a train whistle and covered her ears. She knew it was time to leave and the tears slowly filled her eyes.

Catherine’s mother stepped forward and tightened her daughter’s scarf. “Everything will be fine, darling. This train will take you out of Poland, and then you’ll take a boat to New York. Once the war is over, we will come get you. It won’t last long. Maybe a month or two. Think of this as a grand adventure,” her mother said as she peppered her daughter’s face in kisses.

A lady stepped forward.

“You remember Marilyn?” Charles asked, nodding toward the woman.

Catherine nodded. “She was your secretary, before they made the law forbidding Jews to hire Germans. Then your law firm was taken away. She’s German.” Catherine hiccupped.

“She’s one of the good Germans.” Charles winked at the girl. “She will be going with you on the train, and she will make sure you get on the right boat. As soon as you get to New York, Jacob Wells will meet you and take you to his home. Main thing is, you will be safe, mój mały kot.”¹ Charles smiled as he patted her head.

“But what about you, Momma, and Jakey? How will you be safe? Can you come to America, too?” Her tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

“We are still trying to find a way. We’re lucky we were able to secure passage for you. Don’t worry about us, we will be safe. We will write often.”

“ALL ABOARD! FINAL CALL!!”

“Come, Catherine, we need to go.” Marilyn gently pulled the girl away.

“WAIT!!” Catherine frantically squirmed loose from her grasp and ran back to her family. “I love you!” she cried as she hugged her parents and brother goodbye. Catherine then quickly ran to the train and allowed a gentleman to help her up. She found a seat by a window that faced her family. Once she was seated, the train lurched forward. She let out a small sob as she waved. They were standing on the platform holding each other, waving until the train was out of sight.

“We are doing the right thing. Aren’t we?”

Charles held his weeping wife tighter while holding tight to the yellow star in his pocket. “She will be safe. She will grow up free in America. Don’t worry, dear, Jacob will take care of her. She will get plenty to eat, she will have many friends to play with, and she will be allowed to continue her schooling. You know how much she cried when she was told she was no longer allowed in school. Main thing is, she will be loved. All this will be over in a few months, and this will be just a fun trip for her,” Charles reassured his wife.

* * *

Catherine closed her eyes and kept that last vision of her family in her mind. She felt something odd in her coat pocket and pulled out a small package wrapped in a handkerchief and a note.

Something sweet to cover the bitterness of leaving. Love you forever and always, little sister!

Love,
Jakey

She opened the handkerchief to find a tiny square of chocolate. She allowed the tears to fall as she put the chocolate in her mouth, closed her eyes, and slowly let it melt. Before she knew it, the swaying of the train lulled her to sleep.

* * *

They had been traveling for a few hours when the train pulled into a station. Two SS guards entered the train. “PAPERS!” one soldier screamed at a passenger at the front of the train.

“Pretend to sleep, and let me do the talking. DO NOT open your eyes or speak to them,” Marilyn said sternly.

Catherine nodded, leaned against the window, and closed her eyes.

“GET OFF THE TRAIN, DIRTY JUDE!” the other soldier screamed at a woman with three children.²

Catherine could hear the begging from the woman and the crying from the children.

The scream for papers continued with each row of passengers. Catherine could hear the crying and begging from passengers as they were being forced off the train.

“PAPERS!” Catherine almost jumped at the demand from her row.

“Here, sir. It’s all in order.” Marilyn spoke in German as she calmly handed over her and Catherine’s papers and Catherine’s passport to him.

The soldier stared at the passport and then at Catherine for a long while. “Why only one passport?”

“She’s orphaned and is going to America to her uncle. I am only escorting her to the boat,” Marilyn replied casually in German.

The soldier sighed. “OK. All is in order. Safe travels,” he said as he handed the papers back.

Marilyn let out a shaky breath as the soldier moved on to the next row, demanding papers.

Catherine refused to relax until the soldiers left the train. She opened her eyes to look out the window just in time to see a Nazi shoot the woman and children. Catherine sobbed and closed her eyes tightly. She knew she would continue to be in danger until she was safely on the boat.

* * *

Three days later, she was at a port staring at the boat that would take her to a new life.

“Here we are, Cathy. Make sure you mind your manners, and be sure to thank Jacob for taking you in. It will be cold, so if you go on deck, remember to bundle up. Make sure you wear your hat and coat. You don’t want to be sick when Jacob fetches you in New York.” Marilyn rambled on as she buttoned up Cathy’s coat. “Take care, dear. Oh, I almost forgot, here. You can open it when you get to your cabin. Perhaps they will help you when you miss home,” she continued as she handed her a small package.

“Thank you,” Catherine choked out as she flew into her arms.

A whistle blew, and Marilyn found a crew member.

“This young lady is traveling alone, will you see to it that she gets to her cabin?” she asked while handing the man some money.

“Of course. Right this way, Miss.”

Marilyn gave the girl a quick hug and then headed back the way they had come.

* * *

Once Catherine was alone in her cabin, she tore open the package. Pictures poured out. She lovingly traced her finger over the faces. Momma, Daddy, Jakey!! There were pictures of their home, her parents, her brother, her friends, and random pictures of her small village. Catherine knew that Marilyn was also a photographer, but had no clue she’d taken so many candid pictures of her with her friends and family. She was glad to have these memories with her.

It felt like a lifetime ago since she last saw her family.

The further away the boat moved from her home, the more silent and withdrawn Catherine became.

* * *

After two weeks at sea, the atmosphere on the ship had suddenly become lighthearted with excitement and relief. The cheers and whoops from passengers grabbed Catherine’s attention. She walked to the railing and stood beside a cheering man. He pulled a yellow star out of his pocket and threw it as hard as he could into the swirling water.

Catherine could only stare in sadness at the Statue of Liberty as the ship passed by. Jakey, you would’ve thrown your star into the water, too. I just KNOW you would’ve. At the very last moment, Catherine turned toward the Statue and gave a very small curtsy. “Thank you, Miss, for allowing me to come here,” she whispered. She felt foolish for thanking a statue, and hoped no one had seen her. Even though she was sad, she was thankful for the opportunity.

The disembarking seemed to take forever. Catherine stood with one hand holding her simple suitcase, and her other grasping a stuffed rabbit as tightly as she could. She watched people running happily into the arms of family and friends.

Catherine’s anxiety was working overtime. Who is this Jacob that’s supposed to meet me? Will he like me? Will he be waiting for me? Is he running late? Is he that smiling red-haired man? No, a child ran to him. Maybe he’s that tall blonde man? No, he’s kissing a lady who just threw herself at him. Is he old? Young? Short? Tall? she thought as she bounced nervously from foot to foot.

“Miss, do you need help?” a crew man asked.

Catherine looked up at him. “Nie mówię po Angielsku,”  she whispered.³

“I’m sorry, pardon?” the crewman asked.

“She said she doesn’t speak English,” a lady behind Catherine answered for her. The lady took pity on the child, and then asked in Polish, “Do you need help finding someone, little dove?”

Catherine nodded. “I’m looking for Jacob Wells,” Catherine replied back in her native language.

“We will find him together,” the lady said with a smile.

Catherine allowed a few tears to fall as she walked sadly down the gangplank. That boat was the last tie to home.

The lady next to her stayed by her side as a gentleman walked up.

“Catherine Chandler?” he asked.

Catherine nodded.

“Thank you, ma’am for watching out for Catherine,” Jacob addressed the woman.

The woman sighed. “This little one doesn’t speak English. Only Polish.”

Jacob stared at the little girl in shock. How in the world are we going to communicate with her? Are there any helpers fluent in Polish that can work as a translator and an English teacher for a while? Wait…Vincent speaks Polish. NO. I can’t expose him to Catherine. Not yet. Jacob frowned at the thought. He noticed the little girl studying him, and gave her the warmest smile he could.

She sighed sadly as she silently placed her hand in his.

His heart melted at the small gesture. He took her suitcase with his free hand, gently squeezed her hand, and led her home.

* * *

As they passed through the tunnels, Catherine could hear whispering. She could see children looking at her with interest out of the corner of her eye. However, she kept her eyes downcast and refused to make eye contact.

* * *

“Did you see that new girl?” Rebecca asked later before their Literature class.

“She talks funny,” Lisa replied, laughing and wrinkling her nose.

Fifteen-year-old Vincent frowned at the statement. “Father said she speaks Polish. I’m sure, to her, we are the ones that speak strangely.”

The other children nodded in agreement, which made Lisa pout that no one agreed with her.

“Have you met her yet, Vincent?” Pascal asked quietly.

Vincent sighed. “Yes and No. I haven’t officially met her. Father has forbidden it.  However, I have heard her crying late at night. I sit by her chamber door, wishing I could go in and comfort he,.” he said sadly.

“OOOH. Vincent has a girlfriend. I DARE you to sneak in and kiss her. Then again, she’d probably scream and run away from you,” Mitch teased while making kissing noises.

“NO. She’s a child,” he replied back with a snarl.

Winslow noticed Vincent’s balled fist, and quickly moved to stand between the two boys. “Leave Vincent alone,” Winslow said angrily.

“Leave it up to chubby to fight your battles, huh, Vincent? You do realize that sitting by a girl’s chamber at night is creepy, right? Every girl would scream if they woke up to your ugly face every morning. We all know that no woman will ever spread her legs for you.” He laughed maliciously.

It only took Winslow less than ten seconds to notice the look of sadness that crossed Vincent’s face, spin, and punch Mitch in the nose. “I warned you to leave Vincent alone,” he growled at Mitch.

“What is going on here?” Jacob asked.

He noticed Mitch’s bloody nose and sighed. “Both of you, to my library AT ONCE.” Jacob stormed out with both boys trailing behind.

As he passed Vincent, Winslow stopped beside him and put his hand on his shoulder. “Don’t listen to him, he’s jealous because he knows you’re better-looking than him,” Winslow said with a wink. Then he dropped his voice to a light whisper that only Vincent could hear. “I’ve been dying to punch him in the face for a long time now.”

Winslow smiled as he heard Vincent’s low chuckle. Then Winslow heard Jacob clear his throat.

“Winslow, now, please.”

“Gotta go.”

* * *

A few hours later, Vincent found Winslow cleaning in the dining hall. “I hope you didn’t get punished too severely on my account,” Vincent said softly as he pulled up a chair to watch Winslow sweep.

“Only three months of extra chores. Don’t worry, I didn’t go into detail about what Mitch said to you. I would never embarrass you like that.”

“I’m sorry you were punished, and thank you. Although, if you had told, Father probably wouldn’t have punished you,” Vincent whispered, staring at his feet.

“Yes, he would’ve,” Winslow and Vincent said at the same time, making both boys chuckle.

“I’m not sorry at all. The punishment is so worth it. He deserved every bit of that bloody nose and then some. Those things he said to you, Vincent, please don’t think too much about it. I see Lisa looking at you, and Mitch is so jealous he can’t see straight. He’s had his eye on Lisa since the day he came here.”

Winslow gave Vincent a mysterious grin, and lowered his voice. “Besides, Father banned him from the tunnels. He was forced to go back to his dad. I’m glad he’s gone. He always found ways of getting all of us kids in trouble at one point or another. He was too good at manipulating the truth and putting blame on us.”

Vincent nodded in agreement, remembering that Mitch got him punished a time or two. “Have you met the new girl?” Vincent asked quietly, hoping to change the subject.

“Yeah, once when I brought her food. She stays in her chamber and never leaves. All she does is cry. Mary said she’s not eating, and she’s losing weight. I heard Mary and Father arguing. Mary is wanting Father to allow you to talk to her. Maybe even teach her English. Father won’t hear of it. Stubborn old goat.” Winslow stopped sweeping and leaned on his broom. You know what I think?” Winslow asked while biting his bottom lip.

Vincent cocked his head, silently asking him to continue.

“I think she’s lonely. Think about it. She’s from the other side of the world, and doesn’t speak English. She moved in with a bunch of strangers that she can’t even talk to. She’s alone, Vincent. She’s in a cocoon. She’s probably scared, homesick, sad, and missing her family. I wish we could help her.” Winslow sighed.

Vincent let out a sad sigh. “I can speak to her, but it’s forbidden,” he said sadly.

“Vincent, you’re the smartest and kindest kid I know. If anyone can find a way around Father’s rule and get through to her, I KNOW you can.”

“I better go before I get you in more trouble,” Vincent said as he stood up and pushed the chair back under the table.

* * *

Later that night, Vincent was sitting outside the guest chamber, listening to Catherine’s sobbing. His heart was shattered for the poor girl. I HAVE to do something. Before he could stop himself, he spoke. “Proszę, nie płacz. Please, don’t cry,” he repeated in English.

He heard a gasp, and then he heard a small broken voice say in Polish, “You speak Polish?”

“Yes.”

He could hear her stirring to get out of bed.

“Please, stay in your chamber. I’m not allowed to see you.”

“Why?” Catherine asked as she paused halfway to the chamber door.

“I’m different. I may frighten you.”

Catherine sighed as she walked closer. “What if I sat in the doorway facing into the chamber, and you sat with your back against mine? We wouldn’t see each other, but we could talk. Would that be allowed?”

Vincent let out the breath he was holding. He saw a small figure sitting in the doorway, facing away from him. He took a deep breath and quickly sat with his back against hers. She leaned back and pressed her small weight against him.

“I’m Catherine. What’s your name?”

“I’m Vincent.”

Catherine sighed and played with the hem of his cloak that was at her side. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. He smells like candle wax, and something else I can’t place. I’m comfortable. Almost… Almost like…. Home. Tears sprang to her eyes. She could tell he had asked her something, but didn’t catch it. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

Vincent chuckled. “I said. I would love to hear all about your life in Poland. That is, if it’s not too painful.”

Catherine smiled a watery smile. “I’d love to. I have pictures,” she said.

The small joy in her voice made Vincent smile slightly.

“I’ll go get them. They’re by my bed,” she said, standing up.

Vincent quickly pulled his hood over his head and made sure his hands were in his lap.

Catherine ran over and grabbed her pictures and turned toward the boy sitting away from her. I wonder why he wears a cloak?

Vincent suddenly felt the slight pressure against his back.

“This is my family and me at my last birthday,” she said as she laid a picture down on the floor and scooted it closer to Vincent.

He smiled at the picture of a smiling family in front of a cake.

“This is my best friend, Eva. She disappeared right after this picture was taken. I never found out where she went,” Catherine said with a sad sigh as she placed that picture on the floor.

“You must miss them,” Vincent said as he picked up the picture.

Catherine let out a small gasp as she saw a glimpse of his hand out of the corner of her eye.

Vincent, hearing the gasp, quickly put the pictures down. “I must go. I’m not supposed to be here,” he said uncomfortably and he jumped up.

“Will you come back tomorrow night to talk to me?” Catherine asked sadly.

He was shocked at her request. She saw my hand, but wants me to come back. How can this be? “If you wish.”

“Yes, please. You’re my only friend that I can talk to. I have more pictures.”

Vincent sighed. “Tomorrow then. Be well.”

* * *

The next night, Vincent smiled at the girl sitting in her doorway reading a book.

“Good evening, Vincent,” Catherine said as she felt his warm body press against her back.

“Good evening, Catherine,” he smiled as he replied.

They spent hours sitting back to back, discussing Poland, her family, friends, school, and her fear for her family. Vincent was sure to keep his hands out of sight. He didn’t even attempt to pick up any of the pictures she laid down.

Vincent heard soft footsteps approaching. He looked up to see Mary come around the corner. Mary froze and made eye contact with Vincent. Her gentle, knowing smile told Vincent that she approved of their meeting. She turned and walked away.

Shortly afterwards, Vincent heard Catherine yawn. “You must get some sleep,” he told her.

“Will you talk to me again sometime?”

“If you wish.”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow night. Until then, sleep well, Catherine.”

Without turning around, she reached back and gently squeezed his cloaked elbow. “Goodnight, Vincent.”

Vincent could feel her standing up and moving away. He stood to leave. “May I ask you for a favor?” Vincent asked meekly.

“Of course,” she replied, still facing away.

“Please eat something. We are worried about you.” He heard a sad sigh before she answered.

“Food here is strange. I’m not sure it’s Kosher. My mother is a great cook. I miss her food,” she said with a sob.

OF COURSE. That’s why she hasn’t been eating. I knew it was more than homesickness. There must be some Jews in the community. Maybe a helper would be generous enough to bring down some food. Just give her a small taste of home.

* * *

“Hey, Vincent, what can I do for you?” Pascal asked, startling Vincent from his thoughts.

Vincent looked around and noticed he was in the Pipe Chamber. “I’m sorry. I was so deep in thought that I didn’t realize where I was going.”

Pascal laid his pipe down and approached his best friend. “Need to talk?”

“I’ve been speaking to Catherine.”

“WHAT? If Father finds out, you’ll be in serious trouble,” Pascal hissed.

“She hasn’t seen me. She’s not eating because she’s Jewish. I was trying to figure out a way to get some Kosher food for her. I can’t talk to Father. Perhaps Mary?”

“I GOT IT!! I’ll talk to the other children. I know some have a few bucks here and there. Maybe WE can gather enough money to buy her some food, you can write a note letting her know it’s from all of us kids, and maybe Mary will give it to her. Maybe if she sees we are trying to be friends, she might come out of her chamber. We can all help to teach her English. Wouldn’t the adults be surprised if she learned English from us kids?” Pascal laughed.

Vincent balled his fists and narrowed his eyebrows in frustration. She’s my friend. He let out a sigh.

“Maybe we shouldn’t overwhelm her. I’ll talk to William. Maybe he has some ideas on how to get some food,” Vincent replied, forcing himself to stay calm.

Pascal frowned at his friend for a moment. “You know best, Vincent,” he teased with a knowing smile.

* * *

Catherine waited the next night. She sighed when she felt the familiar body pressed into her back.

“You seem sad. Tell me,” Vincent coaxed.

“I received a letter from my mother today. It was dated three weeks ago. My brother, Jacob, has joined the resistance. Momma doesn’t know where he is. He shows up occasionally, but his visits are fewer and fewer. The Nazis were asking for volunteers to go away for work. They were promised food, and a good wage to send back to their families. My dad volunteered to go. Momma received a postcard from him two days after he left. It said everything is fine, and she should join him. Momma was forced into a Ghetto. She has a job, but she said she may not be able to write to me anymore,” she explained with her voice trembling.

“I think they’re dead, Vincent,” she whispered through a sob.

Vincent leaned back, pressing even closer to her to give her support. “You must keep the faith. Don’t give up hope.”

They sat in silence as he heard her sobbing.

“Vincent?” she whispered through her tears.

“Yes?”

“I need… I mean… could you… would you.. please give me a hug? Please? I’ll keep my eyes closed,” she asked, afraid that he’d say no.

Vincent held his breath and tried to calm his racing heart.

“It’s ok, Vincent. You don’t have to,” Catherine said sadly.

“You promise to keep your eyes shut?” Vincent asked as he pulled his hood further down his face.

“I promise.”

Vincent couldn’t help but hear the tremble in her voice.

“You may turn around and face me, but keep your eyes closed.”

Catherine stood up and turned around, her eyes tightly closed. She could hear Vincent move, and felt his presence in front of her. His arms slowly wrapped around her shoulders into a hug. She leaned in, threw her arms around his waist, and pressed her face into his chest. She let out a sob and cried harder. When the crying subsided, she just held him for a few more minutes before pulling away. She turned back around and sat down.

“Thank you, Vincent. I really needed that hug. You remind me of Jakey sometimes. You’re kind and give the best hugs.”

“You’re welcome, and I’ll take that as a great compliment. You need to get some sleep. It’s late. I have to go,” he said while still standing.

“Talk to you later then?” she asked as she stood up.

“Yes. Sleep well,” he said as he walked away.

* * *

The next morning, Vincent could tell there was something amiss. The whispering and giggling stopped the second he walked into class. No one could look him in the eye. It wasn’t until after lunch that Lisa approached him.

“Enjoy your hug last night, Vincent?” she spat out with venom in her voice.

Vincent sighed. So that’s what this is all about. “She received some bad news and needed some comfort. How dare you make it seem more than just an innocent hug,” Vincent snarled.

Lisa gasped before placing her hand on Vincent’s chest. “I’m sorry, Vincent. I shouldn’t assume you’d like her more than me.” She then leaned closer. “Will you watch me dance tonight? I need some constructive criticism,” she whispered seductively into his ear.

Vincent could feel eyes on him, and he started to feel very uncomfortable. “Lisa.” He sighed as he took a step back away from her.

She smiled and took a step closer.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he replied as he took another step away from her. He could now hear quiet giggles, and couldn’t help the slight blush.

“Oh, please, Vincent?” She pouted as she placed a hand on his chest.

“Oh, she’s good,” he heard someone whisper. Was that Pascal or Winslow?

“If you insist,” he said, breaking away from her and taking a seat between Rebecca and Pascal.

* * *

Later that night, Catherine sat in her doorway, but Vincent didn’t appear.

He didn’t come the following night, or the night after.

She waited every night for a week, and still, no Vincent.

It’s my fault. I should never had asked him for that hug. I scared him off, and lost the only friend I have.

Tears flooded her eyes. It’s my fault. It’s my own stupid fault.

Catherine walked to Mary’s chamber.

“Mary?” she whispered.

“Catherine, dear, you should be sleeping,” she said as she pointed at her and then mimicked sleeping.

“Vincent? Where?” she asked quietly in English.

Mary frowned. “Vincent is sad,” she replied, pretending to cry.

Catherine nodded. “You thank,” she replied in broken English.

Catherine decided to take a short walk. It wasn’t long until she heard crying coming from a darkened chamber.

She sat in the doorway, facing away from the chamber. “Proszę, nie płacz. Cry, please, no,” she repeated in broken English.

Vincent sadly smiled at the memory of their first meeting. He climbed out of bed and sighed as he sat against Catherine.

“Why are you sad, Vincent? Was it my fault?” she softly whispered in Polish.

The sound of tears in her voice made Vincent give a small gasp. He took a deep breath and sighed.

“No, it’s not your fault. It’s mine.” He clenched his hands into fists.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad. Tell me, Vincent? You know you can tell me anything. We are friends.”

“I’m ashamed.”

“Ashamed of what?”

Vincent could barely get the words out. “My hands.” He lowered his voice to a bare whisper. “I hurt her.”

Catherine sat silently. After a few minutes, she let out a sigh and stood up. “Stand up and close your eyes,” she said softly. She could feel Vincent cocking his head in confusion. “Do you trust me?” she whispered.

Without answering, Vincent stood up.

“Are your eyes closed?”

“Yes,” he whispered back.

She slowly walked in front of him. His hood was covering his face, but she reached up and gently touched the strand of silky hair that was hanging past his hood. She then looked down and slowly pulled his arm toward her. Vincent jerked his arm back. Catherine giggled just loud enough for Vincent to slightly hear it. She pulled his arm again, and his hand appeared. She placed one small hand in his. “See? You’re not hurting me. We’re friends.”

She smiled as she tried peeking at his face. While still holding his hand, she reached with her free hand and pulled his hood back. She heard his frantic gasp, and saw his eyes fly open as he pulled away in fear. His eyes darted, as if he were wondering what to do. She just froze in that same spot and smiled warmly at him.

“You have the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen. It’s nice to finally meet you, Vincent,” she said as she held her hand out towards him.

Vincent hesitated for only a few seconds before he gently took her hand. Catherine was softly smiling when an angry voice broke them apart.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” Jacob asked sternly as he looked back and forth between the two.

Catherine stared wide-eyed at Vincent while he quickly tried to explain. Catherine had a hard time trying to pick words here and there, and she finally just gave up.

After Vincent was finished, Jacob let out a deep sigh and rubbed his beard. He closed his eyes and calmed his voice and he replied to Vincent. Again, she couldn’t decipher it, but could tell he wasn’t angry. Then Jacob turned and walked away.

Vincent turned toward Catherine with a hint of a smile on his face and explained in Polish, “Father was angry that I disobeyed him. My punishment is to teach you English and help you get acquainted with the others.”

Catherine chuckled. “You’ve already started teaching me.”

Vincent smiled mischievously. “Yes, but Father doesn’t know that. Would you like to join our Literature class in the morning? It would be good for you to meet someone else besides Mary and me.”

* * *

As the months flew by, Catherine discovered that she had a whole community of friends willing to teach her. Under Vincent’s tutoring, she was almost fluent in English. Pascal was gradually teaching her the code on the pipes. Catherine found helping Rebecca with the candles and William with the cooking was relaxing. Even Winslow would let her tag along when picking up supplies, delivering meals to helpers, or just playing in the park. She was always a cheerful volunteer and was always willing to lend a hand whenever she was asked.

May 3, 1945

Catherine and Winslow were taking a walk to a helper’s home when she came to a dead stop.

“HITLER DEAD” the news headlines screamed out at her.

Hitler is dead. Hitler is dead. She could only stand and stare at the headline. It took so long for the news to sink into her brain that Winslow was getting worried.

“Catherine, are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Winslow said as he gently shook her arm to get her attention.

Catherine blinked, shook her head, and looked at Winslow. A smile slowly formed on her face. “I need to go back. Don’t worry, I know the way,” she yelled as she ran as fast as she could toward the tunnels. She couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled this big, or was this happy.

“VINCENT! VINCENT! VINCENT!” her voice and running footsteps echoed down through the tunnels as she raced to Vincent’s chamber.

Vincent dropped his book down as he jumped up and ran to her. “Are you hurt?” he asked as she threw herself into his arms.

She laughed so hard tears were rolling. “He’s dead, Vincent. Hitler is dead. My family will be here soon to get me,” she exclaimed as she hugged him again. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his cheek. “It’s over!” she exclaimed as her whole face glowed.

“My goodness, what’s all this yelling?“ Mary asked as she came around the corner.

Catherine grinned and ran over to hug Mary. “Hitler is dead! My family will be here soon!” she said excitedly.

* * *

Months went by without word of her parents. Peter would check in with the Red Cross daily, hoping to find news. He even gave Catherine’s name to several Jewish organizations that were trying to compile lists of the living and dead, hoping to reunite families. As days and months came and went. Catherine found herself more and more depressed and sad.

“Don’t lose hope, Catherine,” Vincent said as gave her a hug.

Catherine sighed. “You say that every day.”

“It’s just as true today as it was yesterday.”

“It’s been over a year and a half. If they were alive, they’d be here by now,” she said as she wiped away tears.

He tried changing the topic. “Winterfest is next week. Do you want to deliver candles with me as usual?”

“It is my sixth Winterfest. Jakey was so sure the war would end before my first one,” she said sadly.

* * *

Before they knew it, Winterfest arrived. Catherine tried to smile and enjoy herself, but she just couldn’t get into it this year. It was almost a relief when the closing circle was forming. She was mentally and physically exhausted from pretending to be happy.

She was standing between Mary and Vincent when a figure approached the circle from the opposite side. Catherine let go of the hands next to her to cover her mouth. She couldn’t believe her eyes. A man stood there smiling. He looked like he needed to gain a hundred pounds, and was wearing a suit that just hung off his thin shoulders. He also looked as though he’d aged fifty years.

“Daddy?” Catherine whispered as she shook her head, thinking it was her imagination.

“Mój mały kot!” he said while smiling through his tears.

“DADDY!” Catherine screamed as she ran through the circle as fast as she could toward him.

Charles opened his arms and she fell into them, sobbing.

“You’ve grown up since I last saw you,” he said, holding his daughter tighter.

“Where’s Momma and Jakey?” she asked as her tears subsided.

“I haven’t been able to locate them. I still hold out hope they’re in a displacement camp somewhere,” he said with a lump in his throat. “That’s why it took so long to come back to you. I was searching for them.”

As they broke apart, three men came to stand behind Catherine.

“Welcome home, my dear, dear brother,” Jacob said softly as he placed a hand gently on Charles’s shoulder.

Charles wrapped Jacob in a tight hug while Sabastian and Peter stepped forward for their turns.

“Thank you for taking such good care of Catherine.”

“Of course. I love her as a daughter,” Jacob said, winking at Catherine.

That wink caused her to blush due to the double meaning. She and Vincent had yet to make their engagement public, but Father had already granted them his blessing.

“Come. Complete the circle,” Father said before he led them back into the circle.

* * *

Dear reader: Before you come storming at me asking, “So what happened to Catherine’s mother and brother? Were they found and brought to the tunnels?”  Well, my dear lovely friend, that’s for YOU to decide.

______________

¹Mój mały kot – Polish: My little cat

²Jude – German: Jew

³Nie mówię po Angielsku – Polish: I don’t speak English