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24
19thFebruary 1943
Jan was on his way to Aunt Irka’s apartment with a box of groceries and a message from Mama that his aunt had called and wanted one of them to stop by for some news.He wondered what it could be.He’d been despondent ever since the Otwock ghetto was cleared by the Germans a few days earlier.He, Mama and Jadzia had rushed over to the train station the moment Danuta got home and told them what was happening.But they were too late.
Mama intended to bribe the guards and take the family, or at least as many as she was able, back with them.But by the time they got to the station, the Wierzbickas were already loaded into a cattle car.Jadzia swore she locked eyes with Nacha through a window, but Mama and Jan didn’t see any sign of the family.
All of them had been living under a cloud of grief and pain ever since.Mama wouldn’t come out of her room to go to the market.Jan felt as though there was a great weight in his chest.He regretted the things he’d said about helping the family.
They were his kin, no matter if they didn’t share blood.He loved them more than he’d been able to put into words, and now they were gone.If he could do anything to bring them back, he would.Meanwhile, his sisters snuck around the apartment quietly, doing what they could to take care of Mama.
Jadzia in particular felt the horror of what lay ahead for the family since she’d only recently returned from an extermination camp herself and knew what they’d face.She seemed overwhelmed by it every now and then and would cover her head with her apron and rock back and forth in silence.
Jan didn’t know what to do to help her.He could only continue going to the market, working and visiting the ghetto in the hopes that he might stumble across his friend, Walter, who he hadn’t seen for a while.
He’d often asked Walter to live with them over the years, but his friend turned him down, saying he had a place to stay.Jan didn’t know where he was now—he’d lost track of him in all the German raids and deportations.But he hoped they’d find each other again.
He trudged across the street with the box of groceries balanced on his head, then up the stairs to Aunt Irka’s apartment.He set the box on the ground and knocked on the door.When Irka opened the door, he picked up the groceries.
“I brought you some things.”
“Aren’t you the sweetest nephew in the world?Thank you, Janek.Bring them into the kitchen for me and set them on the table.I’ll put them away while you tell me everything.”
She loved to hear about his life and always wanted to chat.But the truth was, Jan didn’t have much to say this time.He didn’t want to talk about the Otwock ghetto or the Wierzbickas.And there was nothing else on his mind.
“I’m so glad Jadzia made it home,” said Irka, leading the way to the kitchen.
He set the box on the table just as someone behind him said.“Hello, Jan.”
He spun to face the voice and found himself face-to-face with Nacha, Nathan and Antoni.His face lit up with joy and he rushed forward, then shook hands vigorously with Antoni and Nathan before kissing Nacha’s cheeks.
“I can’t believe it.How did you manage it?Jadzia was certain she saw you on the train bound for Treblinka.”
They all sat around the table and ate a variation ofwuzetka, made from whatever ingredients Aunt Irka had available and without fresh whipped cream.It was delicious and filled the hole in Jan’s stomach that had turned to ravenous hunger the moment he knew the Wierzbickas were safe.
They told him all about their escape, and he updated them on everything that’d happened in their neighbourhood and the ghetto.
He hadn’t told them yet about his discovery in their apartment.The moment wasn’t right.He hated to be the one to bring it up, and especially when they were all so happy.
“Have you been into the ghetto lately?”Antoni asked.
“Not lately.I’ve been busy, and besides, they made it difficult for me for a long time.But it’s better now.”
“Oh?”Nathan took a bite of cake.“What’s changed?”
“ Himmler himself came to the ghetto last month.Everyone thought the deportations were over and the remaining Jews could stay behind, so they were surprised when he ordered more deportations.Eight thousand, I heard.”
“What happened?”Nacha asked, eyes wide.
“They didn’t report to theUmschlagplatz.”
Antoni smiled.“Really?”
“Nope.The resistance has organised since you left.They call themselves theZydowska Organizacja Bojowa—the ZOB.People hid in holes and tunnels and the ZOB fought back.”
“They fought the Germans?”Nathan asked, his eyes gleaming.
Jan nodded.“And they won.”
