I read up to the part where I left off last night, and I let him know that’s as far as I got.
He looks down at his watch, and I already miss him. I know he’s going to suggest it’s time for him to leave.
“It’s tragic, isn’t it?” I whisper.
“I don’t know much about the Holocaust, except for how horrific it was. This look behind the curtain, so to speak, is really gut-wrenching. It’s intriguing, though. Does any part of you feel guilty for reading this girl’s private words?”
I give myself a moment to think about it. “No. For some reason, I think Estherly would like to know someone is reading her legacy.”
“Do you think she’s still alive?”
Sadness wraps its bony fingers around my heart, chilling it. “Probably not. She’d have to be in her mid-nineties. It’s possible, I guess. I wonder if I could find her or information about her online.”
“You should probably get some sleep first,” Sam suggests. “It’s past 10:30. I should go home.”
No! I scream in my mind. Don’t leave, Sam. Come up to my room with me and read the rest of Estherly’s diary until we’re both so exhausted, we’re forced to sleep in each other’s arms.
Sam stands and I want to reach out for his arm and pull him into a soft kiss, but I know he’s way out of my league.
“Thanks for dinner. That was really cool of you. And, thanks for letting me know about the diary. You’re right; we’ve stumbled upon quite the treasure here. Would you mind coming by this weekend and reading more of it to me?”
His enthusiasm for Estherly’s story is such a turn on.
“No, not at all.”
“Great… well, I guess I’ll see you Saturday,” he says.
Sam makes his way to the door, so I hop off the couch to escort him out.
“Thanks again. This has been a great night.”
I don’t know where I get the courage, but I reach out and rest the tips of my fingers on Sam’s arm. “It’s been wonderful. Until Saturday…”
He nods, and then I’m left watching him run across my lawn, through the rain, and over to his place.
Shutting the door, I lean against it and take in a deep breath.
“You’ve got it bad, Mum,” Otis says, entwining himself around my legs.
I glare at him. “And, what do you know about such things?” I inhale again and close my eyes. Otis is right, as usual. Sam and I have a connection. I feel it in my bones. “Thank you, Estherly,” I whisper, before walking around the downstairs, shutting off all the lights, and securing all the doors.
Now in bed, I open Estherly’s diary, afraid about what I’ll read tonight. I’m so connected with this girl from the past that I fear if her diary stops, that means she’s dead, and my heart won’t be able to take it. Even so, I naturally assume she’s no longer with us. I pull my covers up to my chest, put my glasses on, and read.
7 October 1941
Everything is terrible. More and more students disappear daily. A boy I used to sit next to was gone last time I was in school. Families from our neighborhood have been deported to work camps and ghettos, or worse, they’ve been murdered. I think that Anika and I should stop attending school, but my parents are still holding out hope that we’ll survive this tragedy. I fear for my own family and my friends. I fear for Henry. How will our love survive this cold world?
Chapter 4 – Estherly
7 October 1941
Mornings at my home used to be cheerful and busy. Although my family was pulled in every direction, getting ready for school or work, we would all gather around the table for the hearty breakfast my mother prepared. With full bellies, she would send us on our way to face what the new day had in store for us.
Nowadays, mornings are very different. My mother still gets up and puts together a small meal for Anika and me, but the rest of the chairs around the table are vacant. Everything has changed since the SS soldiers took my father’s antique business away. All my family had worked for was burned to the ground; nothing was saved after the Nazis took the things that they wanted.
Now, my father leaves once the curfew is lifted. He goes to the one Jewish store that still operates to get what little food he can. My brother, out of fear of my father going alone, accompanies him most days. Oma is busy in her garden, tending to the plants carefully so that we have fruits and vegetables to eat.
Pulling myself from visions of the past and reflecting on how much times have changed, I call out, “Anika, hurry. We’re going to be late.” I stomp my foot and point to the front door, emphasizing that it’s time to go to school. She stuffs another piece of bread in her mouth, chews, and then opens it, revealing the mushed contents inside.
“You’re horrible!” I say, trying not to giggle as I grab one of the curls at the back of her neck.
She swats my hand away. “Ouch, Estherly!”
I release her.
Bouncing out of her chair, she runs over to the sink where our mother washes dishes, the wood floor creaking under her steps. Wrapping her arms around Mother’s waist, she gives her a squeeze, playing on Mother’s sympathies. Glancing over her shoulder, my mother scolds me for disciplining my little sister.
Ignoring both, I focus on the sunlight making its way through the small kitchen window and shining on the white countertops. Our small yellow kitchen is decorated with flowers my sisters and I picked for our mother the day before.
“Let’s go.” I make my way over to them and kiss Mother’s cheek.
“Oh, Estherly, you worry too much,” Anika says, as she unwraps her arms from our mother and skips towards the front door. “We’ll make it on time.”
It both saddens me and makes me happy, watching Anika hold onto her childish innocence. I wish I still had some of mine. My baby sister is somewhat oblivious to the horrors around her.
My mother and I share a quick glance and smile at each other. I imagine Mother thinks the same thing I do: how adorable Anika is.
“I love you, Mame. I will see you after school,” I say.
“I love you, too, zeisele. Remember to come straight home from school.” A slight hint of fear sounds in my mother’s voice. Her tone pains me, and I try to control tears from forming in my eyes.
I grab both lunch sacks off the counter and walk towards the front door. “Anika, come here,” I say. When she approaches, I double-check that the shirt and jacket she chose to wear bears the yellow star we’re required to have on when we’re out in public.
Grabbing Anika’s hand, we head out the door and across our land. I miss the smell of the crisp, fall air. The rain mixed with the scent of dry leaves used to intoxicate me. Some days, I would twirl and dance through the tall weeds. Looking up at the sky, it’s now filled with smoke. There is a brown haze hiding the blue that tries to burst through. The heaviness of the sooty air catches in my throat and causes me to cough. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I try to warm them.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” I ask, as I give Anika a slight nudge.
My little sister gives the question a long thought. “A doctor,” she says with a huge smile.