The Woman with the Blue Star, Pam Jenoff [highly recommended books txt] 📗

nodded. “I swear it,” she said solemnly, and I could see that she wanted to come back to the sewer and see me again, too. “But don’t you want to escape?”

“No... That is, yes.” I tried to think of a way to explain. “It’s awful down here, but the sewer is the safest place for us right now. There really isn’t anywhere else for us to go.” Although I sometimes wondered if that were true, I had to trust in Pawel, who protected us, and my father, who had brought us here in the first place.

“I can only stay a minute more today,” she added. “My stepmother will expect me back.”

“I understand.” I tried to keep the disappointment from my voice. I had known, of course, that at some point she would have to be on her way. But there was something about speaking with Ella that was like being reunited with an old friend, even though we had just met.

“Wait here,” she said, standing and disappearing from view. A minute later, she knelt again and pushed something else through the grate. I leapt to catch it before it fell into the sewer water beneath my feet. It was an obwarzanek, one of the poppy-covered pretzel rings that Poles sold on the street. “A bit more food,” she offered.

“Thank you.” I tucked it into my pocket to share with my mother.

“I have to go,” Ella said a moment later.

I couldn’t help but be disappointed she was leaving. “Will you come again?”

“I will, if I can get away. I’ll try to come next Saturday and bring more food.” I wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to bring me things; all I wanted was her visits. But the words stuck in my throat and then it was too late. She was gone.

I stood alone in the cold and dark once more. It was as if I had imagined Ella. But the piece of bread and the pretzel were there in my pocket and the coin in my palm, reassuring me that she was real. I prayed she would have the chance to come again.

“Sadie!” a voice whispered urgently behind me in the darkness. It was Saul, who must have been out walking. Or maybe he had come looking for me. Normally I would have been happy to see him, but now I was startled. His eyes traveled up to the grate and then back to me. Had he seen Ella?

“Sadie, no!” He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back into the shadows, his eyes deep with concern. “You can’t let anyone see you. I know you are lonely. But the Poles are not to be trusted,” he added forcefully.

“Surely not all Poles.”

“All of them.” His face grew stony and in the resoluteness of his voice I heard the horrors of stories he had lived but not shared with me.

“What about Pawel?” I asked. “He’s a Pole and he has helped us.”

He did not answer. “Promise me you won’t go again.” There was a note of tenderness in his voice.

“I promise.” I knew even as I said the words that they were a lie. I would go to the grate again to see Ella. There was something about her that told me I could trust her, even if Saul could not see it.

Saul took the water jug and we started back down the tunnel. As we neared the chamber, Bubbe stood, blocking our path. “What’s that?” she cried, pointing to my pocket where the edge of the pretzel peeked out. Our relationship with the Rosenbergs had become close during our weeks in the sewer, and despite the difficulty of living together in such close quarters, moments of acrimony between our two families were few. But elderly Bubbe seemed to grow more grouchy and irrational over time, as if the strain of living here was wearing on her.

“It’s mine,” I said, trying to step around her through the entranceway.

Bubbe shifted sideways in the same direction, unwilling to be deterred. “Thief!” she cried, seeming to think I had taken the pretzel from our food stores. I opened my mouth to tell her that such a thing was impossible. We didn’t even have obwarzanki here; it wasn’t a food that Pawel brought, so how could I have stolen it?

Before I could speak, my mother appeared behind her in the entranceway to the chamber. “How dare you?” she demanded of Bubbe, having heard the exchange in the tunnel. Mama had grown sullen and drawn these past few weeks, as her pregnancy and our time in the sewer dragged on. Now she seemed to find strength in defending me.

“She’s got extra food,” Bubbe accused, pointing her gnarled finger close to my face. “Either she’s stealing it or she’s going up to ground without our knowing.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Mama snapped. Though my mother was usually respectful and deferential toward the older woman, she would not suffer her accusing me. But her eyes traveled to my pocket and, as she saw the bit of pretzel, widened. I watched as she remembered seeing me looking at the girl on the street and realized that was how I had gotten it. Concern, then anger, crossed her face.

Still Mama defended me. “Leave my daughter alone.” She walked over and stepped in between Bubbe and me. She pushed the old woman’s finger away. Bubbe’s anger grew and she grabbed Mama’s wrist roughly.

“Stop it!” I protested too loudly, heedless of who might hear. How dare she put her hands on my pregnant mother like that? I reached out and tried to pull Mama’s wrist away from Bubbe’s grip, but it was surprisingly tight. Mama freed herself and jerked backward. Her foot slipped and she fell to the ground in a heap, yelping like an injured animal. Hurriedly I helped her to her feet. “Mama, are you okay?” She did not answer, but nodded, face pale.

Saul placed himself between me and his grandmother. “Sadie didn’t take anything. Go back to the chamber, Bubbe.”