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

sewer rose in prayer, the priest intoning the now-familiar mass and parishioners, fewer each week it seemed, giving the response. Though I did not have a watch or clock, I could tell from the part of the mass they chanted that it was a quarter past ten, nearly time to go meet Ella. My anticipation rose and I pushed it down, trying not to get too hopeful. Ella had promised to come every Sunday and mostly she did, but there had been a few Sundays in the six weeks since we met that she had not appeared.

“I’m going to get water,” I announced when I judged it to be just before eleven.

Mama gestured toward the full jug. “Saul already went. We have plenty.”

I looked around the chamber, hoping to find some garbage that needed disposal. I found none. “I’m going for a walk, then,” I said, expecting Mama to object. She didn’t answer. I studied her face, wondering if she was suspicious. The first few weeks after making me promise not to go see Ella, she had watched me like a hawk. But she seemed distracted now, weary from her growing belly and the struggle of keeping us going in the sewer. She did not protest as I started hurriedly from the chamber. My discussion with Mama had made me a few minutes late, and as I neared the grate, I hoped that Ella had waited for me.

“Fool!” a voice hissed behind me, just as I approached the grate. I turned to see Bubbe Rosenberg, who must have seen me leave the chamber and followed me. Or perhaps she had just been walking the tunnels aimlessly. She seemed increasingly confused lately and prone to wandering. More than once, Saul had followed after her when she strayed from the chamber at night and led her back. He often lay beside her, holding her as he slept, so that she didn’t get lost, or fall into the sewer river and drown like Papa. “You’ll get us all killed,” she said now. I wondered if she had seen me talking to Ella before or if Saul had told her. “Go to the grate again and I’ll have you tossed out.” I wasn’t sure if she could do that, or even what she really meant. But I didn’t want to find out.

“Enough,” I said rudely. My mother, if she had heard me, would have been mortified at my rudeness. But I simply couldn’t take it anymore.

Bubbe muttered something unintelligible. I hoped she would return to the chamber. She lingered in the tunnel, though, still talking to herself. So I remained in the shadows, close to the grate, not daring to violate her order. I did not want her to create a scene and alert the others to what I was doing. I imagined Ella on the street above, waiting for me.

When the old woman finally left, I hurried to the grate. “Hello?” I called softly. I did not see Ella. I wondered if she had been there and gone because I had taken too long, or whether she had not come at all. Perhaps she had forgotten about me. That seemed unlikely; Ella was always so helpful and kind. The street above was strangely quiet, though, and I did not see anyone else either. In the distance, I heard the wailing of a police siren long and low. Something was wrong, I sensed uneasily. It was not safe to wait here any longer.

Rain began to fall then, thick drops falling through the grate and puddling on the already wet sewer ground. I started back sadly.

As I neared the chamber, Mama appeared in the entranceway. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said in a low voice. Her face was more somber than usual. I wondered if Bubbe had told her about my going back to the grate. “I was just about to send Saul to look for you. You must come now.”

“What is it?” Mama did not answer, but led me back into the chamber. She tilted her chin upward. The sound of the parishioners had gone silent, but there was another noise, louder and more ominous, of doors opening and slamming shut, male voices speaking German. “They are searching for Jews,” Pan Rosenberg whispered ominously from across the chamber.

It was not, of course, the first time I had heard of such things. Still, my panic rose at the realization that they were searching for Jews so close to our hiding place. “Are they coming for us?” I asked.

Mama shook her head. “They are looking for hiding Jews on the streets and in the houses. They don’t know about the sewer, at least not yet.” She drew me close and we sat down on our bed. From across the chamber, Saul’s eyes met mine, his expression a mix of warmth and concern. We had grown closer in the weeks since he learned the awful news about his brother and Shifra and I had comforted him. Living together in such tight quarters made everything more intimate and familiar, too. I knew the ways that he ate and slept, could tell from his expression whether he was angry or sad or worried.

Mama wrapped her arms around me and we tried to make ourselves as small and silent as possible. But it was useless. If the Germans searched the tunnels and discovered the chamber, we would have nowhere to hide. We should go, I thought, not for the first time. Better to leave than be caught in the chamber like trapped animals. But without Pawel to lead us, we simply had no way out.

We sat in silence for what seemed like hours, listening to the sounds above, waiting for the footsteps in the tunnel that would spell our doom. At one point, I heard a woman’s voice cry out and wondered if someone had been caught. The rain began to fall heavier now, muting the sounds of the police hunting their prey.

Eventually the voices faded, although I didn’t know whether